The red title card. Text indicates this is a prequel to the first two franchise installments. The black screen becomes a bright white.The camera tilts down from the skies to Quinn (Stefanie Scott) standing on the street. The title sequence gets straight to the point, going from the title card to a street-view of our protagonist, Quinn, making her way to a house.
The title sequence starts in typical Insidious fashion: the credits are written with blue letters that dissipate in ethereal fashion before violent instrumentals punctuate the soundscape and the ominous red title card comes into frame. More blue text indicates that this third chapter in the franchise is a prequel to the first two movies. Then the text fades to a black screen which explodes in a burst of white light; the light becomes a skyline where birds fly around and the camera moves down to street-level. A young woman, Quinn Brenner (Stefanie Scott), walks down the street towards a house.
She knocks on the front door and an elderly woman, Elise (Lin Shaye) comes to answer. Quinn indicates she’s heard of Elise’s psychic powers and consultations and requests help with a supernatural affair. Elise responds in the negative and explains that her days of psychic entrepreneurship are over. Nonetheless, the sincerity of Quinn’s pleas moves Elise and she offers the would-be-customer a chance to come in and talk.
Quinn explains that she’s lost her mother some time ago and thinks that the latter is communicating with her. Since the occasion, she’s become insistent on reaching back out; it’s clear that her mom served a critical role in her life and confirmation of such contact would help Quinn find a firm footing in life. Elise gets swept up in the admission and begrudgingly offers to help Quinn try and contact Quinn’s deceased mother.
Elise (Lin Shaye) turns out the lights. The camera pushes in from behind Quinn (Stefanie Scott) as she turns around. A presence is felt even though its not seen. Elise (Lin Shaye) experiences pain and stops the séance. The séance goes wrong quickly. As the camera pushes in on Quinn, it becomes apparent an entity has responded to her and Elise’s calls. Its malevolent presence can be felt in the room behind Quinn, prompting Elise to stop the process immediately.
Elise turns out the light and begins delving into the realm beyond, but it becomes clear that something is going wrong. The camera pushes in from behind Quinn; something is coming. She turns and looks behind her and senses an unseen presence in the room. It’s clear that the wrong specter has heard the call. Elise’s face contorts in pain and she stops the séance, indicating that such occupational dangers are the reason she’s left the profession. The retired psychic turns to Quinn and warns the latter to stop reaching out for her mother because any message to one of the dead can be heard by all of them, and as the two just witnessed, some of the specters from beyond are more than willing to cause harm to those who call to them.
Alas, now that the other side has heard Quinn’s call and knows her of the depths of her longing, it’s not going to let her go so easily. Dark forces slowly infiltrate her life and begin to wreak havoc, leaving her bruised and damaged in her journey to find her mother. Unable to deal with the supernatural shenanigans, Sean (Dermot Mulroney), Quinn’s father, contacts Elise to help with the situation. The psychic is thus forced back into the fray and must confront her own inner demons as she seeks to stop the demonic forces that currently threaten Quinn’s life.
Unfortunately, for fans of the franchise, the film’s status as a prequel makes the journey to come predictable; the fate of pivotal characters is already known, so a sense of tension is missing. The script doesn’t account for this in any fashion, opting for inoffensive and tried story beats to generate a baseline level of interest in what’s to come. At one level, the story spends little time in building up Quinn or her family; the relationships between members of the Brenner family never get pushed or stressed in ways that would give the characters something for the viewer to latch onto.
Meanwhile, Elise, who serves as a secondary hero in the story, is given very little to do, which is a shame when Lin Shaye is one of the better actors here. The journey of a psychic so scared by the darkness of the astral world that she seals her own power is one that has so much ground to traverse, but instead of giving Elise room to grow and understand her role, the story prods her to her foregone conclusion with little demonstration of Elise’s decision-making process.
Consequently, the narrative, though coherent, offers very little space to latch on. It’s a vehicle for frightening set-pieces. But just like the story, these set-pieces are lacking a vitality or ingenuity that sets them apart from traditional haunted-house fare. A character will notice something is wrong. A presence will show up. The character will look around for them and then BOOM. A loud jolt along with a “creepy” image and the sequence is done. While both Insidious and Insidious: Chapter 2have “jump scares” in them, both films employ them in measured manners that lets them have an impact. They build up to their scares through a chaotic sound design which never gives the viewer a moment to rest or predict what’s going to come next. In contrast, Chapter 3 opts for the same audio design for each of its set-pieces which makes them feel more chore than scare.
The problem is frustrating because it’s clear that director Leigh Whannell is competent at the technical aspects of nailing suspenseful sequences. There are multiple moments where the tension builds naturally as entities enter the background quietly. There’s a time given to let a reaction build up. But instead of riding the momentum and delivering on the subtle and eerie nature of what’s going on, Whannell opts to go for bombastic and showy spectacles. This might be forgiven if, like Chapter 2, Chapter 3 utilized the metaphysical trappings of its universe to set-up visually distinctive spectacles, but it never manages to tap into the same visual possibilities. It’s telling when the first two entries bathe their supernatural sequences with hellish reds and astral blues and this entry only makes use of the color scheme at the start and end of its narrative. In fact, outside of some events in the third act, there’s very little here to distinguish the film as an entry in the franchise; it could have just been a supernatural story with no connection to what came before.
In this sense, Insidious: Chapter 3 is frustrating not because it’s particularly bad in any one way but because it never manages to embellish an identity for itself – a disappointment given the potential the mythos of the franchise offers. By opting for the safe and simple choice at most turns, the narrative never manages to endear itself to anyone looking for something deeper than just a simple and technically competent supernatural story.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The third chapter in the Insidious franchise lacks the identity or charisma that made the previous entries, namely the first film, mainstays of the horror genre. The set-pieces and narrative never make use of the metaphysical possibilities inherent to the franchise, opting for conventional set-ups and trappings at every turn. While this may be entertaining for the viewer looking for a simple, conventional supernatural outing, those hoping for something unique and engaging should look elsewhere.
Rating
6.9/10
Grade
C+
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Note: This review contains spoilers regarding the first 35 minutes of the film as opposed to the site’s usual benchmark of 10-20 minutes. The same effort towards sustaining the intrigue and momentum of the film, especially in its second and third acts, is maintained in this review, and all plot details revealed are just meant to be a springboard to discuss the scope of the work in better detail. Nothing discussed should undermine the “best” portions of the film or the many mysteries that keep the story engaging.
Captain America’s shield lay submerged in ice.
Norway 1942 location card.
Hydra’s symbol features prominently on Schmidt’s vehicle.
Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) makes his dramatic appearance.
The opening goes from U.S.A designed shield to a ominous sign of a skull with tentacles protruding out – dueling symbols. The stage is set for the roles the protagonist and antagonist will take up in relation to one another.
A crew comes upon a wreckage in the Arctic. They go to excavate the remains and discover an shield with a red, white, blue star color pattern encased in ice. The camera pushes in on the shield as a member of the crew calls for assistance; the discovery is one that has been a long time in the making. What is the story behind this American symbol?
Suddenly, we cut back to the past – Norway, 1942. An elderly man guarding a temple of sorts is accosted by Hydra, an off-shoot branch of the Third Reich. The symbol of the organization, a skull with tentacles reaching out, becomes the focal point of the camera as a car adorned with it comes into view – a counterpoint to the shield from earlier. The leader of Hydra, Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving), makes his way from the car in ostentatious fashion and interrogates the elderly man on where the hidden object is. The man refuses to give in but Schmidt is able to surmise the location of the object, the Tesseract, one of Odin’s very own treasures.
Steve (Chris Evans) tries and fails to get drafted.
Steve (Chris Evans) calls out a member of the audience for disrespecting the troops during a pre-film tribute to the troops.
Steve (Chris Evans) picks up a garbage can as a shield to protect himself from the heckler.
A believer in justice through and through, Steve is unable to tolerate any slander towards those fighting the good fight. The markings of Captain America can be seen here from the attitude to the use of shield in combat.
The story cuts from Norway to the United States of America. A scrawny but determined young man attempts enlist for the efforts in the war. However, his medical history is fraught with complications, so he’s rejected from the war. But Steve’s patriotism knows no bounds; while watching a movie with a lengthy emphatic war-time advert preceding the picture proper, he finds himself in a battle with a heckler who loudly protests the length of the tribute. As the two deck it out outside the theatre, Steve picks up a garbage can lid and holds it up like a shield – a connection to the discovery at the story’s start.
While Steve finds himself unable to win the battle, his friend Bucky (Sebastian Stan) shows up to save the day. The two depart and talk about Steve’s ongoing efforts to enlist; he’s falsified his papers multiple times to try and get a different assessment but has failed repeatedly. Bucky tells Steve that the latter would be better off not enlisting, but the young patriot responds that his effort should match that of his countrymen. Unbeknownst to the duo, Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci), a German scientist working for the United States, hears the exchange and becomes interested in the lengths Steve will go through to help the war efforts.
Consequently, Erskine intervenes during Steve next enlistment attempt. He questions the aspiring soldier to be and concludes that Steve’s character might be the true difference maker in the battles to come. Finally, Steve is allowed to join in the war effort.
Unfortunately, his willpower doesn’t translate to physical might. He finds himself struggling with the regimen required of him but persists in spite of being ostracized by his peers. However, what he lacks in physique he more than makes up for in mental aptitude. His drill leader challenges the squadron of trainees to retrieve a flag from a pole; apparently, no one has ever been able to take it down. The group attempts to get the flag, jumping at the flagpole in indiscriminate fashion, but none of them are able to get it down. But Steve chooses to tackle the problem from a different vantage point; he takes out the screws holding the pole up and picks the flag up off the floor.
Like Erskine said, Steve’s perspective is what can shift the tides of war. Even Steve’s biggest detractors are humbled by the trainee’s charisma and unyielding moral compass. Erskine reveals to Steve that the latter has been chosen for a “Super Soldier” program initiative based on a earlier initiative that Erskine was forced to implemented on Johann Schmidt back in Germany, the same Schmidt who stole the Tesseract earlier. It turns out that Schmidt is obsessed with the ideas of Gods and treats mythology with the same reverence as history itself. He wholeheartedly believes in the idea that one can transcend and become greater than humanity; if Gods can walk the Earth and leave their artifacts then remaining locked by humanity is a sign of weakness. After his procedure, his beliefs and fervor towards achieving them only increased; the super-soldier serum amplifies whatever the underlying person’s attributes are.
While Erskine is gambling on an similarly amplified Steve on being able to deal the death blow, Schmidt hopes that the Tesseract and the weapons that it can power will be enough to take over the world. The procedure is a success and Steve transforms from a scrawny weakling to a muscular and imposing warrior capable of Thus, the stage is set for the battle between the two forces, one oriented towards protecting the peace and maintaining justice and the other oriented towards achieving dominance at all costs.
Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) is obsessed with mythological/religious iconography.
Captain America is made into a comic book character that’s beloved.
Schmidt is obsessed with myths and the images that suggest something beyond humanity while Captain America is rendered as icon in the form of comic book character, a modern kind of mythmaking. One man seeks to become a myth, the other tries to live up to one.
At its heart, Captain America: The First Avenger is a story about creating legacies, making a message out of oneself. Once transformed into the eponymous Captain America, Steve is forced to reckon not only with his newfound powers but the responsibility that such powers engender for him. Schmidt uses his power and influence to shoot him and his organization into the realm of mythos. Director Joe Johnston reinforces not only the intensity of Schmidt’s beliefs via stylized montage bits but also frames the character in ostentatious and showy manners, a manner fitting of a man trying to make himself into legend.
Captain America is used in a similar fashion initially and is forced to play the role of national galvanizer. His appearance becomes more about maintaining an image than anything else. If Schmidt is obsessed with religious and spiritual iconography because he believes that such works are proof of a world beyond, then Captain America’s immortalization as a cultural icon is proof that greatness is something that anyone can aspire to and achieve; being made an icon through the comic book depictions is analogous to a mythmaking of old that Schmidt is obsessed with emulating. In this sense, the primary battle between the two super-soldiers is about how legends are made.
By constantly referencing the two men along with their respective symbols, Steve with the shield and Schmidt with the Hydra icon, Johnston is able to reinforce the explicit nature of what the two men are fighting for. A shield is a tool for defense, protection, safeguarding. It’s fitting that a hero not bent on killing but on justice chooses to use such an instrument as his tool of choice and is associated with the same. Meanwhile the image of a skull with tentacles demonstrates Schmidt’s obsession with expanding his deadly influence, eliminating anything that doesn’t fit in with his vision; it’s a symbol of bloodshed and oppression.
Captain America’s shield lay submerged in ice.
Steve (Chris Evans) holds up a garbage can as a shield.
Hydra’s symbol.
Sequencing the symbols better would have given the narrative a stronger and more emphatic drive behind it. The bifurcated approach of the movie makes Steve’s story inextricably tied with that of Schmidt and Hydra when those parties should just be backdrops to contrast against. If the film went from the discovery of the shield to Steve’s connection with a shield, the film would have a stronger foundation by which to chronicle Steve’s journey. Tying the importance of the shield’s discovery to Steve’s journey would help highlight just how meaningful his impact has been. Cutting to the symbol of Hydra after establishing the importance of the shield and its values would then give a greater importance to the battle to come.
Alas, the film doesn’t utilize its strong groundwork as effectively as it should, choosing to settle instead of using its requisite elements to generate something greater than the sum of its parts. This issue is apparent from the very start. Once the camera pushes in on the encased shield, the film should have cut to an image of Steve with a shield, positing a relationship between the hero to be and the icon that represents him and his ideologies. For example, the film could have cut to Steve being beaten in the alley [1] Obviously, this assumes other minute plot changes and showed us his assent from the very start; given the importance vested in the shield, this direct connection would have made it clear that the movie is Captain America’s. The choice to instead cut to Schmidt and the symbol of Hydra suggests that this is both of their tales and both symbols are intertwined, which though true to an extent, makes the choice to open the movie on the discovery of the shield feel like a wasted storytelling opportunity.
The effects of this can be felt in the rhythm of the film. While the majority of the run-time goes to developing Captain America, very little goes to developing Schmidt. He gets the necessary backstory and the film cuts him doing “nefarious” things as a way to hammer in how “evil” he is in comparison to Captain America but therein lies the problem. His story is boring and interjecting it so often in the tale of Captain America’s assent only stifles the pacing of a tale that’s actually worth getting invested in; not bifurcating the opening would have made the impact and subsequent battle between the symbols and the men who represent them all the more impactful.
With all that being said, especially for an early entrant in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, The First Avenger does a more than adequate job juggling its elements around in satisfying enough fashion. When the story focuses on Steve, which it does for the most part, its engaging and should satisfy those looking for a lighter superhero outing.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Captain America: The First Avenger‘s tale of a weakling turned superhero should satisfy any viewer looking for an engaging, albeit predictable adventure that examines what it takes to become an true icon. Not all the moving parts synch up when they need to, but the story’s strong foundation lets it weather rougher patches and stay engaging from start to finish.
Rating
8.0/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A man, Stan, drags a body into a decrepit, disheveled looking house. He places the body into a small hole in the ground and sets the house to flames. Who is being burned and why are they being disposed of in this fashion? These are the questions the narrative circles around; as Stan makes decisions, the film cuts to the scene of the fire, highlighting how his choices shape his relationship to the aspects of his past that he wishes to burn and move past.
With only a suitcase, a watch, and a few knick-knacks, Stan makes his way away from the burning household towards a bus. He gets on board and passes out. Suddenly, he’s woken at the last stop, a carnival, and makes his way out. It becomes clear that outside of getting away from his past, Stan has no clear goals; he’s merely a wanderer trying to make the best of his situation.
Though he comes in to the location by random, it’s clear that Stan is more than competent at making do with his situation. He travels through the carnival and comes upon a “geek” show. The carnival’s owner, Clem (Willem DaFoe), exclaims that even though “geek” in question is so feral he’s still been classified as a man. But still, he insists on posing the question: “Is he man, or beast?”
The crowd becomes fully enthralled by the tagline and buys into the show, forking over change to partake in the festivities. A malnourished and broken-in man (Paul Anderson) crawls out of a damp, grimy enclosing and approaches a chicken which has just been placed in the enclosure. The audience watches with baited breath, but Stan seems more disturbed by the ordeal than anything else. When the “geek” bites down on the chicken’s neck and severs its head, Stan turns while the crowd cheers and jeers at the ordeal.
He leaves the area and is approached by members of the carnival looking for physical labor. Without saying a word, Stan agrees to their proposition and quickly begins to work. He gets acquainted with Clem (Willem DaFoe) and agrees to take on additional work for food and pay; all his negotiations are carried out without an utterance on his part, only gestures. He’s more than content to nod along and play his part, whatever it may be.
It’s only when Clem sends him to capture the carnival’s “geek” after the latter escapes his cage that Stan finds a reason to open his mouth. Upon finding the “geek”, Stan attempts to bargain with the escapee. Stan promises not to inform Clem of his location and instead questions the “geek” on the nature of their predicament; how did this fellow end up desperate enough to eat live chickens for an audience?
But instead of an answer, Stan gets a blow to the head from a rock the “geek” throws. Words can do nothing here and Stan resorts to physical action, proceeding to beat to beat the “geek” into submission. Clem manages to find the duo and stops Stan from killing the performer before then offering him a permanent position with the carnival. Sensing Stan’s mysterious past, Clem suggests that the environment is perfect for the wanderer because no one working at the locale would pry into his past; maybe the “geek” responded in such fashion because he, like Stan, wants to keep his past a mystery.
Regardless, like the “geek”, Stan agrees to work for Clem at the carnival and eagerly embraces the change of scenery. He goes from saying nothing to becoming very talkative. He’s a people pleaser and seems to know exactly what to say to people around him. He’s approached by Zeena (Toni Colette), a carny with a clairvoyant performance who takes a liking to him quickly.
Zeena’s husband, Pete (David Strathairn) is a mentalist and an alcoholic who acts as a surrogate father to Stan. He quickly takes the young man under his wing and teaches him cold reading techniques capable of fooling even the best. With the techniques in hand, Stan blossoms, captivating any soul willing to listen to his words. He goes from a silent wanderer to a charismatic charlatan capable of conning anyone who comes his way, saying exactly what he thinks people want to hear. With the world seemingly at his beck and call, Stan proceeds out from the carnival and into the world determined to to use his skillsets to get everything he wants. But as his marks get more dangerous, Stan is forced to confront the depths of his deepest desires.
The film’s focus on how his desire unfurls is motivated by psychoanalysis – references are made directly in the text. In particular, Stan finds that his journey intersects with three women, Zeena being one of them, all of whom act as both a surrogate partner and mother to him. The Oedipal nature of the relation is intentional and informs the way the film operates. As Stan makes critical decisions in relation to these women, his final trajectory becomes apparent. The weight of every choice he makes reverberates and can be measured as the film cuts to flames as a visual refrain, a visual-call back to his original act of immolation showcasing just how far or close he is to the past he’s trying to escape.
His psychic journey is manifested in the production design. Director Guillermo del Toro does great work to ensure that Stan’s psychic encounters and battles take place in backdrops which reinforce the the shifting tides of power between parties. del Toro uses the noir stylings of the genre and narrative to accentuate the sets, leaning into the use shadows, smoke, and slanted angles to emphasize the nightmarish alleys that Stan finds himself traversing. The rooms and locales that people own are part and parcel of each characters’ identity, so as Stan engages in his mental excursions with persons, the nature of what the characters are after and why they’re after can be felt in even the subtle ways the camera moves.
The narrative, based on William Lindsay Gresham’s 1946 novel, is clock full of detail, providing ample narrative strings for the viewer to parse and put together against these larger visual flourishes. Every thread in play is set-up for a particular reason, and del Toro knows just how to litter the call-backs and references to generate a feeling of catharsis. No beat overstays its welcome and by the time the film’s ending comes into view, any viewer who’s become entranced will already know what is going to unfold and why its going to play out as it does because the way the film’s threads congeal is sublime.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Nightmare Alley’s meticulous machinations makes it a wonder to marvel at; each story and character beat has a purpose and watching the threads come together in explosive fashion makes the slow-burn journey all the more satisfying.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Keanu Reeves as Thomas Anderson / Neo Carrie-Anne Moss as Tiffany / Trinity Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Morpheus Jessica Henwick as Bugs Jonathan Groff as Smith
NOTE: There are light spoilers regarding the first act of the film. These spoilers are present in the second wave of trailers for the film, but if you are someone who’s trying to avoid any of the story’s twists, come back to this review after you’ve seen the movie.
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The screen is filled with sprawling green code. This is a set-up we’re familiar with. There’s few things that are synonymous with the franchise as the code which makes up the virtual worlds denizens inhabit. Bugs (Jessica Henwick) comments that the code segment she’s looking at is a modal, a sandbox environment where explicit code changes can be tested without compromising the main system, which is self-repeating – an anomaly in the system. She talks to her partner, Sequoia (Toby Onwumere) about the secrets the code could hide before jumping into the sequence of bits.
She appears in the background of a scene and suddenly it becomes clear; we’re back in The Matrix. More precisely, we’re watching the start of the first film where Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss) finds herself accosted by police officers during her investigation into Neo’s location. Bugs watches the scene from the background; it’s obvious that this moment is one she knows about as she comments that Trinity is about to kick ass. However, the scene does not play out as Bugs or ourselves predicts.
Instead of seeing our Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) enter in like expected, we are introduced to his double of sorts, a new Agent (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), who sets the events in disarray. The script goes off the rails. Trinity gets chased down by the agents and Bugs is pulled into the simulation. Now the other players are aware of her, so she’s forced to switch from passive observer to active participant. She makes her escape from the agents and seemingly evades their tracks, making her way to what appears to be Thomas Anderson’s desk (Neo’s original name) where she runs into the new Agent.
Like Smith in the original film, this Agent exhibits a difference in perception, choosing to investigate the next location of his target instead of chasing aimlessly behind them. However, this Agent isn’t seeking to kill Bugs and instead begins a dialogue with her. They both confess that their perception of the world has been altered; they’ve both gone through experiences where the code of the world revealed itself to them, shattering their expectations of what is and is not real. They believe that these experiences are linked to Neo/Thomas, whose presence they can feel even if they can’t trace. Suddenly Bugs realizes that the Agent is none other than a representation of Morpheus, the man who first revealed the truth of “the Matrix” to Neo in the first film. But the duo is unable to figure out why Morpheus of all people has been coded as an agent in a never ending-loop chronicling Trinity’s discovery of Neo. Why indeed.
Their attempts to escape the modal fades into lines of code on another screen. This time the user can be seen and its none other Thomas Anderson, except this time he’s not the subject of the Matrix. He is its creator. The modal on his screen is revealed to be old code from his hit series of video games “The Matrix.” He’s the lead designer of the trilogy of games which depict the journeys of Neo, a renegade who fights machines and Agents in a computer-generated world. Instead of revealing the mysteries behind the code, this Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is responsible for the code itself.
The flip in perspective calls into question the entire nature of the franchise up to the moment. Are Bugs and Morpheus real or are they just scripts created by Thomas? Is the Matrix trilogy “real” or was it just a fabrication on the part of a coder who started to lose the ability to distinguish between his fictional world and the reality around him? The cracks between what is and is not happening and who is charge of who become blurred as Thomas goes through his work day. He’s haunted by visions – scenes ripped from the trilogy – but their presence isn’t comforting because their status as markers of truth is wholly based on context.
As Thomas learns from his therapist (Neil Patrick Harris), these visions could be an after-effect of delusional self-insertions. Artists often take from events, characters, and the like from their lives and use them as the basis for stories and ideas. The therapist argues that Thomas has done much the same with the Matrix videogames; unfortunately, because of his susceptibility to delusion, he’s reversed the inspiration process; instead of letting the game take cues from his life, his life is taking cues from the games. For example, the character Neo projects a hostility to Agent Smith. Because Thomas sees himself as Neo, a natural self-insert, he takes that hostility and applies it to the antagonistic force in his life, his boss Smith (Jonathan Groff). Unfortunately, these problems are only exacerbated when this same Smith reveals that the gaming company’s parent company, Warner Brothers, has demanded a sequel to the hit-trilogy; far from being free of the “Matrix’s” influence, Thomas finds himself in right back within its domains.
This is just the tip of the meta-rabbit hole that Resurrections offers to give any viewer willing to take its trip with an open mind. Far from being more of the same or a mere repetition, director Lana Wachowski’s return to the world of the “Matrix” is content with nothing less than pushing the boundaries on what the franchise is capable of. Franchise mainstays like the precisely choreographed gun-fu action set-pieces by Yuen Woo-ping or ever-present green tint in the lighting and production design are gone as this latest entry chooses to lean, more so than any of the previous entries, into its Alice in Wonderlandinfluences. Like Alice, Neo finds himself caught in a world that constantly pulls the rug out from under him and is desperate to find a jumping-off point that will allow him to determine who he is, to determine what his reality means, to figure out how deep the rabbit hole really goes.
The structure of the film exemplifies this energy as its first act starts as an analysis of the franchise itself from an external point of view. As Thomas develops the 4th sequel to his franchise, he’s forced into meetings with people who seek to breakdown what made the franchise popular. Is it the bullet time sequences, the themes of trans liberation, the mind melting storyline, or something else entirely that energizes and makes the Matrix tick as it does? These discussions aren’t meta for the sake of being meta; they’re meant to invite us into the conversation and get us to think about what the film entails.
There’s a comedic underbite in the meta-elements that makes us aware that the drive to capitalize on nostalgia is a method of placation, a form of hypnotism by which subjects are lulled into a state of complacency by being. It’s apparent that Lana is not interested in doing a rehash of the franchise’s greatest hits, so when the homages start to kick in, the immediate response is to question them. In this sense, Resurrections is the equivalent to being shown what seems to be a completed puzzle and a bag of puzzle pieces and being told to complete the full picture.
Given its set-up, it’s understandable why the film’s reception has been so polarizing. It’s not a sequel in a traditional sense and refuses to give the audience what they think they want. Like Thomas, many might themselves frustrated with Resurrections because they yearn for the comfort and stylings of what came before even as the film suggests that repetition of the same material ad infinitum only creates stagnation that resembles progress when its anything but. The traditional sequel would aim to be closer to Spider-Man: No Way Home, slyly putting call-backs to previous installments and using those moments to build up to a conducive story that serves as a continuation of what came before. Resurrections unapologetically rejects such an approach in favor of a leap of faith that upends everything that came before and puts it all back together in a way that allows us to re-imagine the franchise in wholly new ways.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
In an entertainment climate filled with soft-reboots and rethreads of beloved story beats, its refreshing to see a sequel to such an enshrined franchise get so thoroughly broken down and reformulated in a film with as much passion and emotional heft. While The Matrix Resurrections might disappoint fans looking for a re-run of the franchise’s greatest hits like the crisp gun-fu action set-pieces, it should more than satisfy those who enjoy the philosophical possibilities inherent to the world.
Rating
9.4/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The camera starts on street-level among scattered debris and slowly traverses the broken-in area, moving up towards the sky above. The sound of whistling can be heard as the camera continues to glide over a sea of rubble and torn-down buildings; a wrecking ball gets in position to knock another structure down, while the camera dips below it to reveal a manhole. The whistling is revealed to be coming from a young man who jumps up from the manhole; a sign of vitality among the disarray.
This young man quickly joins up with a group of all white men, all dressed in similar blue colors; these are the Jets. The group quickly breaks into synergistic song and dance, as their leader Riff (Mike Faist) leads them through the town; the camera feels like a member of the gang, pushing them forward in their choreographed tirade through the town, adding a kinetic surge to their movements. It becomes clear that the target of their march is none other than a painted flag of Puerto Rico – a symbol of national pride displayed in the Puerto Rican part of town.
Without missing a beat, the Jets quickly lay waste to the flag, smearing it with splotches of paint. But the Puerto Ricans refuse to take the vandalism lightly; a rival gang from their community, the Sharks, gives chase to the Jets as latter gang run off the premises. The groups converge and break into battle before the police arrive and break the brawl up. Even though both groups are at fault, the way the police interact with the parties involved makes it clear that their allegiances are racially charged; they’d rather arrest some Sharks. Neither side acquiesces to the request for information; it’s clear that both parties want to settle their grievances in a more intimate fashion than the law would allow. Lieutenant Schrank (Corey Stoll) admonishes both gangs for their paltry efforts at remaining relevant or trying to claim any turf given that their neighborhood both groups share is set to be demolished to make room for Lincoln Center, a place for the performing arts.
Unable to get a response, Schrank sends the Sharks off the premises. However, the leader of the Sharks, Bernardo (David Alvarez) doesn’t go quietly. He breaks out into a rendition of “La Borinqueña”, the Puerto Rican national anthem and the rest of the Sharks start to sing with him. Much to the chagrin of Schrank who constantly mentions the need for people to speak English, Bernardo and the Sharks refuse to give into linguistic domination and director Steven Spielberg matches their demand for equality by opting to not subtitle the lyrics. If the words of the English-speaking parties need no translation, then neither do the words of the Spanish-speaking parties.
With their brawl delayed, the gangs split ways from one another and vow to settle their dispute at another time. Riff mentions that the Jet’s former leader, Tony (Ansel Elgort), can serve as the group’s trump card. However, Tony, now fresh on parole for previously participating in a gang-related rumble gone wrong, is unwilling to go along with his former gang’s plans; he wants no part in Riff’s plans and makes as much clear to his best friend.
However, Tony’s involvement isn’t up to him – a lesson he finds out soon enough at the local dance that night. While the Sharks and Jets along with their respective partners engage in dancing qua battle, their choreography every much as energetic and exacting as an action set-piece, Tony locks eyes with María (Rachel Zegler), Bernardo’s younger sister, from across the room and it’s clear that a new love is blossoming. The love-struck couple makes their way to the back of the auditorium where the dance is taking place and take cover under some bleachers; their first dance takes place in the shadows away from the gaze of judgmental eyes. Alas, as the couple kiss they are discovered and María is taken away. A warning is issued to Tony; with the racial antagonism at a resounding high, no romance between the two sects can be allowed. The Romeo-and-Juliet inspired tale of star-crossed lovers is set in motion.
As someone unfamiliar with both the original stage musical and 1961 theatrical adaptation of West Side Story, I am unable to comment on the differences in Spielberg’s adaptation, but I can confidently say that this is an experience one can enjoy regardless of one’s level of familiarity. In fact, Spielberg’s decision to leave the Spanish sections of both the dialogue and songs untranslated adds to the sense of empathy the film is driving towards. Even if we can’t understand what’s being said between characters during a certain moment, we know the story trappings and can infer based on context clues not only the nature of what’s being said but also the emotions behind the same. It’s as if Spielberg is informing us that he knows that we know what’s going to happen, so as opposed to holding back any punches, he goes all out and embraces the inner workings of a musical to create an experience that fully entrances us in the magic of this world.
Never once does the film lag as the camera acts a constant participant to the dances the characters engage in – it’s an active member of the choreography and motivates how set-pieces unfold. The careful precision in getting the dancing right makes us aware of the slight space between fighting and dancing; both actions are physical, kinetic, and capable of creating new configurations upon interaction with other elements. The same hands that throw blows can also hold a partner. When the brutal fights happen, there’s a sense that it’s a dance gone wrong, or rather a dance that could have been; thus, the nature of the romantic musical serves as a powerful backdrop the racialized and institutional violence – a fantasy to aspire towards instead of a reality to fade into.
The minimal difference between these two modes of interaction is made explicit in the way the narrative cuts. Bloody bouts and horrific violence cuts to people joyously singing or acting in utter glee; life is precarious and it can teeter so rapidly in one direction vs another. What better way to demonstrate this than to show how violence and love can operate one after another in spite of the apparent discord; change and hope is always possible even if things look hopeless in the moment. In this effort, the actors, by and large, aid him as they seamlessly switch from cruel and brutal to vivacious, demonstrating the way temperament can radically shift. By infusing this contemptuous ebb-and-flow in every parcel of the film, Spielberg is able to present a vision on how the rhythm of life operates, transporting us to a wonderous world where wonders are possible even if they’re difficult to achieve.
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TLDR
West Side Story is a captivating tale that grabs you by the wrist on its journey through the ebbs and flows of human emotion. The story of star-crossed lovers hits the story beats you’d expect but does so in such gusto that you can’t help but be invested. Even when the story hits its bumps, the feeling it provides never lets up, captivating you till from start to finish. Talk about the transformative power of cinema.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Note: This review contains spoilers for: Spider-Man: Far From Home.
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
While the title credits start, Quentin Beck/Mysterio’s message from the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home begins to play. Spider-Man is framed as Beck’s murderer and the hero’s identity is revealed to be none other than Peter Parker (Tom Holland). This is where the credits stop and the film proper begins.
Peter takes MJ (Zendaya) on a journey through the city in an attempt to escape the citizens of New York who assail him as he web-slings around. Helicopters follow the couple, capturing footage which is broadcasted on news channels. He’s the new hot topic, and try as he may, he finds himself unable to lose the throng of people following him.
The effects of Beck’s message leave an lingering impact on Peter’s life. Far from just being the target of public scrutiny and distrust, Peter’s family and friends get similarly targeted – guilt by association. MJ and Ned (Jacob Batalon) suffer the biggest impact as colleges show no interest in accepting cohorts of Spider-Man, especially with public backlash against the hero at an all time-high.
Consequently, Peter goes to Dr.Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) in the hopes that a magical solution to his identity problem is possible. Strange mentions that a such a spell exists and can work, but while he casts it, Peter constantly interrupts and tries to carve out exceptions to it. His inability to make prudent decisions causes the spell to explode; far from containing the problem, Peter’s indecisiveness causes a ripple effect that spreads far wider than the duo could have ever imagined. Now the very threads of the universe threaten to unravel lest Peter figures out a way to resolve the effects of the botched spell, learning what it means to truly be “Spider-Man.”
If Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is a love letter to Spider-Man as a franchise then this third entry in the Marvel’s Spider-Man trilogy is a love letter to the Spider-Man cinematic legacy, touching on themes, motifs, and even characters that have come before the M.C.U(Marvel Cinematic Universe) came into play. In this sense, the film should please ardent fans of the cinematic web-slinging hero, as Tom Holland’s Peter Parker is finally pushed to the darker, more foreboding places that his forbearers were made to handle. Far from just casual references to the previous Spider-Man franchises, No Way Home relishes in the mythos established in the two former incarnations of Spider-Man world and finds a way to incorporate elements of both worlds seamlessly into the world and logic of the already established M.C.U.
Unfortunately, the strong reliance on elements from other films undermines the strength of No Way Home’s personal identity. Unlike Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, No Way Home uses homage as a way to drive the plot as opposed to using it to accentuate the decisions the plot ventures towards. As a result, those not familiar with or not as invested in the cinematic lore of Spider-Man will find many of the emotional moments lacking because the set-up for them happens in another film.
These issues bleed into the pacing and emotional structure of the narrative. On one hand, the film wants to be serious and morose, pushing Peter closer to adulthood by having him face serious, daunting challenges. On the other hand, the film wants to relish and celebrate its cinematic references. At times these threads support one another. At many other times they end up undermining one another; in particular, the comedic nature and timing of some of the references makes potential emotional gut-punches far less meaningful than they need to be. This is not to say the story is ineffective or unenjoyable. Peter’s journey is well-earned and his progression from start to finish is satisfying, especially in the context of the MCU’s Spider-Man trilogy. It’s just that the journey doesn’t feel like its greater than the sum of its parts.
This is probably the biggest issue with the film as a whole. While multiple scenes and moments are entertaining, there’s never an constant energy that sustains itself for more than a scene or two. This means that while the film never lags, it also never feels completely consistent within itself. There are moments of utter brilliance; Peter’s spider-sense starts to tingle and the sound fades out akin to a horror movie as he tries to determine what’s setting it off. It’s a fantastic use of sound that plays with audience expectations while adding to the story. However, there are also moments of straight-forward tedium, like the final battle which is chock-full of CGI, some great and some not-so-great, and decent, but not memorable action choreography.
The result is a film that should satisfy fans of the character and of the franchise, producing a greater sense of catharsis based on how much one is invested in the same. Those fans who have enjoyed previous incarnations of Spider-Man will absolutely enjoy the plethora of references and the way this incarnation of Spider-Man is made to tackle the same. However, those viewers that don’t enjoy the previous incarnations of the M.C.U Spider-Man films and don’t particularly care for the mythos of the character will find very little here to distinguish the film from others.
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TLDR
Spider-Man: No Way Home is a movie where your mileage will vary based on your investment in not only in the MCU’s incarnation of Spider-Man but also in the mythos of the Spider-Man cinematic franchises; the movie takes homage to the point of narrative and uses the trials and tribulations of what came before to push its incarnation of Spider-Man to becoming a more mature, adult hero. Because so much of the movie is contingent on the above, those who aren’t as invested in the same will find very little here to latch onto. However, fans of the above will find themselves in completely rapture at the levels of integrated fan-service on display.
Rating
8.1/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Kathryn Beaumont as Alice Sterling Holloway as Cheshire Cat Ed Wynn as Mad Hatter Jerry Colonna as March Hare Richard Haydn as Caterpillar Verna Felton as Queen of Hearts
Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around. The camera pans through a field of flowers. The butterflies fly through the field towards Alice’s sister.Alice’s sister sits underneath a branch and lectures Alice from a book. The camera pans from a beautiful view of nature abound to Alice’s sister who disregards the same in favor of teaching Alice. However, Alice is more interested in the world around her. There’s a clear divide established between the mundane, adult world that seeks solace in structure and the wonderous, childish world that finds itself caught up in the world of sensations.
The camera pans through a wonderous environment filled with different types of wildlife; butterflies flutter in the sky while birds swim in the waters. But the camera settles on a young woman who could care less about the beauty of nature and is far more focused on educating her sister, Alice, who sits up above on a tree branch. Alice is fully caught up in her own designs and doesn’t pay attention to her sister’s lecture.
Alice’s sister calls Alice to attention. The latter sits on a tree branch and makes a crown of flowers. Alice gives the crown of flowers to her cat, Dinah. The crown of flowers drops from Dinah’s head……and falls onto Alice’s sister. While Alice’s sister lectures Alice, the latter crafts a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah. The crown falls off the cat’s head and falls onto Alice’s sisters head, cluing in the latter to Alice’s lack of attention.
Instead, she makes a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah, and places it upon Dinah’s head, crowning the pet as royalty of sorts. Dinah shakes the crown off and it lands on Alice’s sister’s head. Alice’s sister looks up and chastises Alice for not paying attention. Alice claims that the lessons are boring and would better suit her temperament if pictures accompanied the words. Her sister responds that there are a host of books without pictures in this world which sets Alice off into another tangent.
If this world contains such boring books, Alice surmises that her world, a world of wonder, would contain no such thing; only pictures would be allowed in books. Her sister calls the idea nonsensical, but far from being deterred by it, Alice seizes on the description and wholeheartedly embraces the moniker: “nonsense”. If the world of sense is so boring, then a world of nonsense has to be better.
Alice tells Dinah about a world of nonsense. Dinah initially nods along. But eventually Dinah gets confused by Alice’s description of a nonsensical world. Meanwhile, Alice is utterly caught up in her description of the nonsensical world. Alice raves about her nonsensical world while Dinah responds to the descriptions in understandable confusion. Alice’s break with the rules of reality is demonstrated as the 180 rule is broken. She goes from facing left to facing right- a change has happened.
Enamored by the idea, Alice starts to describe to Dinah the way such a nonsense world would operate. Things would be what they are not and what they are not they would be. Alice says as much in a matter-of-fact manner, but if Dinah’s reaction is an indication, nothing she says coheres. Regardless, Alice fully commits to her worldview – a shift which is signified by the film’s breaking of the 180-degree rule as her orientation flips from facing left to facing right; she’s “entered” a new world.
Alice jumps off the tree branch. Alice curtsies to Dinah in order to teach the latter proper practice. Alice and Dinah go and stroll through the field of flowers while the former sings. Alice and Dinah make their way to a brook. The brook reflects Alice and Dinah. Alice creates ripples in the reflection on the surface of the water. The ripple discombobulates the colors of Alice and Dinah, merging them. The colors swirl and come out in new form, this time as a White Rabbit jogging along. This shift ripples outward. As Alice jumps off the other side of the tree, her sister can no longer be found. It’s clear we’re in a new world. Alice sings about the wonders of her dream world, calling out to the birds, flower, and brook
This change in environment is reflected as Alice jumps off the tree branch and her sister is now nowhere to be seen. Alice doesn’t notice this disappearance and instead breaks out in song describing all the different ways her wonderland would operate. Eventually the song ends and Dinah and Alice find themselves at the edge of the brook. Alice creates a ripple on the reflection of her and Dinah; the reflected colors of the duo break apart and come back together, this time in the form of a anthropomorphized White Rabbit who’s running along muttering about how he’s “late” to something.
Dinah and Alice give the White Rabbit chase. The White Rabbit runs without waiting. He can’t be late. Alice and Dinah crawl into the rabbit hole to follow the White Rabbit. Alice comments that the decision to enter the rabbit hole is unwise. Alice falls further into the hole. Alice waives goodbye to Dinah.
With her curiosity fully piqued, Alice gives chase to the White Rabbit, going so far as to venture down the same rabbit hole she sees him going down. While she crawls into the hole, she mentions to Dinah on how such a decision is unwise and foolish, but she refuses to heed her own advice and proceeds head on. Suddenly, the ground gives beneath her and she falls down into an abyss.
Alice is slightly illuminated by a lamp in the seemingly never-ending abyss. Alice floats down the abyss as lights constantly change colors around her. She notices herself in a mirror, upside-down. Alice thinks to herself she may be going to a place where people walk upside down. She sees the White Rabbit running from an upside-down perspective. But then Alice realizes it’s she who is upside down, and she gets back right-side up. Alice continues to give chase to the White Rabbit.
As Alice falls down the seemingly endless pit, she notices a lamp and turns it on. Suddenly, the lights start to strobe from red to blue to purple and so on. She continues to float down and notices an series of oddities including a mirror which reflects her upside-down. She questions whether or not she’s entering a part of the world where people walk upside down before then seeing the White Rabbit running upside down. However, Alice realizes that the Rabbit isn’t upside down; she is. She changes her perspective and continues to give chase to the Rabbit, desperate to figure out what he’s running late to.
Unbeknownst to Alice, the environment she’s running into is none other than a land consonant with her aforementioned nonsensical machinations; she’s heading straight into a world where everything and everyone is “mad” and any attempt at making sense is doomed to fail. Thus begins Alice in Wonderland, the whimsical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s audacious and nonsensical Alice [1]Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass books. Though the film doesn’t explore its ideas with the same nuances of its source material, the story beats and ideas it does play around with provide a fertile ground for directors Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson to show their stuff in brilliant, surrealistic fashion.
The narrative is largely incoherent and functions more as journey through set-pieces than anything else. Alice enters a new location, encounters distinctive and personable denizens of Wonderland, engages with said inhabitants in their respective shenanigans, eats some food material which makes her larger or bigger, gets frustrated by said situation, and then leaves the location. Rinse and repeat.
While the overarching relationship between these situations and their respective characters is largely up to the viewer’s interpretation, the story does have a certain logic pervading through it: Alice begins to understand and respect the need for a rational syntax capable of organizing the world – a sense to wade through the nonsense. Her growth gives the narrative a feeling of momentum in spite of its haphazard jumping around allowing the the directors to focus on the random nature of the spectacle. There’s no need to explain why or how situations are happening so we’re allowed to experience the spectacle with a sense of youthful exuberance, becoming children in response to the wonders on display.
Characters transform. Environments open up into new ones. Denizens break into song/snippets, often times making direct references to the source material proper. There’s always something dynamic happening in the frame challenging your assumption on what could happen next.
Add in the iconic voice acting which makes each character leap off the screen and it becomes clear why Alice in Wonderland is so charming. It’s hard not to become mesmerized by the ever-evolving cascade of characters and situations. It may be nonsense, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.
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TLDR
Alice in Wonderland demonstrates the power of animation, presenting surreal sequences that demonstrate the creativity inherent to the medium. The nonsensical story, which moves from set-piece to set-piece, gives the directors’ multiple opportunities to just relish in sheer absurdity. There’s a sense of joy here that’s palpable, calling out to the whimsical child-like sense of wonder inside all of us.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
As the title credits come in, we can hear a character asking questions. It’s revealed that this man, Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), is a radio host who’s interviewing children across the United States of America. He asks them about their lives, their perceptions about adults, and their visions of the future among other things.
However, in the midst of his work, he decides to call his sister, Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) , who he hasn’t spoken to in over a year since their mother’s passing. Instead of having the character’s mention the reason for their distance, director Mike Mills chooses to cut to the incident itself. We see Viv and Johnny dealing with their ailing mother, both of them obviously distraught, and the picture becomes more clear. Then we’re back to the conversation; a context has been given. Viv mentions that her husband, Paul (Scoot McNairy), has gone off and needs help. From the way she talks, it’s clear that something more is afoot; there’s an shared understanding between the siblings that issues are more serious than the conversation lets on. She explains that she has to leave town and “help” him.
Consequently, Johnny asks what she’s going to do with her nine-year-old son, Jesse (Woody Norman) , while she’s gone. Viv indicates she still has to figure out at plans at which point Johnny offers to help take care of Jesse until she has control of the situation. He comes down to Los Angeles and reunites with his family. While initially shy, Jesse warms up to his uncle and engages in playful conversation with Johnny and Viv during dinner. He mentions fungal tubes which help trees feed one another before then pretending to be an orphan in a ritualistic roleplay exercise with Viv to go to sleep.
It’s clear that he’s an eccentric kid and these patterns are only the tip of the iceberg, a fact that Johnny learns the next day when Viv leaves; Jesse starts the new-day by playing opera music loud enough to wake Johnny from his slumber, inaugurating the relationship between the semi-estranged uncle and nephew. Thus, the sad, and reticent Johnny is forced to dance to the beat of Jesse’s eccentric and kinetic approach to life while the latter joins the former in his interview campaign. Furthermore, far from just interviewing kids, now Johnny finds himself on the other side of the interview as his nephew probes and questions him in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two.
The interplay between the “professional” interviews by Johnny and the children he talks to and the “personal” interviews between Johnny and Jesse form the basis of the film as the narrative deftly interweaves between the relevant threads. In this sense, it can be said that the film is largely plotless. There’s no huge overarching goal for the character’s to move towards and the film never rushes to get to the next big set-piece. Instead, the film takes it time to develop the relationships between its characters in both a personal, intimate fashion and a larger generational, geographic fashion. By swapping between the larger interviews done by Johnny towards children to the smaller interviews done by Jesse towards Johnny, the film is able to find a universality in its particular story. These shifts also give the audience an opportunity to ruminate on what’s happening; as questions and answers stack up, avenues for deliberation open up as we take what’s being said to heart. We may not get answers but we’re constantly left thinking about the weight of what’s being discussed.
The decision to present the film in black-and-white, in addition to giving the film a classic, timeless feeling, gives Mill’s the opportunity to push the boundaries on how interconnected ideas, sensations, and places can be. The dark and grayscale background makes the white letters that grace the screen pop out and linger. These textual additions come in three forms: location titles, titles of works being read from, text conversations between Viv and Johnny.
Location titles are presented in the largest text and are even more important than they would otherwise because the film is attempting to show the diversity and uniqueness of every locale. Once in a location, the film cuts to multiple environmental shots involving both the cityscape and natural formations in between the respective interviews. We can feel the identity of each unique city which makes the content of what’s said in those cities more pertinent – diverse opinions take on their own texture but reinforce a universality inherent in thought as they echo one another in the most important ways.
Additionally, the titles of works pop up at least 3 times during the film as Johnny reads both fictional and non-fictional works out-loud. These works are presented in the second largest text size and take inform the viewer that a shift between media forms has happened. We’ve moved from the diegetic world of the film to a description of another work. In this sense, the boundaries between works and fiction and non-fiction become blurry, as the nature of the narrative seamlessly moves without us becoming immediately aware of the same. The choices of the works also gives Mills an opportunity to “cheat” in some thematic guidelines for the work, helping the viewer figure out manners by which to parse the film in more digestible manner. In particular, one work referenced talks about the nature of interviewing and how it gives a platform, a vantage point for subjects to express themselves. Dissemination of such thoughts gives them a chance to go in and affect the world.
Finally, the text conversations between Johnny and Viv pop up in the lower register of the frame in white letters. The use of texting against the black-and-white aesthetic introduces a kind of anachronism within the film’s texture – modern methods of communication taking place in an older time. Our conversations are just as timeless as those enshrined conversations in the past. These texts are presented in the smallest sized font.
Thus, a certain kind of textual taxonomy presents itself as a parallel to the story proper. Places serve as locales where works can arise from and give context to and works are nothing more than conversations between an audience and the work itself. But these works are no more transcendent than the conversations we have with one another – they’re just an extension. Like the fungal tubes Jesse mentions, every part of the film feeds into an other to make a cohesive whole that functions as a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In this way, Mills is able to transform the largely plotless, mumblecore-adjacent C’Mon C’Mon into a commentary and invitation to contemplate the ways in which we connect with one another.
That being said, none of the film would work if not for the free-flowing and polished work of the actors. While the adult actors deserve credit for the empathetic way they demonstrate their struggles and tribulations at both taking care of themselves and the young voices around them, the child actors deserve a hearty amount of praise for keeping up and playing off the adults so well. In particular, Woody Norman is able to keep up blow-for-blow with Joaquin Phoenix, making the emotional moments between their two characters heart-warming and poignant. The emotional current generated by the characters’ respective relations give the meandering plot a consistent thread to follow, giving the audience something to latch onto when the story feels like its going nowhere.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
C’Mon C’Mon is the feel good movie of the year and should be able to warm even the most serious of viewers by the time it ends. While the story about the semi-estranged uncle and nephew getting to know one another largely meanders, it manages to reach out to the inner child in each of us, giving its audience a space in which to dream and hope again.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
A bald eagle flies through the skies. Another bald eagle shows up behind the original. The two bald eagles fly through a cityscape……before flying towards the sun. The two bald eagles set the stage for Two Heroes. The duo appears as one and then separates throughout their flight before flying towards the sun.
A bald eagle soars through the skies in majestic fashion as a triumphant score plays in the background. The camera latches onto the winged creature which darts throughout the clouds; it’s revealed that in the shadows of eagle lay another. The two boards soar upwards to the bright, shining sun.
Casino King sign shines bright. An explosion happens at the casino. Two villains make their way from the casino with stolen money. The villains leap towards the sun and get ready to land on the car. Toshio punches the duo away from the car. Toshio assures the people behind them that they’re safe. Toshio generates bursts of wind to blow missiles up. The explosions do not faze Toshio. The villains disturb the peace and leap towards the sun while escaping. However, their journey is cut short when Toshio/All Might makes his appearance and accosts the duo. He assures the citizenry that that they have nothing to fear with him here.
We cut to a establishing shot of a sign for “Casino King”. The bright lights and colors of the sign hearken back to the sun, but this peace is quickly interrupted by an explosion; the rising score dissipates as two villains make their way out of the casino. They rampage through the streets and cause havoc at every turn. A family cowers in their car as the villainous duo jumps above the vehicle and threatens to crush it. But the blinding rays of the sun peer through the corner and the evildoers are blown away by a punch from a young, confident man who assures the family that there’s nothing to fear. This man, Toshio, is the superhero All-Might and he’s here to protect the day with a smile on his face.
Suddenly, the ominous score becomes amped and rock-and-roll styled as All-Might addresses the villains; he’s taken charge of the situation. The villains refuse to give up and shoot missiles at the hero in an effort to incapacitate him, but their efforts are doomed to failure. All-Might generates bursts of wind from his punches which knock the missiles away. However, the missiles turn out to be nothing more than a distraction to let the villains escape.
Dave and Toshio follow the villains. Toshio leaps out of the car and soars through the skies. Toshio deflects more missiles which eventually explode.All Might jumps out from the explosion in his superhero garb. All Might uses his “California Smash” on the dastardly duo. Dave looks up at All Might in admiration. All Might look towards the horizon as the sun illuminates him. The duo, like the eagles before them, soar into the skies towards new adventures. Like the two eagles, Toshio and Dave are a duo that flies and operates with one another. The former is the superhero, All Might, and the latter is his assistant and technician. All Might dispatches the villains with a smile on his face. Meanwhile Dave looks up to his friend and the symbol of peace with pride. The two friends fly off into the horizon to solve more crimes.
Thankfully, a high-tech, red sports-car enters the scene. Like the two eagles there are two heroes, one lying in the “wings” of the other waiting to be let loose. The driver, All-Might’s accomplice Dave, calls out to All-Might who then joins him in the vehicle to chase down the dastardly duo. All Might leaps from the car and soars towards the duo, flying through the sky in his newly adorned super-hero outfit complete with cape. While he bashes the criminals, Dave looks up and smiles. It’s clear that he sees a bright, future where justice is possible when he looks at All-Might high in the sky illuminated by the sun.
This heroic vision is revealed to be a dream, a memory of the past that the present emaciated All-Might is thinking about fondly. He’s woken from his daydream by Izuku, his protégé, who excitedly calls attention to I-Island, a floating mechanical island in the ocean. The island is world-renowned for being impenetrable by villains due to its security system which rivals even the most famous prisons. It’s revealed that All-Might has been invited to the island for a special event: a surprise visit to Dave set-up by the latter’s daughter, Melissa.
It’s at this point that Izuku gives a quick run-down of the status quo, providing newcomers to the franchise a context by which to evaluate the story to come[1]While I wouldn’t personally do the same, the nature of the film makes it a fine introduction to show to those persons nervous about investing in the more expansive series proper. This … Continue reading Many humans are now born with “quirks”, supernatural abilities which allow them to perform a variety of extraordinary tasks. Some use their quirks for the sake of the public good like All Might; they are heroes. Others use their quirks for the sake of their selfish desires; they are villains. Although All-Might has been able to serve as symbol of peace for decades in Japan, reducing the crime statistics by many-folds, an injury inflicted on him by his arch-rival has rendered him capable of only using his power for a few hours a day. Unable to achieve the same effect as he was able to do at his prime, All-Might chooses to transfer his quirk, “One For All”, to Izuku, selecting the young man as the flag-bearer of hope for a new generation.
All Might is surrounded by the people of I-Island who cheer and applaud him. All Might tells Izuku to keep the status of “One for All” a secret from Dave. A group of villains stand in the shadows watching over I-Island. The battle between perceptions start as soon as All Might and Izuku get onto the island. The crowd surrounding All Might demonstrate the importance of the latter’s position as symbol. He represents peace to the people and is loved as a result. However, the secrets behind his power have to be kept a secret, even from his best friend, Dave. Meanwhile, another group secretly plots to attack the island.
With the introduction finished, the teacher-student pair finally make it down to the island. All-Might activates the remnants of his quirk left over post-transfer so as to preserve his appearance as symbol of peace and heads out to face the public who quickly crowds and celebrates the world-renowned hero. Once the crowd disperses, All-Might takes his student aside and warns the latter that Dave knows nothing of his condition or the transfer. He asks Izuku to keep such discussion under wraps so as to not compromise Dave; those armed with the knowledge of All-Might’s actual condition are at risk for being targeted by nefarious forces who seek to gain leverage on the hero. Unfortunately, the peaceful visit is compromised as a group is revealed to be overlooking the island from the cover of the shadows. Far from being impenetrable, it seems that evil-doers have found a way to infiltrate the safe haven.
For fans of the franchise, the set-up feels familiar. Our heroes are placed in a seemingly safe location, but trouble waits for them at unsuspecting corners. However, conventional does not mean boring, and the film never cheapens out when it comes to telling its tale. Director Kenji Nagasaki, who is also in charge of directing the animated series proper, treats the film with the same respect as he does with the anime itself, giving what would otherwise be nothing more than generic fan-fare an identity which helps it feel like a natural part of the franchise as opposed to cash grab like so many other “non-canon”[2] By non-canon, I mean non-canonical story material that is not based on the original manga by Kōhei Horikoshi. anime-offshoot movies.
The new characters, primarily Melissa and Dave, along with the background of I-Island blend in naturally with My Hero Academia’s established milieu. Ideas from the canonical story, like the role of hero-assistance technology, get expanded in ways that the franchise has not explored previously without feeling discordant with what came before. Consequently, even though the film’s story beats are predictable, the manner in which they’re presented keeps them compelling for viewers. You can feel the difference in the film’s budget versus an episode of the anime during the action sequences which are rendered with such astounding detail that even simplistic punches feel heavy with impact.
Where the movie falters is in its primary antagonist who definitely fits the villain-of-the-week archetype. While the antagonist’s role in the narrative checks the requisite boxes, their background and characterization feel like a miss given the themes the film seeks to explore. From the introduction, it’s apparent that All-Might’s status as the symbol of peace is necessary to keep crime at bay. His inability to do the same is the reason he’s passed on his quirk to Deku. The latter must play the same role as symbol and as deterrent. However, until Deku is capable of harnessing “One For All ” as well as All Might, the latter must maintain his appearance. If the symbol of peace was to disappear, criminals would rein.
At a certain level, the film demonstrates that fidelity to such an idea, noble as it seems, places the onus for justice exclusively on the backs of one entity. If only one point in a system offers security, then that point being compromised can jeopardize the entire system. In this sense, I-Island’s status analogous to All-Might’s; it’s a beacon of security that provides a sense of stability. But as we know, that sense of security is nothing more than a façade; while the island’s inhabitants walk around jubilantly, villains lurk in the background waiting to wreak havoc. Just like All-Might’s power, the island can only handle so many issues and reaches a breaking point when its impenetrability is penetrated. Thus, the source of peace becomes the point at which it can break down. The question then becomes how one can establish a sustaining peace.
Unfortunately, while the film initially explores the way such ideas can become perverted and turned on their heads, it throws away said discussion in favor of a generic final antagonist who is evil because. Instead of using the final confrontation as a clash of ideologies, the film awkwardly sidesteps the discourse it sets up for a temporary battle and then lightly touches on those ideas in the aftermath . If 5-10 minutes spent on some of the smaller action set-pieces was alternatively utilized to prop up the antagonists’ ideological viewpoints, the final battle would have an emotional heft capable of matching the grandiose spectacle it sets out to present.
That being said, Two Heroes should offer more than enough for fans of the franchise. It may not push the boundaries as much as its premise allows, but it efficiently and adequately explores its ideas enough to give it a unique texture in relation to the franchise it’s based on. Other anime “original” movies based on globally popular franchises should take notes because this is how these films should be; they should offer vantage points to explore the franchise in manners the original source material can’t or doesn’t have the time to while retaining its own pace.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
My Hero Academia: Two Heroes breaks the mold for non-canonical anime films by taking itself as seriously as its source material. Every new idea explored in the film expands on threads from the franchise proper, making the transition from the series to the film seamless. While the film doesn’t explore its deconstruction of what heroism as much as I’d want, it should provide more than enough for fans of the series to digest.
Rating
B+
Grade
8.6/10
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter Rupert Grint as Ron Weasley Emma Watson as Hermione Granger Robbie Coltrane as Rubeus Hagrid Richard Harris as Albus Dumbledore
Dumbledore (Richard Harris) uses his deluminator to take the light away from the street lights.
McGonagall transforms from a cat…
…to a human. Her transformation is captured in shadow.
McGonagall (Maggie Smith) appears in human form and questions Dumbledore.
Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) arrives in his flying motorcycle with Harry in tow.
Dumbledore (Richard Harris) and McGonagall (Maggie Smith) deliver Harry to the Dursley household.
Dumbledore leaves a letter for the Dursley’s.
A man with a device who can capture street lights, a woman who can transform from a cat to a human, and a huge man riding a flying motorcycle converge in an otherwise normal looking street for the expressed purpose of delivering a baby, Harry Potter, to his relative’s household. The reason for the delivery or the nature of those in attendance is kept a mystery.
John William’s otherworldly score, the first track of many, introduces us to the magical world of Harry Potter right at the film’s start. The use of a celesta on top of traditional orchestral elements engenders a light mystical ambiance that informs us that we’re entering a world of intrigue and mystery, possibilities fully abound. While the score enchants, an owl, a creature whose flight is as feathery as the score playing, lands on a sign for Privet Drive. The camera turns from this creature to a man, Dumbledore (Richard Harris), who wanders towards the street.
He makes his way to the street proper and takes out a device from his robes which he promptly uses to capture the literal light from the street-lamps illuminating the area. With the veil of darkness now concealing affairs, Dumbledore turns towards a cat whom he refers to as Professor McGonagall (Maggie Smith). In response, the camera pivots to the cat which transforms into a woman adorned in robe and hat much like Dumbledore. Already the viewer is warned that appearances do not correspond to an expected truth; everything is not what it seems.
As McGonagall and Dumbledore discuss the present affairs, a large bearded man, Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), appears in a flying motorcycle and descends towards the duo. He hands Dumbledore a newborn infant, Harry. McGonagall implores with Dumbledore to reconsider his decision to leave Harry here at Privet Drive with the baby’s extended family, the Dursley’s, citing that said family, the Dursley’s, are awful “muggles” who would only make Harry’s life miserable. If the child was raised in the world of magic where the present adult trio came from, he would be treated as a celebrity of the highest order due to what he’s done. However, Dumbledore pushes back and indicates that Harry would be better off growing away from that level of fame until he’s ready; living with the only family he has left, even if they are terrible, is necessary.
The camera pushes into Harry’s scar.
Title card.
The camera pulls out of an elder Harry’s scar.
Petunia (Fiona Shaw) wakes Harry up.
Dudley (Harry Melling) pushes Harry back into his cupboard.
From left to right: Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, Harry. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) cooks while Vernon (Richard Griffits) and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) coddle Dudley (Harry Melling).
Harry’s life with the Dursleys is fraught with abuse. From the moment he wakes up, it’s apparent that he receives no love in this household. He lives in the cupboard under the stairs, wears clothes that clearly don’t fit him, and experiences harassment from every member of his extended family.
The trio leaves Harry on the Dursley’s front door along with a letter made out to them explaining the nature of this new “delivery.” Dumbledore wishes the infant “Good Luck” as the camera begins in to push into the latter’s face; a lighting shaped scar on the child’s forehead begins to burst into a flash of light from which the title card appears. Suddenly, the title card disappears in another intense burst of light and the camera begins to pull out from a much older Harry’s(Daniel Radcliffe) scar.
Sharp knocking from his aunt Petunia (Fiona Shaw) along with an order to wake up interrupts his slumber, a slumber which is taking place in a cupboard underneath the staircases. It becomes quickly apparent that McGonagall’s assessment of the Dursley’s were correct as the location of Harry’s bedroom is far from the worst thing about his life. He tries to get out from the cupboard but is then shoved back in by his cousin, Dudley (Harry Melling) who seems to relish in bullying Harry.
Finally, Harry manages to make it to the kitchen where he’s immediately made to cook breakfast while his cousin is coddled by Petunia and her husband, Vernon (Richard Griffits). It’s Dudley’s birthday and celebrations are afoot; the family is set to go to the zoo as a result. But before they leave, Vernon pulls Harry aside and warns the latter to not engage in any “funny business” under threat of punishment. The nature of this business isn’t clarified. What exactly could Harry have done in the past to warrant such treatment?
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) talks to a snake.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) hexes Dudley.
Dudley (Harry Melling) falls into the snake enclosure.
Petunia (Fiona Shaw) and Vernon (Richard Griffits) are shocked at Dudley’s (Harry Melling) predicament.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) smirks at the situation.
Vernon (Richard Griffits) seals Harry in the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry’s conversation with a snake is cut short when Dudley decides to butt in to the situation. Without meaning it, Harry makes the glass separating the snake’s enclosure disappear. Dudley falls into the enclosure and is trapped as the glass re-appears while his parents panic outside. Harry laughs at the situation, but Vernon puts 2 and 2 together and punishes Harry for the impossible event once they get home.
The answer becomes clear once the Dursley’s make it to the zoo with Harry in tow. The family stands in front of a snake who refuses to engage with them. Everyone sans Harry leaves. The young boy begins to speak to the snake before realizing the snake comprehends him. Cheerfully, Harry begins to question the snake before Dudley notices the now active serpent and rushes towards its enclosure, pushing Harry out of the way and to the floor. In rage-fueled retaliation, Harry stares at his cousin and suddenly the glass separating the latter from the snake disappears; Dudley falls into the snake’s enclosure and the snake escapes after thanking Harry. Petunia and Vernon rush over in obvious disbelief at the situation but notice Harry smiling at his cousin’s misfortune. Vernon stares back and it becomes apparent that “funny business” is nothing more than euphemism for “magic.” He punishes Harry for violating his orders and the days pass.
An owl drops a letter for Harry.
The letter is addressed to the Cupboard under the Stairs.
Dudley (Harry Melling), Vernon (Richard Griffits), and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) look at the letter.
The Dudley house is overflooded with letters. Dudley (Harry Melling), Vernon (Richard Griffits), and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) look on in shock as Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) tries to get a letter.
Owls deliver letters to Harry which are kept away from him by the Dursley’s, but in spite of their best efforts the letters continue to pile up before bursting into the house from every crook, cranny, and crevice in sight.
However, in spite of Vernon’s’ actions, it seems that “funny business” is here to stay. An owl drops a letter off for Harry with the same typescript as the one Dumbledore initially left at the film’s start. The letter is explicitly addressed to his abode: the cupboard underneath the staircase. Something magical is afoot.
Unfortunately, the letter is quickly grabbed from Harry by Vernon and company. They see the seal on the back and the front of the letter and deny Harry access to the same. But the letters don’t stop. Owls continue to flood Privet Drive as letters begin to appear at the household en masse, before eventually busting out of every seam and corner after enough time.
Vernon moves the family to a hut in the ocean.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) wishes himself a happy birthday as Dudley (Harry Melling) sleeps in a couch next to him.
Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) delivers Harry Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) his letter.
Yet, Vernon persists. Instead of acquiescing and allowing Harry to read the letter and end the barrage, the head of the Dursley household upends the entire family to a remote island in the middle of nowhere. The new abode is so small and unkempt that Dudley doesn’t’ even have a proper and is made to sleep on the couch. Harry fares ever worse, being treated to nights on the sandy floor. He draws an outline of a birthday cake in the sand and wishes himself a “Happy Birthday”; Given what we know of the Dursley’s, it’s clear why his celebration is solitary.
As he blows out the candles of his sand cake, the door to the abode bursts open and Hagrid, the person responsible for bringing Harry to the Dursley’s to begin with, enters. He asks for Harry and hands the young boy not only a cake, the first birthday cake of his life, but also a copy of the letter that Vernon and Petunia upended their lives to stop him from receiving. From the letter, Harry learns he’s a wizard who has been accepted to Hogwarts, a school for witchcraft and wizardry whose headmaster is none other than Dumbledore. More importantly, Harry finally learns the truth about his lineage. Hagrid informs the young wizard-to-be that the latter’s parents were murdered, a sharp contrast to the Dursley’s version of the story which explained away Harry’s parents’ deaths as a result of a large car crash.
Quirrell (Ian Hart) greets Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) in the Leaky Cauldron.
Hagrid opens the gate to Diagon Alley.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) enter Diagon Alley.
Vernon moves the family to a deserted island to get away from the letters, but his attempts are unable to confuse the magical world of Hogwarts who promptly sends Hagrid over to the location to retrieve Harry for the school year.
Why Dumbledore would leave Harry in such an area where his identity and lineage are disrespected so heavily is still up to question, but thankfully the abuse is made to stop. Hagrid forcefully informs the Dursley’s that Harry will be going to Hogwarts with or without their permission and ferries the young boy away from the area. The duo makes their way to a pub filled with witches and wizards. It’s here that McGonagall’s words from earlier become realizes. The crowd within the bar looks at awe upon Harry upon learning of his presence. Hosts of peoples come to him, praising and congratulating him for something, the nature of which is unknown. It’s clear that he’s a hero to them even if he doesn’t know why.
Once the crowd dissipates, Hagrid leads Harry to an unsuspecting brick wall which the former promptly taps with his umbrella qua wand. In response, the bricks start to magically re-arrange themselves, opening a pathway to a whole new world hiding behind the seemingly normal façade: Diagon Alley. With a new domain open to them, the duo proceeds into the wizarding world to get Harry his respective school-materials before the semester at Hogwarts starts. Once there, Harry is able to earnestly find out not only about himself but also the mysterious circumstances surrounding his parents’ deaths.
It’s at Hogwarts, where the rest of the film takes place, that director Chris Columbus is able to showcase the magical world of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in all its glory. Portraits which move and talk to students, spells which levitate objects, ghosts which pass from tables, and wonderous feast that appear from nowhere are only a few of the normal occurrences which fill the halls of the wizarding school. A standout sequence involves Quidditch, a sport played in the Wizarding world with the use of flying brooms and magical balls which plays like a mix of rugby and football/soccer. The camera dips, dives, ducks, and swings around the field as two teams try and score points on another, conveying a sense of flight and freedom that makes the games played as intense, if not more intense than any such equivalent we’re privy to. Though some of the CGI used to bring these wonders to life has aged poorly, the depiction of the otherworldly events of the film manages to capture the vitality and intrigue described in the novel by J.K. Rowling which serves as the film’s source material.
Unfortunately, the film’s dedication to Rowling’s novel renders its narrative as contrived as its source material’s. Like the book, the film adopts a fragmented approach towards telling Harry’s day-to-day life at Hogwarts. We see him attending a few classes, going to a Quidditch game, and hanging out with his friends, but in spite of this, it’s unclear what a week-to-week, let alone a day-to-day schedule looks like for him or other students. Consequently, it’s difficult to evaluate what Harry or his companions, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), have learned and to what effect they’ve mastered the same; when they proceed to resolve obstacles in the latter portion of the film, the gravity of what they’re doing is lost because there’s a discord between the stated severity of their trials and the seeming ease of the solutions they employ to solve them.
Thankfully, just like the book, the film’s heart and warm spirit makes up for narrative misgivings; after all, the story isn’t renowned for it’s narrative intricacy but rather for its commitment to telling a passionate and humane story capable of engendering a renewed sense of wonder. In this sense, the film excels no small part due to the acting efforts of the adult cast who are firing on all cylinders here; each of them knows precisely how far they can take it without going so far as to be a caricature. They also enable the younger set of child actors, many of whom are still finding their footing on the big screen, to rise to the occasion during heftier moments such as to achieve a nice emotional resonance as the film reaches its fantastical climax.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Chris Columbus’s direction, Rowling’s novel, and John Williams’s iconic score combine in fantastic fashion in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, a tale about a boy who finds out he’s a wizard and seeks to uncover the murky tales regarding his lineage and past. Even though some of the CGI doesn’t hold up in the status quo, the commitment towards maintaining the book’s vision is present from start to finish. This is a hefty story and it manages to captivate the audience in the world it presents in spite of its occasional narrative stumbles.
Rating
8.3/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
