Category Archives: Fantasy

2020s, 2022, Action, B, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, Past, Review, review-movie, vampire, Year

Film Review: Renfield – 2023

May 14, 2024 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Chris McKay
Principal Cast	Nicholas Hoult as Renfield Nicolas Cage as Dracula Awkwafina as Rebecca
Release Date	2022
Language(s)	English
Running Time	93 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The film opens on a name tag: Renfield.

The camera slowly pans up from this moniker to its recipient who looks up to a speaker talking about a “monster” whom she can’t seem to get away from. We’re made aware that this is a self-help group of sorts and the crowd of persons there listen fully invested in this monstrous metaphorical dressing of a toxic employer.

The lighting is a sickly, neon green, accentuating the toxicity of the discourse in the environment and highlighting Renfield’s pale, emaciated visage.

This young man then proceeds to address the audience in a fourth-wall breaking speech, explaining to the viewer that he, like the rest of the group, persons who he describes as “decent folks”, is in a “destructive relationship.”

We quickly flash to a supernatural action set-piece, an environment which is lit more “normally” than the self-help group, and a man runs off walls while being assailed and then stares at the screen with his fangs flashing. But before we can feel the bite of the moment, the frame pauses on this monstrous visage and lets the terror sink its teeth.

Renfield quickly shifts gears in order to provide context for the visceral flashback and the film cuts once again, moving to grainy black-and-white footage inspired/edited from Browning and Freund’s iconic 1931 film, Dracula. The pieces come together: we’re watching a sequel and the character addressing is us none other than the iconic Renfield of old, the salesman-turned-assistant to the legendary Dracula.

We see our hero’s doomed journey to the vampiric overlord’s grand manor and are treated to scenes, digitally altered to change the actors of both Dracula and Renfield to the modern actors playing them in this film. This quick summation of the older film is narrated in quirky fashion by our protagonist who takes the words of the weary woman which we previously heard and applies them directly to his own situation thereby literalizing the monstrous metaphor.

He described the process by which he was turned into a “familiar” that includes a quick textual definition which pops onto the screen to explain the terms of his “employment” and dresses up the evil machinations of his master with a modern parlance that belies the situation and injects a wry comedy to the moment.

With the set-up complete, we cut back to the first flash-back and witness as Dracula is manipulated and nearly beaten in battle. But just as he’s about to taste defeat, he looks at Renfield and implores his most loyal employee to help. Renfield is caught in Dracula’s gaze and his silky words, a commentary on the codependence and abusive nature of their relationship. Then, we’re able to witness an absolute bloodbath filled with comic amounts of gore and effects which accentuate the campy nature that the film is aiming at.

Dracula wins the battle but suffers debilitating injuries due to being exposed to the sun and Renfield explains that this is just a cycle repeating. As he explains: “At the peak of his powers, Dracula goes on a full-tilt blood-sucking bender, the good guys show up and do their thing, and then it’s up to me to clean up the mess.”

During this explanation, the two are framed by a circular door, a subtle affirmation of this cyclical explanation, where Renfield stands in the middle, straddling the line between Dracula, the prince of Darkness, and the light emanating from the window, beams which would have killed the evil if not for Renfield’s intervention. The stakes are established: Renfield is not one of the “good guys” but thinks of himself as a “decent” person who is struggling now to make the correct decision.

We cut back to the present day where we learn that as part of his duties, Renfield is tasked with moving Dracula, finding a new locale to store his batty boss, and then help him gain power while waiting for it the inevitable moment where the endeavor goes sour and the entire process has to be started once more. It’s no coincidence that that our unwilling employee is framed in a restaurant with a horrific, monstrous head behind him, consuming him just as he’s consumed by his master’s orders which are oriented around the act of consumption.

Yet, when asked to explain this story to the diegetic audience of the self-help group, Renfield shies away and claims that the group would never be able to understand the specific nature of his trauma; after all, there’s a difference between a cranky boss and a literal demon who yearns for the blood of innocents.

However, in spite of his reluctance to explicitly share within the catharsis offered by the setting, Renfield doesn’t leave the meetings empty handed; he doesn’t give his stories, but he takes his fellow cohorts’ tales of victimhood as signals by which to select targets for Dracula; the morality of the situation gels with him easier knowing that he’s taking out minor “monsters”, the only fitting dish for the heinous gourmand giving him these murderous orders.

Renfield (Nicholas Hoult) punches a head.

Immediately, we see the employee of the century spring into action.

He ingests insects which give him his supernatural powers and proceeds to hunt down a target. In the first of many action set-pieces, we’re able to witness campy and kinetic action induced by the absurd neon lighting flourishes, kinetic yet quirky camera movements, and gratuitous injuries with blood abound. It’s a whole host of fun which is then accentuated by the introduction of the film’s B-Plot, a crime family who has dealings with the same cretins that Renfield finds himself dispatching, and suddenly, our vampire acolyte finds himself facing off with a masked, lumbering foe in raucous aplomb.

The violence of the encounter is felt by the son of the crime family in charge, Teddy Lobo (Ben Schwartz), who swiftly departs the scene of the butchering and ends up being accosted and then arrested by a traffic cop, Rebecca (Awkwafina), desperately searching for a way to apply her skills in a more meaningful manner in her efforts to clean the streets of crime. Thus, the supernatural vampire story becomes inextricably tied to a light, crime narrative.

Renfield takes the bodies to the new abode.

It’s with this dichotomy in place, that the film ventures to more ambitious grounds.

We see Renfield drag the corpses from his battle to a decrepit building high in stature, a call-back to the castle shown in the opening flash-back, and he proceeds towards his master’s lair which is lighted by neon greens and reds which accentuate the sickness of the milieu.

It’s here where Dracula, dressed in a disgusting half-formed prosthetic showcasing his lack of power and injured state, dresses Renfield down for not bringing good enough victims, innocents whose blood would truly fuel the dark lord, and proceeds to abuse his liege until the would-be hero re-affirms his role in life and pathetically pledges his allegiance once more.

Meanwhile, the exact same scenario plays out with Teddy. He is freed from the police building, enters his family’s large mansion which is grand and opulent, and then goes to meet his mother, Bellafrancesca (Shohreh Aghdashloo), the leader of the group, who is busy torturing unseen victims behind a screen which leaves only their silhouettes for us to witness. This space is also dressed in distinctive neon lights, red and blue, and she similarly takes her liege, her son qua employee, to task for his failures in maintaining the family name and the fearful deterrence that it ought to evoke in its foes.

He too is forced to re-affirm his dedication to the family’s cause and is told to right the situation which he’s so badly botched, an order which forces him to confront Renfield, the man who got in his way and stopped his goon from carrying out the previous evening’s mission.

Thus, the two genre perspectives are formally married as complimentary sections, and Dracula is rendered as an analog to a Godfather figure, a crime lord in his own right (though his proclivities and activities make the Lobos pale in comparison). This posturing is intriguing and gives the film and its respective narrative an interesting position by which to couch itself within the horror genre as less a rote vampire story and more an examination of the commonplace structure that governs vampire mythos.

Unfortunately, where the film stumbles the most is precisely in this area due to its inability in highlighting the most interesting aspects afforded through this juxtaposition.

Instead of honing in on the idea of Dracula as a crime-lord looking to build his analog to a mafia-like empire and Renfield as the “rat” who threatens to bring it all down, focus is given more so to Renfield’s journey and entanglement with Rebecca, a morally upstanding officer who motivates him in his journey for redemption and who is unfortunately the least interesting and compelling character within the narrative proper.

Her goody-goody schtick gets boring quickly especially once she’s played her role in motivating Renfield to better herself, rendering her mostly superfluous to the narrative. With nothing else to do with her character and no interesting developments in their relationship, the sections between these two characters quickly devolve into quips and ham-fisted attempts at a light romance that undermine the tension, momentum, and obscene fun of the moments involving Dracula and his attempts at becoming a legitimate name in the vein of the Lobos.

It’s a bloody shame because Cage’s Dracula is absolutely a gonzo villain, a madman dripping in menace and condescension. He’s campy and mean-spirited in the best way and elevates the film whenever he appears. The way he rides Renfield and simultaneously reinforces and exposes the toxic, interdependent nature of their relationship, an extension of the help-group’s commentary on bad bosses, is the heart of the film; yet these moments, far and few between, are rarely given their moments to shine in the sun.

This uneven feeling is due to the film’s inability to translate its formal and stylistic tools evenly throughout the film. At a larger level, the care demonstrated in the stylizations of the Dracula vs non-Dracula sections is lop-sided. The intensely neon lit set-pieces, the energetic camera work, the 4th-wall breaking meta-commentary, and the endearing splatter effects all but disappear whenever the vampire mafioso is not present leading to a feeling of relative apathy when we’re stuck dealing with entire chunks of the film which are played closer to the stylings of an inert rom-com, one that is replete with moments of random humor (a diatribe regarding ska music is groan inducing in particular) that have no bearing, clever or otherwise, in regards to anything else going on in the screen; the passion or energy that would help these sections compete with the Dracula moments is simply missing.

Yet, even the Dracula sections feel like they could pack more punch as they lack the kinetic momentum and rapid-fire stylistic flourishes of the opening which neatly utilizes textual interludes and edited flash-backs of the older Dracula film to position the film as a sequel and examination of the lore underpinning it. Instead, the Dracula sections, fun as they are, rely entirely on Cage and Hoult playing out their abusive coupling and carnage candy, a formula which is entertaining but doesn’t have nearly the bite that was initially promised.

Consequently, the scattered pieces of the film never coagulate into something that quite rises to the amount of blood being spilled. The entanglement of the sub-genres comes off as clunky instead of nuanced and at times it almost feels like one is watching two different films which were forcefully smashed together instead of one compelling piece using its different aspects in an intertextual manner which the initial formal structure of the piece would otherwise suggest.

Thus, while the greatest bits of the film feel in line with the best of director Chris McKay’s work in The Lego Batman Movie, the lesser sections are at best mildly entertaining and at worst act as bogs that we’re forced to wade through. And though the plot beats eventually congeal into a memorably carnivalesque finale loaded with absurd moments and wonderful comedic beats, it’s hard to shake off the bad blood of the lesser sections holding the film back from rising to its potential.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Renfield attempts to marry the crime and vampire genres but is unable to fully tap into its mixture to examine the idea of Dracula as a godfather-type figure. Yet, the film does endear itself to the audience during its kinetic, carnage-candy moments and the interactions between Dracula and Renfield provide enough bite for audiences who can wade through the less inspired, rom-com sections that the film is unfortunately bogged down by.
Rating	7.9/10
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 .

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2000s, 2001, A+, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Musical, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Film Review: Shrek – 2001

July 17, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Andrew Adamson Vicky Jenson
Principal Cast	Mike Myers as Shrek Eddie Murphy as Donkey Cameron Diaz as Princess Fiona John Lithgow as Lord Farquaad
Release Date	2001
Language(s)	English
Running Time	90 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Composers Harry Gregson-Williams and John Powell’s ethereal and aptly titled track “Fairytale” plays as the Dreamworks logo begins, encapsulating the film before the narrative proper even starts. A leather-bound book with no discernible title sits in the middle of the frame; the book opens and a voice begins to narrate an archetypal tale of a hero rescuing a princess.

The tale comes to an abrupt close as the narrator incredulously laughs at the story’s insinuation of a true love being able to overcome insurmountable odds, and his green hand subsequently rips the page out to use as a piece of toilet paper; the fairytale becomes the literal butt of the joke.

Accordingly, when the narrator, an ogre named Shrek (Mike Myers), bursts out of his outhouse, the film’s musical stylings switch from Gregson-William and Powell’s “Fairytale” to “All Star” by Smash Mouth. In sharp contrast to the diegetic song-and-dance routine characteristic of the Disney Renaissance films (The Little Mermaid, The Lion King, Mulan) preceding Shrek’s release, this non-diegetic infusion of pop serves as the perfect punch-line to Shrek’s earlier subversive gesture and announces the film’s deconstructive tendencies: Songs play in the backdrop but Shrek refuses to give in to their allure and sing along. He’s not your typical protagonist.

The ogre then brushes aside a coat of mud, unearthing the film’s title card, before the film cuts to a montage of Shrek’s everyday activities: he bathes in mud, brushes his teeth with slug slime, and creates warning signs to keep people off of his property. A match cut from his sign reveals that the townspeople, like Shrek, have constructed signs about an ogre, but theirs is a bounty poster which promises a reward for bringing such a creature in. The people begin a trek into the swamp to confront the ogre menace.

The musical montage comes to a close as the townsfolk finally enter the swamp. But Shrek appears behind them and is lit in such a way as to accentuate his monstrous features. He calmly explains the terrors of ogres to the people before engaging in a theatrical display demonstrating the same. The camera hones in on the intensity of his ostentatious roar with three separate shots, each of which cuts closer to his face. The use of heightened lighting, canted angles, and horrific close-ups intentionally evokes the stylings of a monster film in the vein Frankenstein (the set-up also involves a horde with torches surrounding a green monster which adds to the feeling), but we know it’s performative from Shrek’s side as he calmly tells his audience to depart after said presentation, prompting the latter group’s chaotic escape.

A poster flies away from one of them during said departure, and Shrek notices that it’s an ad promising financial compensation for fairytale creatures; it’s not just ogres that the people seem to be after. Another match-cut transports us from the crudely drawn fantasy creature on the poster to the creature proper locked up in a carriage. The vehicle moves off-screen and reveals a deluge of imprisoned fairytale creatures being carted off and sold to a host of soldiers. If the farcical nature of the film wasn’t clear enough, the representation of the fairytale genre via the creatures making up its milieu literally being partitioned, exchanged for scraps of wealth, and shipped away in cells emphatically hammers home the film’s interests.

A woman walks up to the front of the exchange line and tries to trade her talking donkey (Eddie Murphy). The guard asks for a demonstration of the creature’s talents before accepting him, but Donkey, who up to this moment had been desperately conversing with the woman in an attempt to avert said exchange, refuses to modify his performance and compromise his position. But when fairy dust is sprinkled on him inadvertently causing him to fly, he begins to boast of his prodigious abilities as he begins to mount a grand escape. The moment intentionally evokes Dumbo, leading us to believe that Donkey will fly out with the aid of his newfound powers.

Then he falls back to the ground because this is Shrek and magic, like other genre accoutrements, refuses to work as expected. Instead of flying off, Donkey makes a mad dash through a forest and bumps into Shrek. Caught between the soldiers and the ogre, Donkey picks the latter and hides behind him. The armed group approaches Shrek, clearly scared of the green behemoth. The group’s leader reveals that the group is under orders to round up and relocate all fairytale creatures by dictates of a Lord Farquaad (John Lithgow).

We cut to Shrek who asks which army will be in charge of his resettlement at which point we cut back to the leader completely alone and his army long gone. Like the townspeople, the soldiers are too frightened by ogre tales and refuse to deal with the creatures.

But the honest Donkey refuses to buy into the mythos, demonstrating a considerable apathy to Shrek’s horrific performance. He tries to break into a song about friendship, an attempt at introducing the film’s pop stylings in traditional diegetic fashion, but is quickly interrupted by Shrek who refuses to allow a musical moment to happen. In an attempt to terminate any possible relationship between the two, Shrek tries to pull out the same theatrics from his previous acts, glowering down on Donkey from below and growling at him with a monstrous bellow. Yet, Donkey responds with friendship instead of fear and asks for Shrek’s name – a first for the ogre – in an attempt to get to know one another.

The fairytale creatures surround Shrek’s swamp.

However, Donkey’s goodwill only gets him so much: Shrek allows him to stay on the patio for the night but offers no other commodities, going so far as to eat a nice dinner by himself while Donkey sits outside. But Shrek’s peace is quickly interrupted as the fairytale creatures being rounded from earlier begin to spring up from every corner of his house before ousting him out of the abode; the camera pulls up to reveal Shrek surrounded by the entirety of the fairytale crowd imprisoned earlier in the day.

Desperate to disperse the crowd, Shrek learns that their arrival on his property is due to the orders of Farquaad; much to his chagrin, it turns out his swamp has been designated the fairytale dumping ground. Shrek vows to go to Farquaad and evict the crowd from his property. He operates under the assumption that his actions will be decried but the crowd around him, desperate to go back to where they came, cheer for his proclamation and crown him as their champion – a hero fighting for fairytales.

He takes Donkey along as a guide and sets off. Once again, Donkey tries to break into song; the moment is the perfect point where older animated musical fantasies would narrate the journey via song. But he’s stopped by Shrek once more and is only allowed to hum. The ogre might be forced to play hero for the fairytale crowd, but he refuses to go along with the musical script expected.

Meanwhile, the aforementioned Farquaad proceeds to an interrogation. His journey to the interrogation room is cross-cut against the room being set up with a glass of milk of all things; intrigue begins to build. We see his feet, his gloves, and his visage framed from angles which emphasize their size and prominence; there’s a weight to his authority and an importance granted to his frame. An over-the-shoulder shots maintains the illusion of this power for a moment, but as Farquaad moves to the center of the frame, his short stature is revealed and his menacing authority is ripped from underneath his feet. When he finally enters the room and the subject of his punishment is revealed to be none other the Gingerbread Man (the milk qua torture begins to makes sense), the upending is complete: Farquaad feels like a huge joke.

The absurd interrogation is quickly brought to a close when Farquaad’s forces bring in a magical mirror similar to the one in Sleeping Beauty. Farquaad, seeking to stroke his ego, asks the mirror to confirm the greatness of his kingdom but is promptly rebuked: Farquaad, without a queen by his side, is no king and must remedy the situation to achieve his goals.

Consequently, the mirror breaks into a date-show presentation of three princess candidates for Farquaad to choose between for marriage: Cinderalla, Snow White, and Fiona (Cameron Diaz). It’s telling that his choice of bride-to-be is Fiona, the only one of the group who has no former Disney connection. After making his choice, “Escape” by Rupert Holmes plays from the mirror as part of its presentation. This diegetic use of music, a direct contrast to the non-diegetic use of “Smash Mouth” earlier during Shrek’s introduction, signifies Farquaad’s desire: the royal ruler wants to be the legendary hero of old, rescuing his princess partner from a seemingly insurmountable situation and buys into general narrative trappings, musical evocations included.

In this manner, the mirror serves as an analog to the book that Shrek was reading at the film’s start; both mediums present aspects of the mythical hero narrative prevent in the genre and have the respective hero characters orient themselves in regards to the same. Shrek decries the validity of the tales while Farquaad seems to enmesh himself within their fabric.

The musical cues represent proximity to the dictates of the genre which explains Shrek’s reluctance and non-diegetic relationship with music and Farquaad’s embrace of a diegetic relationship with it. This is why the latter’s town, Duloc, is crafted to look like a fictional version of DisneyWorld complete with music playing at all times. Shrek and Donkey hear elevator music in the empty townscape and are then greeted by a song-and-dance number by a mechanical information apparatus; despite his reluctance, Shrek is forced to tango with the musical intrusion and what comes with it.

Farquaad tells the soldiers to kill Shrek.

Shrek and Farquaad finally confront one another in a stadium where the latter is hosting trials to select a champion, a hero by proxy capable of engaging in the heroic quest necessary to retrieve Fiona. With an ogre present, Farquaad decides that any one person capable of besting such a monstrosity will be more than capable enough of slaying a dragon, retrieving Fiona, and returning back; he gives the order to attack.

But Shrek absolutely decimates every hero candidate all while “Bad Reputation” plays in the background. At first glance the lyrics suggest that Shrek doesn’t care about improving his social standing or currying anyone’s favor, but his theatrical acquiescence towards the crowd and their demands for performative battle in the vein of wrestling suggests the total opposite: it’s not that he doesn’t care about improving as much as he’s never received an opportunity to change him image.

And it’s this opportunity that Farquaad presents Shrek upon the latter’s absolute victory in battle – a chance to play the part of hero. However, Shrek’s emphatic response to the crowd is short-lived and his disavowal of the archetype’s bells and whistles rushes back in; instead of accepting the quest to embrace the hero lying beneath, Shrek only agrees to Farquaad’s request under the guarantee that his swamp will be returned free of any and all fairytale influence. Thus, the duo sets off on their unheroic, selfishly-motivated hero’s journey.

This disjunction marks the parameters by which the film operates as it swings from lampooning genre conventions to embracing them in a deconstructive fashion. The “traditional” approach popularized by Disney where the protagonist goes overcomes their internal struggles, becomes heroic, and overcome their foes is represented by classical musical choices and the presence of diegetic music numbers, whereas the “non-traditional” approach the film (and Shrek) more explicitly embrace is characterized by the modern song choices and non-diegetic musical montage. Both of these approaches vie for supremacy as the narrative progresses, trading places and functions as Shrek reckons with what his tale truly entails.

The juxtaposition of the film’s more classic sounding score against the pop enthusiasm of its soundtrack exposes Shrek’s disavowal of singing while rendering him a subject of its power. In this sense, just like the social forces within the film which force Shrek to embrace a heroic role, the traditional scoring cues reveal the underlying mood and importance of the moment. In contrast, the needle-drop moments reveal Shrek’s internal machinations, bubbling under the surface, waiting to be unearthed. Diegetic and non-diegetic sound choices represent the shifting tides of this identarian battle as Shrek struggles to reconcile the villainous ogre persona he’s cultivated due to social pressures and the seemingly contradictory heroic persona driving his decisions. By taking advantage of the possibilities generated through strategic interplay of score and soundtrack Shrek is able to achieve a balance between the fantastical and the everyday.

Thus, the sound design ostensibly works to entertain and keep the viewer engaged with its more modern sensibilities all while subtly cueing us in to where Shrek is on the journey to find and embrace the nature of his desires. Like Wes Craven’s Scream, Shrek (to a lesser extent) reveals the underlying logic of its genre, drawing attention to the mechanisms at play, but never undermines them in such a manner to make them ineffective, allowing the film the chance to capitalize on those tropes later on. This combined with both the everyday feel of both the overt soundscape and Shrek’s characterization as vulgar yet endearing gives the fantasy tale a down-to-earth feeling, making it increasingly accessible in spite of its subversive gestures.

Unfortunately, like Scream, Shrek’s success and ingenuity revitalized its genre with lesser emulations (including some sequels) which mimic its appearance but never achieve the same emotional resonance. Films copy the crude humor, expressive animation, genre lampooning, modern songs, and celebrity voice-over acting – all elements of Shrek which are memorable and work – but forgets that these characteristics are utilized in service of the overarching ideas of the film, namely that of expanding the possibilities inherent in fairytales and the narratives the genre can offer up.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Revolutionary at the time and hard to beat even now, Shrek‘s deconstruction of the Disney Renaissance era films provides a breath of fresh air for animated fantasy musicals while retaining the magic that genre lovers expect. The pop stylings and crude humor go hand-in-hand with an evocative, ogre-filled hero’s journey.
Rating	10/10
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 .

Pages: 1 2 3

1990s, 1998, Action, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, S

Film Review: Mulan – 1998

May 25, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Tony Bancroft Barry Cook
Principal Cast	Ming-Na Wen as Fa Mulan Eddie Murphy as Mushu BD Wong as Captain Shang Miguel Ferrer as Shan Yu
Release Date	1998
Language(s)	English
Running Time	87 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Chinese ink work of the Great Wall of China…

An inked-out backdrop comes onto screen, evoking the distinctive feel of older Chinese drawings. The camera tracks over this backdrop and settles on a view of the Great Wall of China before the ink fades away to the wall proper.

A soldier on guard duty notices an incoming danger right as the Huns, led by Shan Yu, climb the walls and break into the country. The guard lights a large fire on his post and alerts the other guards, ensuring that the the capital knows of and can mount a response against the threat. But Shan Yu relishes the opportunity for battle, going so far as to burn a national flag to signify his challenge to the nation.

As the symbol on the flag burns, the symbol on the Emperor’s door opens; his counsel and him are immediately drafting their strategy. The Emperor decrees that one man must each family must be drafted to ensure the enemy is defeated. One of his generals pushes back and claims that his forces are more than capable of handling the threat but the Emperor refuses to back down, explaining that like a single grain of rice, a single man could tip the scale.

Meanwhile, a young woman, named Mulan gracefully picks up a single grain of rice while taking copious notes on her arm. She’s getting ready for some kind of procedural examination and is rushed for time. In one swift maneuver, she calls for her “brother”, the family’s dog, and ties feed and a treat on him to lead him into feeding her household’s livestock. The maneuver informs us not only of Mulan’s wit but also of her family’s lack of a son.

With her tasks “finished”, Mulan heads out for a meeting with a matchmaker – cue the film’s first musical number, “Honor to Us All”, a song which establishes the cultural idea that women can only bring honor to their families by becoming good wives. Immediately upon coming to the location, Mulan is stripped and washed, losing her unique identity in favor of a culturally approved one. As she’s fitted by her mother and an assistant, it’s clear that these expectations are literally pulling her in opposing directions. Cultural expectations shape familial values which propagate down to the individual which is why Mulan finds herself desperate to fit into the crowd, casting aside her subjectivity in favor or melding with her peers.

For a musical number, the song works as an ironic counterpoint to the narrative proper, establishing the sexist, contradictory roles that women are meant to operate in, while demonstrating the way cultural expectations permeate and shape the lived experiences of persons who don’t fit into presumed archetypes. The number ends with Mulan stumbling into the matchmaker’s abode and failing miserably. She can’t attain honor in this way and is cast aside – a poignant conclusion to a musical number that so strongly stresses that the only role available for women is the one she can’t possible do.

This seeming ineptitude weighs heavily on Mulan and as she gazes on her loving parents, parents who she can’t help but disappoint, she breaks into the film’s second song aptly titled “Reflection”; she walks around her home and looks back at her reflection, first in the water and then in the reflective surfaces of shrines, to find herself but can’t seem to reconcile what she is and what her family and by extension society want her to be. Her make-up is stripped off half her face before being fully removed, demonstrating this gap between the idealized and the real.

Mulan feels utterly alone in her struggle. The pink blossoms in her garden frame her isolation, trapping her in the frame. But her father intervenes and comes into her zone; the duo is framed within the flowers and the emptiness is transformed into a lovely connective moment. He reassures his daughter, pointing out that the late flower blooms most beautiful of all before then placing a flower-decorated clip into her hair to cement the connection; Mulan may not have found her way yet, but when she does, it will be glorious.

But the sound of drums announcing the presence of the Emperor’s men interrupts the moment of serenity; the enclosure generated by the flowers is broken apart by the Emperor’s conscription announcement. Mulan’s father is tasked to serve given his family’s lack of son and suddenly his family has to deal with his impending absence, and due to his fragile body, probable death. Mulan tries to push back, both in public and in private, but is admonished and lectured for her insolence; she should get to know her place in society like everyone else. Yet, the songs have already informed us that such a place does not exist for her.

Mulan looks at her reflection in a puddle.

Unable to come up with any solutions, she sits dejected under the statue of the Great Stone Dragon, her family’s guardian protector, and gazes down on her reflection in a puddle, struggling to figure out what to do. From where she sits, she notices the silhouettes of her parents; her father reaches over to her mother in tender embrace but the latter turns away and walks off leaving the former to blow out the candle and bring the night to a close – the impending war brings a great darkness to the family.

But Mulan refuses to let to let the light die and sets out to take her father’s place, lighting the lamps and offering a prayer for success before trading her flower headpiece for her father’s conscript orders and battle regalia. If no place exists for her, she’ll carve the path for herself . Her resolve is now reflected in her newfound blade which she promptly uses to cut her hair; now she can present as the man the army needs her to be.

Thus, the stage is set for a battle between two subversive forces, each trying to tackle the sociocultural paradigm which they find themselves situated within. Their respective acts of dishonor, Mulan’s military subterfuge and Shan Yu’s invasion, are both attempts at reforming the system. If Shan Yu succeeds in his invasion, he’ll be able to seize the honor for himself; usurping the Emperor means taking control of a major lynchpin behind the cultural forces which delineate what is permissible and what is not. Meanwhile, Mulan hopes to achieve honor by serving as her family’s proxy son, allowing her father to avoid death in battle while helping her homeland against hostile forces.

As both parties pursue their respective goals, the film is able to problematize a system where honor is defined by adherence to a norm over actions proper. Shan Yu’s gambit can only work because by taking over the Empire, he can set the dictates on what constitutes proper behavior: when culture flows downstream, the one who is in charge writes the rules. Mulan’s tactic on the other hand cuts to the heart of honor itself. Her actions in end of themselves feel honorable: the desire to protect one’s family should be commended. Yet, her skirting of prescribed gender roles somehow negates her actions, making them dishonorable; the disjunction between this reality and expectation demonstrates the necessity of an internal value realignment for any change to occur.

The musical numbers define the parameters of this battlefield. The first two songs set the ground-rules: the songs provide points by which to evaluate cultural values while ironically revealing the basis of said values. There are also only four total songs and their removal from the film and then sudden reincorporation helps to highlight the transformation of values mentioned within them. When the music stops, the serious nature of the lightweight lyrics is brought to head and the disjunction in values is made apparent. When the music eventually comes back, the shift in values has alleviates the situation and demonstrates a reconciliation. The fact that the songs are catchy is almost secondary which is testament to their quality; they both satisfy the musical sensibilities one would expect from Disney while organically extending the narrative and its themes.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Mulan’s story of a woman turned warrior looking to upend a backwards militant system is as entertaining as it is thematically rich. The use of musical cues to extend thematic and narrative movements not only helps the story moving at a quick pace but also cue the audience in to what truly matters.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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1990s, 1992, Action, F, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, monster, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: Winterbeast – 1992

April 8, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Christopher Thies
Principal Cast	Tim Morgan as Whitman Mike Magri as Stillman Charles Majka as Charlie Bob Harlow as Mr. Sheldon
Release Date	1992
Language(s)	English
Running Time	77 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Whitman (Tim Morgan) stares at the disfigured man.

Sergeant Whitman gazes upon a person smiling on a chair. Despite being privy to the person’s face from the start of the scene, Whitman only reacts in aghast to the deformities on the person’s face when the film cuts to a face reveal for the audience. Out of nowhere, a stop-motion skeleton figure makes its appearance and we cut to Whitman reacting in an increased panic at the spectral entity; there is no effort made to incorporate both the live action and stop-motion visual into one scene and Whitman’s reaction is the only connective tissue letting the viewer know this is all taking place in the same environment. To add to the chaos, the deformed person starts to rip at his own flesh. This disturbing sequence is then revealed to be Whitman’s nightmare as he tosses and turns in bed.

However, instead of easing the viewer in to the story by showing the sleeping character, Whitman, waking up and confirming the vision before getting to their day-to-day, Winterbeast instead chooses to cut to another equally out-of-context nightmarish scene, this time of a skeletal creature coming out of another man’s stomach. Then, the story cuts to two completely different characters, Ranger Stillman (Mike Magri) and Dick (Bill MacLeod), providing the viewer no context by which to ground that which came previously. Whitman eventually shows up to the station and is informed by Stillman, who we learn works for the former, that Dick, an on-goer, found one of Whitman’s other rangers, Bradford (Lissa Breer), abandoned in the mountain and was unable to find another ranger, Tello (David Mica), accompanying her. The group makes plans to investigate the trail the next day.

Suddenly, the scene changes and we cut to a completely different woman. She gets undressed in her abode when another stop-motion creature, a large tree, enters the area she’s in. A slasher-styled P.O.V shot is used to show the creature approaching the woman. He reaches and grabs her from her room; the film opts to transform the woman into a stop-motion figure to keep visual consistency with the tree-monster. The monster then slams the woman’s body against the wall, seemingly killing her.

This haphazard cutting from and to scenes with whiplash-inducing changes in perspective are par for the course in Winterbeast, a fascinating movie that operates on pure kinetic momentum and nothing more. Continuity in narrative or within scenes matters less than entertaining at every stop along the way which is why the movie constantly meanders from point to point with a loose reverence for earlier narrative threads ; the focus is always getting to the next moment of violence, context be damned. The structure of the movie diverges very little from this opening structure: the characters gather information about, or seemingly about the disappearance and then a different stop-motion creature kills another character, usually unrelated to the story outside of their carnage candy role.

If there is a larger overarching plot, it’s about Whitman and company trying to circumvent a Jaws mayoral-like figure in the form of the town lodge’s owner, Mr. Sheldon (Bob Harlow), who refuses to close the lodge down despite the mystery surrounding the disappearance and the resulting supernatural phenomena. Unfortunately, while the plot synopsis seems like a springboard to jump off of, Winterbeast makes very little use of it. Nothing in the story is built up enough to generate an investment on the part of the viewer. The characters have very little to say to one another in the ways of motivation or traits, the different monsters/creatures that the story utilizes have no coherent overarching identity or relevant differentiable characteristics, and the acting is so far removed from the spectacle that it becomes impossible to care about what’s happening outside of sheer curiosity.

Whitman (Tim Morgan) and Charlie (Charles Majka) talk in a Natives decorated room.

There’s an attempt to couch the mystery within a Native Indian dressing that even goes so far as to suggest one of Whitman’s friend’s, Charlie (Charles Majka), is a stand-in for Natives within the context of the story, but then does nothing to explain or relate any of the violence or the mystery proper to the Natives outside of the most superficial sense of possible; they might as well not have been in the the movie at all which is a shame because the proximity to the Natives is one of the only consistent visuals in the mise-en-scène.

Without any genuine way to relate to the narrative, all the movie has going for it is the spectacle, and the quality of what it has to offer is inconsistent at best. Outside of the general incongruity resulting between treating the pure stop-motion scenes and the live action as part of the same environment, the sound design is severely disorienting. While the movie tries to use its soundtrack in the vein of Halloween to ratchet up the tension and create a feeling of the dread, it fails to evoke the slightest sense of unease ; because the track often noticeably cuts before looping back in on itself during longer scenes, any notion of tension immediately dissipates and the audio becomes farcical. This feeling is exacerbated by poor sound mixing; the score and/or background-noises like the wind or leaves become so loud as to obscure the dialogue or one another, culminating in scenes where the impact of any.

In spite of that, where director Christopher Theis and producer Mark Frizzell’s Winterbeast succeeds is in its sheer dedication to presenting a cinematic “something. Just like Obayashi does in House, they impart such passion to presenting a vision, albeit a vision that seems incomprehensible by most measures, that one can’t help get caught up in at least appreciating the effort. For all its issues, if there’s one thing Winterbeast is not it’s lacking in passion. Where other teams might see the inability to properly incorporate their stop-motion creatures with the live action nature of their shooting and subsequently can the creatures in lieu of something more tame, this movie opts for the full vision, no holds barred. If the people and monsters can’t mingle directly, then P.O.V shots and stop-motion people will have to suffice; it’s better than fully compromising on the spectacle of what-could-be.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Winterbeast is a movie of pure passion that’s put together with no other purpose than to stay consistently entertaining. It sacrifices narrative coherence, thematic resonance, character development, and even visual continuity to ensure that spectacle upon spectacle can be presented; the movie so fervently goes for broke in trying to do something that in spite of all its failures its not a miserable experience. Echoing the poster tagline, the movie “must be seen to be believed.”
Rating	1.5/10
Grade	F

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2010s, 2017, C+, Drama, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Film Review: Twilight – 2008

February 6, 2022 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Catherine Hardwicke
Principal Cast	Kristen Stewart as Bella Swan Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen Billy Burke as Charlie Swan Taylor Lautner as Jacob Black
Release Date	2008
Language(s)	English
Running Time	121 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The film opens on two stories that intertwine, that of a young woman and that of a doe. While the doe drinks from a stream, the young woman, Bella (Kristen Stewart), notes that while she’s never given death much of a thought, dying in the place of a loved one wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Suddenly, the doe notices that its peaceful drinking area is no longer safe. We cut to a point-of-view shot – a a human-shaped hunter has appeared and death is staring the woodland creature down. Though it tries to run, the incredibly fast hunter catches it. Death has come.

The connection between the two tales is apparent: both feature a creature facing an inevitable end. If the doe is a stand-in for Bella, which loved one is it dying in the place of? If Bella is fated to be like the doe, then what exactly is hunting her? This deadly juxtaposition sets the tone for what’s to come. Bright light fills the screen and we’re transported from the woods to the deserts of Phoenix.

Bella begins to narrate again, describing the journey leading up to her confrontation with death. She explains that her mother is planning on going on the road with a new partner. As a result, Bella’s moving from sunny Phoenix, Arizona to cloudy, rainy Forks, Washington to stay with her father, Charlie (Billy Burke), the police chief of the town.

However, just because her new environment is cold and unappealing doesn’t mean that the people inhabiting it are; Bella finds herself immediately accepted by the townsfolk. Her father’s peers fondly remember her from childhood visits and her fellow classmates at school, especially the young men, are desperate to make acquaintances with a newfound person; Forks is a small town with a sparse population so new faces are rare.

The Cullens from left to right: Jasper (Jackson Rathbone), Alice (Ashley Greene), Emmett (Kellan Lutz), Rosalie (Nikki Reed), Edward( Robert Pattinson).

But the Cullens, a family of five adopted siblings, each with immaculate good looks and pale skin, ignores Bella, giving her a cold shoulder. The lack of attention provokes an interest; Bella is immediately entranced by the one member of the family, Edward (Robert Pattinson), who seems equally interested in her.

The fan blows Bella’s (Kristen Stewart) scent towards Edward.

Yet, it appears that his interest is one rooted in antagonism. As Bella makes her way into biology, the fan at the front of the room blows against her. Edward visibly grabs his face, gagging in response to Bella’s scent. The tension becomes worse after the teacher has Bella sit next to Edward to serve as his lab partner. His disgusted facial reactions prompt Bella to check her own body odor. Far from wanting to be her friend, Edward seems offended by her very presence.

After class he leaves to go to the front office in an attempt to get switched out of Bella’s class but is informed that there are no other vacancies. The severe rejection boggles Bella; she can’t fathom why Edward seems so desperate to avoid her. Her suspicions only grow after Edward skips school for a few days. Would he really skip out just to avoid having to deal with her in any capacity?

Bella (Kristen Stewart) can’t stop thinking about…

In spite of this, Edward comes to occupy Bella’s thoughts. She can’t get him out of his head and his increasingly erratic decisions only causes her to become more obsessed with what’s provoking such a strong response from him. Instead of hanging out with newfound friends who seem genuinely interested in her, Bella becomes determined to figure out the mystery behind Edward, a mystery that only becomes more confusing as Edward decides to randomly warm up to her after the cold introduction.

Her search and the implications behind what she discovers bifurcates the film into two neat halves; the first half follows Bella as she unravels Edward’s secrets and grows to fall in love with him, and the second half follows her as she deals with the consequences of her discoveries, both of Edward and of her feelings.

Bella’s journey is presented primarily from her point-of-view; she’s constantly narrating her inner thoughts and the film often cuts to her dreams and subjective visions. This helps ground the more melodramatic moments of her journey; the rush to die for love is a sentiment that exists as extremity but in the context of a young woman’s first romantic encounter, the melodramatic intensity of every related moment is understandable. The story’s supernatural backdrop only accentuates these moments, giving the emotional intensity Bella’s going through a fitting real-world analog to deal with.

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t meld these layers cohesively against one another during the visceral moments. Inconsistent and comic visual effects undercut the severity of the supernatural forces encroaching Bella’s life. It’s hard to take threats seriously when the effects render what should be a threatening situation into a comedic one. Consequently, the melodramatic nature of the young couple’s feelings for one another feels more absurd than it does heightened.

Furthermore, the acting by the leads often feels discordant with the emotions that their characters are trying to hint at. This is partially a problem that stems from the script which adapts most of the book’s dialogue, dialogue which very few actors could possibly render in cohesive let alone great fashion, but it definitely would have helped if some of the facial expressions matched up with the intention behind the dialogue.

In spite of this, Twilight never feels like its settling or meandering. Even when the film swings and misses in stellar fashion, the attempt can be appreciated. The fantasy the movie provides and takes Bella through can be comprehended even though it’s not nearly as appealing as Bella makes it out to be.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Twilight’s tale of intense passions and supernatural romance may be overbearing at times, but the enthusiasm by which it approaches its subject matter makes it more than endearing. Though some of the visual and acting choices don’t land, the intent behind the fantasy of the story is comprehensible and fans of it will be more than satisfied with the offering.
Rating	7.2/10
Grade	C+

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2000s, 2001, Adventure, B+, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Harry Potter, Past, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets – 2002

January 22, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Chris Columbus
Principal Cast	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 Kenneth Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart Tom Felton plays Draco Malfoy Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy
Release Date	2002
Language(s)	English
Running Time	161 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Harry looks at a picture of Lily (Geraldine Somerville) , James (Adrian Rawlins) , and himself.

Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) looks down at a photograph from his past of his parents holding his younger, infant self. Even though he can’t remember the moment, the magical image conveys a liveliness that he yearns for; the “lost” memory reflects off his glasses emphasizing its power on him. Then he flips the page. An image of him with his best friends, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), takes center page. But unlike his previous reaction, there seems to be less of a longing here; the image isn’t reflected off his glasses and his reaction is more muted. Why the distance towards his friends? Given the adventures the trio shared during their first year at Hogwarts, the difference in temperament is even more pronounced.

Suddenly, Hedwig, Harry’s owl, starts to fidget in its cage, causing quite a ruckus. Harry tries to calm her down and explains that her entrapment is his extended family’s decision and not his. Harry may not be stuck in a cup-board any longer, but his connection to the magical world which sustains him is limited and constrained; the Dursley’s might not have been able to stop him from going to Hogwarts but they certainly won’t let him mention it or anything related to it.

Hedwig’s outburst doesn’t go unnoticed and Vernon (Richard Griffiths) calls Harry downstairs regarding it. He goes downstairs where Vernon, Petunia (Fiona Shaw), and Dudley (Harry Melling) await. Vernon reminds Harry that the night is crucial to Vernon’s success; he’s hosting his boss for dinner and requires that Harry to remain completely silent – out of sight and out of mind – until said company has left. Outbursts like Hedgwig’s are unacceptable. Harry attempts to barter; if Hedgwig only had some time to fly free, she would be less agitated and noisy. But the Dursley’s push back and claim that Harry would such opportunity to reach out to his friends. Harry sadly notes that he has received no messages from any of his friends so sending anything back to them shouldn’t be a concern. His detachment when viewing the earlier photograph becomes clearer; he feels isolated and forgotten.

He trudges back up to his room, condemned to a night of silence but comes upon a creature on his bed; the creature introduces himself as Dobby, a house-elf assigned to a wizard family to serve as their magical servant. Dobby warns Harry that nefarious events will take place at Hogwarts for the upcoming year and urges the young wizard to take the year off and stay home. But Harry pushes back; he mentions that his home is no home at all and that he needs to see his friends.

Dobby retorts that Harry’s friends are no friends at all if they don’t even write the young wizard. Alas, the information gives the house-elf away. Harry questions how Dobby would know such information; Harry had only explained as much to his extended family a few moments earlier. Sheepishly, Dobby reveals a host of letters from Ron and Hermione and explains that he intercepted and hid the letters in hopes that isolation would cause Harry to lose interest in Hogwarts. Understandably, Harry gets irritated and makes a grab for the letters.

Harry( Daniel Radcliffe) exchange words.

But Dobby escapes and runs downstairs to where Vernon and company sit. Harry freezes. Dobby realizes the stakes and offers Harry a deal: stay at home and agree to not go to Hogwarts or watch as the desert Petunia made for the evening drops on one of the guest’s heads. Harry pleads but Dobby doesn’t relent and casts a spell with a snap of his fingers; the cake starts to float up and moves towards the guests. Harry tries to catch the cake before it falls but instead ends up getting incriminated for the incident as the desert falls right as his hands get around it.

Unsparingly, Vernon does not take the debacle well and places additional bars around Harry’s room. Forget going to Hogwarts. Harry is no longer even allowed outside and is kept prisoner in the Dursley household; his room is little more than a jail-cell.

Ron (Rupert Grint) comes to break Harry out of his prison-styled room.

Thankfully, Ron and his brothers make their appearance to break Harry out in their flying car. They latch the bars onto the enchanted vehicle and rip them off. The disturbance wakes the Dursleys who burst in and try and stop Harry; Vernon grabs his nephew’s legs as the latter gets into the car, but he’s unable to maintain his grasp and falls onto some shrubbery as the car flies away. Harry and company make way to the Weasley household where the former is completely entranced by the difference between Wizard and non-Wizard life. Pots and pans clean themselves while needles knit clothes without any help. It’s a house of utter magic. Finally, Harry feels at home.

Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) uses Floo Powder.

He gets acquainted with the rest of the Weasley’s and sets out to Diagon Alley with the group. However, as a wizarding family, the Weasley’s travel to the location not by normal means of transport but by Floo Powder, a substance which when used in a fireplace can transport a user to a fireplace at a named location. Ron demonstrates the method of transportation before Harry is told to have a go at it. But a mispronunciation on Harry’s part has him landing in a different location, Knockturn Alley, an environment which exudes a dark malevolence in contrast to Diagon Alley’s warmth. As Harry is accosted by dodgy folks looking to take advantage of a young, lost wizard, Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) shows up and helps him out.

Harry is led to Diagon Alley where he meets Hermione. Just like she did in The Sorcerer’s Stone, Hermione casts a spell to fix Harry’s glasses before taking him to the bookstore where the Weasley’s wait. However, Harry’s fame has only grown since his first foray into the wizarding world and he’s recognized by Gilderoy Lockhart (Kenneth Branagh), an up-and-coming author, who capitalizes on the opportunity to do a photo-op with the young wizard. Suddenly, Harry is rushed forward and forced to become part of a publicity stunt he wants no part in.

Lucius (Jason Isaacs) confronts Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), Ron (Rupert Grint), and Hermione (Emma Watson) as they leave the store.

As Harry tries to exit the store, he’s accosted by Draco (Tom Felton) and Draco’s father, Lucius (Jason Isaacs), who both notice him due to the unwanted attention from earlier. Once again, Harry is rendered an object of interest as the elder Malfoy exhibits a great curiosity in Harry given the latter’s role in exterminating the Dark Lord; Lucius lurches forward and examines Harry’s scar – the proof of the aforementioned exchange. The camera tilts as Lucius leans inward; the fascination with the mark of darkness is a sign of dark things to come. The confrontation dissipates and the parties make their respective ways.

Unfortunately, Harry’s trials and tribulations are only starting, and he finds himself caught in a web of deceit and mystery from the moment he makes his way back to school. As history starts to repeat at Hogwarts, Harry finds himself tasked with not only getting to the bottom of the school’s past but his own as well, all while dealing with a maze of ever-shifting allegiances that will have him questioning who’s really friend or foe. Just from it’s opening, it’s clear that this second installment in the Harry Potter franchise is darker, richer, and more thoroughly consistent than what came before.

In many ways the start of the film mirrors the way The Sorcerer’s Stone picks up. In both films, Harry is locked away by the Dursleys, he’s saved by a magical ally from his past, he’s taken to Diagon Alley where his past is commented on, and he even gets his glasses fixed by Hermione. But far from being emulation, The Chamber of Secrets embellishes each of these moments with a connective tissue that enriches the piece as a whole; the mystery driving the story rarely takes a backseat which gives the narrative a cohesive feeling. This is why the film can adopt the same slice-of-life approach as its predecessor, chronicling different sections of Harry and his peers’ lives over the school-year, without feeling as disjointed. The threads behind the mystery are set up from the very start of the story, so there’s a throughline to hang onto even when the pace it feels like its lagging.

Fluffy looms over Ron (Rupert Grind), Hermione (Emma Watson), and Harry (Daniel Radcliffe).

Director Chris Columbus also improves upon the overall look of Hogwarts with much improved CGI that makes the magical encounters feel far more authentic. If Dobby wasn’t enough proof, there are multiple CGI creatures that interact with the cast in believable fashion. This impact can be felt most prominently in the third act when all the different elements come together in thunderous fashion.

This is exactly what a sequel should do: build upon what came before without undermining it. If The Sorcerer’s Stone established that a world of magic could exist hidden under the world we know, then The Chamber of Secrets explores just what such a division would engender. If the Dursley’s are Muggles ^[1] The in-universe term for non-magic persons. who abhor wizards, then their magical opposites must also exist: wizards who detest Muggles. With parties on both sides aware of the other, the mechanisms governing the worlds, both in relation to one another and internally within themselves, are intricate, and Harry is just starting to scrape the surface of what lies beneath.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets expands on the magical world of Harry Potter in great fashion, delving into the backgrounds and darker underpinnings of Hogwarts as an institution. Director Chris Columbus improves on the original film’s formula with a tighter ,darker script and much better CGI/practical effect incorporation. It’s a more engrossing journey from start to finish.
Rating	8.6/10
Grade	B+

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2020s, 2021, Action, Adventure, B+, Fantasy, Grade, Marvel, Past, Review, review-movie, Science Fiction, Superhero, Year

Film Review: Spider-Man: No Way Home – 2021

December 19, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Jon Watts
Principal Cast	Tom Holland as Peter Parker / Spider-Man Zendaya as MJ Benedict Cumberbatch as Dr. Stephen Strange Jacob Batalon as Ned Marisa Tomei as May Parker
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	148 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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.

REPORT CARD

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

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1950's, 1951, Adventure, Animation, Comedy, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, S

Film Review: Alice in Wonderland – 1951

December 11, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Clyde Geronimi Wilfred Jackson Hamilton Luske
Principal Cast	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
Release Date	1951
Language(s)	English
Running Time	75 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

REPORT CARD

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

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2010s, 2018, Action, Adventure, Animation, Anime, B+, Fantasy, Grade, Past, Review, review-movie, Science Fiction, Superhero, Year

Film Review: My Hero Academia: Two Heroes – 2018

December 5, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Kenji Nagasaki
Principal Cast	Daiki Yamashita as Izuku/Deku Kenta Miyake as Toshio/All Might Katsuhisa Namase as David Shield Mirai Shida as Melissa Shield
Release Date	2018
Language(s)	Japanese
Running Time	97 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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.

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.

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.

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

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2000s, 2001, Adventure, B+, Family, Fantasy, Grade, Harry Potter, Past, Review, review-movie, Year

Film Review: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone – 2001

November 22, 2021 The Critic 1 Comment

Director(s)	Chris Columbus
Principal Cast	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
Release Date	2001
Language(s)	English
Running Time	152 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

An owl lands on a street sign for “Privet Drive”.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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+

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Category Archives: Fantasy

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