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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 .

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2020s, 2022, Action, Adventure, Black-Comedy, Comedy, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, S+, Science Fiction, Year

Film Review: Everything Everywhere All At Once – 2022

April 9, 2022 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Dan Kwan Daniel Scheinert
Principal Cast	Michelle Yeoh as Evelyn Ke Huy Quan as Waymond Stephanie Hsu as Joy James Hong as Gong Gong Jamie Lee Curtis as Deirdre
Release Date	2022
Language(s)	English Mandarin Cantonese
Running Time	139 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The film opens on a mirror reflecting Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh), her husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan), and their daughter Joy (Stephanie Hsu) singing a song in joyous aplomb. However, a jarring match cut reveals an empty reflection in the mirror; the family is no longer singing and the warmth is missing. The camera pushes into the mirror to the Wang family’s present-day day situation.

Evelyn sits stressed at a table sorting through a host of receipts, bills, and other crumpled paraphernalia; the Wang family is being audited and their laundromat is now under the threat of being repossessed. As she deals with the stresses of stabilizing the family’s financial future, Waymond attempts to articulate his own feelings. But he’s constantly interrupted by Evelyn at each juncture. She’s obsessed with ensuring that Chinese New Year celebrations go well this year because her judgmental father Gong Gong (James Hong) is present and she doesn’t have the bandwidth to process any seemingly auxiliary requests coming her way. Unfortunately for her, Waymond’s concerns are more severe than she thinks with his mind headed towards divorce due to the constant neglect.

When Evelyn goes down to deal with problems at the laundromat on top of everything else, Joy comes in and brings up the issue of introducing her girlfriend, Becky (Tallie Medel), to Gong Gong. But Evelyn refuses to directly answer at first, fritting around the store in a mad dash to finish off all her tasks. Far from the opening’s joyous singing, there’s a cacophony of complaints, expectations, and misgivings at the Wang residence.

But on top of the familial discord, an inexplicable situation arises with Waymond. The camera pushes in on the laundromat’s security-dam dashboard in the background and brings to attention Waymond undergoing a possession-like event. His body jitters and then he does a flip over a table; clearly this is a different person.

Meanwhile, Evelyn finally shoots Joy’s request down and tries to defend her decision by saying that Gong-Gong is from a different time, so such news would be too much for him to handle. Consequently, when the family goes down to the IRS office, their main translator and point-of-contact in their daughter is not there with them; the family’s internal lack of communication bleeds over into their external world, making it harder for them resolve the seemingly much larger problems looming over their lives.

Evelyn, Waymond, and Gong-Gong make their way to the IRS agent responsible for their case, but on their way up on the elevator, Waymond’s body jerks as it did previously and he acts in a completely different manner, going so far as to block the elevator camera with an umbrella. He tells Evelyn that he is another Waymond, that the world is in danger, and gives her instructions to follow at a later time. Initially, she chooses to ignore his instructions but as her tax case agent, Deirdre (Jamie Lee Curtis), gets more intense and makes the Wang’s financial situation seem fraught with imminent doom, Evelyn decides that following the instructions might at least provide a reprieve from the situation she finds herself in.

Suddenly, a dolly-zoom like effect is employed where Evelyn finds herself thrust back into a moving frame, creating a kinetic dissonance. Her body snaps back against the wall and the frame fractures like a broken mirror, reflecting multiple Evelyn’s, each with their own perspective, each in their own location; mirrors, which had so far just been part of the set reflecting the Wang family now become enmeshed within the frame proper, tying form to content. One of the Evelyn’s take control of the frame and meets the Waymond from the elevator who reveals that he’s another universe’s Waymond that was temporarily inhabiting (our) Evelyn’s universe’s Waymond, and that he’s been sent to find an Evelyn capable of fighting a threat bent on destroying the multiverse. Thus, a simple trip to settle taxes turns into a Matrix-styled battle for multiversal survival where Evelyn must, in her role as chosen-one, bring balance by taking down a supreme evil set on absolute destruction.

However, directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (the Daniels) use the idea of multiple universes to explore multiple genres, tasking each entanglement with a universe with its own genre settings and trappings. Consequently, as characters traverse their own and current universal perspectives, they’re forced into distinctive genre entanglements, or more accurately genre miscommunications. Early on after initially being given the run-down of the situation, Evelyn finds herself face-to-face with a target she saw in another context as being hostile and acts out like an action hero in self-defense; but the target is far from hostile and is their “normal” self, so the misfire between their drama and Evelyn’s action lends to a genuine comedy of errors.

This is how the film is able to so effortlessly traverse different moods and emotions at the drop of a hat; genre becomes ever-fluid, crystallizing into serious or comedic whenever the narrative calls for it. The most disparate situations flow into one another seamlessly without sacrificing or compromising on narrative momentum . At one point the film becomes an action-comedy Jackie Chan styled and at another adopts the trademarks of one of Wong Kar-wai’s romances with shutter-speed experimentation that isolates the relevant characters and neither moment is out of lockstep within itself or within the larger story at play. Even though each of these tales is done within the confines of its respective genre, going so far as to have the actors modulate their performances, sometimes in minute fashion, to be hyper-authentic to the feeling of the homage(s), their contextual narratives are essentially just recapitulations of the main, overarching narrative about finding meaning in an existence that seems to constantly spit at one’s face.

By couching the Wang family’s respective struggles within distinct genres, the Daniels are able to break down how the problems the family finds themselves are far from disparate and in actuality stem from the same underlying conditions. Even as the film zips from universe to universe with a staggering number of match-cuts, dolly zoom-like disorientation effects, and shifting aspect ratios, the central story never gets lost because the script is careful to keep the emotional underpinnings of what the characters are going through consistent even as the contexts they find themselves inhabiting vary. In this sense, the film warrants a comparison with Terrence Malick’s masterpiece The Tree of Life, in its ability to couch a simple, individual story of a family within a grander universal context such as to suggest transcendental truths while respecting the different ways they may manifest within different, subjective lives.

However, what makes Everything Everywhere All At Once feel unique in spite of its obvious homage and reference and grander aspirations and achievements, is its wholehearted embrace of obscene, vulgar jokes as a way of both retaining the Daniels flair for humor in the vein of their previous film Swiss Army Man but more importantly as a way of hammering home the point. Overcoming the constitutive void of nihilism that permeates existence and butt-plug humor go hand-in-hand in the Daniels’ world of infinite possibilities as they try and demonstrate that the difference between two worlds is nothing more than a question of perspective.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Everything Everywhere All At Once is somehow a quaint slice-of-life story of a family coming to terms with their personal and familial struggles and a multi-universal epic about saving the universe from a catastrophic, all-encompassing nihilism that obliterates everything it comes into contact with that feels wholly consistent with itself, being equal parts riotously hilarious, thoughtfully introspective, and emotionally resonant.
Rating	10/10
Grade	S+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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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+

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .

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2020s, 2021, A, Action, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, Science Fiction, Year

Film Review: The Matrix Resurrections – 2021

December 23, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Lana Wachowski
Principal Cast	Keanu Reeves as Thomas Anderson / Neo Carrie-Anne Moss as Tiffany / Trinity Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Morpheus Jessica Henwick as Bugs Jonathan Groff as Smith
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	148 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: There are light spoilers regarding the first act of the film. These spoilers are present in the second wave of trailers for the film, but if you are someone who’s trying to avoid any of the story’s twists, come back to this review after you’ve seen the movie.

NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.

The screen is filled with sprawling green code. This is a set-up we’re familiar with. There’s few things that are synonymous with the franchise as the code which makes up the virtual worlds denizens inhabit. Bugs (Jessica Henwick) comments that the code segment she’s looking at is a modal, a sandbox environment where explicit code changes can be tested without compromising the main system, which is self-repeating – an anomaly in the system. She talks to her partner, Sequoia (Toby Onwumere) about the secrets the code could hide before jumping into the sequence of bits.

She appears in the background of a scene and suddenly it becomes clear; we’re back in The Matrix. More precisely, we’re watching the start of the first film where Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss) finds herself accosted by police officers during her investigation into Neo’s location. Bugs watches the scene from the background; it’s obvious that this moment is one she knows about as she comments that Trinity is about to kick ass. However, the scene does not play out as Bugs or ourselves predicts.

Instead of seeing our Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) enter in like expected, we are introduced to his double of sorts, a new Agent (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), who sets the events in disarray. The script goes off the rails. Trinity gets chased down by the agents and Bugs is pulled into the simulation. Now the other players are aware of her, so she’s forced to switch from passive observer to active participant. She makes her escape from the agents and seemingly evades their tracks, making her way to what appears to be Thomas Anderson’s desk (Neo’s original name) where she runs into the new Agent.

Like Smith in the original film, this Agent exhibits a difference in perception, choosing to investigate the next location of his target instead of chasing aimlessly behind them. However, this Agent isn’t seeking to kill Bugs and instead begins a dialogue with her. They both confess that their perception of the world has been altered; they’ve both gone through experiences where the code of the world revealed itself to them, shattering their expectations of what is and is not real. They believe that these experiences are linked to Neo/Thomas, whose presence they can feel even if they can’t trace. Suddenly Bugs realizes that the Agent is none other than a representation of Morpheus, the man who first revealed the truth of “the Matrix” to Neo in the first film. But the duo is unable to figure out why Morpheus of all people has been coded as an agent in a never ending-loop chronicling Trinity’s discovery of Neo. Why indeed.

Their attempts to escape the modal fades into lines of code on another screen. This time the user can be seen and its none other Thomas Anderson, except this time he’s not the subject of the Matrix. He is its creator. The modal on his screen is revealed to be old code from his hit series of video games “The Matrix.” He’s the lead designer of the trilogy of games which depict the journeys of Neo, a renegade who fights machines and Agents in a computer-generated world. Instead of revealing the mysteries behind the code, this Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is responsible for the code itself.

The flip in perspective calls into question the entire nature of the franchise up to the moment. Are Bugs and Morpheus real or are they just scripts created by Thomas? Is the Matrix trilogy “real” or was it just a fabrication on the part of a coder who started to lose the ability to distinguish between his fictional world and the reality around him? The cracks between what is and is not happening and who is charge of who become blurred as Thomas goes through his work day. He’s haunted by visions – scenes ripped from the trilogy – but their presence isn’t comforting because their status as markers of truth is wholly based on context.

As Thomas learns from his therapist (Neil Patrick Harris), these visions could be an after-effect of delusional self-insertions. Artists often take from events, characters, and the like from their lives and use them as the basis for stories and ideas. The therapist argues that Thomas has done much the same with the Matrix videogames; unfortunately, because of his susceptibility to delusion, he’s reversed the inspiration process; instead of letting the game take cues from his life, his life is taking cues from the games. For example, the character Neo projects a hostility to Agent Smith. Because Thomas sees himself as Neo, a natural self-insert, he takes that hostility and applies it to the antagonistic force in his life, his boss Smith (Jonathan Groff). Unfortunately, these problems are only exacerbated when this same Smith reveals that the gaming company’s parent company, Warner Brothers, has demanded a sequel to the hit-trilogy; far from being free of the “Matrix’s” influence, Thomas finds himself in right back within its domains.

This is just the tip of the meta-rabbit hole that Resurrections offers to give any viewer willing to take its trip with an open mind. Far from being more of the same or a mere repetition, director Lana Wachowski’s return to the world of the “Matrix” is content with nothing less than pushing the boundaries on what the franchise is capable of. Franchise mainstays like the precisely choreographed gun-fu action set-pieces by Yuen Woo-ping or ever-present green tint in the lighting and production design are gone as this latest entry chooses to lean, more so than any of the previous entries, into its Alice in Wonderland influences. Like Alice, Neo finds himself caught in a world that constantly pulls the rug out from under him and is desperate to find a jumping-off point that will allow him to determine who he is, to determine what his reality means, to figure out how deep the rabbit hole really goes.

The structure of the film exemplifies this energy as its first act starts as an analysis of the franchise itself from an external point of view. As Thomas develops the 4th sequel to his franchise, he’s forced into meetings with people who seek to breakdown what made the franchise popular. Is it the bullet time sequences, the themes of trans liberation, the mind melting storyline, or something else entirely that energizes and makes the Matrix tick as it does? These discussions aren’t meta for the sake of being meta; they’re meant to invite us into the conversation and get us to think about what the film entails.

There’s a comedic underbite in the meta-elements that makes us aware that the drive to capitalize on nostalgia is a method of placation, a form of hypnotism by which subjects are lulled into a state of complacency by being. It’s apparent that Lana is not interested in doing a rehash of the franchise’s greatest hits, so when the homages start to kick in, the immediate response is to question them. In this sense, Resurrections is the equivalent to being shown what seems to be a completed puzzle and a bag of puzzle pieces and being told to complete the full picture.

Given its set-up, it’s understandable why the film’s reception has been so polarizing. It’s not a sequel in a traditional sense and refuses to give the audience what they think they want. Like Thomas, many might themselves frustrated with Resurrections because they yearn for the comfort and stylings of what came before even as the film suggests that repetition of the same material ad infinitum only creates stagnation that resembles progress when its anything but. The traditional sequel would aim to be closer to Spider-Man: No Way Home, slyly putting call-backs to previous installments and using those moments to build up to a conducive story that serves as a continuation of what came before. Resurrections unapologetically rejects such an approach in favor of a leap of faith that upends everything that came before and puts it all back together in a way that allows us to re-imagine the franchise in wholly new ways.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	In an entertainment climate filled with soft-reboots and rethreads of beloved story beats, its refreshing to see a sequel to such an enshrined franchise get so thoroughly broken down and reformulated in a film with as much passion and emotional heft. While The Matrix Resurrections might disappoint fans looking for a re-run of the franchise’s greatest hits like the crisp gun-fu action set-pieces, it should more than satisfy those who enjoy the philosophical possibilities inherent to the world.
Rating	9.4/10
Grade	A

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2020s, 2021, A+, Crime, Drama, Grade, Musical, Past, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Film Review: West Side Story – 2021

December 22, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Steven Spielberg
Principal Cast	Ansel Elgort as Tony Rachel Zegler as María Ariana DeBose as Anita David Alvarez as Bernardo Mike Faist as Riff Rita Moreno as Valentina
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English, Spanish
Running Time	156 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The camera starts on street-level among scattered debris and slowly traverses the broken-in area, moving up towards the sky above. The sound of whistling can be heard as the camera continues to glide over a sea of rubble and torn-down buildings; a wrecking ball gets in position to knock another structure down, while the camera dips below it to reveal a manhole. The whistling is revealed to be coming from a young man who jumps up from the manhole; a sign of vitality among the disarray.

This young man quickly joins up with a group of all white men, all dressed in similar blue colors; these are the Jets. The group quickly breaks into synergistic song and dance, as their leader Riff (Mike Faist) leads them through the town; the camera feels like a member of the gang, pushing them forward in their choreographed tirade through the town, adding a kinetic surge to their movements. It becomes clear that the target of their march is none other than a painted flag of Puerto Rico – a symbol of national pride displayed in the Puerto Rican part of town.

Without missing a beat, the Jets quickly lay waste to the flag, smearing it with splotches of paint. But the Puerto Ricans refuse to take the vandalism lightly; a rival gang from their community, the Sharks, gives chase to the Jets as latter gang run off the premises. The groups converge and break into battle before the police arrive and break the brawl up. Even though both groups are at fault, the way the police interact with the parties involved makes it clear that their allegiances are racially charged; they’d rather arrest some Sharks. Neither side acquiesces to the request for information; it’s clear that both parties want to settle their grievances in a more intimate fashion than the law would allow. Lieutenant Schrank (Corey Stoll) admonishes both gangs for their paltry efforts at remaining relevant or trying to claim any turf given that their neighborhood both groups share is set to be demolished to make room for Lincoln Center, a place for the performing arts.

Unable to get a response, Schrank sends the Sharks off the premises. However, the leader of the Sharks, Bernardo (David Alvarez) doesn’t go quietly. He breaks out into a rendition of “La Borinqueña”, the Puerto Rican national anthem and the rest of the Sharks start to sing with him. Much to the chagrin of Schrank who constantly mentions the need for people to speak English, Bernardo and the Sharks refuse to give into linguistic domination and director Steven Spielberg matches their demand for equality by opting to not subtitle the lyrics. If the words of the English-speaking parties need no translation, then neither do the words of the Spanish-speaking parties.

With their brawl delayed, the gangs split ways from one another and vow to settle their dispute at another time. Riff mentions that the Jet’s former leader, Tony (Ansel Elgort), can serve as the group’s trump card. However, Tony, now fresh on parole for previously participating in a gang-related rumble gone wrong, is unwilling to go along with his former gang’s plans; he wants no part in Riff’s plans and makes as much clear to his best friend.

However, Tony’s involvement isn’t up to him – a lesson he finds out soon enough at the local dance that night. While the Sharks and Jets along with their respective partners engage in dancing qua battle, their choreography every much as energetic and exacting as an action set-piece, Tony locks eyes with María (Rachel Zegler), Bernardo’s younger sister, from across the room and it’s clear that a new love is blossoming. The love-struck couple makes their way to the back of the auditorium where the dance is taking place and take cover under some bleachers; their first dance takes place in the shadows away from the gaze of judgmental eyes. Alas, as the couple kiss they are discovered and María is taken away. A warning is issued to Tony; with the racial antagonism at a resounding high, no romance between the two sects can be allowed. The Romeo-and-Juliet inspired tale of star-crossed lovers is set in motion.

As someone unfamiliar with both the original stage musical and 1961 theatrical adaptation of West Side Story, I am unable to comment on the differences in Spielberg’s adaptation, but I can confidently say that this is an experience one can enjoy regardless of one’s level of familiarity. In fact, Spielberg’s decision to leave the Spanish sections of both the dialogue and songs untranslated adds to the sense of empathy the film is driving towards. Even if we can’t understand what’s being said between characters during a certain moment, we know the story trappings and can infer based on context clues not only the nature of what’s being said but also the emotions behind the same. It’s as if Spielberg is informing us that he knows that we know what’s going to happen, so as opposed to holding back any punches, he goes all out and embraces the inner workings of a musical to create an experience that fully entrances us in the magic of this world.

Never once does the film lag as the camera acts a constant participant to the dances the characters engage in – it’s an active member of the choreography and motivates how set-pieces unfold. The careful precision in getting the dancing right makes us aware of the slight space between fighting and dancing; both actions are physical, kinetic, and capable of creating new configurations upon interaction with other elements. The same hands that throw blows can also hold a partner. When the brutal fights happen, there’s a sense that it’s a dance gone wrong, or rather a dance that could have been; thus, the nature of the romantic musical serves as a powerful backdrop the racialized and institutional violence – a fantasy to aspire towards instead of a reality to fade into.

The minimal difference between these two modes of interaction is made explicit in the way the narrative cuts. Bloody bouts and horrific violence cuts to people joyously singing or acting in utter glee; life is precarious and it can teeter so rapidly in one direction vs another. What better way to demonstrate this than to show how violence and love can operate one after another in spite of the apparent discord; change and hope is always possible even if things look hopeless in the moment. In this effort, the actors, by and large, aid him as they seamlessly switch from cruel and brutal to vivacious, demonstrating the way temperament can radically shift. By infusing this contemptuous ebb-and-flow in every parcel of the film, Spielberg is able to present a vision on how the rhythm of life operates, transporting us to a wonderous world where wonders are possible even if they’re difficult to achieve.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	West Side Story is a captivating tale that grabs you by the wrist on its journey through the ebbs and flows of human emotion. The story of star-crossed lovers hits the story beats you’d expect but does so in such gusto that you can’t help but be invested. Even when the story hits its bumps, the feeling it provides never lets up, captivating you till from start to finish. Talk about the transformative power of cinema.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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

Film Review: Eternals – 2021

November 10, 2021 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Chloé Zhao
Principal Cast	Gemma Chan as Sersi Richard Madden as Ikaris Salma Hayek as Ajak Lia McHugh as Sprite Kumail Nanjiani as Kingo Barry Keoghan as Druig Lauren Ridloff as Makkari Don Lee as Gilgamesh Angelina Jolie as Thena Brian Tyree Henry as Phastos
Release Date	2021
Language(s)	English
Running Time	157 minutes
Report Card	Click to go to Review TLDR/Summary

A text crawl informs us that a Celestial, a deity like figure, named Arishem, has created 10 Eternals – Ajak(Salma Hayek), Ikaris (Richard Madden), Sersi(Gemma Chan), Sprite(Lia McHugh), Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani), Druig (Barry Keoghan), Makkari (Lauren Ridloff), Gilgamesh (Don Lee), Thena (Angelina Jolie), and Phastos (Brian Tyree Henry) – for the purpose of eradicating Deviants, malevolent creatures which seek to eradicate intelligent life in the universe. While the Eternals are tasked with protecting sentient beings from Deviant devastation, they are prohibited from intervening in those beings’ affairs in any other manner. Doing otherwise would be tantamount to sacrilege, a violation against the will of Arishem.

This will is interpreted by the group’s leader, Ajak, who serves as the liason between the Eternals and Arishem. An orb embedded within her body functions as both a transportation and communication mechanism with the Celestial. The device flies from her chest and opens a cosmic portal which seamlessly transports her to wherever Arishem resides, bridging space and time between the two figures. Her frame is dwarfed by the red giant which exudes power and exemplifies a scale the Marvel Universe hasn’t seen on the big screens since Dr.Strange. This bridging sequence is repeated as Arishem continues to deliver orders at key intervals throughout time.

Being the group’s intermediary with Arishem, the others come to Ajak for guidance, treating her as both a stand-in for the Celestial himself and a mother-figure. However, in spite of her guarantee that the group’s actions are in line with their given purpose, many of the Eternals begins to lose faith in what they’re doing, especially once the messages from Arishem stop coming in. With no explanations or timeline for absolution, the group finds the task of protecting the humans becoming more emotionally taxing. Because they’re forced to take care of and nurture humanity, many of the Eternals come to love their wards. Consequently, they experience great existential confusion when they’re forced to wait on the side and watch the species tear itself apart at one moment and then save it at the next.

Eventually, the toll becomes too much and Druig, an Eternal with the ability to control minds, questions Ajak on why he can use his powers to save humans from untimely demise by Deviants but can’t use his powers to stop needless infighting between groups of humans, whether it be in the form of genocides or wars. Instead of ascertaining and soothing his sense of dread and sorrow, Ajak reiterates that the will of Arishem deems non-interference for all non-Deviant related matters and is the guiding principle behind the group’s purpose for being. Clearly unsatisfied with the answer, Druig sets off which prompts Ajak to break the group apart momentarily. With all visible Deviant threats apparently gone, she tells the family of immortal, ageless beings to find a purpose to their lives, a meaning to supplant the gap induced by the disjunction between Arishem’s command and the reality they live in. It’s at this point the group splits up, going forth in their own unique ways to determine what exactly their orientation towards humanity should be.

Flash forward and the film cuts to present time. Sprite, Sersi, and the latter’s human boyfriend, Dane (Kit Harrington), find themselves under attack by a newfound Deviant. Unlike the creatures they fought in the past, this one seems particularly clever and doesn’t fall for the Eternal duo’s usual battle tactics. Thankfully, Ikaris, the strongest fighter in the group, shows up at the nick of time and chases the chimera-like monster off after finding himself unable to thwart it in combat. With a newfound threat found, Sersi and co. team up to go and gather the crew back together to fulfill their purported reason for creation.

Given it’s set-up, it’s easy to forgot that Eternals is the 26th entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (M.C.U). The text crawl, on top of being the franchise’s first, makes no over mention to previous ideas or entities in the franchise, and by and large, outside of a few references to the Avengers and Thanos, the movie operates similarly, presenting itself in such a fashion that even those unfamiliar with the franchise can jump into this movie. In this way, the film’s status as a Genesis story of kinds gives it a markedly new starting point to jump off and explore from.

Unfortunately, the M.C.U doesn’t want to let Eternals forget where it came from and it’s in this disjunction the problem lies. On one hand, the story wants to be a moody, existential cosmic drama in the vein of Cloud Atlas that explores the nuance of how relationships and sense of identity permeate and inform one another over space and time. On the other hand, the story is forced to fit into the patented Marvel formula, complete with hollow, formulaic one-liners that elicit momentary laughs while adding nothing to character or narrative and action set-pieces that feel tired and uninspired. The result is a decent, yet disappointing film that has individually great moments which don’t congeal in the way one would want.

This lack of inspiration is apparent in the the film’s structure which proceeds to become increasingly mundane as its patterns bear little of the creativity that the visual design of the film otherwise implies. Sersi’s road trip to finding the other Eternals follows a tired formula where the characters drive in present day towards a member of the group, and then the story cuts to a flashback of a previous historical epoch where everyone was together. There’s no thematic or narrative throughline connecting these moments together; their presentation order could change and the emotional beats of the film wouldn’t be altered all that much.

Decisions like these are a shame, because the content of the flashbacks and the story proper have more than enough in them to elicit emotional responses from the audience. Director Chloé Zhao, if anything, brings her sense of lighting and color to the film, creating fully immersive time periods that feel lived in and distinct from another. However, the creativity seen in the sets and world-building are completely absent from the way those worlds intermingle and bleed into another. By the time the third flashback cuts in, you start to question why the film wasn’t just told chronologically to begin with. The jump to the present so early on does very little when so most of the story and the emotional heft driving it lies in the past.

On that note, when the film jumps from the past to the present the first time, it uses the image of a knife to match the cuts. An ornate dagger that Sersi gave humanity centuries ago becomes a picture of the same object on her phone. It’s apparent that she’s taken the picture to document her connection and love of humanity; it persists just as strongly as the dagger exists. Her documenting obsession is even called out by Sprite, indicating that this is typical behavior for her.

In spite of this, no such cuts are ever utilized again. Instead of utilizing Sersi’s intimate connection with humanity and her desire to “snapshot” those moments via photographs as a way of delving into her and ,by association, the Eternals’ multifaceted relationship with people, the movie mentions the detail, shows it to us once, and then never broaches the subject again. Imagine if this picture-taking was extended as a motif to connect the flashbacks through the drive. Sersi sees or thinks about a connection to the past, pulls it up on her phone, and then the movie could cut to that time and place where the connection was first made. This would help demonstrate the way emotions carry over and change over time while explaining what exactly Sersi sees and envisions in people. Such details would do little to change the larger beats of the story, but they’re the kind of touches that help elevate pieces to the next level. W treats Sersi as its de-facto protagonist while absolutely squandering her ability to frame the story given her connection to the past.

While this explicit criticism sounds pedantic, the sentiment behind it is endemic of the movie. Because moments in the film are strung to one another without a gravitas befitting the subject matter, larger thematic movements and emotional beats lose the cathartic potential their existential narrative set-ups would entail. This means, while many of the individual components of the film are up to par, especially the visual design of the world and the characters proper, they don’t add up to something spectacular.

It’s a frustrating issue because the content of the film and its visual style are elements. Even though I would have preferred a mini-series to explore the characters and their respective relationships with one another, their mannerisms and interactions with one another are clear enough to get invested in their ultimate struggles. The cast is clearly enjoying themselves, bouncing off one another in a fashion that feels close and familial, even if the story’s structure doesn’t give them the time needed to give off the ranges their characters’ deserve.

Consequently, even though the last third of the film is highly derivative of previous Marvel movies, there’s more than enough to keep one invested in the impact of what’s going on. There are enough distinctive narrative choices leading up to the final confrontation that make it interesting to think about it thematically and, surprisingly, the action is some of the most cohesive and well-thought out in the franchise, both in terms of visual clarity and in regards to the characters’ powers and respective skill-sets. Even though some of the story threads are treated a bit too on the nose, the final way even thing wraps up is more than satisfying.

If Eternals is proof of anything, it’s that more experimentation is necessary, as the final script definitely feels like Zhao was forced to make choices she would not have otherwise. Nothing else would explain the discord in the film’s identity between trying to be a meditative art-house adjacent film and a superhero blockbuster meant to please the masses. The end result definitely leans towards the latter, but enough of the former shines through to give the movie a unique identity, that tantalizes the audience with a vision of what could’ve been while delivering good enough.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	Though its story beats don’t subvert expectations as expected, Eternals’ technical execution and presentation makes it well worth watching, especially for those fans looking for a bit more metaphysical heft in their superhero film. While the film definitely feels like studio executives took a few too many corrective measures, destroying the possibility for the film to truly push boundaries in a meaningful sense, director Chloé Zhao still manages to instill a humanity and photographic beauty that helps the movie stay fresh in the sea of its peers. If nothing else, the depiction of Celestials is something that any fans of the franchise should be excited about.
Rating	8.3/10
Grade	B+

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2019, A+, Drama, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Review: Portrait of a Lady on Fire

March 2, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Céline Sciamma
Principal Cast	Noémie Merlant as Marianne Adèle Haenel as Heloise Luàna Bajrami as Sophie
Release Date	2019
Language(s)	French
Running Time	120 minutes

Marianne, a young painter, is hired to paint the portrait of Heloise, a member of the French aristocracy for the latter’s future husband to be. The catch? She has to do it in secret without Heloise finding out because the not-so-blushing bride to be has no desire to get married. As a result she’s hired on as a companion and is forced to steal glances at her subject and commit them to memory in an effort to paint them later. What follows is a forbidden romance as the our two leading ladies guide us through a discussion of art, the relationship of the painter vs the subject, love, desire, and the functions of our gaze. It’s one of the most touching love stories I’ve had the pleasure of watching and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I saw it last night.

The movie is slow and deliberately paced to give every moment importance. Dialogue is slow and deliberate. Often times our leading ladies talks slowly and meticulously, accentuating the importance of the few lines of spoken dialogue that happen throughout the film. Most times conversation takes place through the series of gazes. Early on Marianne has to take note of Heloise’s features without coming off as too obvious. Meanwhile, the Heloise steals glances of the the painter-in-disguise when she’s looking away. As the relationship progresses so does the nature of the gaze. It’s genuinely amazing just how much of the story can be felt and told in this way. Both Merlant and Haenel knock it out of the park in how well they manage to convey their thoughts and emotions in their eyes. You can tell exactly what wavelength they’re on emotionally, independently, and as a couple growing more deeply in love. The desire inherent in what they’re looking at tells the real story of what’s happening between the two. Their chemistry radiates off the screen and the build-up to more crucial moments is well worth the long wait time.

On top of being rich from a narrative standpoint, the movie is packed to the brim with interesting themes. At one level the movie is about the relationship between the painter and their subject. Usually when we think of art, we think of the artist rendering the subject into a piece of art. The subject is stripped of agency and becomes an object to be transformed. However, as the painter glances at the subject, the subject glances back at the painter and a similar kind of understanding is created. At another level the movie is a profound critique of the way women are forced into social positions where their desire is redirected against their will and offers methods of overcoming those situations in realistic ways. The way that these ideas mix together in relation to each other and to the nature of a forbidden romance is touching and has given more than enough to think about. The brilliance of the movie is how each of these moments is seamlessly layered into the larger tapestry of the movie in a way that flows with the story.

Finally, as if you needed another reason, this is one of the prettiest movies I’ve ever seen. Every shot is bursting with color and the color palette on display is vibrant and highly distinct. The movie’s never boring to look at and as the island the characters are on is traversed more, the changes in scenery keep every moment feeling fresh. Every single detail is visible up to the strands of saliva that remain post kiss. If that isn’t high fidelity I don’t know what is. The way that certain shots are blocked and positioned are both visceral and thematic. My jaw dropped more than one time at the sheer artistry of certain frames. Music is used sparsely so you’re completely immersed into the scene and what the character’s are doing. When it does come into play, and believe me it does, it only exists as a kind of bow on top of a perfect present. It somehow seals the whole movie together into a pristine package.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	A Portrait of a Lady on Fire’s ingenious premise of a painter forced to paint a subject without letting them know is explored to its fullest in this queer, French, period piece that’s packed to the brim with some of 2019’s best cinematography. The way the movie tackles desire, the gaze, love, women’s social positions, art, and the relation of painters and their subjects somehow gives each topic justice while melding them together into a one of a kind experience that you shouldn’t miss. Please do yourself the service of watching this.
Rating	10/10
Grade	A+

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2010s, 2016, A+, Comedy, Drama, Grade, Horror, Review, review-movie, romance, Thriller, Year

Review: The Love Witch

February 14, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Anna Biller
Principal Cast	Samantha Robinson as Elaine Parks Laura Waddell as Trish Jared Sanford as Gahan Gian Keys as Griff
Release Date	2016
Language(s)	English
Running Time	120 minutes

In honor of Valentine’s day, I present my review of The Love Witch, a nuanced feminist story about love, gender, agency, desire, and their infinite intersections. The movie follows Elaine, a witch who moves to California in the hopes of finding someone to love. Once there, she uses magic and rituals to aid in her goal, but is met with comedic and tragic consequences.

I’m someone who loves feminism in media (when it’s done well) and Biller’s story masterfully navigates themes within the larger genre. At first it can feel like there are too many heavy-handed comments and not-so-subtle hints about what characters are thinking. However, by the end of the movie it’s obvious that a lot of what was said was done in an effort to control narrative sources of ambiguity and make discussion more interesting/accessible. If more people are on the same page about initial events and character motivations, then the subsequent discussion can go more in depth on the what actually matters- the themes.

The Love Witch analyzes the way desire and love are positioned by society and in relation to sex/gender. Elaine accepts her position as eye-candy and utilizes the adoration and affection she receives to try and find love, a reciprocal exchange in her mind. She gives men exactly what they think they want, in the hopes that it’ll get them to be what she needs them to, but is always met with some kind of issue. The men get too emotional and she can’t relate, or they’re touchy and she’s uncomfortable. Watching her navigate the matrix of power relations is interesting because of how she is forced to don her sexuality and make use of it simultaneously. She is shamed and praised and the movie presents her choice as a path, not the only option. The way she approaches love is juxtaposed with other views, culminating in a discussion that will leave you thinking about what love really is.

The movie never feels preachy because it excels in developing situations in multifaceted ways. There are women and men who do “good” and “bad” things. It’s all couched in your perspective of what proper behavior looks like. Thankfully, the movie does a good job in making you question those interpretations, and going through that journey ends up revealing a lot about your own biases. The real horror is discovering these aspects of ourselves/society and thinking about how deep they run in constructing the bounds of what is and isn’t permissible behavior.

I love how the movie integrates witches into the world, in an unique and wholly original package. Witchcraft exists as a kind of protected religion in this world. Witches go about everyday life wearing their witch garb, selling and buying witchcraft related products at stores, holding/attending witchcraft lessons/rituals, etc. It’s a realistic take that gives the movie its own personality while keeping the more supernatural elements grounded. The story’s take on magic,love magic in particular, allows for imaginative and hypnotic horror sequences and also serves to expand the layers of the themes. Costume and set design is pristine and ties everything together, radiating color and personality. Elaine’s house for example, is filled with beautiful art work and colors that leap out at you so there’s always something to look at when she’s working in there. This can be said for all the different environments the movie navigates, each bursting with personality and a bright eye-catching color palette. I found myself drawn into each scene, completely immersed by the beauty of what I was seeing.

REPORT CARD

TLDR	The Love Witch is a deep dive into the way we approach love and the methods by which society and gender determine the same. Despite feeling a bit heavy-handed with its dialogue, the movie isn’t preachy and manages to be visually stunning and thematically poignant. The story of a love-struck witch, desperate for a Prince Charming, willing to make use of her sexuality and prowess with spells to charm men is funny, visually intoxicating, scary, and innovative in how it flips the traditional final girl horror cliche. Highly recommend to fans of feminist media or anyone who wants a horror movie about love.
Rating	9.7/10
Grade	A+

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2010, 2010s, A, Drama, Fantasy, Grade, Horror, mystery, Review, review-movie, romance, supernatural, Thriller, vampire, Year

Review: Let Me In

February 6, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Matt Reeves
Principal Cast	Chloe Grace Moretz as Abby Kodi Smit-McPhee as Owen Richard Jenkins as Thomas
Release Date	2010
Language(s)	English
Running Time	116 minutes

This is a hard movie for me to rate and I’ve struggled with coming up with a number for a long time. I initially saw the movie in 2011 and thought it was amazing. I was completely enamored and couldn’t stop thinking about it. It got me reading the Wikipedia page to find more information ,and I saw that it was a remake of a Swedish movie called Let the Right One In, which itself is based on a novel of the same name. I thought it’d be fun to see the original movie and read the book to see how the Reeves version compared. The process left me in a strange position. While the Reeves version is stellar in composition, it comes off feeling like a replica of the original movie with an English dub. There are slight changes in setting, the starting point the movie leaps off from, and the way the theme of growing up is handled, but it’s not enough to make the movie feel like something wholly unique (like Evil Dead vs The Evil Dead) .

For those of you unacquainted with the book or 2008 movie, the story follows an ostracized young child, Owen, who’s struggling to find his place in life. He’s bullied at school and can’t really relate the adults around him. Eventually a young “girl”, Abby, moves in next door. Unbeknownst to Owen, Abby’s actually a vampire. As the two interact more often, a budding friendship is born, and their lives are radically changed. Given that information, the opening shot of the movie feels completely out of place with audience expectations. It starts in on a disfigured individual who jumps to his death from a hospital building, leaving behind a note that says “I’m sorry Abby.” This initial scene sets the tone for the rest of the movie and tinges the experience with a more sinister sense of mystery. Who’s the person , how did they end up there, and why were they apologizing? It gives the movie a lot of action before the slower paced story kicks in and is one of the unique things Reeves did to spice up his adaptation.

Traditionally, coming-of-age stories are about trying to find your path and footing in the world. The unpredictable chaos of everything combined with hyper-active hormones leads to a sense of confusion and wonder. Trying to determine how characters will progress becomes part of the fun. This movie subverts that expectation and is another original Reeves move. Adults are reduced to mere outlines of human interaction. Owen is rarely shown interacting with them and when he does those moments are often reduced to trite conversations with little weight. Hell, in a move I really like, Reeves never shows Owen’s mom’s face. The absence of any positive adult influence makes the progression of Owens story easy to predict, so if you like trying to guess or interpret those types of the things, you may feel like the movie tells you too much. However, if you accept the conclusion, the movie takes on this cool surreal feeling. It’s almost poetic watching the foregone conclusion slowly play out.

Smit-McPhee and Moretz knock it out of the park and give the movie a real heart and spirit. Their chemistry as friends is genuinely touching to watch and reminded me of a lot of moments in my childhood. You can see them warm up to each other, and because the movie takes its time, the subsequent places they go feel emotionally satisfying. Smit-McPhee really hits the nail on the head of bullied kid who desperately wants to feel like he has agency again. He manages to be creepy but sympathetic. You want him to find a path to happiness, even if he gives you the heebie jeebies with his weird masculine inducing rituals. Moretz absolutely nails child vampire. She’s innocent, but she’s also horrifying. She asks basic questions like “What’s a girlfriend?” but then has to consume other people’s blood to survive. None of these shifts feel out of character and it keeps Abby feeling complex.

Just because this is a romance with cute moments of friendship doesn’t mean it’s sunshine and daisies all the time. People are brutally murdered and their blood canvasses the white snow. The contrast is stunning and makes it clear that violence pervades our everyday existence. It can come from anywhere and doesn’t line up with what we think. The visual effects team does a great job at showing the horrors of vampire life by demonstrating the consequences of breaking vampire rules and by making the kill sequences feel deliberately violent. You can feel the pain respective character’s go through. Out of the two movies, I think this one is more visceral in its scares, so if that’s something you’re looking for you should check this out.

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TLDR	Even if Let Me In feels a little too derivative of its 2008 Swedish counterpart, its worth giving a watch if you’re looking for a coming-of-age romance with a horror twist. It’s equal parts heartwarming and horrifying and has some of the best child performances I’ve ever seen. I may rag on the movie for feeling like a clone of the original, but that’s not a bad thing. It means it has a great story, memorable characters, poignant and relevant themes, and great horror sequences. Reeves definitely refines and polishes some of these elements and I appreciate him making the movie more accessible to a widespread audience. I just wish that the movie felt more distinct .
Rating	9.4/10
Grade	A

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2010s, 2019, A+, Drama, Grade, Review, review-movie, romance, Year

Review: Little Women (2019)

February 4, 2020 The Critic Leave a comment

Director(s)	Greta Gerwig
Principal Cast	Saoirse Ronan as Jo March Florence Pugh as Amy March Emma Watson as Meg March Eliza Scanlen as Beth March Laura Dern as Marmee March Timothee Chalamet as Laurie
Release Date	2019
Language(s)	English
Running Time	135 minutes

That settles that. I’m watching Ladybird as soon as I can. After having experienced the feel-good delight that is Little Women, I’m more than excited to watch more Gerwig and am super excited for whatever she does next. I came into this movie as someone who has not read the original book or seen any other adaptation (I want to read the book now and then watch the movie again to see how it fared as an adaptation) . I only decided to see it because it was nominated for best picture and I’m glad I did.

The story is a coming-of-age story that follows the women of the March family, four daughters and their mother, Marmee, who are forced to maintain the household as their father is out fighting in the Civil War. Every single daughter is driven and has their own set of passions. Meg, the eldest, has acting aspirations. Jo, the second oldest, wants to be a author and writes stories to get money. Amy, next in line, is more spoiled and wants to be an artist. Beth, the youngest, loves music and wants to be happy with her family. The movie cuts between this past and the present (set a few years later) seamlessly, juxtaposing each of the girls idealistic younger selves with their more worn and mature selves. It creates an expectation because you know what’s going to come, but also a sense of mystery because you want to see how we go from point A to B.

This sense of mystery keeps the movie fresh from a storytelling perspective and happens seamlessly in the background, without you realizing it. I knew that we were going back and forth, but I was never focused on it. My brain just automatically accepted it. Editing and scene placement is on point and it creates a piece that seems to reveal information at precisely the right time. There are meta-narrative moments that are placed perfectly in the third act and allow for a lot of interesting interpretative leeway (I’m assuming on purpose) that I can’t help but admire, especially after reading about the movie and the stories original writer, Louisa May Alcott. Every thread comes together at precisely the right time and it makes the whole experience an emotionally satisfying roller-coaster. I would go from feeling sad, to feeling hopeful , to laughing, to tearing up, to feeling inspired, to some combination of any of these, and all the feelings in between and I never once felt any kind of tonal whiplash. The only issue I felt was ,because there’s no clear passage of time, certain character decisions in the latter portions of the movie feel rushed given the the gravity of what they are. It’s a fleeting issue that didn’t bother me too much in the moment, but after finishing the movie I did feel like some of the later portions of the movie feel less earned.

Acting, characterization, and dialogue are almost always impeccable. Every conversation feels real because each actor/actress nails their motivations from their cadence to their body language. It’s hard to praise any performance in particular because all of them, especially each of the titular “Little Women” completely feels in the moment. Saying that, I have to be honest on how impressed I was with Florence Pugh. I already thought she was amazing in Midsommar – being able to portray grief and anguish in an very visceral way. After this, I’m in awe of her acting range. She gives Amy a real brattiness and sense of indulgence in the earlier timeline and projects a lot of maturity and pragmatism in the latter timeline. It’s a surprising blend that had me rooting for her character, in spite of the kind of horrendous things her character does.

The movie is packed to the brim with tons of relatable themes. Despite having a particularly feminist flair, the movie is for everyone. It’s not trying to exclude or ostracize. It never comes off as preachy. The ways that it critiques gender roles, women’s treatment in society, and the functions of marriage are all relevant and presented fairly and naturally. I thought the discourse on marriage as a communion predicated on love versus social ladder was made even more interesting by placing it in front of a discussion of a woman’s agency. If that’s not your groove, the movie tackles common issues we’ve all gone through- being nervous of pursuing our dreams, thinking we’re not good enough, balancing dreams with financial concerns, and trying to find love in a world that often times alienates us. There’s something in here for everyone.

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TLDR	Little Women is the feel good movie of 2019. The March family’s coming-of-age story has something for everyone and will have you laughing,crying,smirking, and glued to the screen the whole time. A fun time for the whole family with a ton of messages to boot.
Rating	9.7/10
Grade	A+

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