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Review: A Solid Outing in Hearts Beat Loud

This film was seen at the 44th Seattle International Film Festival. The film is now in wide release in Seattle.

The “indie” scene is full of heart warming dramas, catchy music, and well regarded actors who take on smaller scripts with the hope of tapping into human emotion. The scene is well populated and represented, but Hearts Beat Loud is perhaps the most outward facing, indie movie so far this year. The question is can the film break free from these notions that plague the indie scene? Well no, but it is a solid outing.

The film centers around Frank Fisher (Nick Offerman) and his daughter Sam (Kiersey Clemons). While Frank struggles with his vinyl record store Sam is preparing to head off to college in the fall. In the final months of their departure, Frank tries to savor what time they have left by making music, a hobby Sam reluctantly participates in. When Frank uploads one of their collaborations to Spotify and it becomes a hit, the two come at odds as Frank pushes for Sam to pursue her talents while she wants to move on.

What is the biggest issue is how contentious the father daughter relationship can be. Frank is a man who hangs onto the past, but he never seems to over come that. Instead the film finds resolve in compromise which doesn’t lead to a gratifying arc for either Frank or Sam. As Sam is going off to college to study pre-med, Frank is losing the lasting remnant of his wife who he sees in his daughter, and he attaches himself to her to prevent that loss. The following interaction between Sam and Frank doesn’t result in anything learned, but rather a consolation as Sam accepts her father’s dependency and desire to remain the same, doing so through their collaborative music. By the end of the film, you feel as if neither father nor daughter have changed all that much.

It’s even weirder when you consider how much push back Sam has to the initial jam session, but then acceptance immediately after the song finds success. The film sets itself up for Sam to resent the success of their song because she wants to be a heart doctor, but instead she leans into it and takes it on. The conflict in the film wants to come out of a mismatch between what Sam and Frank want, but it never communicates that. It is much more concerned with how both Sam and Frank find an equal footing between themselves in a father-daughter relationship, but unfortunately that theme isn’t all that gratifying.

Hearts Beat Loud is trying to communicate the acceptance of differences between father and daughter, but ends up with an unsatisfactory result. The mild mannered indie film is harmless enough, but you won’t find much beyond the performances of Offerman and Clemons. There’s nothing that completely derails the film, but it’s also nothing to write home about either.

Score: 3/5 Stars

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Review: Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Offers an Emotional Look at Fred Rogers

This film was seen at the 44th Seattle International Film Festival. The film is now in wide release in Seattle.

In 1968,“Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” launched and ushered in one of the longest running kids programs with over 900 episodes across 31 seasons. The show was a profound take on child’s television for the time, offering low production values, but earnest messages that helped with early development. Behind it all was Fred Rogers, a Presbyterian  minister who saw how television of the time was negatively influencing younger audiences with sought to do something about it. 

For 33 years, Rogers created television that raised generations of kids to be the best version of themselves, and Morgan Neville’s (20 Feet from Stardom) latest documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, aims to tell the story of everyone’s favorite neighbor. Using a combination of interviews, archived footage, and animated segments, Neville is able to dive deep and provide an introspective into Roger’s life. Doing so, gets at the heart as to how important Rogers was not only to children, but also society at large.

As with most good documentaries, there’s a revelatory quality to them that enlightens you about a subject matter. In this case, you really get a sense of how influential Rogers was. Rogers effectively raised an entire generation of children with his show, but you would never know that as a kid who grew up with him. At a young age, you may have watched “Mister Roger’s Neighborhood” and kept the lessons you learned, but never know the context of Rogers himself or how he was presenting wholesome, progressive values in an era when it was radically uncommon. What this documentary does so well is shine light on Fred Rogers’ ability to encourage children to to understand empathy, to be loved, and to be the best version of them self all from a single television program and one man’s dedication to improving the well being of children around the nation.

From his kind hearted nature revealed by behind the scenes stories to how he saved government funding for PBS, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? thoughtfully lays out key moments in  Roger’s life and not only translates them to character moments for Rogers, but also attaches a sentiment to them. Each ‘section’ of the film deals with a certain theme ranging from love and acceptance to race and war, and with each, you add another dimension that builds to more wholistic image of who Rogers was as a person.

The doc is incredibly powerful at converting these themes into messages that echo into 2018. Even though the show started in 1968, there are stark parallels that are almost uncanny in resemblance to today. King Friday wanting to build a wall to prevent change, Nixon wanting to defund PBS for its counter opinions to the administration, and the state of decency within the public are all represented in the show and brought up in the doc to expose some inherent reality we experience today.

With each aforementioned ‘section’ of the film, you’ll find yourself holding back the tears as periodic moment converges on an emotionally rich touching point. These points often relate to Rogers’ character as we see how much a good man he really was and frequently tie into the relevant themes noted above. Since its often so diverse, one moment you’ll be crying at Roger accepting a gay man despite his religion and the next you’ll be tearing up when you hear college students profess their gratitude to him. It’s hard to believe the film can illicit tears at so many moments, but it earns them, as it conveys a broad array of emotions like grief, love, and anger in a very concise package.

But of course this is a documentary about Fred Rogers, and one of its stronger elements is illustration of the unsung hero that is Rogers. Using first hand experiences of people who knew Rogers, the doc gives audiences an image of a man that had an unrivaled passion for helping children understand and interpret their emotions, and it shines light on how Fred Rogers influenced generations of kids to be the best version of them selves. Being able to connect with children in ways others could not and using his platform as a vessel for positivity, progressive ideas, and social acceptance are the ways in which Rogers shaped his audience to be better people. As one of the most influential personalities on television, Neville accurately paints the positive impact he had on them and the legacy he left because of it. In many ways the documentary lets us experience our own emotions by observing the man who helped us understand them.

It maybe hard to draw with words, but the weaving of relevant themes, emotional moments, and ovation worthy depiction of Rogers all mix and mingle incredibly well within Won’t You Be My Neighbor?. Collectively, the film uses these elements to showcase a man that made us better people and makes us strive to be more empathetic human beings. Rogers may have touched us in ways we may not recognize, but we certainly carry his lessons with us, and in a world as bleak as this, it’s nice to know there’s always someone out there as good as Fred Rogers.

4.5/5 Stars

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Review: Domestic Horrors Fester in Hereditary

It goes without saying the horror genre is a popular one. Littered with dime a dozen films and cheap scares, studios pump out scary films for wide audiences that focus on surface level scares and neglect the underlying potential of their premise. They too often lack the conscious considerations of creating something truly scary, something that gets into subconscious fears that exist in our everyday life, but which are exposed on the big screen. 

In recent years, A24 has been making a valiant effort in distributing films that do just that. Their latest selection is Ari Aster’s Hereditary: a film which depicts the horrors within our own families and those that we inherit from our on lineage. It is a lengthy film. It is a slow film. And it is a methodical one. Something that major studios shiver at as they see teen dollars flee, but which A24 will gladly accept. In an era when films like this are rare, it makes it all the more pleasant when you learn it is not only well crafted, but also very scary, and Hereditary nails both.

After the death of her mother, Annie (Toni Collette) finds herself grieving. Her daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) morns the loss of a grandmother who adored her while son Peter (Alex Wolff) internalizes everything like a typical teenager. The father (Gabriel Byrne) acts as the mediator between the three as tensions in the family rise and sorrow sets in. However, things start getting weird as Annie makes discoveries about her family’s lineage through inherited items and strange behavior.

Unfortunately, that is about all I can say about the plot without creeping into spoilers, but the secrecy of the film is perhaps one of its greatest strengths. The mystery of Annie’s family unfolds strategically, giving you seemingly random details upfront that only make sense at the end when revelations occur. This piecemeal approach bolsters the narrative’s mystery, and it surprisingly doesn’t clue you into the film’s true intentions even as hints are dropped persistently and methodically throughout. It’s a thoughtful method of curation that is reminiscent of horror thrillers like Get Out, but done to a greater effect because of its subversive moments that change the direction and type of horror found in the film.

These narrative revelations come on the backs of three core tenants in the family’s relationship: grief, guilt, and grudges. These emotions are weaved between characters and create a torn family dynamic that is at the heart of the horror in the film. Yes, there is something much more sinister at play, but the film’s horror lies within the familial unit; grief over the loss of a loved one then turns into guilt as blame is assigned to oneself or grudges form as that blame is deflected onto others for their actions. Its very much a domestic horror where the nuclear family of mother, father, son, and daughter are torn apart and made horrific through tragic events, and it is this horror which sustains most of the film’s run time.

Beyond that, there is also the fear that we may inherit the burdens of our parents. The film is called Hereditary after all, so the messaging behind these family horrors is tied to the inheritance of the traits and characteristics our parents have, for better and for worse. The film begins with Annie giving a sermon at her mother’s funeral where she notes her turmoiltuous with her, setting the stage for the relationship on display with Peter and Charlie. There is also a more clear cut metaphor for this hereditary theme in the film, but to describe it would rob the film of its strongest revelation.The notion that we may end up like our parents is exposed by the grief, guilt, and grudges experienced by the family and further pushes the film’s overall depiction of horror within the home.

At two hours seven minutes, the film is a slow burn. Aster does make it count as he methodically sets up the film by emphasizing family dynamics and emotional arcs for characters for the major of the film only to have major releases of winding tension. The film has a nice flow to it, peaking at three heightened sequences of horror with occasional bumps to keep you on edge, but I feel the film could of been tighter by about 15 minutes just so it could have a better density to it. As mentioned above it is an A24 horror film so it is very much like The Witch or It Comes At Night. You don’t get an over abundance of scares like you do with 2017’s IT, but you do get intelligent ones that reveal themselves when appropriate and necessary. This discipline has a richness to it that you don’t get with mass appeal horror as it tries to evoke the cadence found in Rosemary’s Baby or The Exorcist, and it does so with great success. 

When the scares do come, they are haunting and full of searing imagery that embeds itself in your memory. Many times the film makes competent use of negative space and plays with deep focus to build suspense, creating some profoundly frightening shots. Long takes where objects appear barley out of the shadows but just enough to make out details last until the scenes overflow with tension, and off putting imagery lingers long after you’ve left the theater. Together, these elements combine and create wonderfully disturbing images that are stirring, eerie, and worth of a few chills.

Hereditary embodies all the characteristics of a great horror film. The depiction of a tangible horror that has a base in reality causes psychological fears to leap off the screen and into your subconscious. Aster’s direction utilizes scares strategically and sparingly, but at the same time effectively, and in the realm of ‘sophisticated’ horror, this is about as good as it gets. While it is often hard or premature to say when a film will become a classic, it seems as if right now Hereditary has all the makings of joining the pantheon of great horror films.

Score: 4.5/5 Stars

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Review: The Moral Quandaries in the Uneven Heist Film American Animals

This film was seen at the 44th Seattle International Film Festival. The film is now in wide release in Seattle.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but in the movie business, it can be a tricky beast. All great films are built off those that came before it, but at what point does imitation become problematic? Queue Bart Layton’s American Animals.  American Animals is an example of when a film’s cinematic language tries too hard to be like something else. The film utilizes a variety of techniques but in doing so, it creates an inconsistent film that doesn’t find itself until later on in the film when it creates a consistency with its stylings.

American Animals depicts the true to life story of Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) are two friends who are tired of the same old mundane lives they carry out everyday and hope that one day they will achieve something “extraordinary.” One day while taking a tour of the Special Collections Library at Transylvania University, Warren notices that $14 million worth of rare books are protected by one librarian. He shares this with Warren and the two begin hatching a plan to steal a first edition of John James Audubon’s Birds of America and Charles Darwin’s Origin of Species that will set them up for life, but while trying to pursue something bigger than themselves, they realize the moral implications of their actions.

Side by side of the real Warren with Evan Peters’ Warren.

The film suffers from an identity crisis for the first two thirds of the film, and it is really prevalent in the films first act. Between the inter-stitched documentary-style clips of the actual capers, the fourth wall breaking narration, the inconsistency of narration, the light hearted jovial tone, and the serious tone, it’s hard to pin down exactly what the film is trying to be. Is it trying to be “I can’t believe these idiots are pulling off a heist” film like Logan Lucky? Is it a serious heist film akin to Heat? Or is it mistrustful heist film like Reservoir Dogs? The film doesn’t seem to know itself for the most of the run time as it tries to create a hodgepodge of other heist films. 

The film wears its influences on its sleeve, going as far as to have an isolated shot of rented heist films like Rififi that Warren and Spencer watch to learn the ins and outs of the business, and even a sequence that directly replicates the suave stylings of Steven Soderburg’s Ocean’s Eleven, complete with Elvis music and all. Part of this appreciation can be cited as the reason for being stylistically imprecise. Pulling from so many inspirations has caused a cavalcade of inconsistent moments that work on their own, but when strung together, result in an uneven film.

However, when the heist begins, American Animals actually begins to find its footing. Despite the jarring whiplash that occurs when the film turns into a very serious (almost dark) heist film, the newfound tone in the film helps it emerge from the shadow of its inspirations and declare its differentiation. The heist itself is handled with extreme gravitas; as the gang realizes what they are actually doing —not only to their lives but that of those around them—the tension ratchets up and sustains itself all the way until they get caught. Much of this is accomplished when the film finally nails down its tone and strips away the inspirations it was beholden to for the first two thirds of the film. By exploring the moral quandaries of their actions within a cohesive tone, the film hits its stride and shows that it doesn’t need to imitate anyone else.

What is commendable about this film is how much it tries to replicate from other films, but in doing so, it creates an inconsistent tone. Whether it be serious or funny, straightforward or deceptive, or realistic or hyperbolized, Layton tries a mishmash of techniques in an effort to pay homage to the films that inspired it while at the same time making American Animals standout. The film is indebted to the films that came before it, but it’s not until the film stops imitating something else does it become something worth watching.

Score 3/5

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Review: The Conflict of Institutional Faith Versus Individual Freedom in Disobedience

This film was seen at the 44th Seattle International Film Festival. The film is now in wide release in Seattle.

After a quick turn around from his Oscar winning film A Fantastic Woman, Sebastian Lelio is back with his latest feature: Disobedience. While his last film dealt with transgender prejudice set across the loss of loved one, Disobedience depicts a lesbian couple set against a religious institution that doesn’t approve of them. At the center of the film you have a couple who love each other and want to be apart of the community that raised them, but all the while feel rejected for who they are. What makes this film so special is how it shows nuances between the desire to be accepted by those who resent you while all the same wanting to leave and be yourself.

The film follows follows Ronit Krushka (Rachael Weisz) as she returns home after the unexpected death of her father. There the Jewish community she grew up with shuns her for the relationship she had in her youth with Esti Kuperman (Rachael McAdams), a a woman now married to a prominent Rabbi in the community. While paying her respects to her father, she reconnects with Esti and the two rekindle their relationship in the face of the institutional and social intolerance that aim to keep them apart and stifle their affection.

This movie is as if the third act of Moonlight was expanded into its own movie. As Ronit and Esti cross paths years later, we not only see how they react to each other, but also the conflicts they face when they upend the norms set before them in their daily lives. The story is set within an Orthodox Jewish community steeped in tradition and a major element of the film is exploring the relationship between Ronit and Esti and how their identities in the community are complicated by their lesbianism. The desire to feel like you belong, but all the while being pushed away is a dynamic that plays out over the course of the film as characters (particularly Esti) are pulled towards general acceptance and their true identity. 

While the film likes to align itself with Ronit for a majority of the film, the audience will find itself compelled by Esti’s character more often than not. Ronit has already found her own sovereignty; she moved away from her home, lives in New York, and doesn’t live under the rules of the Jewish religion like Esti. Her arc is more about reconciling her past with a community she still wants to have in her life, but which continually rejects her with each attempt she makes to reconnect, than attempting to declare her own freedom. That is not to say Ronit’s character is disinteresting, but rather the complexity on display with Esti’s character is much deeper. After their young romance, Esti has conceded to her religious life, giving up her love in exchange for communal acceptance. Her internal conflict is what really drives home the film’s message of institutional faith versus individual freedom and sexuality, plus it helps that Rachael McAdams gives a smashing performance that is well nuanced and multidimensional, and one that I cannot emphasize enough. 

While it is easy to dismiss those that resent you, Lelio is able to portray the emotions that tie you to home. You don’t want to give up on those you grew up with, but it’s hard to do so when those same people don’t like you for who you are. It’s a sophisticated notion, and while it can feel lumbering at times, Disobedience accurately depicts a lesbian relationship in the face of institutional rejection and does so with a level of care that helps create distinguished and nuanced themes from your regular romance.

3.75/5 Stars

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Review: Deadpool 2 Achieves Superhero Mediocrity

It’s not even the end of May and here we are with our third super hero film of the year. As we talked about in our Ready Player One review, the superhero genre has well overstayed its welcome and only once in a blue moon do we see something truly different. One film that self-proclaims its uniqueness is Deadpool 2.

Directed by David Leitch (John Wick, Atomic Blonde), Deadpool 2 promises to be a deviation from the standard superhero fare while upholding the core tenants of the original: a film full of profanity, loads of ultra violence, and an R rating that the MCU won’t dare touch. The good news is the sequel has carried over a lot from the first film. The bad news is the sequel is just like the first and it doesn’t have a leg to stand on beyond its lazy writing and intolerable humor. With few exceptions like the addition of Domino and a fun third act action sequence, Deadpool 2 tries to be differentiate itself from the genre it inhabits, but proves that it is essentially everything wrong with the superhero genre, if not worse.

Deadpool 2 kicks off with Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) living high off the success of the original. He is globe trotting and killing criminals left and right, but after an early film death, Wilson finds himself depressed and his life without meaning. It isn’t until later when he meets Firefist (Julian Dennison), an orphaned mutant who is angry at the world for the tests they conduct on him, that he takes on a paternal role and begins to find purpose. Wilson now chooses to protect Firefist from Cable (Josh Brolin), a cyborg who has time traveled to kill Firefist and stop the death of his family, to not only cause a change within the young mutant to stifle his anger, but also to find meaning within himself.

The major problem with the film is how incredibly stupid it is and how it justifies itself in the name of authenticity to Wade Wilson. The fourth wall breaking habits of Deadpool is fine at the start, but after the twelfth time, the third and second walls are brought down as well and you’re left with a shabby one wall movie that consistently wants to remind you that it’s meta. Piggybacking off of that is the over indulgence in references. Again and again the film makes references and allusions to pop culture items, and in the same vein as the meta jokes, they are fine initially, but by the end you are amazed that the film depends so heavily on them. The self referential nature is not insightful, amusing, or palatable and embodies just how poor the script is. The writing feels phoned in and when it is bad, the lines are written off and justified with a self referential joke. Instead of writing something competent or actually funny, the writers throw in the towel and self-mock itself. And I know what you’re thinking: “This is how Deadpool is in the comics.” Sure, but it’s insufferable. This stuff isn’t funny and by the end of it all I found it profoundly lazy.

Side Note: The reactions in the theater were a kin to my own. No one was laughing all that hard or consistently at the jokes which is problematic when they’re nonstop. It is just one showing, but highlights the broader lack of amusement in the audience beyond my own.

Surprisingly, Deadpool 2 makes the original film retroactively better which is hard to do since it too was lazy and bombastically idiotic, but at least that film had a consistency with its flippancy. In it, the film wanted to be a metaphorical middle finger to superhero films, and while it only partially achieved that goal, it was at least consistent. In this film, Reynolds’ script tries to inject heart and emotion into Wade Wilson where it simple doesn’t belong. To do that, the film wants you to take it seriously at times, particularly with the aforementioned early movie death. In a film that tries so hard at being subversive and against the grain of other superhero films, these periodic moments of gravitas contradict what Deadpool is: a merch’ with a mouth who stands in stark contrast to the MCU. These moments are exactly what the original Deadpool parodied, but Deadpool 2 comes full circle; that is, as it tried to move further and further away from the genre it tried to mock, it eventually came back around and ended up exactly where it started: another mundane superhero film.

There are a few bright spots in the movie. Domino is a welcomed addition due to her luck power, making for clever scenes with fun action choreography. Occasionally a joke will land and get you to laugh (particularly a good mid-credit sequence). And the third act is a true highlight thanks to some impressive parallel editing of three simultaneous sequences that result in a satisfying payoff. However, these are unfortunately my only points of praise. The rest of the film is burdened by my complaints above. 

The way in which Deadpool 2 operates is very flamboyant; the incessant need to embody Deadpool at every breathing moment is exhausting and the narrative that is weaved does not uphold the genre differentiation that Deadpool 2 wants you to think it is. By the end of it all, the film’s gimmick collapses in on itself, and while the original was somewhat permissible, this time it simply exposes how similar the franchise is to other super hero films.

2/5 Stars

Review: The Glass is Half Full with Marvel’s Avengers: Infinity War

Like with our Star Wars Reviews, the first half of this review will be spoiler free, and the end will have a spoiler section that better develops the critiques in the first half.

Is the glass half full or half empty?

Well folks, they did it. After ten years and *checks note sheet, raises eyebrows* 18 films, Marvel Studios has reached the first half of their master plan. Avengers Infinity War represents the finish line of a project that had never been achieved before and the culmination of years of work.

Continue reading “Review: The Glass is Half Full with Marvel’s Avengers: Infinity War” →

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Review: Lynne Ramsay’s Dark Character Study with You Were Never Really Here

There are few directors like Lynne Ramsay in the business. Since her debut film Ratcatcher in 1999, Ramsay has only made three other films: Morvern Callar in 2002, We Need To Talk About Kevin in 2011, and now You Were Never Really Here in 2018. If you’re like me, the first thing you notice is how far spaced out the films are, and while Ramsay’s filmography is small, it is powerful, each one garnering critical praise and even inspiring a young Barry Jenkins. As such, whenever she releases a film, people should take note. It’s not like she’s making any film. She’s making her film, acting as not only the director, but also the writer and producer. Ramsay only seems concerned with telling worthwhile stories, and You Were Never Really Here is just that: a dark character study that leverages every element to tell a compelling story with rich meaning.

Based on the book of the same name, You Were Never Really Here follows Joe (Joaquin Phoenix), a former service member who has become a hired gun that saves trafficked girls. Through his experiences at war and in his line of work, he has become ruthless in his methods, but suffers from extreme emotional distress that permeates his life. In his latest job, he is hired to rescue Nina (Ekaternia Samsonov), the daughter of a Congressman who has been kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking. But, while on this job, Joe finds there may be a plot bigger than himself working in the background that pushes him to his mental limits.

The film is very much concerned with who Joe is and how his past torments his mental psyche. Phoenix offers a perfectly subdued performance that depicts a broken man navigating a seedy world who is on the brink of ending it all, but always finding one last thing to live for. The cold, brutal acts of violence serve as outlets for the mental pain he carries, but always pushing him even further towards complete mental degradation. The performance is subtle yet incredibly rich, always holding back until there are moments of intense violence or emotion that utilize Phoenix’s far reaching range. His portrayal allows audiences to always have their finger on Joe, knowing when he’s collected and when he’s suffering, and it is this comprehension that lets us empathize with him and understand the actions he takes.

So much of this film’s potency can be accredited to the incredible work of Ramsay. As mentioned before, she directed, wrote, and produced the feature and there’s a methodical nature that can be felt within nearly every scene. The sense of foreboding demise or mental conflict are not only carried on the back of Phoenix, but also in the techniques Ramsay implements. While there are innumerable “did you see what she did there” moments throughout the film, there is one scene in particular where Joe busts up an apartment used for trafficking, and when it’s all said and done, you are left astounded by the execution of it all. There isn’t a lot of dialog in the film, so much of the story has to be told visually. To convey complex emotions or plot points without words is a hurdle in and of itself, but Ramsay makes it appear effortless, resulting in some masterful work.

And these inner conflicts play out audibly as well. Radiohead artist Jonny Greenwood (who I praised for his Phantom Thread score) is returning to collaborate with Ramsay and brings a frantic score that is loud, unwieldily, and spastic, but in a very good way. Hard hits on string instruments that drop swiftly and out of no where. Irritating out of tune notes that move into momentous beats. And uneven melodies that are on the verge of collapse, but always maintaining a sense of consistency all add to an unsettling experience that effectively conveys the sense of conflict within our central character. Instruments seemingly compete for dominance within songs, which makes sincere moments all the more powerful when they play in perfect harmony. It’s a monumental score that works perfectly at creating the film’s overall tone, while also conveying sentiments that are left unsaid, which is hard to say about most film scores, but characteristic of truly amazing ones. (If you want a sample of what’s at play, I recommend Sandy’s Necklace or The Hunt as exemplary pieces that embrace this synchronized chaos.)

From the opening moments to its incredibly powerful ending, You Were Never Really Here offers an unrelenting look at the trauma from our past and the paths we take to cope with them. While the narrative is quite sinister, it feels holistically essential to the film’s main point; it goes to dark places because the character demands it. We need to see what this world has done to Joe, how he got those scars, and how those physical artifacts translate to mental burdens. The film reenforces our innate human faults that allow our past to haunt us, while also providing a glimmering light at the end of the tunnel where we can move past ourselves and into a brighter future, or as the film likes to put it, a beautiful day.

Score: 4.25/5

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Review: Wes Anderson’s Kid Friendly Allegory for Disenfranchisement In Isle of Dogs

After four years, we finally have Wes Anderson’s latest feature, Isle of Dogs — a two part story about a boy trying to find his dog and a government conspiracy causing the separation. Since Anderson’s last film, the social and political landscape has become rife with division due in large part to a certain individual, but it is in times like these where this film’s themes and messages become more pronounced for audiences.

The story is set 20 years in the future. The city of Megasaki is over run with dogs and an outbreak of dog fever frightens the city. As a precautionary measure, Mayor Kobayashi (Kunichi Nomura) signs an order that bans all dogs to Trash Island. After losing his dog Spot (Liev Schreiber), a young boy named Atari (Koyu Rankin) flies to the island to save him. There he meets a pack of dogs: Rex (Edward Norton), King (Bob Balaban), Boss (Bill Murray), Duke (Jeff Goldblum), and Chief (Bryan Cranston). Together the group goes on a journey to find boy’s best friend while a group of pro-dog student protestors led by foreign exchange student Tracey Walker (Greta Gerwig) try to expose a government plot that falsely demonizes canines.

Chief is a very good boy indeed.

If that plot sounds eerily familiar, it’s because it draws stark parallels to current events. Even though the story is set in the future, it presents a vision of society not too far from our own, serving as an allegory for disenfranchisement and xenophobia in the modern era. Fear mongering from the government and government officials against dogs directly translates to our own reality as politicians rally against outsiders, and the relationship between Atari and Chief showcases how fundamental misunderstanding can lead to resentment. It’s a timeless and universal message that has an even greater effect with the reality we live in today.

Like Fantastic Mr. Fox, it’s surprising how effective these complex themes are translated into a kid-friendly package. Part of that is due to Anderson’s creative touch and how he uses his trademark Anderson-isms to disguise the message while simultaneously keeping the integrity of it. The prefect framing, the bright and clean color pallet, the ensemble cast of actors, and a beautiful score all amass to something very aesthetically appealing, but uniquely Anderson. Like all stop motion films (such as Laika’s offerings), the animation style has an eloquent, hand crafted look that makes you appreciate the time, care, and detail put into every frame, and when combined with Anderson’s guiding hand, it becomes even more captivating. Every Anderson film is a visual treat full of life, color, and character, and this film is no different.

There is also the discussion about whether Anderson is appropriating Japanese culture. Before writing my own review, I read the perspective of other writers, and have linked two articles I found insightful: here and here. Though I found the film to be appreciative of the culture it portrays (rather than a harsh stereotype), the linked articles better serve the conversation than my words and understanding.

The best feeling I can convey about this film is joy; even though it makes you realize the harsh reality present today, its resolve is uplifting and makes you hopeful of the possibility for something better. At the end of the viewing, you’ll walk out of the theater into the divisive social landscape we inhabit and have a greater sense of compassion, kindness, and understanding for all human beings around you.

Score: 4/5

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Review: The Cinematic Escapism of Ready Player One

Since Disney’s acquisition of Marvel, the blockbuster landscape has changed forever, causing studios like Sony, Fox, and Warner Bros to bend over backwards in an effort to replicate the same success. As a result, audiences have been receiving a perpetual loop of mediocrity. Every year bland super hero films flood cinemas nation wide, and while they garner success in box-office numbers, they have caused a tectonic shift in the way American blockbusters are produced. Original IPs are passed on for bankable properties. Uniqueness is stifled. And studio executives control final cuts. This type of production has been happening for so long that audiences have seemingly become conditioned to it, they want them, and often unwilling to give new properties a chance.

In this age, we rarely get a lick of originality in blockbusters, but in steps Steven Spielberg, the man who created the block buster, to show us how its done. After 2016’s The BFG, Spielberg, in all his tenacity, decided to helm Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One, a book whose mere concept alone would scare studio executives away. But Spielberg has cache, and only a man with his might can move mountains to make a film like this happen. From Jaws to Jurassic Park to E.T. to Indiana Jones, he is a goddamn master of the craft, and with Ready Player One, Spielberg seems to be metaphorically facing off against the super hero genre, violently shaking audiences into a realization that proclaims this is how a block buster should be made: with grandeur, with spectacle, and with imagination.

The film is set in 2045; society has become fixated with the Oasis, a digital realm where anyone can be anything. People go there to be the things they could never be in the real world, including the story’s main character Wade Watts (Tye Sheridan), an 18 year old orphan who lives in with his aunt in “The Stacks” of Columbus, Ohio. It’s been years since the death of the Oasis’ creator James Halliday (Mark Rylance) who posthumously issued a challenge for all users: find his Easter Egg via a series of trials and assume control of all his company shares and thus, control over the Oasis itself. The challenge has drawn the participation of millions of players including companies like IOI Corp. which uses an entire workforce in order to solve Halliday’s enigma and exploit the Oasis for monetary purposes. The extreme difficulty of the challenge has caused many to give up, but after Watts finds a clue, he is sent on a larger than life adventure to save the Oasis from forces that seek to ruin it.

The tremendous sense of adventure and child-like wonder is perhaps the film’s strongest asset. Spielberg is known for doing this and we see it particularly in E.T. and Raiders of the Lost Ark, and it is front and center with Ready Player One. The possibilities of the Oasis are only limited by your imagination, and the film does an effective job at conveying this endless potential due in large part to mixing and matching of pop culture elements in scenarios we have never seen before. The improbable nature of this film’s foundation and its ability to deliver something truly spectacular is almost always lost on modern blockbuster. The super hero genre (which is now the de facto blockbuster) has become nothing more than a recycling of the same tropes over and over again, and I can only take so much before the cinematic magic is gone, but Ready Player One recaptures the spectacle of the block buster and makes it fun again. Much like Watts going to the Oasis to escape his own reality, this film serves as a brief shinning moment of cinematic escapism before we are forced to go back to the same boring studio franchises we get every year.

All of this wonder would be meaningless if it weren’t delivered in a palatable form. Spielberg’s sensibilities are all over this film and they create a lean hero’s journey that has all of the adventure with none of the fat. There are action sequences that have vigor and thrills the likes of which few other director seems capable of delivering. Namely, a truly incredible race sequence that has Watts go through a morphing New York City while destruction and chaos engulf everything around him. Scenes are staged and blocked in cinematic ways that help deliver scale and movement. And his directing brings out well-rounded performances from everyone, particularly Olivia Cooke as Watt’s love interest Art3mus, Ben Mendelsohn as IOI’s CEO, and Rylance for what little we get of him. Every facet of this film exhibits a high level of craftsmanship and reenforces the idea that Spielberg is a true artist.

Special kudos need to be made to the team at Industrial Light and Magic (ILM) who did a lot of the heavy lifting for Spielberg. Most of the film takes place in the Oasis, and as such, thousands of VFX shots needed to be made from the ground up with only motion capture performances to help aide the process. Add in thousands of unique avatars and pop culture characters (each with their own specific details) and you have the perfect mix for a titanic project. What stands out is how ILM strikes the right ‘digital look’ for the film; the setting is a video game after all so it wouldn’t look right if it was photo realistic, but going too cartoonish would yield something repulsive. It’s somewhere in between and manages to walk the line perfectly. With so much digital work in the film, I wonder how much was at the hands of digital artists — especially since Spielberg ended up picking up and releasing The Post during the span of Ready Player One’s post-production— but I imagine there was some back and forth with regards to creation and direction. Nonetheless their work on the film is nothing short of astounding.

And of course there are problems with the film, but I believe them to mostly be non-factors. The beginning plays out like a user manual as Watts describes the setting, players, and rules of the world. The social commentary on living online rather than the real world is only partially covered. And it’s reasonable to say the plot is conventional, but all of these elements are rather important to the assembly of the film. What I see is a film that is so focused on creating a heroic adventure that it sees no need to bog itself down with sub-themes and periphery material. The film wants to be a concentrated cinematic experience more than anything else and it’s focus on that goal is what makes it so enthralling.

All of these components create one of the most unique block busters I have seen in years. The film is essentially what Luc Besson tried to do with last year’s Valerian and the City of A Thousand Planets— that is to create a non-franchise blockbuster on a massive budget in a well realized world —, but where that film failed, this film succeeds. It is a block buster in its truest form, and  Ready Player One not only allows for an escape from the troubles of our own world, but an escape from the banal blockbusters that litter the cinematic landscape.

Score: 4.5/5