Tricksy hobbitses!

I wasn’t planning on voicing an opinion concerning Peter Jackson’s recent announcement that he’s stretching out his Lord of the Rings prequels into three separate Hobbit films.  The Internet is circulating with thousands of editorial pieces as I type; some of which I’ve read.  Most of the negative responses lack any form of concrete resolution.  All of the angry tirades dwindle into some exhaustive sigh of defeat.  As if the fans are being “forced” against their will to fork over $30 total to see one complete film.  Can a Tolkien fanatic refuse a film that was blatantly elongated for the purposes of greed?  It doesn’t appear so.  Instead, it’s like listening to angry diatribes of alcoholics who just learned that Budweiser is tripling its prices.  Maybe the easiest solution is to just quit.       

Jackson will presumably milk 7-8 hours from a 300-page children’s story.  And you thought King Kong needed some editing!  Ten years earlier, Jackson told a similar Tolkien fable that was based on three much larger books and managed to translate each into three-hour installments.  So, is the change a studio gimmick to sell more tickets or a means of helping Jackson flesh out his vision?   

It’s premature to chastise Jackson too angrily.  There are many aspects we just can’t judge until the films hit the big screen.  According to Jackson, the expansion to three films was done to accommodate a slew of material from Tolkien’s appendices, which are included as an addendum to his last Rings novel,  The Return of the King.  Having read all four books, I only skimmed through that portion.  I honestly have no idea what extra material would merit expanding The Hobbit into a bona fide trilogy.  (I do know that the Appendices does include a brief reference to Aragorn’s love triangle, which gave Jackson the freedom to add a romantic subplot to entice the coveted female demographic to his Rings saga.)  In total the Appendices amount to 100 pages of additional material.  When added to The Hobbit, that leaves 400 pages for three films!

I love Jackson’s Lord of the Rings, but cannot understand how this precursor can be told in eight hours.  Hell, the book was already made into a 77-minute cartoon–and that included a bunch of long-winded minstrel song numbers!

After a year of on-and-off shooting in New Zealand, Jackson surely has accumulated at least a dozen hours of good footage.  But how of it truly great or, more importantly, how much of it is crucial to the core of Jackson’s story?

This kind of predicament isn’t new.  Since the advent of the medium, every film-maker has been hindered with an infinite amount of tough calls, including choosing which good shot footage works within the context of the film as a whole.  If you follow the deleted scenes on DVDs, you’ll notice that most of the severed material, frankly, just stinks.  On a rare occasion, there may one or two moments which are truly fantastic, but just don’t add to the finished product.  (For a strong reference point, check out the DVDs of James Cameron’s Aliens or The Abyss.)  Generally a ton of work (and money) is exhausted to get these scenes on celluloid (or in some digital form).  Sometimes, directors fall into the trap of falling in love with their work and have to depend on a strong-willed third party member to step into the fray and remind the director that the audience doesn’t give a shit if an unworthy scene took a full month of sweat and tears to capture.  If it’s unnecessary, take it out!

Jackson is a very talented film-maker and has accumulated accolades, Oscars, and a mountain of wealth that would make Scrooge McDuck faint.  The man needs no ego boost.  But it’s becoming clear that when powerhouses like Jackson, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, and James Cameron are told enough times that their shit doesn’t stink, they start leaving the bathrooms without spraying the Lysol.  That’s not to suggest Jackson is beyond any morsel of humility.  But his discipline is being undermined by capricious studio execs who used to pressure film-makers to cut their films shorter and shorter, but are now demanding they be longer and longer–just so they can conjure an excuse to sever the movie into individually sold products. 

Jackson’s first fore into Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, is certainly long-winded.  But this was necessary to squeeze in the sheer girth of Tolkien’s world.  The Hobbit is a different breed.   It lacks the wealth of characters and twists of the latter books.  It will require a lot of fine-tuning in order to constitute another three-installment film opus.  I fear Jackson’s decision was based on the constant nudging of the bankrupt MGM that prefers another billion in the bank rather than pushing a Hot Tub Time Machine 2 down our throats.   

Once we begin to consider that most current movies, even the singular film offerings, are way too long, we can revert back to the old principle that film-makers once upheld: the assumption that movie-goers want to see a story on the screen that has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and that a majority of their captured footage is just crap.  And one film is just enough. 

The best example I can offer involves two of the greatest films ever made: The Godfather Part I and Part II.  In 1977, Coppola assembled a compilation miniseries of both films using a chronological narrative (Young Vito from Part II, then Godfather Part I, then Michael’s story from Part II).  The saga also included over an hour of deleted scenes.  The final product was incoherent and redundant.  And that was The Godfather! 

If the elongating trend continues, our home video shelves will soon be filled with multiple snap-cases devoted to a singular feature.  (Personally, my shelving doesn’t need any more space hogs!)  And within the confines of three separate blu-rays, there will be no deleted scenes–they’re all in the finished film, just like the studios wanted.  So, what’s to be done?

Wait.  Just sit and wait.  Before The Hobbit Part 1 even hits your local multiplex, word of mouth will spread like a virus.  Before you preorder tickets on Fandango, read the opinions of critics and/or the obsessive film-goers who just can’t stand to idle for one more second than they have to.  Let the first wave stampede into the midnight showings (assuming the studios continue those) and preview the first third of Jackson’s saga. Their feedback will assist your prognosis on whether audiences are being shortchanged or being handed the greatest saga since….well…The Lord of the Rings.  If the first Hobbit ends with a to be continued… and a lot of irate faces, save your money.  Voice to MGM that you won’t be taken for a fool–paying $30 dollars to see essentially a very polished rough cut.  Tell Peter Jackson that you’ll pay $10 after he severs scenes A, B, C and molds a better, more condensed version.  No one ever seem to ask for an abridged version to a movie; they always think longer is better.   

Or…

Maybe The Hobbit will be another great trilogy.  Maybe Jackson has assembled enough film to constitute its three chapters.  Maybe Hollywood’s greed-mongering has made me too jaded.  We’ll have to wait until December to reach a final verdict.  As an Elvin Princess once surmised, “There is always hope”.

Moonrise Kingdom–Review

I always wonder if Wes Anderson’s films were inspired by Steven Biel’s painting of “America Gothic” (you know, the old farmer couple with the pitchfork).  Both artists manage to capture the sulking faces and deep penetrating eyes within their respected canvas and invoke a blend of melancholy, dead-pan humor, and a whisper of irony.  No wonder Anderson is always keen on casting Bill Murray.

I have not seen all of Anderson’s work, but I am aware of his defined style and a constant theme in his films: adults suffering from scars of their youth.  Anderson has one favorite shot–always of one character perfectly centered in-frame, facing the camera with a deadpan expression while the backdrop–bizarre or not–tells their story.  This time, Anderson does not project faces of kids and quickly fast-forward to adulthood, but plants his feet firmly in 1965, focusing on the early trials of two twelve-year-olds: Sam (Jarred Gilman), an orphan looking for one last hope for finding a resemblance of family in a boys camp–whose troops just hate him instead–and Suzy (Kara Hayward) a bookworm loner who grows tired of her eccentric, detached lawyer parents, Walt and Laura Biship (Murray and Francis McDormand).  The story takes place on a small New England island.  The two kids, having met one year earlier, run away together and take refuge in the wilderness while the camp scouts, lead by the fussy, officious Scout Master Ward (Edward Norton) conduct a search.  Soon the party is join by the Bishops as well as the lonely, local police chief (Bruce Willis). 

The first half of Moonrise is divided between the dysfunctional adult search party and the blossoming love and friendship between Suzy and Sam.  The kids’ performances seem stilted, maybe a tad more than the script requires.  The inexperienced Gilman and Hayward display their inexperience during their long moments together.  Their first camping trip lacks electricity–as if they don’t know how to handle Anderson’s mix of mechanized detachment and moving sentimentality.  (In fairness, most adults wouldn’t either!)

Before the adults finally track them down, Sam and Suzy manage to survive the dangers of the wilderness and their raging hormones.  Despite the young performers’ shortcomings, Anderson still manages to inject a nuance that’s sweet and innocent.  Suzy, being the avid book adventurer, reads her romance-laden tales out loud while Sam listens attentively.  Sam gives Suzy a pair of earrings made out of fishing hooks and manages to puncture both of her non-pierced ears without causing uncontrollable bleeding and infection.  They even attempt to kiss without knowing the significance of tilting their heads.  It is surprisingly deflating once the adults finally find the kids. 

Anderson finds some fun and moving sequences for the kids during the film’s second half.  I especially liked their second escape attempt, which leads them to another camp, lead by Jason Schwartzman, who they select to be their officiant for marriage.  He obliges as long as his payment of a handful of nickels is transacted and the kids fully understand the legal and ethical implications for shared nuptials. There are some recurring gags over the meticulously run boys’ camps that feel more like Fort Bragg than the Boy Scouts I remember!

Like previous Anderson films, the cast is a plethora of bizarre and awkward characters, disjointed from normal human impulses.  In his usual fashion, Anderson’s adults are even more damaged than the kids.  I wonder how much better Sam and Suzy would fare if the adults just let them be and just supplied Sam and Suzy with the necessities to survive–although they do pretty well during their limited period of solitude.  Of course, the irate adults find the kids and try to keep the lovebirds separate.  But Anderson’s tale is fitting homage to the fairy tale wonders of Grimm, where the dark forests are replaced by sandy beaches, the force of evil is a looming thunderstorm, and love eventually conquers all, albeit by its own definition.   

Anderson’s sense for comedy will jar audiences who are unaccustomed to his brand.  His humor is centered around situations and the whole of the story rather than individual moments.  There are no cheap laughs, even when it seems on the verge every time tension develops between the principal adult characters.

Bruce Willis, whose knack for comedy traces as far back as “Moonlighting” hasn’t been this strong in years.  Keeping his tongue as far away from his cheek as possible, he is the sole adult who develops a sympathy for the kids’ plight, especially Sam, who learns that his foster family is relinquishing him back to an orphanage and even send Sam a handwritten note that might as well begin with “Dear John.”

Soon, the government sends a social worker (Tilda Swinton) to claim Sam, but not without some resistance from Willis.  There is a moment when Swinton’s character makes some lurid accusation that would usually beckon a sardonic counterattack in a lesser movie.  Instead, Willis and the rest of cast keep things sincere; their resolve to find the kids never becomes sidestepped for some lame-duck punchline.  The characters keep straight even when the script drops them smack-dab into strange coincidences.  (The leads seem to have the worst luck avoiding lightening strikes.)

Despite the typical plot of young love, Anderson injects his personal style and directorial prowess in each shot, craning the immaculately framed composition from one bizarre set of circumstances to another, while managing to imbue some tenderness.  With each stilted exchange between the two preteens, there are loving touches such as the father-son dynamic that gels between Willis and the character of Sam over a shared beer or Murray’s and McDormand’s relationship mending conversation from two separate twin beds.

The real reason to see Moonrise is to soak into the surreal world of Anderson’s little island and relish in the tale of young love.  It lacks the emotional layers of earlier works, but Anderson’s detailed, intricate vision–with all of his saturated colors, whimsicality and picturesque cinematography–is the perfect refuge from summer blockbuster fatigue, deadpan and all.  

Relevant discussions and keen observations

OK.  I promised to lay off Batman for a long period, but this round-table discussion deserves recognition for its exhaustive dissection of the many the issues I had with The Dark Knight Rises.  This is a thorough, very interesting discussion of the film as well as Nolan’s current body of work.

The Big Murk

I’ve said my piece.  I will now rest.

Countdown to the Rise!–Part 3 (The Dark Knight)

“Look what I did to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets. Hmmm? You know… You know what I’ve noticed? Nobody panics when things go ‘according to plan.’ Even if the plan is horrifying! If, tomorrow, I tell the press that, like, a gang banger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it’s all ‘part of the plan’. But when I say that one little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds!”

This keen observation is uttered by a madman–Heath Ledger’s The Joker.  In The Dark Knight, Batman’s nemesis pads his face sloppily with make-up and has scars that extend beyond the boundaries of his mouth.  According to most Batman origin stories, The Joker’s white complexion was the result of a near-fatal accident–some of which were the direct fault of Batman himself.  But Dark Knight offers no clues or back-story.  The Joker is a complete enigma.  His face is mangled purposely to function as some sort of “warpaint.”  In two early appearances, Joker pegs down a frightened soul at knife-point and offers a different story of how he received the scars.  I suspect both stories are fabricated–all part of The Joker’s ongoing mission to ensue chaos.   

For all the discussions surrounding Ledger’s iconic final performance, Nolan wisely keeps the Joker’s screen time limited.  Like many great villains–Harry Lime, Hannibal Lector, Count Dracula–he’s even more menacing when he’s not on screen, but everyone keeps referring to him in hushed tones.  He becomes some sort of an omnipresence–a deadly creature that cannot be contained.  After Batman’s first encounter, he returns to his lab to run identity scans of archived video recordings to no avail.  Bruce can do nothing but ponder and study the haunting face that grins at him back over and over.  To top it off, Alfred warns Bruce that the Joker’s villainy is without logic or reason.  “Some men just want to watch the world burn”, he says.  Immediately after Alfred’s ominous description, we see another beautiful shot (I love these) of Batman standing on top of a skyscraper, skimming the vast metropolis, listening to police radio waves, hoping for some clue to The Joker’s whereabouts.  The movie musical score’s cloying violin strings truly get under your skin.  For Batman, Gotham has become a haystack with The Joker as the needle.  For The Joker, it’s now a playground.  

Unlike earlier Batman films, there are no scenes that show The Joker alone or during his planning stages.  We only see him when he’s attacking or unleashing some mysterious agenda.  Even when the Joker is taken into custody, he remains a allusive, sitting silently in his confines, patiently waiting for his next set of his schemes to unveil.  Some of the film’s greatest villains always invoke danger and suspense, even during moments when they appear restrained and powerless.

For a man without a “plan”, the Joker has a series of plots that work out remarkably well considering the events that must unravel.  For instance, the Joker chases a police escort through the streets of Gotham in an attempt to kill Harvey Dent, which would have worked if Batman hadn’t arrived in the nick of time.  Instead, Dent survives, but is immediately captured while The Joker sits patiently in police custody.  Was the Joker always planning to murder Dent?  Was this whole set-up simply a fallback scheme in case the murder plot failed?  How did The Joker always know he would have the chance to give Batman the choice to save either Rachel and Dent with just enough time for him to save only one?   

If you think about these plot points too hard, it’s impossible not to scrutinize or believe that The Joker coordinated every last measure to the tee.  However, this is The Joker–it’s easy to excuse such far-flung plot twists because his mind is so twisted.  He’s the kind of villain who has worked out a laundry list of contingencies.  If Dent had died, The Joker would have initiated a set of events that caused Gotham to fall into chaos.  His secondary plan was to turn Dent insane, which would eventually beget the same consequence.  The Joker is so crazed, you might presume that Rachel’s death was Plan ‘G’. 

There’s an ongoing dispute surrounding the success of Nolan’s second fore into Batman.  Despite Batman Begins success, The Dark Knight simply shattered all records that was established by all comic book films–earning nearly three times the revenue of Nolan’s debut.  The success of the original film’s DVD and television broadcasts certainly added hype to the next installment, but most consider Ledger’s untimely death as the real promoter for film fans, as well as the villain’s popular appeal.

On the other end is Batman, already weary of his never-ending battle to restore order to Gotham City.  His year-long crusade has already begun to make a dent (pun intended).  The crime lords are unable to maintain their illegal activities and the “trifecta of good” (Batman, Gordan and Dent) are approaching concrete evidence that would incriminate the organization once and for all.  Their grave error is failing to consider The Joker as threatening as the mob.  But soon they learn that the ideologies of a mad-man are far more dangerous than that of an entire organization of criminals. 

Nolan doesn’t examine the duality of Bruce Wayne and Batman as intricately as Batman Begins.  He’d rather critique the post-9/11 climate and use Batman as his commercial capital.  However, he still manages to inter-splice both The Joker and Two-Face into the fray along with some of their famous characteristics into stockpile of larger ideas.  The Joker wants to unravel any sense of order; believing that such a system is futile.  Harvey/Two-Face soon falls prey to Joker’s corruption, believing that people triumph and fall purely based on chance, on luck–hence the idea of the coin.

Nolan spouts a great deal of ideology and philosophy into a supposed comic-book movie–introducing the notion that comic book characters are as relevant resources for deep, thought-provoking films as any other popular fiction.  The Dark Knight’s observations of the “civilized world”  is hardly a topic explored in a summer blockbuster fare, let alone a film about a DC comic book super hero.

After a dozen or so viewings, the flaws with the film have become coherent enough to point out.  There are two worth noting.

The first–Harvey Dent starts the film as the “white knight” to Batman’s…well…you know.  He is the symbol of hope to juxtapose Batman’s fear element.  He’s a “hero with a face”.  During Harvey’s first scene, he questions a witness during a court case against the city’s chief mob boss.  The witness suddenly pulls a gun on Harvey, the gun jams and the DA quickly disarms and punches out the witness.

Nolan has never been strong with handling extras.  The courtroom audience is far too collected for one that nearly witnessed a homicide.  I suspect there would mass hysteria for a good thirty seconds, even if Dent was able to easily thwart his murder attempt.  Their cool response to Dent’s super heroics hinders the weight of the scene.  We should see the faces of Gotham’s citizens oohing and awing their amazing indentured public servant–emphasizing the city’s hero worship, which would add some punch to Harvey’s downfall.

Even Harvey’s calming appeal during the height of The Joker’s threats seems to suffer.  When Harvey claims to be Batman himself, the scenes misses the opportunity to have one held moment that shows the public’s surprise and ambivalence.  After Harvey’s arrested, Nolan robs us of an opportunity to feel the city’s deflation from seeing their hero taken into custody.  Instead, Nolan keeps the film pegged on the speaking parts while the background troupe remain relatively lifeless and inauthentic.  The crowds feel like props rather than a genuine society plagued by fear.   At the conclusion, when Gordon utters how Dent’s fall will lead the people to lose hope, we don’t quite feel the latitude of such a proclamation.  

The second flaw is Bruce’s arch.  After the death of Rachel, the films omits one crucial scene that shows Bruce’s battle with his personal conflict; his need to preserve order without having to kill.  Instead, Bruce/Batman is never shown reconsidering his stance, even at his lowest point when the woman he loves is murdered.  The Joker’s whole mission has been to make Batman take a life.  The emotional climax suffers because Batman maintains his ethic code without any hint of wavering.  In the film’s closing moments, Batman tosses Joker from the top of a skyscraper and immediately catches him with his grappling hook.  Was there ever a moment when he wanted to just let the Joker perish?

With only one film under his belt, Nolan displays much more confidence with Dark Knight than with Begins.  The action sequences are shot with more space and lenient cutting, even if certain sequences, particularly the Joker’s ambush on the police escort, still feel shoddy.  It takes keen eyes and multiple viewings to fully grasp the geometry of certain scenes.  During Batman’s final battle, he attempts to disarm The Joker’s gang while parrying the advancing SWAT team, who mistake The Joker’s hostages for the villain’s posse.  Batman battles on two different levels of a skyscraper, dropping down to one and projecting back to the top.  Even after a dozen play-troughs, I still struggle to understand how everything went down. 

Nolan has always struggled with pacing, although most film-makers should aspire to his quick-and-fast narrative rather than the opposite.  With a two-and-half hour running time, The Dark Knight would have shaved off some of the faults with the additional of just a few more seconds to key sequences.  Just a few more moments with Bruce, Harvey and Jim would really add the gravitas to the human element.  Instead, Nolan spends his time dissecting numerous themes–some very successfully that we can forgive most of these errors.

There is one single human moment that’s absolutely perfect.  The Joker plants a bomb on two boat ferries–one with civilian passengers, the other filled with Gotham’s most dangerous criminals.  Both have one hour to detonate a bomb on the other ferry or both ferries will explode.  As time runs out, both sides are near the point of destroying the other.  A tall, bulky African-American prisoner approaches the warden and rationalizes that he can and will set off the bomb.  The moment the warden concedes and hands over the devise, the prisoner tosses the detonator out of the ship window.  Slowly, he turns and walks back to his seat and waits for the inevitable, choosing to live his final moments with a sense of honor and decency.  It’s perhaps Nolan’s most humane and touching scene yet and a real signal of the kind of film-maker he’s becoming.

It’s also a sign of how far our pointy-eared comic book icon has come at the movies. 

That’s it, folks!  I’m through with Batman for a long, long time.  Thanks for reading and good screening to you!

Batman didn’t let fear overtake him and neither should you!

I have already shared my thoughts on The Dark Knight Rises; sending warning signals that the finished film lacks any form of coherence and emotion.  OK.  I know you’re still going to see it, regardless of my final verdict.  But one thing that should not deter you is what occurred in Aurora, Colorado.

Since I returned to work on Monday, I have overheard many folks proclaim that they avoided the multiplexes over the weekend based solely on fear.  The tragedy in Aurora was an isolated incident caused by a madman who is now in police custody.  Avoiding the film or even movie theater venues is simply not logical.  That equates to refusing to drive in New York because a deadly car crash recently occurred in Albuquerque, New Mexico. (Relax Southwesterners, nothing’s happened.) 

The sad fact is that we exist in a world where we are continuously vulnerable and will remain that way.  Skipping movie theaters will not offer any more protection than if you went to a mall, grocery store, or even your place of employment or residence.  The only way we can become more secure would be to deprive our country of some of the freedoms it offers–and I’m not strictly referring to the Second Amendment!  Until then, people will continue to purchase weapons with the intention of doing harm and they will continue to find ways of exerting their hate and violent intentions. 

Because this is a movie website, I ought to find some connection to my knowledge of the medium.  I was thinking of the closing speech to The Great Dictator where Charlie Chaplin tells the world that “we think too much and feel too little”.  When it comes to love and compassion, he’s right.  But when it pertains to fear, our emotions overtake our better judgement.  We attempt to explain the unexplainable–sometimes countering them with bizarre superstitions.  Going to the movies remains as safe as any other method of recreation and entertainment.  To function any differently only gives credence to creatures like James Holmes.

If you choose to avoid movies like The Dark Knight Rises, please do so based on personal choice, not because you’ve been swayed by fear.  Holmes will go to prison forever or face the death penalty.  The threat is over.

Return to the theater with the same regard for your protection that you’ve always maintained.  In lieu of bad spots, we persevere–nothing’s changed except for the way we perceive the world.  Yet, folks continue to fly in planes after 9/11.  Californians continue to dwell right on top of fault lines.  Fans continue to chase foul balls at Chicago Cub games.  All you can do is the best you can and remember that such incidents are rare.  And thank God for that.

It’s now okay to return to the multiplex (just as long as you’re not going to see Step Up Revolution).

Be safe and enjoy the show!

Chris

Great Movies–Elephant (2003)

Originally, I planned on listing a different film for this month’s “Great Movies”.  But in light of Aurora, it seems more appropriate to make this selection, which I would have made at some point in the future.  

Gun Van Sant’s Elephant is both grim and disturbing, unshackled by the golden rule that movies should serve strictly as entertainment.  Instead, it tackles a very troubling moment in our recent history, deconstructs it, and allows us to think it over–to draw our own conclusions.  The film retells some of the events of the Columbine massacre.  Although the names of victims, students and the school are fictionalized, the similarities are undeniable.   It ends with the genocide of over a dozen innocent lives with no answers, only questions.  But Elephant is one of those rare films with the power to deter people from violence.  Even some of the most powerful films like Saving Private Ryan—with its hellish opening Normandy sequence–don’t really condemn violence or divert people from inflicting harm on others for the misguided means of solving their problems or alleviating unspoken pains.  But like historical documents, Elephant has the raw power to change hearts and minds; its haunting imagery sticks with you long after it is over.   

When it was released in 2003, the media was still fermenting theories over the Columbine killing from four years ago, which claimed the lives of 12 high school students and one teacher.  The most common excuse reported was video games.   At one moment, Elephant shows teenagers Eric and Alex planning their murders while taking turns playing a shooter computer game, but it doesn’t suggest that it’s the core reason for their heinous actions.  There’s also a brief hint–and only a hint–that one of the boys has troubled parents.  Another potential explanation explored is the suggestion that Alex is picked on by other students.


Rather than take the easy approach and imply that underlying sadness and isolation begets violence, Van Sant also introduces John, who shows up late to school because he had to pull over his ride and take over driving because his dad is drunk.  Later, John–who receives detention for his tardiness–retreats to a vacant room where he begins to sob.  His girlfriend finds him and offers comfort.  Is Van Sant suggesting that John would be predisposed to the same sorts of actions as Alex and Eric if only it weren’t for the fact that he has love and friendship in his life?


Although the film won the Cannes Golden Palm award, it was ignored by American audiences.  Most folks chose not to replay the trauma told countless times on the television, believing the media exposure painted a vivid enough picture.  

Van Sant (Good Will Hunting) takes an anthropological approach here.  Using a documentary style, he literally follows multiple students during long walking passages and mundane activities.  It’s a somber, fall afternoon as jocks, nerds, confident kids live their average school day.  He allows the students to simply exist and allows us to pinpoint patterns based on the way each person interacts with his or her environment.  There’s Elias, the good-looking loner who studies photography.  He’s cool and friendly to the students he passes in the hall.  Later in the film, there’s a moment when Elias is throwing spitballs at Alex, who in turns, begins collecting data on the school’s layout to plan his killing. 

 
Suddenly, all is disrupted when Alex and Eric enter school with a bag full of weapons and explosives–all of which were purchased online and delivered to their homes.   


On the morning before the massacre, Alex takes a shower, but is soon joined by Eric, who shyly asks if the other has ever been kissed.  Both concede they have not and, without a word, they exchange one.  Whether the boys are gay is irrelevant.  Beneath their blank, emotionless stares are confused, sad, troubled minds.    The fact is no one would have suspected Alex or Eric would do such a thing.  Van Sant shows the two wandering the school just like the other students.  

This is an unconventional film.  Van Sant allows the events to slowly unfold without suggesting what they mean.  He spends a long time following a diverse number of the school’s students, but what he’s really suggesting that any patterns that lead to Alex and Eric’s actions are not detectable on the surface; the reasons for their desire to murder may or may not be found on the pictures on Alex’s bedroom wall or a result of Elias’s bullying. 

The massacre occurs in the film’s final 15 minutes, most of which happens off-screen, but the impact is still horrifying.  The sounds of the guns’ horrendous blasts along with the screams of the fleeing children and teachers has an authentic feeling.  There is one young man, Benny, who helps one student escape and goes out to hunt the boys.  However, this isn’t a action film where a lone hero saves the day.  There is no happy ending here, just the shocked faces of parents and students wondering how things suddenly went so wrong. 

Van Sant’s low-key narrative allows us to examine the events through careful examination.  Even seemingly irrelevant sequences such as Elias spending time in the school dark room to develop film suggests that he’s attained a hobby, something meaningful in his life, whereas Alex and Eric have not.  Of course, this is my conclusion.  You be the judge. 

This was only my second viewing of Elephant.  I probably won’t see the film for another decade.  Its images are so strong and vivid that they linger in my consciousness for a long period.  In lieu of the Aurora tragedy, I felt it was time for me to rekindle the experience.  Although the film opens doors to horrors and emotions I’d rather avoid, it strengthens my resolve against violence—makes me eager to open my heart more to people who are lost and take a grander stand to prevent such horrors from reoccurring.  I believe that is Elephant’s main purpose, rather than aiming for reason and logic, because there is none to be had.   

Dark Knight Rises–Review

There was an unmistakable thumping in my chest throughout The Dark Knight Rises.  I’m not sure if it was Hans Zimmer’s score, which contains his trademark love for percussion.  Constant exposure to the main Batman theme–which plays a lot here–at optimum blast from IMAX speakers should be labelled as a safety hazard.  Needless to say, I walked out of the film feeling pummeled.  There’s a lot going on in Christopher Nolan’s final Batman film: an endless array of subplots, side-stories, character arcs–some of which would serve the movie better by being left on the cutting room floor.  There’s a nauseating amount of story to be told.  Even with a near three-hour running time, there’s insufficient space to squeeze everything into the conclusion to Nolan’s Batman opus.   After the end credits started, I walked away from The Dark Knight Rises feeling as if I had been put through the sensory ringer.  Except among the overload, there was one thing missing: heart.    

At the end of the last film, Batman rode his Bat-cycle off into the night taking the blame for the murder of police officers and the supposed “hero” Harvey Dent.  Commissioner Gordan offered a poignant summation of the man as the “silent protector, the watchful eye.”

Eight years have passed and Bruce Wayne has all but shunned Gordan’s labels, choosing to live like Howard Hughes sans the long fingernails and jars of piss, retired from crime-fighting, licking the wounds from his battles and mourning the loss of his love, Rachel Dawes.  However, he learns that the League of Shadows (Liam Neeson’s conspirators from the first movie) have returned with a new leader, Bane, who plans to reintroduce chaos to Gotham, which has just started a new era of tranquility.  Bruce suits up, much to the chagrin of Alfred, who foresees an unpleasant end for his surrogate son.  So Alfred packs up and leaves–but not without revealing the truth of Rachel’s true intention to reject Bruce and marry Harvey.  Ouch.

Essentially, both Bruce and Alfred are quitters.  More importantly, Alfred, who has become the soul of this saga, is absent for most of the film’s latter half, leaving no one to bear the emotional flame.

Nolan has always been a filmmaker with broad ideas–sometimes at the cost of a having a rocky emotional core.  The Batman series has slowly morphed into a long-winded indictment on the sins of America rather the personal journey of Bruce Wayne. Unlike the earlier The Dark Knight, which successfully explored the tribulations of a post-9/11 society, Dark Knight Rises is a film without a concrete message.  

In this installment, Nolan takes a stab at the Wall Street protests.  Bane basically hijacks the entire Gotham island and preys on the meek, placing blame for their troubles on the rich and powerful.  He takes control of the Stock Exchange and berates the rich suits.  After taking control of the city, he makes a televised diatribe, telling the citizens to take their city back from the wealthy.  Sound familiar?  Nolan shows many scenes of rich people pulled out of their homes and hiding places.  I guess the lower-classes are too stupid to recognize the real criminal is the man who is blowing up bridges and killing people.  I don’t know if Nolan is vilifying the upper 1% or the 99%, or both?

Inevitably, Nolan wants to make a film about the current events of the world rather than make a Batman film.  As a result, Bruce’s last chapter is sidestepped for new roles like the self-reliant “cat-thief” Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway), a career-obsessed commissioner-in-running Foley (Mathew Modine), and an idealistic rookie cop, Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt).

The Dark Knight was a shade too busy for its own good, but was able to reign it back to the central plot–The Joker.  Tom Hardy’s Bane simply is not the villain Heath Ledger was.  His brute force only suggests so much within the confines of a teenaged blockbuster, whereas the Jokers’ psychological toils and ominous presence of criminality was much more menacing and original.

At the halfway mark, Bruce is captured by Bane and imprisoned.  Bruce’s eventual escape, or “rise,” is murky.  Most of his mending is sidetracked to focus on the ensemble and their individual roles during Gotham’s occupation, which is essentially one large French Resistance grouping.  Even after supposedly three months of being out of action, it’s hard to believe how much Bruce improves physically and mentally.  (The prison must offer some healthy protein-rich meals.)

The Dark Knight Rises harkens back to many plot elements of the first two films–a few of which you might miss if you haven’t seen the films very recently.  Nolan makes long movies, but they’re never boring.  In fact, his films move as such a brisk pace that blinking at the wrong frame could have dire consequences.  There’s simply no room to breathe or allow the harrowing, disturbing moments to linger.   

The very end of The Dark Knight Rises is a fitting conclusion to a saga that quite simply resuscitated a franchise and brought the genre to a new level of quality.  As a whole, this installment is simply the weakest of the three.  Its convoluted script has too many holes to ignore.  But the biggest crime is that Nolan has drifted so far from the emotional core of the story, that the ending translates better on paper than it actually plays on screen.  Inevitably, I walked away unmoved and unsatisfied.  Quite a shame really, considering how good the saga has been.  The Dark Knight Rises proves how far Nolan has come as a film-maker, but somehow he’s lost a few things along the way.

Also, for a man who constantly invents interesting plot devises such as the ferry sequence in The Dark Knight, the final act of Rises is all about our heroes attempting to deactivate a bomb before it obliterates the city.  There’s even a countdown clock to remind us how much time is left.  Is it too much to ask for better from Christopher Nolan and from Batman?

 
P.S.  This is a really funny spoof of Batman’s groveling voice from The Dark Knight.  Someone creative should do us all a favor an create a new video; this time with Bane and Batman attempting to have a conversation through a series of muffled, unintelligible words.  The very idea makes me laugh. 

My thoughts on the tragedy

If you’ve been checking into my site recently, you’ll notice that I’ve had Batman on the brain.  In just a few short hours I’ll finally be able to discharge this colossal nerd build-up.   

But even I attempt to conjure up final thoughts on the “Dark Knight” and its newest chapter, there is a melancholy in the air that can’t be ignored.  In light of the Aurora tragedy, it seems only fitting that I express my sorrow regarding the horrors that occurred in Colorado and explain that any levity and humor I include in this weekend’s reviews and countdowns does not by any measure suggest that my thoughts aren’t with the victims’ families.

I have read the facts on the Internet and watched about 15 minutes of CNN coverage before I had to tune out.  Frankly, there is only so much to be said and deciphered at this stage.  This is a horrible tragedy.   However, one thing is clear–the movie has nothing to do with it!

I understand WBs decision to pull all ads relating to guns and violence  But the fact is that the film’s content–or even the venue–have no connection, whatsoever.  But I’m sure the media, who pulls all stops to fill in time slots, are formulating all harebrained theories to connect the deaths with the PG-13 rated feature.

With past tragedies in Columbine and Virginia Tech, I hope that eventually a dialog will start over how guns are being distributed to people who are dangerous or just plain insane.  With the continuous branding of violence in movies and video games, we are ignoring the real issue.   

So, I go to “Dark Knight Rises” today hoping to enjoy it.  At the very least I will do my best to draw a fine line between fictional entertainment and the real horrors that hit Aurora yesterday.  And as Christopher Nolan brilliantly pointed out, the cinema is haven for people to share an experience and will always be a second home where I can escape and feel secure.  That was vandalized yesterday.  

If Warner Brothers truly cares about the tragedy rather than the bad PR, they will donate 0.1% of their opening gross to a violence prevention program.  Given my predictions, that equates to $200,000.  Of course, more would be better. 

Let’s also not forget that the film that will destroy box office records is all about a man who tries the make the world a better place by stopping injustice and bigotry without the use of a gun.  I hope we all take that away as we walk out of the theater.   

All of my thoughts and prayers!

Chris

Countdown to the Rise!–Part Two (Batman Begins)

 …continued from part one…

When Christopher Nolan was handed the keys to the Batman film franchise, he intended on borrowing elements from Ridley Scott’s 1982 futuristic noir, Blade Runner.  The finished film, however, bears only vague hints to the earlier film.  The setting of the Gotham City narrows share striking similarities to the harrowing streets where Harrison Ford is first introduced.  There’s also Batman’s first confrontation with the Scarecrow that leads to the rain ridden rooftops which hearken back to the Ford’s final face off with Rutger Hauer, who Nolan also casts as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

Despite the homages, Nolan finds room to mix in his own flavor.  His major deviation–which also sets Begins apart from earlier Batmans–is imbuing the world with a level of realism never seen in a comic book film.  For instance, compare his Gotham City to the films of Burton or Schumaker.  The city is not a brick-for-brick fabrication, but a recognizable replication of Chicago with some dose of GCI coating.  There are no 500-story tall cathedral skyscrapers or traces of Gothic architecture that permeates in the comics and past films.  Nolan pursues an “an exaggerated contemporary New York” with maps and photos from real-life locations intermixed with his fictitious schematic.    

One of the film’s best shots epitomizes the contrast.  Immediately following Batman’s first night of crime fighting, our hero is shown perched on top of a skyscraper that’s unlike anything seen before in a comic book film.  There is no CGI or trickery used.  The settling is neither surreal or stylized–such as the closing shot to Burton’s first film.  The backdrop is real.  The night sky and lighted window panes of the background buildings are all real.  It’s a real man sitting on top of a real building.

Nolan’s mission for verisimilitude still makes concessions.  Batman Begins’ screenplay retains the comic book curriculum, including a diabolical plot revealed in the third act where the chief villain plans to kill many innocent lives unless, of course, Batman can stop it.  But Nolan’s villains have a more original ploy.  They don’t aim to take over the world or seek vast wealth.  Both the antagonists of Begins and its sequel, The Dark Knight, aim to start a chain of events that ends with Gotham’s self-destruction, believing that true order is only attainable through chaos.  They would rather see Gotham City crumble beneath itself rather than continue to meander in sin.       

The British-born Nolan uses his Batman saga to dissect the follies of America.  In Begins, he touches on the contrasts between the rich and powerful from the destitute and helpless.  Batman’s close ally is Jim Gordon, who is only a meager lieutenant and the one idealist among a corrupt police force.  As a consequence for his nobility, his family lives in a shabby apartment amongst the poor.  Batman pegs him as a possible alley for unexplained reasons other than the fact that Jim first met and comforted Bruce when his parents were murdered.  No doubt Bruce did some extra homework and learned that Gordon doesn’t take bribes. 

The crimes in Batman Begins aren’t the typical masked gunmen and bank robbers, but a seedy bevy of powerful crime lords who pay law enforcement to turn the other cheek.  On its surface, Nolan’s Gotham City is a typical metropolis, but underneath is actually plagued by a world of organized crime and corruption.  There’s a scene in Begins when Bruce Wayne and his childhood friend and confidant, Rachel Dawes (the newly liberated bachelorette Katie Holmes) take a drive through the bright, bustling city.  She suddenly detours into a parking garage which leads to a vast, dank, dark underground area.  Bruce sees the harsh reality of Gotham City where the impoverished dwell within meters of the exquisite private clubs of the criminal underworld.

Rachel herself represents Bruce’s last chance for normalcy–remaining the life-long family figure (other than Alfred) who wasn’t taken from him.  We get the sense after Begins concludes, Bruce foresees an ending–a mission goal.  Once Batman’s taken down the mob and restored order to Gotham, Bruce and Rachel can be together and realize their life-long love and affection.  The most telling moment is when Rachel enters the frames, Bruce loses the facade as an over-privileged, spoiled rich kid.  She’s the only person he wants to impress.  It’s no surprise when he tells her the truth of his dual identity. 

Bruce spends most of his time attempting to work out the kinks of his new role, which means discovering a cave hidden under the wing of his mansion and turning it into a lair where he can transform into Batman.  Thankfully, there just happens to be a secret entrance hidden behind a running waterfall not too far off.  Keeping within reality, Bruce procures his costume and core items from numerous foreign companies under a pseudonym.  To keep from attracting suspicions, he orders a huge stock of each.  “Well, at least we’ll have spares,” Bruce says.

Nolan’s reinvention compromises some of the Batman cannon for the sake of realism.  Bruce Wayne no longer invents and builds his vast array of gadgetry–Lucius Fox sets him up with many of the Wayne Enterprise’s underutilized catalog.  Inevitably, this makes more sense whereas Michael Keaton’s Batman has a laboratory and computer console that would require thousands of man hours, brilliant construction work and precise maneuvering.  The Batcave is explained as being a giant hole that was used to hide slaves via the Underground Railroad.  The Batmobile is an unused prototype built for military tactics.  It all makes sense, even if you can excuse that fact that no one at Wayne Enterprises (besides one inquisitive person from the sequel) recognize the Batmobile during its publicized police chase.   

One element that Nolan borrows comes from the first successful comic-book blockbuster Superman, which was noteworthy for its roster of respected thespians and iconic stars.  In Begins, Nolan accumulated A-listers such as Liam Neeson, in the atypical role as the central villain; Michael Caine, as Bruce’s loyal butler, Alfred; Morgan Freeman as Bruce’s gadget supplier, Lucius Fox; Tom Wilkinson as the mob boss and Gary Oldman, again atypical in the role as the honorable Lieutenant Gordan. 

With Batman Begins being Nolan’s fourth film and his first 100+ million dollar production, there are avenues left for him to improve, especially the action where the camera is too close and shots are over-edited.  His friction with CGI effects is obvious as he still has to endure some shots that were too difficult to be coordinated any other way.  Both of these elements would be improved greatly in the films to come.  But Nolan’s voice–which he established with Memento–is in full force, instilling his Batman with a mood less gloomy, more intimate and without any signals of camp. 

Batman Begins earmarked a rebirth to an icon and, along with Spiderman 2, ushered in a new dimension to the comic book superhero.  Both characters are fully explored for the first time and become the most crucial element to the movie, rather than depending on the hyperbolic villainy and special effects. 

When Batman Begins premiered, the wounds from Batman and Robin kept the audiences at bay.  The film grossed a modest $50 million opening weekend and ended with $200 million–a tremendous sum, but meager in comparison to previous Batman films.  However, the home video sales were impressive as word of mouth spread on Nolan’s success.  The buzz left by film’s ending sequence–hinting that the Joker would be Batman’s next foe–left fans longing for a sequel.

Next…Why So Serious?!?

Countdown to the Rise!–Part One (Batman 1989-2005)

Many folks have given me an earful for my praise of the newest Spider-Man, which they regard as an unwarranted retelling of a story that was already successfully offered ten years earlier.  But many of those same individuals did not utter any disdain when Batman received a similar treatment back in 2005.   Quite the opposite I’d wager.

The primary difference was that the Batman do-over was more than just a redesigned costume, a fresh cast or a different arch-enemy–he was given a new focus and a fleshed out back story that was only teased in the original Tim Burton/Michael Keaton films, which basically tells us that Bruce Wayne’s parents were murdered (by the Joker of all coincidences), which compels him to become a masked vigilante.

Batman Begins became a different animal by closely examining Bruce Wayne’s motives, his overwhelming anger, dread, fear and inner turmoil.  Bruce and his alter ego would finally become the focus on their own film.  Before Begins was even announced, the caped crusader had already soured the tastes of movie-goers much more severely than Spider-Man 3 ever did. When the reboot was declared–along with the names of the director and principal cast–the fans overwhelmingly voiced their approval faster than you could utter “riddle me this”. 

Back in 1989, when Batman received his first big budget movie treatment, the new franchise was intended to be a darker, more adult-oriented juxtaposition to the campy 1960s television show with Adam West, who was at the time the most recognized screen incantation of the DC comic book hero.  After the first feature film destroyed box office records, Batman was immediately re-branded as a grim, mysterious figure who was more violent and complex.

The mature tone began with the most unconventional choice for director and star: Tim Burton,who had just finished his second motion picture–the horror comedy Beetlejuice, which starred Michael Keaton in the title role and was Burton’s choice to play the dual roles.  Despite both men’s notoriety for comedy, they successfully instilled Batman with a isolated, tormented mystique.  You could argue that they interpreted Batman as a crazed lunatic who is just a few shades nobler than the villains he seeks to stop.

The man who would be Batman

The first installment’s massive success lead to an immediate sequel with both Burton and Keaton returning.   Batman Returns was even darker and more extreme than its predecessor–more in keeping with Burton’s style.  It was not as warmly received commercially.  The negative responses caused McDonald’s to discontinue its Happy Meal tie-ins.  The sexual innuendo did not sit well with families (Don’t get me started again over the parents’ disparaging sex over violence.  I already commented on that.) 

Hoping to lure children back to its third installment, Warner Bros deferred the directing duties to Joel Schumacher, which lead to Keaton’s departure from the franchise.  The next two films–Batman Forever and Batman and Robin–sunk the franchise back into the campy territory.  Batman had a pair of ice skates that deployed from his boots, his costume switched from ominous blacks to action-figure greys and blues (with nipple outlines) and the villains devolved into crazed colorful caricatures that made Jack Nicholson look reserved by comparison.  The moment Arnold Schwarzenegger (who is no stranger to bad puns) remarks “Iced to see you!”, the franchise was dead in its frozen waters.  After eight years and four films, the franchise quickly degenerated to the tongue-in-cheek romp it originally planned to avoid.

Everybody chill!!

Batman and Robin’s tepid box office and even cooler (bad pun intended) critical and audience response placed the franchise in a seven-year dormancy.  During that time, WB talked to numerous film-makers about the DC character’s film future.  Most notable were discussions with Pi and Requiem for a Dream director Darren Aronofsky.  According to David Hughe’s book “Tales from Development Hell”, Aronfsky had conceived a unique take back in 1999.  “I told them I’d cast Clint Eastwood as the Dark Knight, and shoot it in Tokyo, doubling for Gotham City.  That got their attention.”  His idea was to bring Batman back into a grim, raw world, echoing films like Taxi Driver.

Warner Bros felt the idea was too extreme and pegged another hot director who had just completed an indie thriller Memento, which involved a similar premise about a man obsessed with hunting the murderer of his wife.  The noirish overtones and obsessive protagonist were ideal ingredients for Batman.  First, Christopher Nolan had to prove his worth as an A-list budget and talent.  In 2002, he successfully tamed the eccentricities of both Al Pacino and Robin Williams in Insomnia.  This was enough to convince the studio to give the green light.  Batman was being reborn!  According to the IMDB, he showed studio reps, cast and crew members a screening of Blade Runner.  Once the film ended, he stood up and declared “This is how we’re going to make Batman”. 

Coming up next…Nolan Begins!