The Imitation Game review
3 (out of 4)
“Are you paying attention?” asks Benedict Cumberbatch’s fastidious incarnation of Alan Turing in The Imitation Game, which begins as he delivers the preface to the Turing Test through narration. The introduction to the experiment – which can distinguish if something is human or not – also metaphorically doubles as the conversation between the film and the audience, demanding viewers pledge their full participation in the process as Turing reveals that he, and the film itself, is actually in control. In a film so crisply paced and reliably involving, there is little room for passivity.
Swift and confident direction by Norwegian director Morten Tyldum and Cumberbatch’s finest performance to date assure that the fascinating and tragic life of brilliant mathematician Alan Turing and his staggering accomplishment’s are done absolute justice. The film’s narrative slides back and forth through Turing’s troubled youth to his secret work with the British Government during the Second World War in order to decode Enigma – the theoretically ‘unbreakable’ German code – to lastly the tragic aftermath of his classified contributions in ending the deadly global conflict.
With a biopic subject so interesting, it almost seems hard to mess up, but Norwegian director Tyldum goes further by creating something with both nuanced craftsmanship and mass audience appeal. With tight editing tethering together the different fragments of Turing’s life, The Imitation Game successfully straddles the fine line between complex emotional artistry and its equal function as a gripping yet crowd-pleasing historical thriller. It is restlessly entertaining.
Cumberbatch’s newly established leading man chops may claim center frame, but Kiera Knightly is commendable as Joan Clarke, who is hired to join Turing’s elite team of mathematically savvy minds. Matthew Goode provides a great deal of the film’s welcome and unexpectedly witty humor as Hugh Alexander, the most charismatic of the code-breakers. Mark Strong, though only in a few scenes, makes the most of his onscreen time as Chief of MI6 Stewart Menzies.
The story, though unfortunately oversimplified and bullet-pointed in the film’s main trailer, is littered with twists, palpable drama and a sense of wonder at intellectual discovery. The film also avoids condescension by refusing to dumb down the science and the tactful depiction of Turing’s struggles in later life – as a homosexual forced by the government to take hormonal medicine – which identifies themes that are even more relevant with the LGBT movement’s modern progress.
Not enough can be said of Cumberbatch, who brings an uncompromising amount of strangeness and sophistication to his uniquely difficult role – this is something deeper than any of his similar modes of embodying unsociable geniuses like in BBC’s Sherlock. Turing was an incredibly important person, a once-in-a-generation mind, saving millions of lives in World War II and just happening to invent computers along the way. His life deserves to be immortalized in film, and Cumberbatch unquestionably rises to the occasion.
A taut thriller and an emotionally satisfying biopic, The Imitation Game ensures that we are, indeed, paying attention.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / January 7th, 2015
“Are you paying attention?” asks Benedict Cumberbatch’s fastidious incarnation of Alan Turing in The Imitation Game, which begins as he delivers the preface to the Turing Test through narration. The introduction to the experiment – which can distinguish if something is human or not – also metaphorically doubles as the conversation between the film and the audience, demanding viewers pledge their full participation in the process as Turing reveals that he, and the film itself, is actually in control. In a film so crisply paced and reliably involving, there is little room for passivity.
Swift and confident direction by Norwegian director Morten Tyldum and Cumberbatch’s finest performance to date assure that the fascinating and tragic life of brilliant mathematician Alan Turing and his staggering accomplishment’s are done absolute justice. The film’s narrative slides back and forth through Turing’s troubled youth to his secret work with the British Government during the Second World War in order to decode Enigma – the theoretically ‘unbreakable’ German code – to lastly the tragic aftermath of his classified contributions in ending the deadly global conflict.
With a biopic subject so interesting, it almost seems hard to mess up, but Norwegian director Tyldum goes further by creating something with both nuanced craftsmanship and mass audience appeal. With tight editing tethering together the different fragments of Turing’s life, The Imitation Game successfully straddles the fine line between complex emotional artistry and its equal function as a gripping yet crowd-pleasing historical thriller. It is restlessly entertaining.
Cumberbatch’s newly established leading man chops may claim center frame, but Kiera Knightly is commendable as Joan Clarke, who is hired to join Turing’s elite team of mathematically savvy minds. Matthew Goode provides a great deal of the film’s welcome and unexpectedly witty humor as Hugh Alexander, the most charismatic of the code-breakers. Mark Strong, though only in a few scenes, makes the most of his onscreen time as Chief of MI6 Stewart Menzies.
The story, though unfortunately oversimplified and bullet-pointed in the film’s main trailer, is littered with twists, palpable drama and a sense of wonder at intellectual discovery. The film also avoids condescension by refusing to dumb down the science and the tactful depiction of Turing’s struggles in later life – as a homosexual forced by the government to take hormonal medicine – which identifies themes that are even more relevant with the LGBT movement’s modern progress.
Not enough can be said of Cumberbatch, who brings an uncompromising amount of strangeness and sophistication to his uniquely difficult role – this is something deeper than any of his similar modes of embodying unsociable geniuses like in BBC’s Sherlock. Turing was an incredibly important person, a once-in-a-generation mind, saving millions of lives in World War II and just happening to invent computers along the way. His life deserves to be immortalized in film, and Cumberbatch unquestionably rises to the occasion.
A taut thriller and an emotionally satisfying biopic, The Imitation Game ensures that we are, indeed, paying attention.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / January 7th, 2015
Dear White People review
3 (out of 4)
How a point is made can be far more important than the point being made, especially in politics. Dear White People has so much to say but holds back in order to say only what is necessary, restraining itself for the sake of appearances.
That being said, the film does not play it safe – it’s an angry, wildly impassioned film that doesn’t let go of the reins and chooses to instead keep its irritation with 21st century racial issues in control, using cutthroat calculation to dispel new age social truths with venomous lucidity and, when possible, a great dollop of snarling satire.
In a noble debut, writer-director Justin Simien’s acute critique on today’s racial politics is populated with an excess of lifelike characters – for all the Tyler Perry bashing, it’d be a sad irony if they were all stereotypes – delivering razor-sharp dialogue on serious topics. Simien also utilizes a Wes Anderson-esque style – from the visual symmetry to the chapter title cards to the offbeat, tongue-in-cheek humor – in a successful attempt to not only render the film more digestible for mainstream audiences but also to create valuable and vivacious satire.
One Anderson trope that doesn’t do Dear White People any favors is its overabundance of characters and web of subplots. This is acceptable only because each character is given just enough screen time to feel human. Our central plot revolves around several students at an Ivy League university, primarily Sam White (Tessa Thompson), a quick-witted media arts major who stirs up controversy with her radio segments, including the eponymous ‘Dear White People' and her campaign to give the blacks their own housing once again. Her political opponent is her ex-boyfriend Troy Fairbanks (Brandon P. Bell), who struggles to impress his father and Dean of the college (Dennis Haysbert). Meanwhile misfit Lionel Higgins (Tyler James Williams), a budding writer, attempts to establish a new social identity with his peers and video blogger ‘Coco’ Conners (Teyonah Parris) looks to make a name for herself by achieving Internet fame.
As narratively directionless as it may seem, Dear White People is a cohesive project despite the minimal scope it creates with its disposable storylines. The loose structure allows the themes of social identity and racial differences to take center frame when it is most important. It may unfold like a play, but Dear White People is too poignant and adroit for its narrative faults to detract from the film’s true intentions.
The film’s soundtrack is a curious stylistic choice, incorporating both modern underground hip-hop and recognizable classical selections in equal part, creating an atmosphere that is stately and cool, mature and relaxed. This eclectic concoction helps smooth over the film’s more tonally grating moments.
Working as a comedy, a drama and above all a satire, Dear White People is a restless, spirited film that embraces tough questions and handles them delicately. It is worth its weight in entertainment value and modern relevance, and implies that great things may be to come from director Justin Simien.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / November 3rd, 2014
How a point is made can be far more important than the point being made, especially in politics. Dear White People has so much to say but holds back in order to say only what is necessary, restraining itself for the sake of appearances.
That being said, the film does not play it safe – it’s an angry, wildly impassioned film that doesn’t let go of the reins and chooses to instead keep its irritation with 21st century racial issues in control, using cutthroat calculation to dispel new age social truths with venomous lucidity and, when possible, a great dollop of snarling satire.
In a noble debut, writer-director Justin Simien’s acute critique on today’s racial politics is populated with an excess of lifelike characters – for all the Tyler Perry bashing, it’d be a sad irony if they were all stereotypes – delivering razor-sharp dialogue on serious topics. Simien also utilizes a Wes Anderson-esque style – from the visual symmetry to the chapter title cards to the offbeat, tongue-in-cheek humor – in a successful attempt to not only render the film more digestible for mainstream audiences but also to create valuable and vivacious satire.
One Anderson trope that doesn’t do Dear White People any favors is its overabundance of characters and web of subplots. This is acceptable only because each character is given just enough screen time to feel human. Our central plot revolves around several students at an Ivy League university, primarily Sam White (Tessa Thompson), a quick-witted media arts major who stirs up controversy with her radio segments, including the eponymous ‘Dear White People' and her campaign to give the blacks their own housing once again. Her political opponent is her ex-boyfriend Troy Fairbanks (Brandon P. Bell), who struggles to impress his father and Dean of the college (Dennis Haysbert). Meanwhile misfit Lionel Higgins (Tyler James Williams), a budding writer, attempts to establish a new social identity with his peers and video blogger ‘Coco’ Conners (Teyonah Parris) looks to make a name for herself by achieving Internet fame.
As narratively directionless as it may seem, Dear White People is a cohesive project despite the minimal scope it creates with its disposable storylines. The loose structure allows the themes of social identity and racial differences to take center frame when it is most important. It may unfold like a play, but Dear White People is too poignant and adroit for its narrative faults to detract from the film’s true intentions.
The film’s soundtrack is a curious stylistic choice, incorporating both modern underground hip-hop and recognizable classical selections in equal part, creating an atmosphere that is stately and cool, mature and relaxed. This eclectic concoction helps smooth over the film’s more tonally grating moments.
Working as a comedy, a drama and above all a satire, Dear White People is a restless, spirited film that embraces tough questions and handles them delicately. It is worth its weight in entertainment value and modern relevance, and implies that great things may be to come from director Justin Simien.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / November 3rd, 2014
Fury review
2 ½ (out of 4)
If you needed more proof that the war film has been done to death, here’s Fury – a handsomely made, decently acted and robustly entertaining WWII film that lacks any sort of originality and has almost nothing new to offer to the exhausted genre.
Known for his gritty, masculine action movies, writer and director David Ayer – his hit and miss résumé aside – recreates, with grubby authenticity, a vividly grim depiction of World War II and injects the expected adrenaline into the full-blooded combat scenes. But he is less recognized for his subtlety, the lack of which robs Fury of any palpable emotional substance.
Taking place at the tail end of the war, Fury follows unsympathetic sergeant Don ‘Wardaddy’ Collier (Brad Pitt) and his reliable tank crew – the religious Boyd ‘Bible’ Swan (Shia LaBeouf), the quiet Trini ‘Gordo’ Garcia (Michael Peña) and the rambunctious Grady ‘Coon-Ass’ Travis (Jon Bernthal). Having lost a soldier in a previous battle, rookie Norman Ellison (Logan Lerman) is thrust into Collier’s command as the Americans begin the final effort to push through Nazi Germany in order to end the war.
Though perhaps we haven’t seen tank warfare onscreen specifically, the film’s script is half-baked and teeming with clichés both in its profanely predictable narrative to its recycled dialogue. It’s all painfully oversimplified.
Yet what is not in black and white is the film’s stance on war. It begins with what seems to be a clearly anti-war message based on the realistically gruesome violence that almost feels like it’s trying to be shocking – the opening shot features Pitt’s character stabbing an unsuspecting S.S. soldier in the face, no joke. But then the glorified final showdown between our outnumbered protagonists and hundreds of Nazis appears to venerate just the opposite. It’s surprisingly difficult to guess if the group’s repetition of the line, “the best job I ever had” just before the excitement of the climactic carnage is supposed to convey irony or the contrary.
Perhaps all the thematic confusion is based on how we connect with Lerman’s character – the scrawny, untested youth who, like us, is unfamiliar with his violent surroundings. The character is pathetically written however, his unbelievable arc taking him from morally challenged weakling to Nazi-killing prodigy in a matter of a few days. Lerman, a fine young actor, tries his best but cannot salvage anything real from his robotically written role.
It’s Pitt’s performance as the no-bullshit commander that saves Fury from being unbearably trite. Underneath the disillusion of war, his heart of gold has long been hardened making him easily the film’s most interesting character, and the supporting cast is commendable as well.
Also, despite the film’s tendency for battles and explosions, the second act of Fury is perhaps its strongest due to an intimate 20-minute breather in which Don and Norman encounter two women as they take rest inside a German house. Disquietingly meditative and containing dialogue miles better than anything else in the film, this peaceful sequence is Fury’s best moment.
Confidently directed and sleekly produced, it’s hard to call Fury a bad film – but, at least for the war genre, rehashing well-worn ideas is a futile effort no matter how reasonably entertaining the results may be.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / October 21st, 2014
If you needed more proof that the war film has been done to death, here’s Fury – a handsomely made, decently acted and robustly entertaining WWII film that lacks any sort of originality and has almost nothing new to offer to the exhausted genre.
Known for his gritty, masculine action movies, writer and director David Ayer – his hit and miss résumé aside – recreates, with grubby authenticity, a vividly grim depiction of World War II and injects the expected adrenaline into the full-blooded combat scenes. But he is less recognized for his subtlety, the lack of which robs Fury of any palpable emotional substance.
Taking place at the tail end of the war, Fury follows unsympathetic sergeant Don ‘Wardaddy’ Collier (Brad Pitt) and his reliable tank crew – the religious Boyd ‘Bible’ Swan (Shia LaBeouf), the quiet Trini ‘Gordo’ Garcia (Michael Peña) and the rambunctious Grady ‘Coon-Ass’ Travis (Jon Bernthal). Having lost a soldier in a previous battle, rookie Norman Ellison (Logan Lerman) is thrust into Collier’s command as the Americans begin the final effort to push through Nazi Germany in order to end the war.
Though perhaps we haven’t seen tank warfare onscreen specifically, the film’s script is half-baked and teeming with clichés both in its profanely predictable narrative to its recycled dialogue. It’s all painfully oversimplified.
Yet what is not in black and white is the film’s stance on war. It begins with what seems to be a clearly anti-war message based on the realistically gruesome violence that almost feels like it’s trying to be shocking – the opening shot features Pitt’s character stabbing an unsuspecting S.S. soldier in the face, no joke. But then the glorified final showdown between our outnumbered protagonists and hundreds of Nazis appears to venerate just the opposite. It’s surprisingly difficult to guess if the group’s repetition of the line, “the best job I ever had” just before the excitement of the climactic carnage is supposed to convey irony or the contrary.
Perhaps all the thematic confusion is based on how we connect with Lerman’s character – the scrawny, untested youth who, like us, is unfamiliar with his violent surroundings. The character is pathetically written however, his unbelievable arc taking him from morally challenged weakling to Nazi-killing prodigy in a matter of a few days. Lerman, a fine young actor, tries his best but cannot salvage anything real from his robotically written role.
It’s Pitt’s performance as the no-bullshit commander that saves Fury from being unbearably trite. Underneath the disillusion of war, his heart of gold has long been hardened making him easily the film’s most interesting character, and the supporting cast is commendable as well.
Also, despite the film’s tendency for battles and explosions, the second act of Fury is perhaps its strongest due to an intimate 20-minute breather in which Don and Norman encounter two women as they take rest inside a German house. Disquietingly meditative and containing dialogue miles better than anything else in the film, this peaceful sequence is Fury’s best moment.
Confidently directed and sleekly produced, it’s hard to call Fury a bad film – but, at least for the war genre, rehashing well-worn ideas is a futile effort no matter how reasonably entertaining the results may be.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / October 21st, 2014
Love Is Strange review
3 (out of 4)
Movies that grapple with the subject of love often struggle to depict it honestly and Love Is Strange knows it. Instead of unnecessary flourishes and hackneyed drama, the film simply tells it like it is.
Ira Sachs’ latest examination of same-sex relationships is maturely rendered by the sincerity of its script in addition to the fearless and graceful performances of Alfred Molina and John Lithgow as a gay couple of 39 years.
Ben and George (Lithgow and Molina, respectively) face slightly turbulent times nearly four decades into their ever-enduring relationship. Most jubilantly, the two finally wed. Less so, George is fired from his position as music instructor at his church for the very same marriage. With these unexpected money troubles, the two must sell their Manhattan apartment as George seeks new work and the couple finds new affordable living. Of course, this transition takes some time and is the ultimate focus of the film’s plot, which is not, as one might expect, how two people in a long-term relationship deal with each other but just the opposite – how tragically lost people can become when separated from their life partner by uncontrollable circumstances.
So Ben stays with his patient daughter Kate (Marisa Tomei), her serious husband Elliot (Darren Burrows) and her angst-fueled tween son Joey (Charlie Tahan). Crowded family living situations can be silently uncomfortable and riddled with petty drama, and Love Is Strange portrays it in their entire unspoken, seat-squirming madness.
Meanwhile, George stays with friends in the same apartment building – another gay couple, two oft-partying policemen Ted and Roberto (Cheyenne Jackson and Manny Perez). This situation, which is given substantially less screen time than that of Lithgow’s character, shows George’s loneliness as he is isolated in a household full of exuberant 30-somethings. In a heartbreaking scene George comes to Ben on a rainy night just to hug him tightly in the doorway as he confesses how greatly he has missed him. In a film with little narrative direction, these small and sparse moments hold an unnatural weight and are to be cherished.
The film’s elegantly simple score – consisting of only classical piano – extracts tender emotion like any good movie soundtrack should. While George narrates a letter to his students concerning his departure from his post, a young girl plays Chopin during one of George’s private lessons – the sequence is composed with breathtaking editing.
However, Love Is Strange can sometimes become as cloying as its lazy title, such as the film’s closing moments, which work a little too hard to get you choked up. And though the film is unrestricted by realism and free to breathe because of its lifelike script and relaxed pacing, certain subplots unravel into triviality and the most unessential elements slip from memory and importance.
But it’s all really on Lithgow and Molina’s shoulders, and though the two are onscreen together for maybe all of twenty minutes, they make the most of it. The film’s best scene is simply them joking around in a bar, enjoying each other’s company even after a lifetime together. Their magnificently subtle chemistry is something to savor.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / October 8th, 2014
Movies that grapple with the subject of love often struggle to depict it honestly and Love Is Strange knows it. Instead of unnecessary flourishes and hackneyed drama, the film simply tells it like it is.
Ira Sachs’ latest examination of same-sex relationships is maturely rendered by the sincerity of its script in addition to the fearless and graceful performances of Alfred Molina and John Lithgow as a gay couple of 39 years.
Ben and George (Lithgow and Molina, respectively) face slightly turbulent times nearly four decades into their ever-enduring relationship. Most jubilantly, the two finally wed. Less so, George is fired from his position as music instructor at his church for the very same marriage. With these unexpected money troubles, the two must sell their Manhattan apartment as George seeks new work and the couple finds new affordable living. Of course, this transition takes some time and is the ultimate focus of the film’s plot, which is not, as one might expect, how two people in a long-term relationship deal with each other but just the opposite – how tragically lost people can become when separated from their life partner by uncontrollable circumstances.
So Ben stays with his patient daughter Kate (Marisa Tomei), her serious husband Elliot (Darren Burrows) and her angst-fueled tween son Joey (Charlie Tahan). Crowded family living situations can be silently uncomfortable and riddled with petty drama, and Love Is Strange portrays it in their entire unspoken, seat-squirming madness.
Meanwhile, George stays with friends in the same apartment building – another gay couple, two oft-partying policemen Ted and Roberto (Cheyenne Jackson and Manny Perez). This situation, which is given substantially less screen time than that of Lithgow’s character, shows George’s loneliness as he is isolated in a household full of exuberant 30-somethings. In a heartbreaking scene George comes to Ben on a rainy night just to hug him tightly in the doorway as he confesses how greatly he has missed him. In a film with little narrative direction, these small and sparse moments hold an unnatural weight and are to be cherished.
The film’s elegantly simple score – consisting of only classical piano – extracts tender emotion like any good movie soundtrack should. While George narrates a letter to his students concerning his departure from his post, a young girl plays Chopin during one of George’s private lessons – the sequence is composed with breathtaking editing.
However, Love Is Strange can sometimes become as cloying as its lazy title, such as the film’s closing moments, which work a little too hard to get you choked up. And though the film is unrestricted by realism and free to breathe because of its lifelike script and relaxed pacing, certain subplots unravel into triviality and the most unessential elements slip from memory and importance.
But it’s all really on Lithgow and Molina’s shoulders, and though the two are onscreen together for maybe all of twenty minutes, they make the most of it. The film’s best scene is simply them joking around in a bar, enjoying each other’s company even after a lifetime together. Their magnificently subtle chemistry is something to savor.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / October 8th, 2014
The Drop review
2 (out of 4)
The most unique thing about film as compared to other storytelling mediums is its ability to convey emotion through particular visual framing – shaping the mood and energy of cinematic situations with the artistic tools of cinematography and direction. The Drop, for all its great performances and interesting plotlines, is misshapen and contorted by its abysmally arid, lethally lackluster visual filmmaking.
Bleak and cold in tone, The Drop is also stylistic stiff and inert, consequently bearing no character, no artistic occupation other than to fill a screen for 100 minutes. Second time director Michaël R. Roskam takes no risks and therefore claims no victories, resulting in a film that contains not one particularly interesting shot and consistently strains one’s attention.
Unlike the faster pacing of similarly themed crime films, The Drop has a rhythm more closely resembling a western. Maybe that’s what would have worked best for a serious film with such curiously small scope, but it robs the film of the ability to build tension and break it properly. Instead The Drop plods along aimlessly, occasionally given brief moments of life in an otherwise lifeless film by predictable moments of harsh violence.
Based on the 2009 short story “Animal Rescue," The Drop follows Bob (Tom Hardy), a quiet New York bartender. Along with Marv (James Gandolfini in his final posthumous performance), Bob’s cousin and employer, the two use their business for more than serving alcohol, secretly receiving cash drop-offs for local gangsters as well. However, after a robbery sets up an unwanted investigation of the establishment led by Detective Torres (John Ortiz), problems begin to mount for the family business. In the meantime, Bob rescues an abandoned dog with the help of Nadia (Noomi Rapace), who befriends Bob and becomes tangled in Bob’s dangerous situation.
It is fairly intriguing material, and if weren’t for the impossibly bland execution, The Drop would have been an acceptable if moderately clichéd little crime film elevated by strong performances. But though the acting can’t save the movie’s soul, the expert work of Hardy and Gandolfini make the film feasibly watchable.
Though his character has little expression, Hardy has proved again and again that he can hold an audience’s attention, whether he’s fighting Batman or just driving a car as he did in the absorbing one man show that is Locke. He’s the highlight of this film, carrying the dreary weightiness of the film on his capable shoulders. Gandolfini, in his last film appearance, goes out swinging in a funny yet terrifying supporting role that is a swan song to be proud of.
Yet even with a mercifully short runtime, The Drop feels slow and insignificant. It is an extraordinary feat in wasted potential.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / September 24th, 2014
The most unique thing about film as compared to other storytelling mediums is its ability to convey emotion through particular visual framing – shaping the mood and energy of cinematic situations with the artistic tools of cinematography and direction. The Drop, for all its great performances and interesting plotlines, is misshapen and contorted by its abysmally arid, lethally lackluster visual filmmaking.
Bleak and cold in tone, The Drop is also stylistic stiff and inert, consequently bearing no character, no artistic occupation other than to fill a screen for 100 minutes. Second time director Michaël R. Roskam takes no risks and therefore claims no victories, resulting in a film that contains not one particularly interesting shot and consistently strains one’s attention.
Unlike the faster pacing of similarly themed crime films, The Drop has a rhythm more closely resembling a western. Maybe that’s what would have worked best for a serious film with such curiously small scope, but it robs the film of the ability to build tension and break it properly. Instead The Drop plods along aimlessly, occasionally given brief moments of life in an otherwise lifeless film by predictable moments of harsh violence.
Based on the 2009 short story “Animal Rescue," The Drop follows Bob (Tom Hardy), a quiet New York bartender. Along with Marv (James Gandolfini in his final posthumous performance), Bob’s cousin and employer, the two use their business for more than serving alcohol, secretly receiving cash drop-offs for local gangsters as well. However, after a robbery sets up an unwanted investigation of the establishment led by Detective Torres (John Ortiz), problems begin to mount for the family business. In the meantime, Bob rescues an abandoned dog with the help of Nadia (Noomi Rapace), who befriends Bob and becomes tangled in Bob’s dangerous situation.
It is fairly intriguing material, and if weren’t for the impossibly bland execution, The Drop would have been an acceptable if moderately clichéd little crime film elevated by strong performances. But though the acting can’t save the movie’s soul, the expert work of Hardy and Gandolfini make the film feasibly watchable.
Though his character has little expression, Hardy has proved again and again that he can hold an audience’s attention, whether he’s fighting Batman or just driving a car as he did in the absorbing one man show that is Locke. He’s the highlight of this film, carrying the dreary weightiness of the film on his capable shoulders. Gandolfini, in his last film appearance, goes out swinging in a funny yet terrifying supporting role that is a swan song to be proud of.
Yet even with a mercifully short runtime, The Drop feels slow and insignificant. It is an extraordinary feat in wasted potential.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / September 24th, 2014
Calvary review
3 ½ (out of 4)
It’s surprising when tragedy and comedy overlap in life, and when movies successfully combine the two it’s especially alluring. Calvary meshes the categories with ease — it’s an ambiguous film in which the humorous and the disturbing occur with realistic frequency but never quite flirt with the sensational.
Director John Michael McDonagh carries over many key strengths from his debut in the underrated comic romp The Guard. Some of these repeated elements include a masterful lead performance from Brendan Gleeson and decidedly Irish sensibilities within the script. It blends mild macabre and melancholy, soaking in droll but underplayed humor.
The film begins with a death threat. Father James (Brendan Gleeson), a good priest and a wearied widower, listens in confusion as someone just inches away during the confession threatens to kill him within a week. During these seven days, the priest’s kindhearted but suicidal daughter Fiona (Kelly Reilly) visits him, and this is perhaps the only pleasant encounter throughout the film. His professional disapproval of his fellow pastor Father Leary (David Wilmot) also surfaces and he counsels various peculiar characters, including Chris O’Dowd, Dylan Moran and Aidan Gillen, within the story’s remote, picturesque Irish town.
Though the film’s title is synonymous with suffering, Calvary is far less bleak than it should be. It can be harrowing at times but Calvary is largely an introspective film, as the mystery of the anonymous religious assassin is balanced with heavy existentialist ideas, some of which even stretch beyond the confines of strictly Christian thinking. For instance, what should religious concern be more focused on: sin or virtue? McDonagh’s mature film intertwines black comedy with stern, thought-provoking drama and some deeply inquisitive philosophical exploration.
The result is a strange film that’s as confident in its weirdness and abstraction as much of the Coen Brothers’ output. The film asks tough questions and gives even tougher answers. Every revelation is somber but shrouded in hope.
For all the morose story elements and challenging artsiness, the warmly funny undertones of Calvary endure. Gleeson is already equipped with smart timing, and the script lets him show it, mostly during his brilliant interactions with the partially obtuse townspeople. Father James’ discussion with young Milo (Killian Scott) about his possible enlistment with the army is hilarious and insightful. The supporting cast is extraordinary in providing the necessary comic relief but each character is also so believably flawed that it only makes the film more realistic.
A sparing but powerful score, tender cinematography and the added bonus of stunning Irish landscapes all contribute to the film’s irresistible cinematic effect. Hearty, understated and wryly intelligent, Calvary is the opposite of what its title suggests — it’s a downright pleasure.
*Published in The Pitt News / September 1st, 2014
It’s surprising when tragedy and comedy overlap in life, and when movies successfully combine the two it’s especially alluring. Calvary meshes the categories with ease — it’s an ambiguous film in which the humorous and the disturbing occur with realistic frequency but never quite flirt with the sensational.
Director John Michael McDonagh carries over many key strengths from his debut in the underrated comic romp The Guard. Some of these repeated elements include a masterful lead performance from Brendan Gleeson and decidedly Irish sensibilities within the script. It blends mild macabre and melancholy, soaking in droll but underplayed humor.
The film begins with a death threat. Father James (Brendan Gleeson), a good priest and a wearied widower, listens in confusion as someone just inches away during the confession threatens to kill him within a week. During these seven days, the priest’s kindhearted but suicidal daughter Fiona (Kelly Reilly) visits him, and this is perhaps the only pleasant encounter throughout the film. His professional disapproval of his fellow pastor Father Leary (David Wilmot) also surfaces and he counsels various peculiar characters, including Chris O’Dowd, Dylan Moran and Aidan Gillen, within the story’s remote, picturesque Irish town.
Though the film’s title is synonymous with suffering, Calvary is far less bleak than it should be. It can be harrowing at times but Calvary is largely an introspective film, as the mystery of the anonymous religious assassin is balanced with heavy existentialist ideas, some of which even stretch beyond the confines of strictly Christian thinking. For instance, what should religious concern be more focused on: sin or virtue? McDonagh’s mature film intertwines black comedy with stern, thought-provoking drama and some deeply inquisitive philosophical exploration.
The result is a strange film that’s as confident in its weirdness and abstraction as much of the Coen Brothers’ output. The film asks tough questions and gives even tougher answers. Every revelation is somber but shrouded in hope.
For all the morose story elements and challenging artsiness, the warmly funny undertones of Calvary endure. Gleeson is already equipped with smart timing, and the script lets him show it, mostly during his brilliant interactions with the partially obtuse townspeople. Father James’ discussion with young Milo (Killian Scott) about his possible enlistment with the army is hilarious and insightful. The supporting cast is extraordinary in providing the necessary comic relief but each character is also so believably flawed that it only makes the film more realistic.
A sparing but powerful score, tender cinematography and the added bonus of stunning Irish landscapes all contribute to the film’s irresistible cinematic effect. Hearty, understated and wryly intelligent, Calvary is the opposite of what its title suggests — it’s a downright pleasure.
*Published in The Pitt News / September 1st, 2014
What If review
2 ½ (out of 4)
For all the romantic comedies that claim that love is messy, far fewer actually believe it. What If seems to think it’s a cut above the rest but for all of its undeserving self-satisfaction, the film is so agreeable and keen to please that it’s hard not to enjoy.
What If wastes no time in reaching its obligatory boy-meets-girl scenario. In its first scene, Wallace (Daniel Radcliffe), a med school dropout stuck in a dead-end job, strikes up a comfortable, crackling conversation at a party with Chantry (Zoe Kazan), an animator. Wallace has been numbed by heartache for a year after a sour breakup, while Chantry is in the midst of a committed five-year relationship. Only in movies can true romantic chemistry be based solely on how effortlessly a couple can conjure up amusing banter — these two pass the litmus test for having something special.
But it seems all is for naught when, as Chantry writes down her number, she offhandedly mentions her boyfriend, leaving Wallace in subdued disappointment as he throws her number away soon afterwards. The two meet by chance again and decide they should continue their friendship.
To discuss the plot further would be explaining everything so obvious and predictable about where this premise can go. Wallace eventually encounters Chantry’s territorial boyfriend, Ben (Rafe Spall), and rebound-ready sister (Megan Park), and he continually seeks advice from his unpredictable roommate and best friend Allan (Adam Driver) as his feelings for Chantry become more unshakable.
What If could have examined the fragility and discomfort of these on-the-fence friendships but it ultimately fails to pick apart their tricky delicacy. It’s less about accepting friendship from the opposite sex even if romance was your first intention, and more about the uncertainty of waiting for someone who presently can’t be with you. It is all too safe and simplified — a thorny subject boiled down to rounded edges. But even with the thematic depth of a sitcom subplot, What If is elevated by its sharp, fast-paced dialogue and likable cast.
Radcliffe is the biggest reason why the film glides when it should be stumbling. His committed performance and everyman charm makes him the strongest player in the cast. Radcliffe, with Pottermania now three years behind him, is still in the middle of ditching the glasses and expanding his repertoire. Films like The Woman in Black and Kill Your Darlings are more thrilling just for Radcliffe’s dedication to shrugging off his childhood fame and becoming an actor to reckon with. Driver also never fails as the hilariously wacky best friend. Kazan’s performance is good enough, but her quirkiness and unthreatening cuteness — nearly identical to her appeal in the similarly styled Ruby Sparks — feels like just another cliché, much like the film’s pointless animation sequences and generically pleasant soundtrack.
Speaking of clichés, perhaps the film’s greatest offense is its painful final minutes. Not because the sickening fairy tale epilogue wraps everything up in a bow so tight that the film almost chokes itself, but because the film could have ended with the raw sweetness and light catharsis of its penultimate scene. It would have made for a substantially better film.
Regardless of its many slips, it’s hard to dismiss What If entirely — it’s far too inoffensive and well-written to be considered distasteful. The dialogue, while at times almost too eager to please for its own good, still presented its share of unexpected laughs. Sometimes that’s enough. What If seems harmlessly unaware of its own flaws and somehow makes them much easier to forgive.
*Published in The Pitt News / August 28th, 2014
For all the romantic comedies that claim that love is messy, far fewer actually believe it. What If seems to think it’s a cut above the rest but for all of its undeserving self-satisfaction, the film is so agreeable and keen to please that it’s hard not to enjoy.
What If wastes no time in reaching its obligatory boy-meets-girl scenario. In its first scene, Wallace (Daniel Radcliffe), a med school dropout stuck in a dead-end job, strikes up a comfortable, crackling conversation at a party with Chantry (Zoe Kazan), an animator. Wallace has been numbed by heartache for a year after a sour breakup, while Chantry is in the midst of a committed five-year relationship. Only in movies can true romantic chemistry be based solely on how effortlessly a couple can conjure up amusing banter — these two pass the litmus test for having something special.
But it seems all is for naught when, as Chantry writes down her number, she offhandedly mentions her boyfriend, leaving Wallace in subdued disappointment as he throws her number away soon afterwards. The two meet by chance again and decide they should continue their friendship.
To discuss the plot further would be explaining everything so obvious and predictable about where this premise can go. Wallace eventually encounters Chantry’s territorial boyfriend, Ben (Rafe Spall), and rebound-ready sister (Megan Park), and he continually seeks advice from his unpredictable roommate and best friend Allan (Adam Driver) as his feelings for Chantry become more unshakable.
What If could have examined the fragility and discomfort of these on-the-fence friendships but it ultimately fails to pick apart their tricky delicacy. It’s less about accepting friendship from the opposite sex even if romance was your first intention, and more about the uncertainty of waiting for someone who presently can’t be with you. It is all too safe and simplified — a thorny subject boiled down to rounded edges. But even with the thematic depth of a sitcom subplot, What If is elevated by its sharp, fast-paced dialogue and likable cast.
Radcliffe is the biggest reason why the film glides when it should be stumbling. His committed performance and everyman charm makes him the strongest player in the cast. Radcliffe, with Pottermania now three years behind him, is still in the middle of ditching the glasses and expanding his repertoire. Films like The Woman in Black and Kill Your Darlings are more thrilling just for Radcliffe’s dedication to shrugging off his childhood fame and becoming an actor to reckon with. Driver also never fails as the hilariously wacky best friend. Kazan’s performance is good enough, but her quirkiness and unthreatening cuteness — nearly identical to her appeal in the similarly styled Ruby Sparks — feels like just another cliché, much like the film’s pointless animation sequences and generically pleasant soundtrack.
Speaking of clichés, perhaps the film’s greatest offense is its painful final minutes. Not because the sickening fairy tale epilogue wraps everything up in a bow so tight that the film almost chokes itself, but because the film could have ended with the raw sweetness and light catharsis of its penultimate scene. It would have made for a substantially better film.
Regardless of its many slips, it’s hard to dismiss What If entirely — it’s far too inoffensive and well-written to be considered distasteful. The dialogue, while at times almost too eager to please for its own good, still presented its share of unexpected laughs. Sometimes that’s enough. What If seems harmlessly unaware of its own flaws and somehow makes them much easier to forgive.
*Published in The Pitt News / August 28th, 2014
Neighbors review
3 (out of 4)
If you’re expecting Neighbors to be some simplistic prankster war between juvenile adults, blame it on the dumbed-down TV spots. Be sure to ignore the misleading marketing — Neighbors is way smarter than it looks.
When a fraternity led by party-crazy Teddy Sanders (Zac Efron, finally in his element) moves into a house in the suburbs, first-time parents Mac and Kelly Radner (Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne) find their peaceful adult lifestyle at risk with these rowdy new neighbors. They try to find ways to make the fraternity lose the house, but this only causes Teddy and friends — including the very funny Dave Franco — to retaliate in the fight for their right to party.
The humor may be as crass and sometimes as childish as one might expect, but experienced comedy director Nicholas Stoller (Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Get Him to the Greek) keeps the film humming with an agreeable sense of enthusiasm, loose and casual pacing and uncommon intelligence. Neighbors is thoughtful and gleefully lighthearted, rising far above the standards of the average summer comedy.
Rogen continues to cash in on his lovability, this time with exceptional ease as a new father to an adorable baby so he, along with Byrne who exercises some confident comedy chops as Rogen’s British wife, quickly earn our sympathies. That’s not to say that Efron and friends are exactly villains — both houses are awarded equal screen time and each of our lead characters are unexpectedly well-defined and fairly believable.
We clearly see both sides of this comedic struggle and though the jokes ultimately supersede the character nuances, the ideas on each turf are profound and honest. With Rogen and Byrne, there’s a portrait of young thirty-somethings adjusting to the life-changing shift to parenthood. With Efron, the film depicts the frightening limbo between college and real adulthood through a woefully unprepared college senior.
In fact, with such relaxed structure and miniscule scale, there’s plenty of room in the lean 96 minutes to have the bigger, louder comedic moments and the joyful breathers in between. The best laughs aren’t from the sex jokes and brash slapstick, but from the seemingly unimportant conversations amongst the film’s more indisposable plot points in the neighborhood feuding.
In one scene, Rogen and Efron discuss the different film incarnations of Batman in intricate detail. Another scene finds Rogen and Byrne stoned and slowly falling asleep while discussing how parenting is much different than they expected. These instances are so well-scripted that they feel real — or maybe it’s just some masterful improvisation.
This little film is neither slight nor as pointlessly noisy and brazenly crude as the lackluster advertising might imply. Neighbors is an intimate, personal and exceptionally mature comedy that is, best of all, so much fun.
*Published in The Pitt News / May 7th, 2014
If you’re expecting Neighbors to be some simplistic prankster war between juvenile adults, blame it on the dumbed-down TV spots. Be sure to ignore the misleading marketing — Neighbors is way smarter than it looks.
When a fraternity led by party-crazy Teddy Sanders (Zac Efron, finally in his element) moves into a house in the suburbs, first-time parents Mac and Kelly Radner (Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne) find their peaceful adult lifestyle at risk with these rowdy new neighbors. They try to find ways to make the fraternity lose the house, but this only causes Teddy and friends — including the very funny Dave Franco — to retaliate in the fight for their right to party.
The humor may be as crass and sometimes as childish as one might expect, but experienced comedy director Nicholas Stoller (Forgetting Sarah Marshall and Get Him to the Greek) keeps the film humming with an agreeable sense of enthusiasm, loose and casual pacing and uncommon intelligence. Neighbors is thoughtful and gleefully lighthearted, rising far above the standards of the average summer comedy.
Rogen continues to cash in on his lovability, this time with exceptional ease as a new father to an adorable baby so he, along with Byrne who exercises some confident comedy chops as Rogen’s British wife, quickly earn our sympathies. That’s not to say that Efron and friends are exactly villains — both houses are awarded equal screen time and each of our lead characters are unexpectedly well-defined and fairly believable.
We clearly see both sides of this comedic struggle and though the jokes ultimately supersede the character nuances, the ideas on each turf are profound and honest. With Rogen and Byrne, there’s a portrait of young thirty-somethings adjusting to the life-changing shift to parenthood. With Efron, the film depicts the frightening limbo between college and real adulthood through a woefully unprepared college senior.
In fact, with such relaxed structure and miniscule scale, there’s plenty of room in the lean 96 minutes to have the bigger, louder comedic moments and the joyful breathers in between. The best laughs aren’t from the sex jokes and brash slapstick, but from the seemingly unimportant conversations amongst the film’s more indisposable plot points in the neighborhood feuding.
In one scene, Rogen and Efron discuss the different film incarnations of Batman in intricate detail. Another scene finds Rogen and Byrne stoned and slowly falling asleep while discussing how parenting is much different than they expected. These instances are so well-scripted that they feel real — or maybe it’s just some masterful improvisation.
This little film is neither slight nor as pointlessly noisy and brazenly crude as the lackluster advertising might imply. Neighbors is an intimate, personal and exceptionally mature comedy that is, best of all, so much fun.
*Published in The Pitt News / May 7th, 2014
Captain America: The Winter Soldier review
3 (out of 4)
With Avengers: Age of Ultron taking shape, Captain America: The Winter Soldier does exactly what Marvel needs for its mega-franchise — provide brawny, if forgettable, blockbuster entertainment to whet our appetites for the meatier and more massive spectacle to come.
Although Marvel has recently had difficulty making these smaller, post-Avengers films memorable and distinguishable from one another — released less than six month ago, Thor: The Dark World is still a strain to recall — Cap’n’s latest solo outing is a substantial and confident step in Marvel’s genius money-making ruse.
Since The Avengers, Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) has been adapting to modern life in Washington, D.C. and assisting S.H.I.E.L.D. in its espionage endeavors. In his most recent assignment, Captain America must help rescue an ally ship under attack. During the mission, Rogers finds agent Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), secretly stealing information from the vessel’s computers. Back home, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) attempts to decrypt the information but is unsuccessful. S.H.I.E.L.D. is later compromised by assassins led by the Winter Soldier, a stealthy and dangerous foe equipped with superhuman strength and a burnished metal arm.
Afterwards, executive Alexander Pierce (Robert Redford) meets with Rogers, believing he is aware of what information Fury stole. When Rogers confesses his lack of knowledge, Pierce labels him a fugitive. With the help of Romanoff and Rogers’ friend, Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie), Rogers must go undercover to unveil the corruption surrounding S.H.I.E.L.D. in order to prevent global disaster.
Needless to say, things get a tad convoluted but the film is seldom uninteresting. While the story reaches for the grandiose, the importance of The Winter Soldier feels inevitably limited. But even though large portions of the Captain’s sequel are decidedly unremarkable, brothers Anthony and Joe Russo stimulate the film with startlingly adept direction, most exemplified in the handful of well-executed action sequences and the speedy pacing. Two hours and 15 minutes has rarely gone by so quickly.
The action should not be dismissed as mere childish fun — the Russo brothers have crafted an expert style in supplying comic book thrills. Teetering between cartoonish and gritty, Captain America: The Winter Soldier blends harsh violence and the typically colorful visual scheme with unexpectedly tantalizing results, particularly in the hand-to-hand combat moments. In Marvel’s movie world, Captain America is about as real as it gets, free of the sillier fantasy and science fiction elements of our other beloved Avengers. So with a more prominent essence of realism, the fights are grainy, dizzying and brutal — the less CGI, the better.
Evans is appealingly straight-laced as usual, Johansson overcomes her occasionally mediocre dialogue and is as alluring as ever and the charismatic Mackie as The Falcon makes for an excellent addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The Winter Soldier — shrouded in mystery and genuinely intimidating — is also a formidable villain. It is thrilling to see Captain America meet his physical match with this nearly silent nemesis.
At its worst, The Winter Soldier may be overly slick and manufactured, but on the whole there is some brisk, exciting and serious fun to be had.
*Published in The Pitt News / April 7th, 2014
With Avengers: Age of Ultron taking shape, Captain America: The Winter Soldier does exactly what Marvel needs for its mega-franchise — provide brawny, if forgettable, blockbuster entertainment to whet our appetites for the meatier and more massive spectacle to come.
Although Marvel has recently had difficulty making these smaller, post-Avengers films memorable and distinguishable from one another — released less than six month ago, Thor: The Dark World is still a strain to recall — Cap’n’s latest solo outing is a substantial and confident step in Marvel’s genius money-making ruse.
Since The Avengers, Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) has been adapting to modern life in Washington, D.C. and assisting S.H.I.E.L.D. in its espionage endeavors. In his most recent assignment, Captain America must help rescue an ally ship under attack. During the mission, Rogers finds agent Natasha Romanoff, aka Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), secretly stealing information from the vessel’s computers. Back home, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) attempts to decrypt the information but is unsuccessful. S.H.I.E.L.D. is later compromised by assassins led by the Winter Soldier, a stealthy and dangerous foe equipped with superhuman strength and a burnished metal arm.
Afterwards, executive Alexander Pierce (Robert Redford) meets with Rogers, believing he is aware of what information Fury stole. When Rogers confesses his lack of knowledge, Pierce labels him a fugitive. With the help of Romanoff and Rogers’ friend, Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie), Rogers must go undercover to unveil the corruption surrounding S.H.I.E.L.D. in order to prevent global disaster.
Needless to say, things get a tad convoluted but the film is seldom uninteresting. While the story reaches for the grandiose, the importance of The Winter Soldier feels inevitably limited. But even though large portions of the Captain’s sequel are decidedly unremarkable, brothers Anthony and Joe Russo stimulate the film with startlingly adept direction, most exemplified in the handful of well-executed action sequences and the speedy pacing. Two hours and 15 minutes has rarely gone by so quickly.
The action should not be dismissed as mere childish fun — the Russo brothers have crafted an expert style in supplying comic book thrills. Teetering between cartoonish and gritty, Captain America: The Winter Soldier blends harsh violence and the typically colorful visual scheme with unexpectedly tantalizing results, particularly in the hand-to-hand combat moments. In Marvel’s movie world, Captain America is about as real as it gets, free of the sillier fantasy and science fiction elements of our other beloved Avengers. So with a more prominent essence of realism, the fights are grainy, dizzying and brutal — the less CGI, the better.
Evans is appealingly straight-laced as usual, Johansson overcomes her occasionally mediocre dialogue and is as alluring as ever and the charismatic Mackie as The Falcon makes for an excellent addition to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The Winter Soldier — shrouded in mystery and genuinely intimidating — is also a formidable villain. It is thrilling to see Captain America meet his physical match with this nearly silent nemesis.
At its worst, The Winter Soldier may be overly slick and manufactured, but on the whole there is some brisk, exciting and serious fun to be had.
*Published in The Pitt News / April 7th, 2014
Non-Stop review
1 ½ (out of 4)
Liam Neeson’s newly rejuvenated career as an action hero continues with Non-Stop, a film that once again affirms his identity as an icon of badassery but also makes it difficult to take anything else in the film seriously.
Though its ambition is ultimately the film’s undoing, here’s the plot: Internally troubled Air Marshal Bill Marks (Neeson) embarks on a continuous flight across the Atlantic to London. Once in the sky, Marks begins to receive anonymous messages from someone claiming to be aboard the plane and threatening to kill a passenger every 20 minutes unless $150 million is wired to a specified account.
What begins as a disarmingly agreeable whodunit is slowly voided by the simple fact that the film doesn’t care how it ends — revealing the secret villain and their murderous motivations are irrelevant. Non-Stop, on premise and Neeson alone, will put people in seats; beyond that, the film masks its box-office-sales-inspired apathy with predictable ridiculousness. This is one of the least rewarding film experiences in some time — all tease and no payoff.
Though it is all for naught, there is fun to be had before the nonsense kicks in. Neeson’s talent might be once again tragically reduced to brooding and shouting as his performance is diluted by a stock role identical to so many others in his recent more commercial films — such as the eerily familiar and equally disappointing Unknown — but he is always a captivating lead. It’s also somewhat redeeming that the first deaths promised by the film’s inconspicuous villain play out unexpectedly. With these deaths, the film promises through its grim photography and dour tone that this is all going somewhere interesting.
But alas, this movie offers more than it delivers, an almost unforgivable sin and a nasty flaw that eats away at your respect for Non-Stop. The film fuels its thin plot with a ceaseless flow of taunts and cheap red herrings — few extras and supporting characters make it through the film without being shot as slightly suspicious — that may at times be clever in the moment but amount to absolutely nothing by the culmination.
If the ending was simply lazy, it would be a disappointing conclusion to an otherwise decent film, but the motivations behind all the horror-movie-style theatrics of our antagonist transform the serious mystery of Non Stop's first hour and a half into preposterous rubbish. Not to mention the devastatingly ham-fisted political subtext provided by the clumsily devised script. The message is jarring, unnecessary and way too far from subtle to make the film appear intelligent.
The film bears the aura of more compelling material and stays in the air on intriguing ideas alone, but not without the steady disappointment of slowly realizing that Non-Stop has no idea which direction it wants to go.
*Published in The Pitt News / March 3rd, 2014
Liam Neeson’s newly rejuvenated career as an action hero continues with Non-Stop, a film that once again affirms his identity as an icon of badassery but also makes it difficult to take anything else in the film seriously.
Though its ambition is ultimately the film’s undoing, here’s the plot: Internally troubled Air Marshal Bill Marks (Neeson) embarks on a continuous flight across the Atlantic to London. Once in the sky, Marks begins to receive anonymous messages from someone claiming to be aboard the plane and threatening to kill a passenger every 20 minutes unless $150 million is wired to a specified account.
What begins as a disarmingly agreeable whodunit is slowly voided by the simple fact that the film doesn’t care how it ends — revealing the secret villain and their murderous motivations are irrelevant. Non-Stop, on premise and Neeson alone, will put people in seats; beyond that, the film masks its box-office-sales-inspired apathy with predictable ridiculousness. This is one of the least rewarding film experiences in some time — all tease and no payoff.
Though it is all for naught, there is fun to be had before the nonsense kicks in. Neeson’s talent might be once again tragically reduced to brooding and shouting as his performance is diluted by a stock role identical to so many others in his recent more commercial films — such as the eerily familiar and equally disappointing Unknown — but he is always a captivating lead. It’s also somewhat redeeming that the first deaths promised by the film’s inconspicuous villain play out unexpectedly. With these deaths, the film promises through its grim photography and dour tone that this is all going somewhere interesting.
But alas, this movie offers more than it delivers, an almost unforgivable sin and a nasty flaw that eats away at your respect for Non-Stop. The film fuels its thin plot with a ceaseless flow of taunts and cheap red herrings — few extras and supporting characters make it through the film without being shot as slightly suspicious — that may at times be clever in the moment but amount to absolutely nothing by the culmination.
If the ending was simply lazy, it would be a disappointing conclusion to an otherwise decent film, but the motivations behind all the horror-movie-style theatrics of our antagonist transform the serious mystery of Non Stop's first hour and a half into preposterous rubbish. Not to mention the devastatingly ham-fisted political subtext provided by the clumsily devised script. The message is jarring, unnecessary and way too far from subtle to make the film appear intelligent.
The film bears the aura of more compelling material and stays in the air on intriguing ideas alone, but not without the steady disappointment of slowly realizing that Non-Stop has no idea which direction it wants to go.
*Published in The Pitt News / March 3rd, 2014
The Monuments Men review
1 ½ (out of 4)
For all of its earnest, heavy-handed themes on the great importance of culture and its preservation, ironically The Monuments Men is a forgettable and miscalculated film that works against the significance of cinematic art and its role in modern history as such.
George Clooney — now with five directing turns under his belt ranging from the great Good Night, and Good Luck. to the mediocre Leatherheads — takes a big misstep in his shifting career path with the incompetent and blatantly unsure execution behind the reasonably interesting story of The Monuments Men.
During the final days of World War II, Frank Stokes (Clooney) is fervent about recovering stolen art from the Nazis. He assembles a team (Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman, Jean Dujardin, Bob Balaban and Hugh Bonneville) to journey past enemy lines in order to rescue important cultural artifacts before the Nazis, in their inevitable defeat, destroy what they have taken. On separate paths, the Monuments Men search with little luck until they locate Claire Simone (Cate Blanchett), a French spy posing as a Nazi, who holds valuable information on the locations of the missing art.
On the surface, The Monuments Men has much in its favor: a stellar cast, a fascinating true story and clearly passionate devotion to the project from Clooney as director, writer and star. Despite these merits, the film is undone many times over by a plethora of bafflingly poor filmmaking decisions.
The most obvious flaw is the lack of a consistent tone. The Monuments Men has been marketed as a historical caper of sorts — the presence of Clooney and Damon, who previously teamed up for Ocean’s Eleven, only adds to this. But the film — grappling with jarringly serious and upbeat elements — awkwardly oscillates between dramatic historical account and lighthearted war comedy. It takes about a half-hour to realize that this film has no idea what it wants to be.
Along with a clear tone, a narrative rhythm is also entirely absent. The film flounders and stumbles through each scene, some of which lack any purpose at all — early on Murray and Balaban’s characters enjoy smoking with a lone and frightened German soldier in an uncomfortably long and unfunny scene. And with a script stuck in inertia, fractured even further by multiple, fairly uneventful storylines, experienced editor Stephen Mirrione couldn’t salvage the slightest bit of coherence.
Even more disappointingly, the impressive cast is caught in the whirlwind of clumsy filmmaking and not one talented actor is able to transcend the ineptitude happening behind the camera. The divided storyline hinders not only the film’s narrative pulse but also the ability of its characters to seem like human beings instead of plot devices.
Additionally, The Monuments Men has a generic look and feel thanks to irritatingly stale production value and lousy cinematography void of creativity. Seemingly designed to be unremarkable, the film is a crushingly disappointing waste of talent and a promising story idea.
For all of its flaws, The Monuments Men does have its moments — Murray’s character receives a touching vinyl message from his grandchildren and the climax is rightfully far more exciting than any other part of the film. But these instances are too few to be considered saving graces.
Delivering neither thrills nor laughs nor historical lessons free of Clooney’s obligatory speeches on the value of human achievements, The Monuments Men is a stunning example of human failure.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / February 12th, 2014
For all of its earnest, heavy-handed themes on the great importance of culture and its preservation, ironically The Monuments Men is a forgettable and miscalculated film that works against the significance of cinematic art and its role in modern history as such.
George Clooney — now with five directing turns under his belt ranging from the great Good Night, and Good Luck. to the mediocre Leatherheads — takes a big misstep in his shifting career path with the incompetent and blatantly unsure execution behind the reasonably interesting story of The Monuments Men.
During the final days of World War II, Frank Stokes (Clooney) is fervent about recovering stolen art from the Nazis. He assembles a team (Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman, Jean Dujardin, Bob Balaban and Hugh Bonneville) to journey past enemy lines in order to rescue important cultural artifacts before the Nazis, in their inevitable defeat, destroy what they have taken. On separate paths, the Monuments Men search with little luck until they locate Claire Simone (Cate Blanchett), a French spy posing as a Nazi, who holds valuable information on the locations of the missing art.
On the surface, The Monuments Men has much in its favor: a stellar cast, a fascinating true story and clearly passionate devotion to the project from Clooney as director, writer and star. Despite these merits, the film is undone many times over by a plethora of bafflingly poor filmmaking decisions.
The most obvious flaw is the lack of a consistent tone. The Monuments Men has been marketed as a historical caper of sorts — the presence of Clooney and Damon, who previously teamed up for Ocean’s Eleven, only adds to this. But the film — grappling with jarringly serious and upbeat elements — awkwardly oscillates between dramatic historical account and lighthearted war comedy. It takes about a half-hour to realize that this film has no idea what it wants to be.
Along with a clear tone, a narrative rhythm is also entirely absent. The film flounders and stumbles through each scene, some of which lack any purpose at all — early on Murray and Balaban’s characters enjoy smoking with a lone and frightened German soldier in an uncomfortably long and unfunny scene. And with a script stuck in inertia, fractured even further by multiple, fairly uneventful storylines, experienced editor Stephen Mirrione couldn’t salvage the slightest bit of coherence.
Even more disappointingly, the impressive cast is caught in the whirlwind of clumsy filmmaking and not one talented actor is able to transcend the ineptitude happening behind the camera. The divided storyline hinders not only the film’s narrative pulse but also the ability of its characters to seem like human beings instead of plot devices.
Additionally, The Monuments Men has a generic look and feel thanks to irritatingly stale production value and lousy cinematography void of creativity. Seemingly designed to be unremarkable, the film is a crushingly disappointing waste of talent and a promising story idea.
For all of its flaws, The Monuments Men does have its moments — Murray’s character receives a touching vinyl message from his grandchildren and the climax is rightfully far more exciting than any other part of the film. But these instances are too few to be considered saving graces.
Delivering neither thrills nor laughs nor historical lessons free of Clooney’s obligatory speeches on the value of human achievements, The Monuments Men is a stunning example of human failure.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / February 12th, 2014
The Lego Movie review
3 ½ (out of 4)
From afar, The Lego Movie may seem like a shameless cash-in on a recognizable toy brand in the vein of the recent G.I. Joe movies or Battleship. Upon proper examination, the film is a nostalgia-driven comedy enriched by razor-sharp writing, light-speed pacing and wondrous animation.
But there was little reason to worry about the film’s potentially abysmal results, considering the talent behind it. Budding writer-director duo Phil Lord and Christopher Miller have swiftly and faultlessly marched to the throne of comedy kings in their short time together and haven’t missed a single step with their latest creation.
Following Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs — arguably the funniest animated film in recent memory — and the hilarious surprise that was 21 Jump Street, directors Lord and Miller have kept their promising streak of success surging forward with The Lego Movie, which boasts a similarly infectious high-spiritedness and a number of self-referential jokes whizzing by so fast that multiple viewings will be necessary to catch the movie’s more subtle gags.
The unexpectedly complex story revolves around the definitively normal Emmet (Chris Pratt). His happy but empty existence is shaken up once he is presumed to be the “Special,” the most important master builder in the Lego universe, and prophesied to overthrow dystopian-esque dictator Lord Business (Will Ferrell) in his continued efforts to thwart creativity and incite strict order. Emmet, after stumbling upon the Piece of Resistance, which is key to defeating Business, is assisted by Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman), a sorcerer with knowledge of the prophecy, and the aggressive Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks). Along the way, many iconic and amusing supporting characters make appearances including Batman, Superman and Abraham Lincoln. All are voiced by countless big-name actors such as Will Arnett, Jonah Hill and Charlie Day.
In addition to the pleasant irritation of guessing the many voice actors, The Lego Movie is truly a visual wonderland, wholly realized and astonishingly intricate. The film avoids any sense of artificiality by utilizing a disarmingly old-fashioned stop-motion style of animation that looks far more unique and handcrafted than any other entirely computer-animated film. Sequences involving water or explosions are dazzling — this film feels alive.
Though the film’s vibrant energy at times does verge on the manic — the film doesn’t stay in one place for more than five minutes — the sure-handed direction of Lord and Miller thankfully breeds breathless beauty rather than numbing overkill.
Regardless of what is printed on a box of Legos, this movie is for everyone. The film is so few in flaws, so free of cutesiness and wearying pop-culture references and so effortlessly delightful that it is hard to imagine the type of person who would be unmoved by Lego’s absolute blissfulness.
Be warned, however: the deliriously catchy song “Everything is Awesome” will rattle in your brain long after you’ve left the theater. This would be aggravating only if The Lego Movie was anything less than awesome.
*Published in The Pitt News / February 5th, 2014
From afar, The Lego Movie may seem like a shameless cash-in on a recognizable toy brand in the vein of the recent G.I. Joe movies or Battleship. Upon proper examination, the film is a nostalgia-driven comedy enriched by razor-sharp writing, light-speed pacing and wondrous animation.
But there was little reason to worry about the film’s potentially abysmal results, considering the talent behind it. Budding writer-director duo Phil Lord and Christopher Miller have swiftly and faultlessly marched to the throne of comedy kings in their short time together and haven’t missed a single step with their latest creation.
Following Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs — arguably the funniest animated film in recent memory — and the hilarious surprise that was 21 Jump Street, directors Lord and Miller have kept their promising streak of success surging forward with The Lego Movie, which boasts a similarly infectious high-spiritedness and a number of self-referential jokes whizzing by so fast that multiple viewings will be necessary to catch the movie’s more subtle gags.
The unexpectedly complex story revolves around the definitively normal Emmet (Chris Pratt). His happy but empty existence is shaken up once he is presumed to be the “Special,” the most important master builder in the Lego universe, and prophesied to overthrow dystopian-esque dictator Lord Business (Will Ferrell) in his continued efforts to thwart creativity and incite strict order. Emmet, after stumbling upon the Piece of Resistance, which is key to defeating Business, is assisted by Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman), a sorcerer with knowledge of the prophecy, and the aggressive Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks). Along the way, many iconic and amusing supporting characters make appearances including Batman, Superman and Abraham Lincoln. All are voiced by countless big-name actors such as Will Arnett, Jonah Hill and Charlie Day.
In addition to the pleasant irritation of guessing the many voice actors, The Lego Movie is truly a visual wonderland, wholly realized and astonishingly intricate. The film avoids any sense of artificiality by utilizing a disarmingly old-fashioned stop-motion style of animation that looks far more unique and handcrafted than any other entirely computer-animated film. Sequences involving water or explosions are dazzling — this film feels alive.
Though the film’s vibrant energy at times does verge on the manic — the film doesn’t stay in one place for more than five minutes — the sure-handed direction of Lord and Miller thankfully breeds breathless beauty rather than numbing overkill.
Regardless of what is printed on a box of Legos, this movie is for everyone. The film is so few in flaws, so free of cutesiness and wearying pop-culture references and so effortlessly delightful that it is hard to imagine the type of person who would be unmoved by Lego’s absolute blissfulness.
Be warned, however: the deliriously catchy song “Everything is Awesome” will rattle in your brain long after you’ve left the theater. This would be aggravating only if The Lego Movie was anything less than awesome.
*Published in The Pitt News / February 5th, 2014
Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit review
2 ½ (out of 4)
While Oscar-yearning holdovers from 2013 will entertain the artsy crowds, Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, with its competent direction and endearing sense of fun, will leave the mainstream movie-going audience with more than the typical half-baked schlock commonly found in theaters in the first few months of the new year.
Though it may be marketed as a grand action blockbuster in which no presumed protagonists should be considered allies to our lead, the actual product is quite different — a Cold War-style espionage B-movie that attempts to thrill with political and economic themes as much as car chases and gunplay. And despite a decent number of plot twists, the film’s loosely drawn and oversimplified characters leave no doubt over the allegiance of our heroes and villains.
Ignoring the four previous Jack Ryan films (which were not tightly linked themselves, in which Ryan was played by actors such as Alec Baldwin, Harrison Ford and Ben Affleck), Shadow Recruit acts as a reboot to the Tom Clancy-inspired film franchise. After a devastating helicopter crash, marine Jack Ryan (Chris Pine) enters physical therapy where his doctor and future girlfriend Cathy (Keira Knightley) aid him in his recovery. Once recuperated, Jack is enlisted by Thomas Hooper (Kevin Costner) to become a CIA agent working undercover as an analyst on Wall Street. After a decade without causing much trouble, conniving Russian villain Viktor Cherevin (Kenneth Branagh) poses a terrorist threat that could also involve a devastating economic collapse of the United States, forcing Ryan to return to active service.
If the film were executed more sloppily, it would be fair to say that director and star Kenneth Branagh was masking the film’s middling scale with a thunderous score and ceaselessly kinetic cinematography in order to compensate for working with lackluster material. However, given that this Jack Ryan is consistently entertaining it’s far more accurate to instead praise Branagh for his ability to do so much with so little. The film nestles comfortably between bombastic and boring, effortlessly achieving its own modest expectations as simply a fun thriller.
Despite showing no more range than he did in the new Star Trek films, Pine makes for a fine lead and continues to prove himself a likable action star. Knightley is perfectly acceptable in her role and fortunately her character is given more to do than the usual worried love interest or damsel in distress. Costner’s character is uninteresting and Costner himself gives a performance to match. Branagh is easily the acting highlight of the film as a delightfully stereotypical Russian foe whose utter campiness keeps things playful even in the midst of Jack Ryan’s most serious moments.
Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is a colorful and unchallenging excursion, laced with flashes of clever scripting and some tense, Mission: Impossible-esque sequences all bursting at an unrelentingly lively pace.
Jack Ryan deserves no second thought, nor does it ask for one. That is what makes it so efficient and enjoyable — the beautiful synchronization between intention and result. It is limited material stretched to its limits; a perfect exercise in the just OK.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / January 20th, 2014
While Oscar-yearning holdovers from 2013 will entertain the artsy crowds, Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, with its competent direction and endearing sense of fun, will leave the mainstream movie-going audience with more than the typical half-baked schlock commonly found in theaters in the first few months of the new year.
Though it may be marketed as a grand action blockbuster in which no presumed protagonists should be considered allies to our lead, the actual product is quite different — a Cold War-style espionage B-movie that attempts to thrill with political and economic themes as much as car chases and gunplay. And despite a decent number of plot twists, the film’s loosely drawn and oversimplified characters leave no doubt over the allegiance of our heroes and villains.
Ignoring the four previous Jack Ryan films (which were not tightly linked themselves, in which Ryan was played by actors such as Alec Baldwin, Harrison Ford and Ben Affleck), Shadow Recruit acts as a reboot to the Tom Clancy-inspired film franchise. After a devastating helicopter crash, marine Jack Ryan (Chris Pine) enters physical therapy where his doctor and future girlfriend Cathy (Keira Knightley) aid him in his recovery. Once recuperated, Jack is enlisted by Thomas Hooper (Kevin Costner) to become a CIA agent working undercover as an analyst on Wall Street. After a decade without causing much trouble, conniving Russian villain Viktor Cherevin (Kenneth Branagh) poses a terrorist threat that could also involve a devastating economic collapse of the United States, forcing Ryan to return to active service.
If the film were executed more sloppily, it would be fair to say that director and star Kenneth Branagh was masking the film’s middling scale with a thunderous score and ceaselessly kinetic cinematography in order to compensate for working with lackluster material. However, given that this Jack Ryan is consistently entertaining it’s far more accurate to instead praise Branagh for his ability to do so much with so little. The film nestles comfortably between bombastic and boring, effortlessly achieving its own modest expectations as simply a fun thriller.
Despite showing no more range than he did in the new Star Trek films, Pine makes for a fine lead and continues to prove himself a likable action star. Knightley is perfectly acceptable in her role and fortunately her character is given more to do than the usual worried love interest or damsel in distress. Costner’s character is uninteresting and Costner himself gives a performance to match. Branagh is easily the acting highlight of the film as a delightfully stereotypical Russian foe whose utter campiness keeps things playful even in the midst of Jack Ryan’s most serious moments.
Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is a colorful and unchallenging excursion, laced with flashes of clever scripting and some tense, Mission: Impossible-esque sequences all bursting at an unrelentingly lively pace.
Jack Ryan deserves no second thought, nor does it ask for one. That is what makes it so efficient and enjoyable — the beautiful synchronization between intention and result. It is limited material stretched to its limits; a perfect exercise in the just OK.
*Edited version published in The Pitt News / January 20th, 2014