Noah (2014)

Originally published in The Daily Nebraskan, 4-1-14

“Noah,” starring Russell Crowe, is a mixed bag of tried-and-true storytelling methods and refreshing vision.

In recent years, Hollywood has seen a resurgence of epic films in the vein of “The Ten Commandments” and “Spartacus.” It started with 2000’s “Gladiator,” also starring Crowe, all the way to this year’s “Pompeii” and the two Hercules films slated for 2014. The results have varied, but “Noah” is a worthwhile adventure epic told on a mythic level, strengthened by director Darren Aronofsky’s bold style, a solid cast and some tasty visuals.

When Aronofsky took on the project, it seemed like an odd choice when compared with the small, personal scale of his last two films, “Black Swan” and “The Wrestler.” In interviews, he said he wanted to tell a more universal story with “Noah” rather than a more traditional Judeo-Christian narrative. As a result, the film is told more like a Greek myth than “The Passion of the Christ.”

 

The movie takes some creative liberties with the source material. God is an ambiguous force called “the Creator,” whose whims manifest in natural disasters and shape the world as our characters know it. There are angels in the film, but they closer resemble monsters from “Clash of the Titans” than seraphims strumming harps. They’re called Watchers, and they help a wicked army conquer the known world. Later, they return to the path of righteousness and help Noah build his ark. These angels, grotesque as they may be, are probably closer to what was actually in the Bible.

The story of Noah takes on an interesting metaphysical subtext under Aronofsky’s direction. When Noah tells the story of creation to his family aboard the ark, he follows the story of the Big Bang and evolution, connecting to the biblical canon with the phrase, “And God created Man.” When the Watchers tell their backstory, we see them descend to earth from space, where we can also see stars and nebula in the distance. When a Watcher is killed and ascends to the Creator, it actually ascends into space, and we can see a (very) wide shot of the earth below, neatly covered in spiraling storm clouds.

“Noah” opens with a fascinating prologue that details the “story so far” in the canon of biblical tales. The sequence is so interesting, it makes me wonder what other Bible stories would be like if they were styled like “Noah.” They would probably vary in genre and have a lot of wild, otherworldly characters – that’s a franchise opportunity right there. The introduction tells the story of Adam and Eve and their children Cain, Abel and Seth. Cain murders Abel and takes control of the earth, spreading a diseased civilization across the planet.

Noah is the last remaining son in the line of Seth. He has a wife (Jennifer Connelly) and two sons. He also comes to adopt Ila (Emma Watson) when his family finds her injured in a destroyed village. One day, the Creator sends Noah a vision. He sees himself underwater surrounded by thousands of drowning people, as the world is destroyed beneath them. It’s a haunting image, and to Noah the message is clear: the Creator is sending a storm to cleanse the earth of the wicked.

Noah and his family set out to build the ark that will carry all the animal species of creation on to the new world. The methods they use to house and sedate the animals are interesting to watch, and so are the scores of animals that flock to the ship. There is even a scene where every snake and reptile in the world slithers up to the ark at once. It’s a marvel to watch, like most of the film.

“Noah” gets more things right than modern adventure epics usually do, and it makes a good case for the (sometimes tiring) trend of similar films set in ancient times. Aronofsky is still a better director when working with a smaller budget and cast, but it’s comforting to know that he could still do something interesting with a story as old as time itself.

Also, I’m thinking a sequel is in order. Let’s see Aronofsky’s “Tower of Babel” next.

This Must Be the Place (2011)

 

 Originally published in The Daily Nebraskan, 4-1-14

Home
is where I want to be
but I guess I’m already there
I come home
she lifted up her wings
I guess that this must be the place

These are lyrics from The Talking Heads’ song “This Must Be the Place.” They have been playing over and over in my head since I watched Paolo Sorrentino’s “This Must Be the Place” during spring break. The film takes its title from the song, which plays several times throughout the movie in different forms and renditions.

This film is so good, I don't know why I didn’t hear about it sooner. Sean Penn is Cheyenne, an aging rock star who still does his stage makeup every single day. His hair is a ragged paintbrush of black hair – he’s always blowing away that one strand that won’t stay put. Cheyenne speaks everything in a gentle murmur, always barely above a whisper. His walking is more like shuffling. On his bad days, he may be mistaken for an old woman.

Simply seeing Sean Penn made up in this way is enough to fuel plenty of silent giggles. He looks like a cross between Ozzy Osbourne and Bono’s grandmother, with just a sprinkling of Robert Smith for some edge.

Cheyenne has a mostly quiet life. He lives in Dublin with his wife (Frances McDormand) and visits with a fan (Eve Hewson) on occasion, but he’s haunted by the memory of two young boys who killed themselves because of his music. He tries to visit their graves but is turned away by the boys’ parents and told he’s not welcome. One day, Cheyenne hears his father is dying. He goes to visit his father at his deathbed but arrives too late. Cheyenne tries to appease his guilt by seeking out a Nazi officer who tormented his father during the Holocaust. What follows is Cheyenne’s journey to the United States to find the Nazi, and he meets many curious characters in his travels.

Sorrentino’s most recent film, “The Great Beauty,” won an Academy Award and was praised for its rich visual style. Looking at “This Must Be the Place,” one can see hints of the visual splendor to come in Sorrentino’s work. This cinematography in “This Must Be the Place” is spotless. Dolly shots and long takes are used to great effect. The camera swoops gracefully over an idle neighborhood to reveal several characters. We dolly between two characters and gaze down a huge chasm as their conversation grows more distant. Graceful, engaging shots bloom left and right, highlighting Cheyenne’s struggle and the sheltered world he inhabits.

A scene about halfway through the film is shot as one long take. It’s a long, gradual dolly back over a David Byrne concert, and it starts as a shot of a woman sitting in a ’50s style living room, thumbing through a magazine and tapping her foot to the opening strings of “This Must Be the Place.” It’s a bit disconcerting at first, until we realize that this is part of a musical performance. The camera keeps slowly pulling back, revealing the players on the stage and then David Byrne himself, who starts to sing the song that resonates throughout the rest of the film.

Gradually, the living room set behind the performers tilts vertically, hanging above the stage. The camera has stopped moving backwards. The living room set now moves slowly over the performers and towards the camera, now hanging sideways, with the woman still somehow sitting in the chair and reading the magazine. It comes to fill up half the screen, then the camera turns to face the crowd, slowly moving towards Cheyenne, the only still figure in the crowd, with a forlorn expression on his face. David Byrne’s rendition of “This Must Be the Place” works perfectly with the scene.

That shot goes on for three minutes, and it’s just one of many beautiful visions in “This Must Be the Place.” It’s a nuanced visual construction that utilizes all the tools of cinema at once. It’s one of those shots that opens and closes repeatedly in your memory, calling you to watch it again. The whole film and all of its images leave this impression on me. It does what many of the best films do, which is capture a state of mind in images and music. Penn is at the core of this film. At the tail end of the aforementioned scene, staring into the camera with eyes that tell us all we need to know, and yet nothing.

No easy words came when trying to write about this film. It’s not a film that wears its heart on its sleeve. In this way, “This Must Be the Place” is much like its central character. It’s curious, dryly funny, subtle, puzzling and a delight to watch. Like Cheyenne, this movie may also be genius. I have only seen it once, but I have no doubt that my appreciation of “This Must Be the Place” will grow with time. Whenever I see a great film that can surprise, delight and puzzle me, I feel like I’m home. I guess this must be the place.

Need for Speed (2014)

Most of this was originally published in The Daily Nebraskan on 3/17/14.

The “Fast & Furious” franchise can stay seated. It isn’t going anywhere.

“Need for Speed” doesn’t bring enough inspiration, action or character to compete with the popular racing franchise, and it barely hangs together well enough to work as a standalone film.

“Need for Speed” is two things:  an adaptation of a popular video game franchise and a vehicle for Aaron Paul’s career in a post-”Breaking Bad” world. The problem with movies of video games is that they usually have very little to do with what actually happened in the game. That’s a bigger problem than usual in the film adaptation of “Need for Speed,” based on a series of games that had next to no storyline whatsoever. When the credits roll, and we see, “Based on ‘Need for Speed,’ by Electronic Arts,” I have to ask, which part was that? Was it when all of the main characters were playing the video game in their garage?

 The movie is about Tobey Marshall (Aaron Paul), known to be an exceptional street racer, who currently works in a garage modifying cars. After winning a race with a customized car he built, he attracts the attention of former rival Dino (Dominic Cooper), to whom he owes a debt. Dino challenges Tobey and his partner Little Pete (Harrison Gilbertson) to a race to pay off his debt. Little Pete is killed in the race, during a slow motion sequence that is so gratuitous and drawn out that I found it impossible not to laugh.

 Tobey is sent to jail for manslaughter and is released two years later. He wants to get revenge on Dino for killing Little Pete. He’s helped by a plucky English car collector named Julia (Imogen Poots), who can help him prove his innocence. Tobey also has his garage crew to aid him in his quest for vengeance, including helicopter pilot Benny (Kid Cudi), who spots obstacles and traffic conditions from the sky.

Paul should have picked a different role. He looks uncomfortable in this role. He’s effective in some scenes but other times he fizzles, seemingly not sure what to do. I don’t necessarily blame him. I blame the director and the writers. Surely Paul, two-time Emmy winner, is capable of turning in a great performance. The issue in “Need for Speed” is that he isn’t given a real character to portray. He’s simply dropped into the middle of an ill-advised video game property on the pretense that his fame will sell the film. Which it will.

 This movie is not sure which direction it wants to go. Sometimes it’s funny; other times it’s unflinchingly serious. It’s OK to be both, but the film makes no attempt to reconcile its tone shifts. Sometimes it's just baffling; there is a scene where holographic unicorns gallop across the screen at full speed, then shatter into a million bits, scatter towards the camera (because for some reason, this movie just had to be in 3D) and form a pattern on the floor, which then somehow becomes a top-dollar sports car that Tobey built and plans to sell for $3 million. If someone can tell me why this makes sense in a movie supposedly based in reality, I am all ears.

Another baffling scene: Tobey arrives at a friend's workplace after he gets out of jail. He wants to recruit him to his team again, so that they can regain their former racing glory. This friend works in an office building. When he gets the news, he decides to walk out of his job, strip himself naked and kiss his co-worker. He gets into the elevator with an elderly woman, as naked as the day he was born. "Do you work in accounting?" he asks her. She says yes. "Don't you feel like you're dying inside?" "Yes," she replies. He nods. "It's cold in here." It doesn't speak well for a film when one of its most memorable moments has nothing to do with the plot.

Then there's Imogen Poots, seemingly the only competent actor in this film, and the only redeeming quality. She's a joy to watch as Julia, who is just so delightfully British. She tries hard to kick some life into this dud of a screenplay, even putting on a convincing Southern accent in one scene. Somehow, she even manages to make her relationship with Aaron Paul's character seem plausible. I think I'll take this space to point out an obvious metaphor in which Poots is a big part of. Her and Aaron Paul are driving across country. Because they can't stop, Paul's crew need to gas up his car while he is still driving. They can't quite seem to get the gas pump into the tank, so Poots's character hangs out of the window, slinks over the side of the car and places the pump in the tank. If that isn't an obvious metaphor for intercourse, well, I don't know what is. Scenes like this are what prevented me from giving "Need for Speed" an all-out pan.

Even with these occasionally interesting moments, “Need for Speed” is an inconsistent, poorly done film with a few standout moments scattered throughout a directionless, often juvenile script. One gets the impression that this could have been much better. I assumed that Paul would be the redeeming element in what would otherwise be an unremarkable cash grab of a film, and instead he turns in a surprisingly unenthusiastic performance.

Hopefully, the rising star will pick his roles more wisely next time. And maybe rehearse his lines between takes.

300: Rise of an Empire (2014)

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 3/10/2014

“300: Rise of an Empire” is not quite as good as the first movie, but sequels rarely are. Also, few films have as many bloody slow-motion stabbings as this one, and the filmmakers actually worked huge, fiery explosions into a movie set in ancient times. So that’s something.

“Rise of an Empire” is half sequel and half prequel, taking place in equal parts before and after the demise of the Spartans. It details the story of Themistokles (Sullivan Stapleton), the death of King Darius and the rise of God-King Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro) from traumatized prince to the 8-foot-tall, gold decked monstrosity we remember from “300.”

Xerxes wants to rally his people and seek revenge on Themistokles, so he announces in his capital square that he will send the armies to war in Greece. What was just a kind of Persian "manifest destiny" in the first movie becomes a personal vendetta in “Rise of an Empire.” Xerxes enlists the help of his father’s naval commander, Artemisia (Eva Green), to lead an assault against the Greek peninsula. A massive naval onslaught ensues, and Themistokles must unite the city-states of Greece to combat the Persians.

 

The Greek soldiers all make rousing, full-throated speeches at each other before heading into battle, and then they get to impaling every Persian soldier they see as the blood splatters toward us — in 3D. Some will find the nearly constant action repetitive, and the undeniably melodramatic plot (a step down from the more able drama of “300”) won’t help, either. Otherwise, it’s a very fun, gratuitous spectacle with more gore and decapitations than you can shake a spear at.

The problem is, the movie lacks Zack Snyder’s sense of visual storytelling. Snyder produced “Rise of an Empire,” but he didn’t direct it. Director Noam Murro seems to think slow motion is the most effective tool in his director’s toolbox, while Snyder’s pacing and nuanced visual technique are what contributed to the success of “300.” This film takes little time to breathe, throwing out action and destruction sequences every few minutes, never stopping to watch its characters live or talk.

Possibly the first scene which is simultaneously a fight scene AND a sex scene.

It makes up for the lack of story with its abundance of gratuitous violence. Seemingly every swing of the sword, every dismemberment and every outlandish impalement is captured in slow motion. Here, it’s not as tiring as it sounds. Eva Green's character, the insanely driven Persian naval commander, personifies the violence of ancient conflicts. She beheads her enemies freely and with pleasure, doing what she wishes with the trophies. Also, some angry sex is had. Very, very angry sex.

This film is occasionally quite self-aware of its ridiculousness: the blood that squirts out of the enemies often comes right at the screen, even at implausible angles, just for the sake of jumping out at us. In another scene, a character is drowning beneath the sea and witnesses two fellow soldiers devoured by horrible sea beasts. Then, it’s revealed that he is hallucinating on a ship’s deck. At this point, we’ve already been given exploding waters and a man emerging from a magic pool coated in gold and earrings — “300” was never praised for its historical accuracy, and flirting with paranormal elements acknowledges that none of this is to be taken seriously.

How well do you think they can hear him?

That sums up “300: Rise of an Empire” fairly well. It won’t leave you wanting to kick people and shout “This is SPARTA!” when you leave the theater, but you will be talking about how that crazy chick kissed a severed head. Yeah, it was pretty sick.

SPOILERS: Everybody in the first movie died.

The Past (2013)

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/27/2014

Memory is incredibly subjective — something you think you remember clearly could be remembered differently by another person. In the next few days, you may remember this review differently than I wrote it. Or you may forget it altogether.

In Asghar Farhadi’s “The Past,” memory is explored through several characters caught up in a web of betrayal, infidelity and suicide. Farhadi’s previous films “About Elly” and “A Separation” both explored dysfunctional family dynamics and communication breakdown. With “The Past,” he explores those themes even further. This is the work of a director trying to show us something deeply personal through unflinchingly realistic filmmaking.

After four years of separation from his wife, Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) returns to finalize his divorce with his wife, Marie (Bérénice Bejo). When the two of them reunite at the airport, they see each other through a pane of glass. Although they can see each other, neither can hear the other. Their lips move, but no sound comes out. The viewer gets the feeling this sums up their entire relationship.

Ahmad comes back to Marie’s house and finds that a child other than his own is living there. Fouad (Elyes Aguis) is the child of Samir (Tahar Rahim), Marie’s boyfriend and fiancé. Ahmad says Marie never told him about Samir. Marie argues that she sent him an email. Perhaps she did; perhaps she didn’t. Ahmad’s daughter, Lucie, objects to Marie being with Samir, and she has some information she will share with Ahmad that will rock the foundation of Marie and Samir’s relationship.

The film is a series of conversations between people who are trying to figure out why things are going wrong. It’s almost a mystery, and like a mystery, there are multiple twists that let us think we know what’s going on, right before the narrative pulls the rug from under our feet. Every actor and actress in this film fits naturally into his or her respective role, especially Bejo, whose recent turn in the modern silent film, “The Artist” displayed her talent for nonverbal acting.

But let’s get real for a second. Personally, I didn’t like it. I know it’s a good film — it takes a lot of directorial talent to get these kinds of performances from actors, especially the children — but it left me cold. It’s a brilliant drama with a script that balances multiple interconnecting story threads without becoming convoluted, but similar to “The Broken Circle Breakdown,” it amounts to little in the way of a point, a message or a catharsis.

Maybe that’s not fair. The point seems to be to explore the relationships of these particular characters. That’s all fine and good, but the result is unrelentingly dreary. Dreariness is fine, but denying the audience a catharsis is something that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Then again, because this film is so realistic, by its nature it shouldn’t have a catharsis. Real life doesn’t have one.

It’s important to remember that not all films are entertainment; some are just meant to be a personal statement. Farhadi went through the trouble of finding enough money to get this film made, then spent who knows how many hours working with the actors to get the performance he wanted out of them, to send the message he wanted to send, because it meant something to him.

I can respect that.

Pompeii (2014)

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/25/2014

The quote that opens “Pompeii” is genuinely chilling. It mentions “the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants and the shouting of men” in the ash cloud that engulfed the city. Pliny the Elder, historical author of these quotes and Pompeii survivor, tells us the people caught in the cloud “imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore.”

Unfortunately, this quote is the most interesting part of the film. Between it and the climax of the film, the audience is given a story that amounts to a rehash of “Gladiator.” It’s watchable, but if you’ve already seen “Gladiator” and know what happens in Pompeii, why bother?

In 62 A.D., a tribe of Celts in Britannia is slaughtered by the Roman guard, commanded by Senator Corvus (Kiefer Sutherland). A boy survives and after watching his family murdered, is enslaved by the Romans. Seventeen years later, the boy grows into a skilled fighter, catching the eye of slave traders looking for gladiator material. The young man, dubbed “the Celt” (Kit Harrington) is taken to the city of Pompeii to fight as a gladiator. Along the way, he catches the eye of Cassia (Emily Browning), a Roman dignitary who does little in the film besides look pretty and be righteous.

In fact, this whole film just wants to look pretty. Director Paul W. S. Anderson, best known for the “Resident Evil” movies and “Alien Vs. Predator,” knows how to bring the spectacle. One scene shows us the entire city of Pompeii from a bird’s eye view, with thousands of citizens filling the streets as they move toward the stadium. Inside the stadium, a chorus of announcers in ornate golden masks announce the events to come; their presence is frightening and dreamlike. It would be foolish not to mention the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which makes up the entire third act of the film, but also has nothing to do with the preceding story other than the fact it will kill most of the main characters.

This is a competent historical epic heavy on tasty visuals and light on character. The characters are derivative archetypes with motivations thinner than cobwebs; we have our hero in the Celt, the damsel in Cassia, our villain in Senator Corvus and an honorable ally in Atticus. Atticus is an African slave who, with one last victory in the arena, will earn his freedom according to Roman law. Atticus’s character more than borrowed from Djimon Hounsou’s character in “Gladiator,” but that hardly matters other than as an example of how uninspired “Pompeii” is.

If you know anything about the city of Pompeii, then you know exactly how this movie ends. The climax renders all of the preceding events irrelevant. The eruption of Vesuvius has nothing to do with the struggles of these archetypal, two-dimesional characters, so why keep them archetypal? In other words, why make it a “hero’s journey”? It would have been much more interesting if the filmmakers had tried to explore class divisions in contemporary Pompeii. You can probably guess what role a volcanic eruption could play in equalizing the classes.

If the writers had tried to work in themes of the natural world, the conflict of man versus nature, class divisions, really anything that could be remotely connected to an apocalyptic disaster like Vesuvius, then maybe this film would have been more interesting. Instead, a grand natural disaster is reduced to a deus ex machina, and $100 million has been wasted on yet another 3D spectacle.

Just think about what you could do with $100 million. I’ll tell you one thing: you could buy 5,000,000 copies of movies better than “Pompeii.”

Girl on a Bicycle (2013)

 

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/14/2014

How many movies can you name where people have sex with broken limbs?

“Girl on a Bicycle” has just that: a couple that has just recently met engage in passionate lovemaking, even though the woman has a broken arm and a broken leg. I can’t say I’ve seen anything like that before, but then again maybe I haven’t watched enough movies.

As you mature, you realize people are basically the same wherever you go: Paris, London, Detroit, etc. The same seems to go for movies, although “Girl on a Bicycle,” similar to most European films, has a different attitude when it comes to sex. Sex is had in this movie freely and without shame and is presented as a casual fact of life rather than a cathartic event.

Our main character is Paolo (Vincenzo Amato). Paolo is a funny guy. He’s not “haha” funny, not intentionally, but funny as in “I’m engaged to my wife, and now I’m in love with this random girl on a bicycle, right on, I’d better follow through on that and chase her with a bus.” That kind of funny.

Paolo’s oddness is the catalyst for the events in “Girl on a Bicycle,” released in Germany in March of last year. It’s set in Paris, the romantic, cosmopolitan hub of cultures European and otherwise. In the first 10 minutes we hear no less than four languages: English, French, German and Italian. Even the four main characters all have different nationalities. This film was practically designed for international distribution.

Our main man, Paolo, is the Italian. He drives a tour bus around Paris, always pointing out that “Paris is the most Italian city outside Italy,” among other observations, like that the Arc D’Triomphe is a shoddy copy of an ancient Roman arch. Imagine the exasperation of the tourists, who signed up for a tour of Paris and got a tour of Venice instead. There’s also Paolo’s best friend Derek (Paddy Considine, the Brit), who also drives a tour bus for a living, and often finds himself covering for Paolo in his “misadventures.”

 

Paolo is engaged to, Greta (Nora Tschirner, the German), who works as a flight attendant. When Paolo proposes to her, he presents a very fancy box holding the ring, complete with a small mirror and even a miniature spotlight shining on the ring. Greta accepts his proposal, and for the next few scenes the two of them have some tender moments in bed together.

The plot gets going when Paolo finds himself inexplicably infatuated with a girl on a bicycle (Lousie Monot, the French one), who he sees every day while driving his tour bus. One day, while foolishly chasing her through the narrow backstreets of Paris (on his huge double-decker tour bus), Paolo accidentally runs her over. He ends up having to care for her and her two children, while trying to keep the ordeal a secret from his wife.

“Girl on a Bicycle” is clever enough to keep its premise afloat and charming enough to keep most audiences interested. It’s still quite conventional and bland in many ways, but in the end it’s a harmless, somewhat competent rom-com.

It will make a fun distraction for those interested in foreign romantic comedies. For others, it’s nothing to write home about.

The Lego Movie (2014)

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/18/2014

You’ve probably heard by now that “The Lego Movie” is awesome. It is, indeed, quite awesome.

Surprisingly, “The Lego Movie” is not only one of the best animated movies to be released in a while, it’s also a sharp-minded comedy and a nearly perfect family film sure to appeal to movie lovers of all ages. It gets so many things so right, it’s unreal.

Imagine a city where all the citizens, each one a smiley, plastic Lego figurine, work and live in perfect harmony, as they destroy and rebuild large sections of the city every day, all according to the instructions laid out by President Business, who is played to maniacal pitch perfection by Will Ferrell. The opening scenes of the movie have unsettling dystopic undertones – that’s what the older audience will be laughing at – all while keeping with an upbeat and creative spirit.

This is all in the first few minutes, before things really get going, and the movie takes us through the rest of the Lego Universe, where anything and everything is possible.

Our hero is an average, everyday, completely un-special construction worker named Emmet (Chris Pratt), who one day finds himself caught up in an ancient prophecy that declares him the most important, interesting, extraordinary person in the universe. He’s taken up by the Master Builders Wyldstyle (Elizabeth Banks) and Vitruvius (Morgan Freeman), who guide him on a quest through the Lego Universe to stop President Business from gluing everything together.

The resulting adventure is a flurry of inspired visual effects and pure imagination in a world with virtually no limits on size, shape, time or space. The characters rush from one fantasy setting to the next, “Wreck-It Ralph” style, with all the heart and strong characterization of a film such as “Toy Story.” It also strikes a decent balance of pop culture references, which are all over the place, but
don’t slow the story down or weigh down the script. Batman (Will Arnett) isn’t just there to be Batman; he’s actively and hilariously characterized. Dozens of recognizable figures show up in the Lego universe. Even Shaquille O’Neal makes a brief appearance in a priceless gag involving a catapult.

The movie also boasts a team of interesting original characters. There’s Metalbeard (Nick Offerman), the giant, bombastic robot pirate who lost his body and his crew trying to take down President Business, Princess Unikitty (Alison Brie), a sickeningly adorable cat-creature with a horn, Benny (Charlie Day), a 1980’s-era astronaut obsessed with building spaceships, and more. The script balances the personalities and comic timing of each of these characters brilliantly. I haven't even mentioned Liam Neeson's charming turn as Good Cop/Bad Cop.

This is a movie so full of interesting environmental effects, it could only ever have been done with computer animation. The iconic square blocks are used in fluid and creative ways, creating the dust from doors being busted open, ocean waves, lava, smoke from a train and clouds in the sky. Its color palette is suitably bright and vivid, but not muddled or visually confusing. The computer-generated plastic that each character is made of is oddly more lively and physical than the rounded characters in most computer animated children’s films.

This is a movie that takes us from the big city to the Old West, then to medieval times, space and beyond, all while involving us with well-realized characters and making us laugh, often. “The Lego Movie” is a celebration of pure imagination and a brilliant cinematic balancing act, combining broad humor and classic archetypes with commercial properties, a pitch perfect cast and clever pop culture references.

Directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller have brought comedic inspiration to commercial properties before in “21 Jump Street.” With “The Lego Movie,” they have surpassed themselves, proving that they can direct both R-rated adult comedies and fun, lively family films like this one and “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs,” which they also directed.

It’s difficult to find something really wrong with this movie, and I can’t think of anyone I wouldn’t recommend it to. Just about everything in “The Lego Movie” is awesome.

The Broken Circle Breakdown (2012)

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/7/2014

This has been done before. It’s very good, but it has been done before.

“The Broken Circle Breakdown,” a Belgian film up for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, tells the story of Didier (Johan Heldenbergh) and Elise (Veerle Baetens), two star-crossed lovers whose bond is tested by the death of their child.

Didier sings in a bluegrass band. He expresses a love for all things country. He’s an atheist, but he has a starry optimism about him. Elise works in a tattoo shop and is herself tattooed to oblivion. She has a tattoo for every boyfriend she ever had; all she needs to do when it’s over, she says, is get it covered up.
They also have a child they didn’t plan for. Didier steps up and builds a house in which to raise the child. We sense some trepidation, and so does Elise. Seven years go by, and their child, Maybelle, dies of cancer. There is an unforgettable shot during the funeral; while white roses are being thrown onto the small white coffin, it is suddenly splattered with mud by seemingly impatient grave diggers.

The timeline of the movie is fractured, a la “Blue Valentine” or “We Need to Talk About Kevin.” It opens with a scene during the terminal stages of Maybelle’s cancer. We cut back and forth between scenes where Didier and Elise meet, when they’re raising Maybelle and the multiple performances by their bluegrass band.

Sometimes the fractured narrative works. In the early scenes, the contrast between the optimism and joy of having a child and the deep pain of knowing that the child will die soon builds intrigue. Otherwise, it feels like a gimmick. Sometimes it’s just too obvious. Minutes before Didier and Elise are about to separate, we are given a flashback to when Didier and Elise first meet. Elise explains what she does with the tattoos of her exes names. It’s completely obvious what will happen next, so there’s no suspense when the big reveal happens.

 

It’s a very good film all around. Heldenbergh and Baetens have genuine chemistry, both in their tender moments alone and in their performance on the stage. They fulfill their roles convincingly, hurling insults and blame at each other for a tragedy they had no control over. It’s all very effective, moving and sad.

The problem I personally had with the movie is that it never seemed to go anywhere. The worst possible scenario is obvious in the first moments of the film and that’s exactly what happens. The disjunctive timeline of the film seems like a way to sidestep its shortcomings. I can imagine if it had been produced with a linear timeline, it would have been more predictable and much less interesting.

It’s all very sad, but there’s no catharsis. The performances, the score, the songs, the cinematography, just about everything that needs to be right about a movie is done right, but there remains that itching question in the back of my mind: what’s the point? Maybe the director only wanted to explore these two characters because he felt for them. That’s good enough for me.

All this being said, if you feel like seeing two people fall in love, have a child, lose that child and spiral into mutual self-destruction, all set to Dutch bluegrass music, then you definitely ought to see “The Broken Circle Breakdown.”

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Duke, Dr. Gonzo, and us in the backseat.

Originally Published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2/11/2014

The cult classic “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” based on Hunter S. Thompson’s novel and directed by Terry Gilliam, is one of my favorite films. This drug-frenzied journey is brash, wild, loud and a little angry, aiming to give traditional American values and plot structure the finger.
Johnny Depp plays Raoul Duke, a fictional version of Thompson, who is sent to Las Vegas for a weekend to cover a low-rent motorcycle race called the Mint 500. He trumps up his assignment into a grand odyssey, calling it “the American Dream in action.” Along for the ride is Dr. Gonzo (Benicio Del Toro), his lawyer and partner in crime. Dr. Gonzo advises Duke to “get a very fast car with no top. And you’ll need cocaine. A tape recorder for special music. Acapulco shirts … and we’re gonna have to arm ourselves to the teeth.” These are two men on a mission.

The film begins breathlessly, as Duke and Gonzo tear through the Mojave desert in a convertible with a large suitcase full of drugs in the trunk. Their trip to Las Vegas is a nightmarish experience. The city takes on a fluid, unsavory nature as the two of them consume more and more mind-altering chemicals, trash hotel rooms, order endless carts of room service just because they can, threaten people, go to a carnival stoned on ether and so on. They try anything they can think of in a city of endless possibilities.

"Can you hear me?!"

"How much for the ape?"

It’s easy to miss the point in a movie such as “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.” That’s because the characters are looking for a plot to get involved in and constantly failing. The point is that they can’t find a purpose. They don’t know how to use their freedom. There are quite a few moments when the characters declare a mission of importance, follow through some, then give up or forget about their plan altogether. The first of these moments is when they tear through the desert and pick up a hitchhiker (Tobey McGuire), then stop on the side of the road.

Dr. Gonzo growls and asks the hitchhiker if he wants to know the “truth.” He tells him that he and Duke are heading to Vegas to kill a heroin dealer named Savage Henry, then pulls a revolver out of a paper bag and points it to the sky. Savage Henry is never mentioned again, and there are no bullets in the gun.

Some of these plot threads are superfluous, bubbling up in the background or in throwaway dialogue and scenery. Others build upon themselves and come forward as the film moves along. LSD users would liken this plot structure to tripping acid, seeing things in the corner of your eye and those things disappearing when you try to look at them.

Ultimately, our two antiheroes are adrift on the winds of vice in a microcosmic representation of American greed. As they try to survive a three-day bender full of hallucinations, sinister vibes and technicolor debauchery, the camera makes us take the ride, twisting and dropping and forcing new perspectives, fixing us at certain angles to watch things we don’t want to see, in ways we don’t want to see them. The vital cinematography is underlined by a rollicking classic rock soundtrack, screeching and riffing with the angst of the 1960s and ’70s.

A scene that sums up the attitude of the entire film involves Duke and Gonzo visiting a hotel lounge while tripping on acid. Duke sits at the bar, wobbles around and mutters something about golf shoes, then abruptly snaps around to see that everyone in the lounge has become a giant, monstrous lizard. He sees beneath the glitzy façade of Las Vegas, and into the reptilian hearts of what he perceives to be droves of venal people seeking vice and pleasure in a modern day Gomorrah.

"I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo!"

Toward the end, Duke sits alone in yet another trashed hotel room as he types out an essay about “the wave” of the ‘60s counterculture. He laments the misguided drug use that led to its downfall: “Less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” The hippie movement became a victim of its own directionless nature, and many of them became hopeless drug addicts.

“Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” is at once a funeral dirge and a bestial cry, a celebration of life and freedom and the “American way.” Duke’s sordid journey in Vegas represents a culture-wide drug bender as a result of the disillusionment with the promise of the ’60s. The film explores this iconic moment in American history through Duke’s directed madness, and his jaded acceptance of chaos. Johnny Depp and Benicio Del Toro both give performances so electric and often terrifying, you might think they dropped some adrenochrome before the cameras rolled.

During one of the first screenings of the movie, novel author Hunter S. Thompson is reported to have jumped out of his seat during the opening scenes, screaming “Bats!” and running out of the theater. That should give you an idea of the logic on which this film operates.

“Buy the ticket. Take the ride.”

Labor Day (2014)

Originally published in The Daily Nebraskan, 2-10-2014

At first glance, “Labor Day” looks like a contrived, preposterous episode stitched together with bits of the worst Nicholas Sparks books — and it kind of is. That is, if you’re looking at it from a realistic perspective.

“Labor Day” is not a realistic movie. No man, criminal or otherwise, is as kind-hearted as Frank (Josh Brolin), and no woman, no matter how stricken with grief she is, would accept a runaway criminal into her home the way Adele (Kate Winslet) does. Not only does the world-weary Adele let Frank stay with her and her son, she lets this man cook for them, do chores and teach her son about cars.

 If this doesn’t sit right with you, remember that this isn’t a realistic movie. It’s a fairy tale. We might notice this in the opening moments of the film, which have a kind of mystical quality. The camera moves down a highway, swooping past trees and dense greenery. Like great fairy tales from the past, we’re going deep into the forest and into the unknown.
 
This story is narrated by Henry (Gattlin Griffith), who lives with his divorced mother, Adele. Something went wrong between her and her ex-husband, Henry’s dad, and he split up with her. Adele’s hands shake constantly, she is afraid of leaving the house, and she can hardly drive. She generally carries with her a dark cloud of absent-mindedness, until one day, while she and Henry are at the grocery store, Frank appears. He firmly asks them if he may seek refuge at their home. Wondrously, Adele complies.

Seeming to fall from the sky with almost no past to speak of, full of good intentions and glowing with both authority and tenderness, Frank magically fills the void left by Adele’s ex-husband. If that also doesn’t sit right with you, don’t worry — Adele’s grief goes much deeper than simply not having a husband.

One scene that looked ridiculous and sappy in the trailer is the peach pie scene. After a suspenseful moment in which Frank is almost caught, the family ends up with a bushel of ripe peaches. Frank suggests they make a pie out of them and walks Henry and Adele through the meticulous process of preparing a homemade peach pie. It’s an unusually long, intimate sequence, and I personally found it charming. Here is a scene in a film where nothing much is happening, and the filmmakers are taking their time to observe the simple bond building in this family activity. It’s refreshingly mundane, basic and human.

There’s also the chair scene, which may make or break “Labor Day” for some viewers. In this scene, Frank explains to Adele that he needs to tie her to a chair for the night, so that if any police come she can claim to be an innocent victim. She agrees. What woman would agree to such a thing? It could be the woman who feels paralyzed by the events in her life already, but that’s beside the point; she’s not a real woman, and none of this is really happening. She’s a character in a story, and the symbolism here is as thick as peach molasses.

 All of these seemingly preposterous plot ingredients combine to create scenes of tremendous suspense and heartfelt emotion. Brolin and Winslet know exactly what they’re doing, playing two people too pure to be real in our world and too broken to exist without each other in their own.
Griffith has not been done justice in this review, as his youthful vulnerability and subtle performance underline much of the action in the film. Plainly stated, he does a great job.

“Labor Day” is surprisingly thoughtful filmmaking, combining elements of the fairy tale and modern romance to create a wonderful atmosphere of magical realism. I predict many viewers will be turned off by its unlikely premise. Others will find it a touching, oddly affecting experience. When all is said and done, it will make for great Valentine’s Day viewing.