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
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Kathryn Beaumont as Alice Sterling Holloway as Cheshire Cat Ed Wynn as Mad Hatter Jerry Colonna as March Hare Richard Haydn as Caterpillar Verna Felton as Queen of Hearts
Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around. The camera pans through a field of flowers. The butterflies fly through the field towards Alice’s sister.Alice’s sister sits underneath a branch and lectures Alice from a book. The camera pans from a beautiful view of nature abound to Alice’s sister who disregards the same in favor of teaching Alice. However, Alice is more interested in the world around her. There’s a clear divide established between the mundane, adult world that seeks solace in structure and the wonderous, childish world that finds itself caught up in the world of sensations.
The camera pans through a wonderous environment filled with different types of wildlife; butterflies flutter in the sky while birds swim in the waters. But the camera settles on a young woman who could care less about the beauty of nature and is far more focused on educating her sister, Alice, who sits up above on a tree branch. Alice is fully caught up in her own designs and doesn’t pay attention to her sister’s lecture.
Alice’s sister calls Alice to attention. The latter sits on a tree branch and makes a crown of flowers. Alice gives the crown of flowers to her cat, Dinah. The crown of flowers drops from Dinah’s head……and falls onto Alice’s sister. While Alice’s sister lectures Alice, the latter crafts a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah. The crown falls off the cat’s head and falls onto Alice’s sisters head, cluing in the latter to Alice’s lack of attention.
Instead, she makes a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah, and places it upon Dinah’s head, crowning the pet as royalty of sorts. Dinah shakes the crown off and it lands on Alice’s sister’s head. Alice’s sister looks up and chastises Alice for not paying attention. Alice claims that the lessons are boring and would better suit her temperament if pictures accompanied the words. Her sister responds that there are a host of books without pictures in this world which sets Alice off into another tangent.
If this world contains such boring books, Alice surmises that her world, a world of wonder, would contain no such thing; only pictures would be allowed in books. Her sister calls the idea nonsensical, but far from being deterred by it, Alice seizes on the description and wholeheartedly embraces the moniker: “nonsense”. If the world of sense is so boring, then a world of nonsense has to be better.
Alice tells Dinah about a world of nonsense. Dinah initially nods along. But eventually Dinah gets confused by Alice’s description of a nonsensical world. Meanwhile, Alice is utterly caught up in her description of the nonsensical world. Alice raves about her nonsensical world while Dinah responds to the descriptions in understandable confusion. Alice’s break with the rules of reality is demonstrated as the 180 rule is broken. She goes from facing left to facing right- a change has happened.
Enamored by the idea, Alice starts to describe to Dinah the way such a nonsense world would operate. Things would be what they are not and what they are not they would be. Alice says as much in a matter-of-fact manner, but if Dinah’s reaction is an indication, nothing she says coheres. Regardless, Alice fully commits to her worldview – a shift which is signified by the film’s breaking of the 180-degree rule as her orientation flips from facing left to facing right; she’s “entered” a new world.
Alice jumps off the tree branch. Alice curtsies to Dinah in order to teach the latter proper practice. Alice and Dinah go and stroll through the field of flowers while the former sings. Alice and Dinah make their way to a brook. The brook reflects Alice and Dinah. Alice creates ripples in the reflection on the surface of the water. The ripple discombobulates the colors of Alice and Dinah, merging them. The colors swirl and come out in new form, this time as a White Rabbit jogging along. This shift ripples outward. As Alice jumps off the other side of the tree, her sister can no longer be found. It’s clear we’re in a new world. Alice sings about the wonders of her dream world, calling out to the birds, flower, and brook
This change in environment is reflected as Alice jumps off the tree branch and her sister is now nowhere to be seen. Alice doesn’t notice this disappearance and instead breaks out in song describing all the different ways her wonderland would operate. Eventually the song ends and Dinah and Alice find themselves at the edge of the brook. Alice creates a ripple on the reflection of her and Dinah; the reflected colors of the duo break apart and come back together, this time in the form of a anthropomorphized White Rabbit who’s running along muttering about how he’s “late” to something.
Dinah and Alice give the White Rabbit chase. The White Rabbit runs without waiting. He can’t be late. Alice and Dinah crawl into the rabbit hole to follow the White Rabbit. Alice comments that the decision to enter the rabbit hole is unwise. Alice falls further into the hole. Alice waives goodbye to Dinah.
With her curiosity fully piqued, Alice gives chase to the White Rabbit, going so far as to venture down the same rabbit hole she sees him going down. While she crawls into the hole, she mentions to Dinah on how such a decision is unwise and foolish, but she refuses to heed her own advice and proceeds head on. Suddenly, the ground gives beneath her and she falls down into an abyss.
Alice is slightly illuminated by a lamp in the seemingly never-ending abyss. Alice floats down the abyss as lights constantly change colors around her. She notices herself in a mirror, upside-down. Alice thinks to herself she may be going to a place where people walk upside down. She sees the White Rabbit running from an upside-down perspective. But then Alice realizes it’s she who is upside down, and she gets back right-side up. Alice continues to give chase to the White Rabbit.
As Alice falls down the seemingly endless pit, she notices a lamp and turns it on. Suddenly, the lights start to strobe from red to blue to purple and so on. She continues to float down and notices an series of oddities including a mirror which reflects her upside-down. She questions whether or not she’s entering a part of the world where people walk upside down before then seeing the White Rabbit running upside down. However, Alice realizes that the Rabbit isn’t upside down; she is. She changes her perspective and continues to give chase to the Rabbit, desperate to figure out what he’s running late to.
Unbeknownst to Alice, the environment she’s running into is none other than a land consonant with her aforementioned nonsensical machinations; she’s heading straight into a world where everything and everyone is “mad” and any attempt at making sense is doomed to fail. Thus begins Alice in Wonderland, the whimsical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s audacious and nonsensical Alice [1]Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass books. Though the film doesn’t explore its ideas with the same nuances of its source material, the story beats and ideas it does play around with provide a fertile ground for directors Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson to show their stuff in brilliant, surrealistic fashion.
The narrative is largely incoherent and functions more as journey through set-pieces than anything else. Alice enters a new location, encounters distinctive and personable denizens of Wonderland, engages with said inhabitants in their respective shenanigans, eats some food material which makes her larger or bigger, gets frustrated by said situation, and then leaves the location. Rinse and repeat.
While the overarching relationship between these situations and their respective characters is largely up to the viewer’s interpretation, the story does have a certain logic pervading through it: Alice begins to understand and respect the need for a rational syntax capable of organizing the world – a sense to wade through the nonsense. Her growth gives the narrative a feeling of momentum in spite of its haphazard jumping around allowing the the directors to focus on the random nature of the spectacle. There’s no need to explain why or how situations are happening so we’re allowed to experience the spectacle with a sense of youthful exuberance, becoming children in response to the wonders on display.
Characters transform. Environments open up into new ones. Denizens break into song/snippets, often times making direct references to the source material proper. There’s always something dynamic happening in the frame challenging your assumption on what could happen next.
Add in the iconic voice acting which makes each character leap off the screen and it becomes clear why Alice in Wonderland is so charming. It’s hard not to become mesmerized by the ever-evolving cascade of characters and situations. It may be nonsense, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.
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
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
As the title credits come in, we can hear a character asking questions. It’s revealed that this man, Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), is a radio host who’s interviewing children across the United States of America. He asks them about their lives, their perceptions about adults, and their visions of the future among other things.
However, in the midst of his work, he decides to call his sister, Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) , who he hasn’t spoken to in over a year since their mother’s passing. Instead of having the character’s mention the reason for their distance, director Mike Mills chooses to cut to the incident itself. We see Viv and Johnny dealing with their ailing mother, both of them obviously distraught, and the picture becomes more clear. Then we’re back to the conversation; a context has been given. Viv mentions that her husband, Paul (Scoot McNairy), has gone off and needs help. From the way she talks, it’s clear that something more is afoot; there’s an shared understanding between the siblings that issues are more serious than the conversation lets on. She explains that she has to leave town and “help” him.
Consequently, Johnny asks what she’s going to do with her nine-year-old son, Jesse (Woody Norman) , while she’s gone. Viv indicates she still has to figure out at plans at which point Johnny offers to help take care of Jesse until she has control of the situation. He comes down to Los Angeles and reunites with his family. While initially shy, Jesse warms up to his uncle and engages in playful conversation with Johnny and Viv during dinner. He mentions fungal tubes which help trees feed one another before then pretending to be an orphan in a ritualistic roleplay exercise with Viv to go to sleep.
It’s clear that he’s an eccentric kid and these patterns are only the tip of the iceberg, a fact that Johnny learns the next day when Viv leaves; Jesse starts the new-day by playing opera music loud enough to wake Johnny from his slumber, inaugurating the relationship between the semi-estranged uncle and nephew. Thus, the sad, and reticent Johnny is forced to dance to the beat of Jesse’s eccentric and kinetic approach to life while the latter joins the former in his interview campaign. Furthermore, far from just interviewing kids, now Johnny finds himself on the other side of the interview as his nephew probes and questions him in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two.
The interplay between the “professional” interviews by Johnny and the children he talks to and the “personal” interviews between Johnny and Jesse form the basis of the film as the narrative deftly interweaves between the relevant threads. In this sense, it can be said that the film is largely plotless. There’s no huge overarching goal for the character’s to move towards and the film never rushes to get to the next big set-piece. Instead, the film takes it time to develop the relationships between its characters in both a personal, intimate fashion and a larger generational, geographic fashion. By swapping between the larger interviews done by Johnny towards children to the smaller interviews done by Jesse towards Johnny, the film is able to find a universality in its particular story. These shifts also give the audience an opportunity to ruminate on what’s happening; as questions and answers stack up, avenues for deliberation open up as we take what’s being said to heart. We may not get answers but we’re constantly left thinking about the weight of what’s being discussed.
The decision to present the film in black-and-white, in addition to giving the film a classic, timeless feeling, gives Mill’s the opportunity to push the boundaries on how interconnected ideas, sensations, and places can be. The dark and grayscale background makes the white letters that grace the screen pop out and linger. These textual additions come in three forms: location titles, titles of works being read from, text conversations between Viv and Johnny.
Location titles are presented in the largest text and are even more important than they would otherwise because the film is attempting to show the diversity and uniqueness of every locale. Once in a location, the film cuts to multiple environmental shots involving both the cityscape and natural formations in between the respective interviews. We can feel the identity of each unique city which makes the content of what’s said in those cities more pertinent – diverse opinions take on their own texture but reinforce a universality inherent in thought as they echo one another in the most important ways.
Additionally, the titles of works pop up at least 3 times during the film as Johnny reads both fictional and non-fictional works out-loud. These works are presented in the second largest text size and take inform the viewer that a shift between media forms has happened. We’ve moved from the diegetic world of the film to a description of another work. In this sense, the boundaries between works and fiction and non-fiction become blurry, as the nature of the narrative seamlessly moves without us becoming immediately aware of the same. The choices of the works also gives Mills an opportunity to “cheat” in some thematic guidelines for the work, helping the viewer figure out manners by which to parse the film in more digestible manner. In particular, one work referenced talks about the nature of interviewing and how it gives a platform, a vantage point for subjects to express themselves. Dissemination of such thoughts gives them a chance to go in and affect the world.
Finally, the text conversations between Johnny and Viv pop up in the lower register of the frame in white letters. The use of texting against the black-and-white aesthetic introduces a kind of anachronism within the film’s texture – modern methods of communication taking place in an older time. Our conversations are just as timeless as those enshrined conversations in the past. These texts are presented in the smallest sized font.
Thus, a certain kind of textual taxonomy presents itself as a parallel to the story proper. Places serve as locales where works can arise from and give context to and works are nothing more than conversations between an audience and the work itself. But these works are no more transcendent than the conversations we have with one another – they’re just an extension. Like the fungal tubes Jesse mentions, every part of the film feeds into an other to make a cohesive whole that functions as a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In this way, Mills is able to transform the largely plotless, mumblecore-adjacent C’Mon C’Mon into a commentary and invitation to contemplate the ways in which we connect with one another.
That being said, none of the film would work if not for the free-flowing and polished work of the actors. While the adult actors deserve credit for the empathetic way they demonstrate their struggles and tribulations at both taking care of themselves and the young voices around them, the child actors deserve a hearty amount of praise for keeping up and playing off the adults so well. In particular, Woody Norman is able to keep up blow-for-blow with Joaquin Phoenix, making the emotional moments between their two characters heart-warming and poignant. The emotional current generated by the characters’ respective relations give the meandering plot a consistent thread to follow, giving the audience something to latch onto when the story feels like its going nowhere.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
C’Mon C’Mon is the feel good movie of the year and should be able to warm even the most serious of viewers by the time it ends. While the story about the semi-estranged uncle and nephew getting to know one another largely meanders, it manages to reach out to the inner child in each of us, giving its audience a space in which to dream and hope again.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
A bald eagle flies through the skies. Another bald eagle shows up behind the original. The two bald eagles fly through a cityscape……before flying towards the sun. The two bald eagles set the stage for Two Heroes. The duo appears as one and then separates throughout their flight before flying towards the sun.
A bald eagle soars through the skies in majestic fashion as a triumphant score plays in the background. The camera latches onto the winged creature which darts throughout the clouds; it’s revealed that in the shadows of eagle lay another. The two boards soar upwards to the bright, shining sun.
Casino King sign shines bright. An explosion happens at the casino. Two villains make their way from the casino with stolen money. The villains leap towards the sun and get ready to land on the car. Toshio punches the duo away from the car. Toshio assures the people behind them that they’re safe. Toshio generates bursts of wind to blow missiles up. The explosions do not faze Toshio. The villains disturb the peace and leap towards the sun while escaping. However, their journey is cut short when Toshio/All Might makes his appearance and accosts the duo. He assures the citizenry that that they have nothing to fear with him here.
We cut to a establishing shot of a sign for “Casino King”. The bright lights and colors of the sign hearken back to the sun, but this peace is quickly interrupted by an explosion; the rising score dissipates as two villains make their way out of the casino. They rampage through the streets and cause havoc at every turn. A family cowers in their car as the villainous duo jumps above the vehicle and threatens to crush it. But the blinding rays of the sun peer through the corner and the evildoers are blown away by a punch from a young, confident man who assures the family that there’s nothing to fear. This man, Toshio, is the superhero All-Might and he’s here to protect the day with a smile on his face.
Suddenly, the ominous score becomes amped and rock-and-roll styled as All-Might addresses the villains; he’s taken charge of the situation. The villains refuse to give up and shoot missiles at the hero in an effort to incapacitate him, but their efforts are doomed to failure. All-Might generates bursts of wind from his punches which knock the missiles away. However, the missiles turn out to be nothing more than a distraction to let the villains escape.
Dave and Toshio follow the villains. Toshio leaps out of the car and soars through the skies. Toshio deflects more missiles which eventually explode.All Might jumps out from the explosion in his superhero garb. All Might uses his “California Smash” on the dastardly duo. Dave looks up at All Might in admiration. All Might look towards the horizon as the sun illuminates him. The duo, like the eagles before them, soar into the skies towards new adventures. Like the two eagles, Toshio and Dave are a duo that flies and operates with one another. The former is the superhero, All Might, and the latter is his assistant and technician. All Might dispatches the villains with a smile on his face. Meanwhile Dave looks up to his friend and the symbol of peace with pride. The two friends fly off into the horizon to solve more crimes.
Thankfully, a high-tech, red sports-car enters the scene. Like the two eagles there are two heroes, one lying in the “wings” of the other waiting to be let loose. The driver, All-Might’s accomplice Dave, calls out to All-Might who then joins him in the vehicle to chase down the dastardly duo. All Might leaps from the car and soars towards the duo, flying through the sky in his newly adorned super-hero outfit complete with cape. While he bashes the criminals, Dave looks up and smiles. It’s clear that he sees a bright, future where justice is possible when he looks at All-Might high in the sky illuminated by the sun.
This heroic vision is revealed to be a dream, a memory of the past that the present emaciated All-Might is thinking about fondly. He’s woken from his daydream by Izuku, his protégé, who excitedly calls attention to I-Island, a floating mechanical island in the ocean. The island is world-renowned for being impenetrable by villains due to its security system which rivals even the most famous prisons. It’s revealed that All-Might has been invited to the island for a special event: a surprise visit to Dave set-up by the latter’s daughter, Melissa.
It’s at this point that Izuku gives a quick run-down of the status quo, providing newcomers to the franchise a context by which to evaluate the story to come[1]While I wouldn’t personally do the same, the nature of the film makes it a fine introduction to show to those persons nervous about investing in the more expansive series proper. This … Continue reading Many humans are now born with “quirks”, supernatural abilities which allow them to perform a variety of extraordinary tasks. Some use their quirks for the sake of the public good like All Might; they are heroes. Others use their quirks for the sake of their selfish desires; they are villains. Although All-Might has been able to serve as symbol of peace for decades in Japan, reducing the crime statistics by many-folds, an injury inflicted on him by his arch-rival has rendered him capable of only using his power for a few hours a day. Unable to achieve the same effect as he was able to do at his prime, All-Might chooses to transfer his quirk, “One For All”, to Izuku, selecting the young man as the flag-bearer of hope for a new generation.
All Might is surrounded by the people of I-Island who cheer and applaud him. All Might tells Izuku to keep the status of “One for All” a secret from Dave. A group of villains stand in the shadows watching over I-Island. The battle between perceptions start as soon as All Might and Izuku get onto the island. The crowd surrounding All Might demonstrate the importance of the latter’s position as symbol. He represents peace to the people and is loved as a result. However, the secrets behind his power have to be kept a secret, even from his best friend, Dave. Meanwhile, another group secretly plots to attack the island.
With the introduction finished, the teacher-student pair finally make it down to the island. All-Might activates the remnants of his quirk left over post-transfer so as to preserve his appearance as symbol of peace and heads out to face the public who quickly crowds and celebrates the world-renowned hero. Once the crowd disperses, All-Might takes his student aside and warns the latter that Dave knows nothing of his condition or the transfer. He asks Izuku to keep such discussion under wraps so as to not compromise Dave; those armed with the knowledge of All-Might’s actual condition are at risk for being targeted by nefarious forces who seek to gain leverage on the hero. Unfortunately, the peaceful visit is compromised as a group is revealed to be overlooking the island from the cover of the shadows. Far from being impenetrable, it seems that evil-doers have found a way to infiltrate the safe haven.
For fans of the franchise, the set-up feels familiar. Our heroes are placed in a seemingly safe location, but trouble waits for them at unsuspecting corners. However, conventional does not mean boring, and the film never cheapens out when it comes to telling its tale. Director Kenji Nagasaki, who is also in charge of directing the animated series proper, treats the film with the same respect as he does with the anime itself, giving what would otherwise be nothing more than generic fan-fare an identity which helps it feel like a natural part of the franchise as opposed to cash grab like so many other “non-canon”[2] By non-canon, I mean non-canonical story material that is not based on the original manga by Kōhei Horikoshi. anime-offshoot movies.
The new characters, primarily Melissa and Dave, along with the background of I-Island blend in naturally with My Hero Academia’s established milieu. Ideas from the canonical story, like the role of hero-assistance technology, get expanded in ways that the franchise has not explored previously without feeling discordant with what came before. Consequently, even though the film’s story beats are predictable, the manner in which they’re presented keeps them compelling for viewers. You can feel the difference in the film’s budget versus an episode of the anime during the action sequences which are rendered with such astounding detail that even simplistic punches feel heavy with impact.
Where the movie falters is in its primary antagonist who definitely fits the villain-of-the-week archetype. While the antagonist’s role in the narrative checks the requisite boxes, their background and characterization feel like a miss given the themes the film seeks to explore. From the introduction, it’s apparent that All-Might’s status as the symbol of peace is necessary to keep crime at bay. His inability to do the same is the reason he’s passed on his quirk to Deku. The latter must play the same role as symbol and as deterrent. However, until Deku is capable of harnessing “One For All ” as well as All Might, the latter must maintain his appearance. If the symbol of peace was to disappear, criminals would rein.
At a certain level, the film demonstrates that fidelity to such an idea, noble as it seems, places the onus for justice exclusively on the backs of one entity. If only one point in a system offers security, then that point being compromised can jeopardize the entire system. In this sense, I-Island’s status analogous to All-Might’s; it’s a beacon of security that provides a sense of stability. But as we know, that sense of security is nothing more than a façade; while the island’s inhabitants walk around jubilantly, villains lurk in the background waiting to wreak havoc. Just like All-Might’s power, the island can only handle so many issues and reaches a breaking point when its impenetrability is penetrated. Thus, the source of peace becomes the point at which it can break down. The question then becomes how one can establish a sustaining peace.
Unfortunately, while the film initially explores the way such ideas can become perverted and turned on their heads, it throws away said discussion in favor of a generic final antagonist who is evil because. Instead of using the final confrontation as a clash of ideologies, the film awkwardly sidesteps the discourse it sets up for a temporary battle and then lightly touches on those ideas in the aftermath . If 5-10 minutes spent on some of the smaller action set-pieces was alternatively utilized to prop up the antagonists’ ideological viewpoints, the final battle would have an emotional heft capable of matching the grandiose spectacle it sets out to present.
That being said, Two Heroes should offer more than enough for fans of the franchise. It may not push the boundaries as much as its premise allows, but it efficiently and adequately explores its ideas enough to give it a unique texture in relation to the franchise it’s based on. Other anime “original” movies based on globally popular franchises should take notes because this is how these films should be; they should offer vantage points to explore the franchise in manners the original source material can’t or doesn’t have the time to while retaining its own pace.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
My Hero Academia: Two Heroes breaks the mold for non-canonical anime films by taking itself as seriously as its source material. Every new idea explored in the film expands on threads from the franchise proper, making the transition from the series to the film seamless. While the film doesn’t explore its deconstruction of what heroism as much as I’d want, it should provide more than enough for fans of the series to digest.
Rating
B+
Grade
8.6/10
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter Rupert Grint as Ron Weasley Emma Watson as Hermione Granger Robbie Coltrane as Rubeus Hagrid Richard Harris as Albus Dumbledore
Dumbledore (Richard Harris) uses his deluminator to take the light away from the street lights.
McGonagall transforms from a cat…
…to a human. Her transformation is captured in shadow.
McGonagall (Maggie Smith) appears in human form and questions Dumbledore.
Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) arrives in his flying motorcycle with Harry in tow.
Dumbledore (Richard Harris) and McGonagall (Maggie Smith) deliver Harry to the Dursley household.
Dumbledore leaves a letter for the Dursley’s.
A man with a device who can capture street lights, a woman who can transform from a cat to a human, and a huge man riding a flying motorcycle converge in an otherwise normal looking street for the expressed purpose of delivering a baby, Harry Potter, to his relative’s household. The reason for the delivery or the nature of those in attendance is kept a mystery.
John William’s otherworldly score, the first track of many, introduces us to the magical world of Harry Potter right at the film’s start. The use of a celesta on top of traditional orchestral elements engenders a light mystical ambiance that informs us that we’re entering a world of intrigue and mystery, possibilities fully abound. While the score enchants, an owl, a creature whose flight is as feathery as the score playing, lands on a sign for Privet Drive. The camera turns from this creature to a man, Dumbledore (Richard Harris), who wanders towards the street.
He makes his way to the street proper and takes out a device from his robes which he promptly uses to capture the literal light from the street-lamps illuminating the area. With the veil of darkness now concealing affairs, Dumbledore turns towards a cat whom he refers to as Professor McGonagall (Maggie Smith). In response, the camera pivots to the cat which transforms into a woman adorned in robe and hat much like Dumbledore. Already the viewer is warned that appearances do not correspond to an expected truth; everything is not what it seems.
As McGonagall and Dumbledore discuss the present affairs, a large bearded man, Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), appears in a flying motorcycle and descends towards the duo. He hands Dumbledore a newborn infant, Harry. McGonagall implores with Dumbledore to reconsider his decision to leave Harry here at Privet Drive with the baby’s extended family, the Dursley’s, citing that said family, the Dursley’s, are awful “muggles” who would only make Harry’s life miserable. If the child was raised in the world of magic where the present adult trio came from, he would be treated as a celebrity of the highest order due to what he’s done. However, Dumbledore pushes back and indicates that Harry would be better off growing away from that level of fame until he’s ready; living with the only family he has left, even if they are terrible, is necessary.
The camera pushes into Harry’s scar.
Title card.
The camera pulls out of an elder Harry’s scar.
Petunia (Fiona Shaw) wakes Harry up.
Dudley (Harry Melling) pushes Harry back into his cupboard.
From left to right: Vernon, Petunia, Dudley, Harry. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) cooks while Vernon (Richard Griffits) and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) coddle Dudley (Harry Melling).
Harry’s life with the Dursleys is fraught with abuse. From the moment he wakes up, it’s apparent that he receives no love in this household. He lives in the cupboard under the stairs, wears clothes that clearly don’t fit him, and experiences harassment from every member of his extended family.
The trio leaves Harry on the Dursley’s front door along with a letter made out to them explaining the nature of this new “delivery.” Dumbledore wishes the infant “Good Luck” as the camera begins in to push into the latter’s face; a lighting shaped scar on the child’s forehead begins to burst into a flash of light from which the title card appears. Suddenly, the title card disappears in another intense burst of light and the camera begins to pull out from a much older Harry’s(Daniel Radcliffe) scar.
Sharp knocking from his aunt Petunia (Fiona Shaw) along with an order to wake up interrupts his slumber, a slumber which is taking place in a cupboard underneath the staircases. It becomes quickly apparent that McGonagall’s assessment of the Dursley’s were correct as the location of Harry’s bedroom is far from the worst thing about his life. He tries to get out from the cupboard but is then shoved back in by his cousin, Dudley (Harry Melling) who seems to relish in bullying Harry.
Finally, Harry manages to make it to the kitchen where he’s immediately made to cook breakfast while his cousin is coddled by Petunia and her husband, Vernon (Richard Griffits). It’s Dudley’s birthday and celebrations are afoot; the family is set to go to the zoo as a result. But before they leave, Vernon pulls Harry aside and warns the latter to not engage in any “funny business” under threat of punishment. The nature of this business isn’t clarified. What exactly could Harry have done in the past to warrant such treatment?
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) talks to a snake.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) hexes Dudley.
Dudley (Harry Melling) falls into the snake enclosure.
Petunia (Fiona Shaw) and Vernon (Richard Griffits) are shocked at Dudley’s (Harry Melling) predicament.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) smirks at the situation.
Vernon (Richard Griffits) seals Harry in the cupboard under the stairs.
Harry’s conversation with a snake is cut short when Dudley decides to butt in to the situation. Without meaning it, Harry makes the glass separating the snake’s enclosure disappear. Dudley falls into the enclosure and is trapped as the glass re-appears while his parents panic outside. Harry laughs at the situation, but Vernon puts 2 and 2 together and punishes Harry for the impossible event once they get home.
The answer becomes clear once the Dursley’s make it to the zoo with Harry in tow. The family stands in front of a snake who refuses to engage with them. Everyone sans Harry leaves. The young boy begins to speak to the snake before realizing the snake comprehends him. Cheerfully, Harry begins to question the snake before Dudley notices the now active serpent and rushes towards its enclosure, pushing Harry out of the way and to the floor. In rage-fueled retaliation, Harry stares at his cousin and suddenly the glass separating the latter from the snake disappears; Dudley falls into the snake’s enclosure and the snake escapes after thanking Harry. Petunia and Vernon rush over in obvious disbelief at the situation but notice Harry smiling at his cousin’s misfortune. Vernon stares back and it becomes apparent that “funny business” is nothing more than euphemism for “magic.” He punishes Harry for violating his orders and the days pass.
An owl drops a letter for Harry.
The letter is addressed to the Cupboard under the Stairs.
Dudley (Harry Melling), Vernon (Richard Griffits), and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) look at the letter.
The Dudley house is overflooded with letters. Dudley (Harry Melling), Vernon (Richard Griffits), and Petunia (Fiona Shaw) look on in shock as Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) tries to get a letter.
Owls deliver letters to Harry which are kept away from him by the Dursley’s, but in spite of their best efforts the letters continue to pile up before bursting into the house from every crook, cranny, and crevice in sight.
However, in spite of Vernon’s’ actions, it seems that “funny business” is here to stay. An owl drops a letter off for Harry with the same typescript as the one Dumbledore initially left at the film’s start. The letter is explicitly addressed to his abode: the cupboard underneath the staircase. Something magical is afoot.
Unfortunately, the letter is quickly grabbed from Harry by Vernon and company. They see the seal on the back and the front of the letter and deny Harry access to the same. But the letters don’t stop. Owls continue to flood Privet Drive as letters begin to appear at the household en masse, before eventually busting out of every seam and corner after enough time.
Vernon moves the family to a hut in the ocean.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) wishes himself a happy birthday as Dudley (Harry Melling) sleeps in a couch next to him.
Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) delivers Harry Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) his letter.
Yet, Vernon persists. Instead of acquiescing and allowing Harry to read the letter and end the barrage, the head of the Dursley household upends the entire family to a remote island in the middle of nowhere. The new abode is so small and unkempt that Dudley doesn’t’ even have a proper and is made to sleep on the couch. Harry fares ever worse, being treated to nights on the sandy floor. He draws an outline of a birthday cake in the sand and wishes himself a “Happy Birthday”; Given what we know of the Dursley’s, it’s clear why his celebration is solitary.
As he blows out the candles of his sand cake, the door to the abode bursts open and Hagrid, the person responsible for bringing Harry to the Dursley’s to begin with, enters. He asks for Harry and hands the young boy not only a cake, the first birthday cake of his life, but also a copy of the letter that Vernon and Petunia upended their lives to stop him from receiving. From the letter, Harry learns he’s a wizard who has been accepted to Hogwarts, a school for witchcraft and wizardry whose headmaster is none other than Dumbledore. More importantly, Harry finally learns the truth about his lineage. Hagrid informs the young wizard-to-be that the latter’s parents were murdered, a sharp contrast to the Dursley’s version of the story which explained away Harry’s parents’ deaths as a result of a large car crash.
Quirrell (Ian Hart) greets Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) in the Leaky Cauldron.
Hagrid opens the gate to Diagon Alley.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) enter Diagon Alley.
Vernon moves the family to a deserted island to get away from the letters, but his attempts are unable to confuse the magical world of Hogwarts who promptly sends Hagrid over to the location to retrieve Harry for the school year.
Why Dumbledore would leave Harry in such an area where his identity and lineage are disrespected so heavily is still up to question, but thankfully the abuse is made to stop. Hagrid forcefully informs the Dursley’s that Harry will be going to Hogwarts with or without their permission and ferries the young boy away from the area. The duo makes their way to a pub filled with witches and wizards. It’s here that McGonagall’s words from earlier become realizes. The crowd within the bar looks at awe upon Harry upon learning of his presence. Hosts of peoples come to him, praising and congratulating him for something, the nature of which is unknown. It’s clear that he’s a hero to them even if he doesn’t know why.
Once the crowd dissipates, Hagrid leads Harry to an unsuspecting brick wall which the former promptly taps with his umbrella qua wand. In response, the bricks start to magically re-arrange themselves, opening a pathway to a whole new world hiding behind the seemingly normal façade: Diagon Alley. With a new domain open to them, the duo proceeds into the wizarding world to get Harry his respective school-materials before the semester at Hogwarts starts. Once there, Harry is able to earnestly find out not only about himself but also the mysterious circumstances surrounding his parents’ deaths.
It’s at Hogwarts, where the rest of the film takes place, that director Chris Columbus is able to showcase the magical world of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone in all its glory. Portraits which move and talk to students, spells which levitate objects, ghosts which pass from tables, and wonderous feast that appear from nowhere are only a few of the normal occurrences which fill the halls of the wizarding school. A standout sequence involves Quidditch, a sport played in the Wizarding world with the use of flying brooms and magical balls which plays like a mix of rugby and football/soccer. The camera dips, dives, ducks, and swings around the field as two teams try and score points on another, conveying a sense of flight and freedom that makes the games played as intense, if not more intense than any such equivalent we’re privy to. Though some of the CGI used to bring these wonders to life has aged poorly, the depiction of the otherworldly events of the film manages to capture the vitality and intrigue described in the novel by J.K. Rowling which serves as the film’s source material.
Unfortunately, the film’s dedication to Rowling’s novel renders its narrative as contrived as its source material’s. Like the book, the film adopts a fragmented approach towards telling Harry’s day-to-day life at Hogwarts. We see him attending a few classes, going to a Quidditch game, and hanging out with his friends, but in spite of this, it’s unclear what a week-to-week, let alone a day-to-day schedule looks like for him or other students. Consequently, it’s difficult to evaluate what Harry or his companions, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), have learned and to what effect they’ve mastered the same; when they proceed to resolve obstacles in the latter portion of the film, the gravity of what they’re doing is lost because there’s a discord between the stated severity of their trials and the seeming ease of the solutions they employ to solve them.
Thankfully, just like the book, the film’s heart and warm spirit makes up for narrative misgivings; after all, the story isn’t renowned for it’s narrative intricacy but rather for its commitment to telling a passionate and humane story capable of engendering a renewed sense of wonder. In this sense, the film excels no small part due to the acting efforts of the adult cast who are firing on all cylinders here; each of them knows precisely how far they can take it without going so far as to be a caricature. They also enable the younger set of child actors, many of whom are still finding their footing on the big screen, to rise to the occasion during heftier moments such as to achieve a nice emotional resonance as the film reaches its fantastical climax.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Chris Columbus’s direction, Rowling’s novel, and John Williams’s iconic score combine in fantastic fashion in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, a tale about a boy who finds out he’s a wizard and seeks to uncover the murky tales regarding his lineage and past. Even though some of the CGI doesn’t hold up in the status quo, the commitment towards maintaining the book’s vision is present from start to finish. This is a hefty story and it manages to captivate the audience in the world it presents in spite of its occasional narrative stumbles.
Rating
8.3/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Robert Downey Jr.as Tony Stark Don Cheadle as James “Rhodey” Rhodes Gwyneth Paltrow as Virginia “Pepper” Potts Mickey Rourke as Ivan Vanko Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff Sam Rockwell as Justin Hammer
Note: This review contains spoilers for: Iron Man.
Moscow, Russia location Card.
A television broadcast shows Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) revealing his identity as Iron Man.
A collection of images, articles, and clippings regarding Tony Stark.
Ivan (Mickey Rourke) celebrates development of his arc-reactor technology with his pet bird.
The sequel picks up right as Iron Man ends. Tony’s identity revelation coincides with the rise of an unseen enemy, Ivan, who seems to have access to the same technology that Tony does.
The film opens in Russia. Tony’s (Robert Downey Jr.) speech from the end of Iron Manproclaiming his identity as the titular “Iron Man” plays from a television in a shoddy apartment unit. A disheveled, dying man, Anton (Costa Ronin), looks disgusted at the news celebrating Stark and tells his son, Ivan (Mickey Rourke), that the prodigal superhero’s fame is undeserved; he suggests that if the Starks had not wronged him in the past, it would be Ivan’s name being chanted instead of Tony’s. He apologizes to Ivan before passing away. Mourning becomes motivation as Ivan begins a 6-month journey towards avenging his father and ruining the Stark name, working on high-tech machinery including an arc reactor not unlike Tony’s.
Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) makes an entrance at the Stark Expo.
Cheerleaders blast Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) with their costume blasters.
Howard (John Slattery) talks on a projection as Tony(Robert Downey Jr.) samples his blood.
His blood is now toxic.
While Tony’s enemies grow in power, Tony himself finds himself dealing with more than enough in the form of blood toxicity issues.
Meanwhile, it seems that the time passed has only allowed Tony’s new-found stardom to get to his head. He drops down from a jet in the skies, dives downwards towards a stadium, and makes a spectacular landing on a stage in front of thousands of people. A group of cheerleaders clad in “Iron Man”-styled uniforms pretend to blast Tony with their blasters as a finale to his performance. It’s apparent that Iron Man’s status as a cultural symbol has grown exponentially since we’ve last seen him.
Tony gets out of his suit and welcomes the audience to the newly re-instated Stark Expo, an celebration of technology from around the world. To commemorate the re-inauguration, Tony plays a video recorded by his late father, Howard (John Slattery), wherein the latter explains the unlimited potentials of technology. While the video plays, Tony steps off to the side and takes a sampling of his blood which indicates that he is suffering from blood toxicity of some kind.
He leaves the expo and is served a subpoena calling him to testify before the Senate the next day regarding his private ownership of the Iron Man suit. Senator Stern (Garry Shandling), one of the committee members, tries to argue that the technology is a weapon and as such belongs to the people aka the military. Evidence is shown demonstrating the existence of other “Iron Man”- like technologies; other countries have begun to emulate Tony’s suit in an effort to advance their own military might. However, Tony quickly demonstrates that all other mimicries are pathetic clones unable to do any meaningful harm. He argues that the peace the public enjoys now is due to his efforts as both hero and “nuclear deterrent” and quickly gets the majority on his side, effectively ending the session.
Tony’s (Robert Downey Jr.) deterrence declarations ring across the world.
Ivan (Mickey Rourke) gets ready to make his debut as “Whiplash” as his electrical whips are ready for action.
Tony (Robert Downey Jr.) learns he’s dying from palladium poisoning, partly due his Iron Man duties.
Tony’s decision to be deterrent is unsustainable as is because his condition will eventually kill him via poisoning. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, death comes in the form of a rival seeking vengeance.
But Tony’s boasts travel further than he would have imagined. The camera cuts and reveals that Ivan has not only been listening to the court proceedings but is more than ready to prove Tony’s statement wrong. He picks up an electrical whip from his work-place and gets ready to bring the battle to Stark, now as “Whiplash”.
While this unknown and unseen enemy makes his way to Tony, the prodigal boy wonder is dealing with another equally deadly issue in the form of palladium poisoning from the arc-reactor technology implanted in his chest, the same technology keeping him alive. His AI assistant explains that Tony’ usage of the Iron Man suit is exacerbating the rate of his poisoning. The more he plays deterrent qua superhero, the more he pushes himself to an early grave. Thus, the newfound symbol of peace finds himself at a crossroads with death staring at him from every direction.
However, this seemingly apparent fresh plot is mostly nothing more than a neat re-threading of the previous films themes and story beats. Whereas Iron Man sees Tony start as an ignorant arms dealer who learns that corrupt organizations use his weaponry and seeks to be more mindful of his tech’s reach, Iron Man 2 sees Tony start as an ignorant weaponized suit user who learns that other individual use his suit technology and seeks to be more mindful of its reach. Even the poisoned arc-reactor core plotline matches up with the original story’s thread involving Tony updating and changing out his cores.
Therein lies the primary issue. There’s no “real” reason to watch Iron Man 2 because it has very little new to say. The primary story scratches the same itches the original does but does it in a less succinct and thorough manner. The few additions it tries to append to the narrative do very little outside of pad the run-time. Where the film tries to mark its point of difference and stake its claim is in its CGI-intensive action sequences, but these are lacking both the color contrast and polish necessary to have them be as engaging as needed. While the CGI isn’t terribly outdated, it ends up looking worse because the battle sequences feature little color variation and an abundance of digital clutter; the problems never become as egregious as they do in The Incredible Hulk, but when the film stakes so much of its identity on the spectacle and doesn’t deliver an awe-inspiring one, it feels like a wasted opportunity.
To make matters worse, the first film utilizes its CGI far more efficiently, blending in graphics with practical effects and sets which help ground the more grandiose moments. The spectacles deliver because there’s a vitality coursing through them that the second film never manages to reach with its focus on extravagant mechanized battle; the absence of the human element can be felt and robs otherwise sensational moments of the palpable tension that defines the previous film. Does this render them unwatchable or headache inducing? Not at all. By and large, the direction of the action and basic reincorporation of techniques through the fights makes them engaging in the moment. However, it’s the presence of that competency that makes the wasted potential all the more disappointing.
That being said there are worse fates than being a semi-decent Iron Man clone. The primary cast is as charming as ever, Downey Jr. in particular, and seem even more comfortable with their roles than before, even with the replacement in casting regarding Rhodey (Don Cheadle). The story, despite being a reformulation of the original, is still compelling enough to watch, especially if one is in the mood for more Iron Man content.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Iron Man 2 feels like it took its plot about people emulating “Iron Man” to heart and decided to go ahead and implement that same strategy at the level of the film, doing very little to the original Iron Man besides re-skinning it with a less than stellar CGI covering. While the strategy satisfies in a basic sense, it feels disappointing in comparison, especially now that the action sequences have started to slowly show their age.
Rating
6.7/10
Grade
C
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Note: This review contains spoilers regarding the first 30 minutes of the film as opposed to the site’s usual benchmark of 10-20 minutes. The same effort towards sustaining the intrigue and momentum of the film, especially in its second and third acts, is maintained in this review, and all plot details revealed are just meant to be a springboard to discuss the scope of the work in better detail. Nothing discussed should undermine the “best” portions of the film or the many mysteries that keep the story engaging.
An image from Gone With the Wind.
Dr. Beuregard(Alec Baldwin) recites anti-black, white supremecist propaganda in the form of a faux documentary.
An image from The Birth of a Nation.
Dr. Beuregard(Alec Baldwin) forgets his dribble and asks for the lines again. Racist vitriol isn’t eloquent.
The camera pushes in on the camera projecting the footage behind Dr. Beuregard.
And then, in a brand new scene, continues to push in beyond a mountain plane.
Confirmation that the following story is a recollection of truth, a documentary turned narrative.
The title card appears.
Ron (John David Washington) walks into the place of the title card and looks up.
Minorities are encouraged to apply to the Colorado Police Force.
Ron (John David Washington) stares at the police recruitment sign with slight worry.
Ron (John David Washington) starts to adjust his hair under the sign.
BlacKkklansman’s opens with three separate introductions. The first two demonstrate the way art interacts with culture; the former molds the latter via its depictions of events and situations so much so that it becomes tantamount to truth. Because art and culture started with anti-black depictions, perspectives regarding black subjectivity are myopic and reinforce dominant narratives. This film is a response, an attempt to demonstrate a new depiction of black life, a history transformed into capital capable of galvanizing cultural attitudes.
A scene from Victor Fleming’s Gone With the Wind plays depicting a Confederate flag floating in the foreground. This is the first start. Then a faux documentary chronicling the evils of black “savages” and the desecration of white culture begins to play; the piece is narrated by Dr.Beuragard (Alec Baldwin), a man who spouts horrifically racist drivel but finds himself unable to remember the prejudiced verbiage, often breaking out of the documentary to ask for the specific lines. This is the second start. Finally, the camera pushes in on the projector playing the aforementioned starts. The camera’s forward momentum is carried through in the next shot as it glides over a Colorado mountain range. The film cuts to pavement and text appears, explaining to the viewer that the film they’re about to see depicts a real-life scenario. The title card pops in. The protagonist of our story, Ron (John David Washington), walks into the spot where the title card resided. He looks up at a sign from the Colorado Police Department encoring minorities to apply. He stares at the sign more intensely before fixing his hair and walking towards the police station. This is the third start.
Thus, director Spike Lee’s BlacKkklansman succinctly demonstrates its raison d’être: it’s a cinematic counter-response meant to reshape cultural attitudes regarding race relations. The first start opens on a “classic” of American cinema, establishing that even the foundations of our “culture” are predicated on a logic which valorizes a time-period where black people were not treated as human beings. The second start demonstrates the way such romanticization engenders tangible movement towards racialized violence. Beuragard’s documentary intermixes news-footage with clips from D. W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation, another film from America’s classic film canon filled with racist depictions, showcasing how fictional representations bleed into cultural discussions which affect people in tangible manners (ex: support for de-segregation). Even though Beauragard is inept as a presenter and can’t even remember his long-winded verbal absurdities, the power of his sound-bites combined with images imbued with cinematic power, give his words a persuasive power.
By taking the projector, which played white nationalist propaganda, back via the push-in of the camera, Lee is able to offer BlacKkklansman as a cinematic response to the canon; the third start comes from the same “source” as the first and second and can operate on the same playing field. Informing the viewer of the “real life” status of the narrative gives the film an authenticity that the documentary preceding it hopes to achieve, while the “traditional” presentation of the narrative gives it the same staying power as the cinematic classics it discusses. In this way, Blackkklansman is positioned as both historical and cinematic corrective, a step towards a restorative vision of the U.S.A.
The story proper follows Ron as he applies to the Colorado Police Department in an attempt to reform the system from the inside out. His interview process starts off professional enough but quickly diverges as his interviewers inform him of the prejudices at play in the department and the community, prejudices against having black officers. They double-check with Ron regarding whether or not he believes he’ll be able to keep himself in check in spite of potential racial jabs. He agrees and is subsequently hired.
Officer refers to a black prisoner as a “toad”.
Landers(Fred Weller) calls Ron a “toad”.
Landers(Fred Weller) smirks at Ron (John David Washington) knowing the latter won’t be able to retaliate.
Ron (John David Washington) karate chops the air once he’s alone to vent his frustration at the constant racism.
The connection between blackness and criminality is established right from the start. Criminals are referred to as “toads” and dehumanized. It’s no wonder then, given the population breakdown of the criminals, that racist attitudes are caked into the precinct itself. As Ron is forced to learn, anti-blackness is tolerated but responses against the same are unprofessional.
Unfortunately, his agreement is tested right off the bat. It’s clear from his fellow officers’ behaviors and demeanors that he’s unwelcome at the precinct. The reason is made obvious: to be black is to be criminal. Ron learns this the hard way when he’s made to handle criminal records. Other officers come in, ask for a “toad’s” file, and then give Ron the name of a criminal to fetch from the files. In an attempt to humanize the criminals, the people underneath the caricatures, Ron tries to combat the vernacular, explaining that his files document persons and not toads. But his attempts are met only with condescension and insult. A particularly racist officer, Landers, goes so far as to lose the dog whistles and come outright with the unsaid sentiment, calling Ron “Officer Toad” after getting his requested file. But Ron cannot respond. He cannot retaliate because to do so would be to risk expulsion. So, he waits for Landers to leave and proceeds to karate chop the air. Within the confines of the police station, he must remain civil while experiencing insult abound. Yet he persists.
Eventually his dedication pays off, or so it seems. Chief Bridges (Robert John Burke) calls him in to help the branch infiltrate a potentially dangerous group: Colorado College’s Black Student Union. Why? The group is planning on hosting a national civil rights leader, Kwame Ture (Corey Hawkins), who might rile the “good” black people up into violent spirits. Obviously, being the only black cop in the precinct, Ron is selected as the perfect target to infiltrate the session and report back on any expressions of violence. He’s trained by fellow Detectives Flip (Adam Driver) and Jimmy (Michael Buscemi) on proper procedure and has to perform his jive dialect for them in satisfying fashion before being allowed to leave to the conference.
Ron (John David Washington) gets ready to hear Kwame speak.
Kwame(Corey Hawkins) starts to speak as the camera pushes in on him.
Floating black faces from the audience become illuminated and fill the frame. They’re captivated by Kwame’s words and become reborn, taking center stage.
The camera continues to push on Kwame(Corey Hawkins) as he implores the black audience to love themselves.
Ron (John David Washington) is unable to understand himself and finds he’s more alienated from himself after the speech. He doesn’t place his first up because he doesn’t know what it means to affirm his blackness.
Ron (John David Washington) raises his first to blend in with the group, but his heart isn’t in the motion.
Ron experiences alienation hearing Kwame speak. As someone emulating a black persona, he feels out of place in his black flesh and finds himself unable to commit or turn away from what Kwame says. He finds himself at war with himself and what his identity entails.
After quickly acquainting himself with the Black Student Union’s president, Patrice (Laura Harrier), Ron makes his way in for Kwame’s monologue. Kwame speaks with emphatic passion as he tells the sea of black faces about the beauty inherent in their skin and the damaging manners by which they have inculcated attitudes against themselves. As his words ring true with the audience, Lee cuts to floating black faces, freed from the shackles of their predispositions and given an avenue by which to love themselves. However, Ron finds himself unable to do the same. The words have an impact on him, but he finds himself still trapped.
It makes sense. His presence at the rally is nothing but subterfuge. His liberated black persona is artifice meant to help him blend in. He’s a black man roleplaying black experience, so the conversation on accepting blackness as a lived and true experience breaks through the cracks between the mask he’s trying to put on and his true feelings underneath. By the end of the speech, Ron is the only one left keeping his fist down. He’s caught in thought. But this moment of reflection passes as Ron’s remembers his purpose for being at the rally. He raises his fist to blend in with the background, committing to the act.
Back in Chief Bridges office, Ron, Flip, and Jimmy ascertain that Kwame poses no threat, in spite of some of his incendiary remarks, but Bridges pushes back. It’s clear that he’s giving a gravity to the situation that he wouldn’t to other situations. The reason doesn’t need to be stated.
Ron (John David Washington) flips through the newspaper…
…and finds a Ku Klux Klan (KKK) advert within.
Walter(Ryan Eggold) responds to Ron’s call for admission.
Jimmy(Michael Buscemi), Flip (Adam Driver), and the other officers stare at Ron as he spouts racist drivel in an attempt to win over Walter.
Sergeant Trapp (Ken Garito) and Ron (John David Washington) persuade Chief Bridges(Robert John Burke) to allow the KKK infliltration to happen.
Ron (John David Washington) coaches Flip (Adam Driver) on how to act like him. Jimmy(Michael Buscemi) observes and offers feedback.
Ron finds an advert for the KKK in the newspaper and immediately gets to work investigating the organization. Despite being a more dangerous threat than the Black Student Union could ever be, Ron experiences pushback before finally getting approval to infiltrate the Klan.
But Lee decides to make that reason clear nonetheless. Ron is transferred to Flip and Jimmy’s division and is allowed to pursue investigations. He flips through a newspaper and finds an advert for the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). After calling the number advertised and getting a response from the local chapter leader, Walter (Ryan Eggold), Ron switches to a “whiter” accent and begins to lambast minorities in an effort to gain favor. While Walter is pleased with the racist tirade that would put Dr.Beuragard’s to shame with its comparative polish and fluidity, Flip and the other detectives in the room are shocked with the ease at which Ron is able to recite such vitriol. Alas, Ron’s lack of expertise comes home to roost as he accidentally mentions his real name to Walter before agreeing to meet him in person.
Unlike the Black Student Union, the Klan offers very little camouflage room for Ron, so his investigation into their affairs requires the help of a white-passing officer to act as his double, a “white” Ron. He goes with Sergeant Trapp (Ken Garito) to get Bridge’s approval for the mission but, unsurprisingly, when it comes to investigating the Klan, Bridges is less than enthused, claiming both a lack of necessity and manpower for the job. Ron and Trapp explain that the former will communicate with the Klan on the phone and serve as the primary liaison with the organization while another officer will serve as the “white” Ron and infiltrate the organization. Bridges eventually acquiesces but not before threatening Ron’s job if anything goes wrong.
The addendum is interesting because it reveals the inherent hypocrisy underlying Bridges conflicting orders. Despite claiming that Kwame and the Student Union are a dangerous threat, he’s fine with sending Ron in with no concerns regarding the latter’s safety. However, when it comes to sending a white-passing officer into an organization which he claims is not an active threat, he voices concerns about the dangers and makes it clear to Ron that loss in this circumstance is not permitted. Either he believes that the Union isn’t as dangerous as the Klan and/or he believes that harm done to Ron isn’t as severe as damage done to a white-passing officer. Regardless of what is driving Bridges decisions, it’s clear the reason is racially motivated.
Nonetheless, with mission approval acquired, Ron chooses Flip to be his doppelgänger. Now the rookie is in charge of teaching his superior on how to act in the situation, a reversal of the duo’s introduction to one another. Thus, “Ron”, the composite of a black man’s interpretation of a white man and a white-passing man’s interpretation of that interpretation, is born and can proceed towards infiltrating the Klan. Consequently, Ron, who has formed a camaraderie with Patrice due to his black persona, is forced oscillate between two radically different worlds, one black and one white, that both cause him to feel alienated regarding himself.
It’s no wonder then that this story is the one Lee has picked for the purposes of staging an dialogue with America’s film canon. Ron’s story examines the way institutions and culture shape and cement identity in needless opposition to one another. As he gets deeper with both Patrice and the Klan, he’s forced into introspection and has to determine what being black, especially within the confines of the USA, entails in regards to his orientation towards the world. Given the introduction which establishes that black cultural identity has been forcefully interpellated by a “white” romanticization which renders them criminal and deviant, the move towards depicting a tale of black agency finding itself in the world is more urgent than ever. If media has helped establish an cultural attitude, then it can help change the same, and Lee demonstrates via Ron’s eventual journey not only how those changes could materialize but also the repercussions of continuing to leave harmful representations unchallenged.
The beauty of the film is that Lee is able to have this dialogue without sacrificing entertainment value; the plot never lags or lets up, remaining compelling from start to finish. A tense encounter with the Klan is followed by mocking conversation with the organization that reveals just how out of touch with the world they are. By swapping between Ron and Flip’s respective journeys as Ron at critical junctures, Lee is able to move from comedic to tense with ease, ensuring that no narrative thread ever overstays its welcome.
Ron (John David Washington) gets on the phone with David.
Ron (John David Washington) converses with David Duke (Topher Grace) in split-screen fashion. Both men are shot at canted angles.
Walter(Ryan Eggold) converses with Ron (John David Washington) in split-screen.
Even the dialogue scenes are shot with a pizzazz that reinforces the absurdity of the conversations Ron ends up having with Klan members. Split-frames demonstrate the way perspectives shift between the parties.
The story switches only work because Lee never phones in any of dialogue scenes involving Ron and the Klan, treating them with the same regard as the thriller set-pieces involving Flip. When Ron starts to get more intimate with the clan, his phone-calls with key members are shot at canted angles or in different split-screen configurations to keep visual interest up and to demonstrate the shifting tides of understanding between the relevant parties. The already crisp and hilarious dialogue is thus accentuated and made explicitly cinematic. And the decision is important. The conversations happening are absurd. Just think about it. They involve a black man trying to achieve a heightened level of camaraderie with KKK members who love his persona while openly calling for his death in reality. It’s morose and absurd and the presentation of the situation reflects that context.
Very few films are able to be so commercially entertaining while retaining poignant themes and Spike Lee should be commended for being able to achieve both feats in such exhilarating fashion in this picture. BlacKkklansman grips you with its intriguing, but real narrative but leaves you ruminating by the end of its run-time. It’s an meaningful addition to a myopic film canon that opens the space for discourse, allowing for the possibility of more multifaceted cultural understanding. Perhaps in a century, just like Gone With the Wind and The Birth of a Nation, BlacKkklansman will be played as an exploration of what America can truly mean.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
BlacKkklansman is that rare film that manages to stay entertaining while retaining a poignant and relevant set of themes for viewer’s to mull around about. While the real-life story of a black police officer infiltrating the KKK sounds interesting on its own, the film manages to take the narrative and present it as a response to a predominantly white film-cannon, offering an alternative view of what being black and/or American can and should look like.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
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
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A 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+
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 .
Timothée Chalamet as Paul Atreides Rebecca Ferguson as Lady Jessica Oscar Isaac as Duke Leto Atreides Stellan Skarsgård as Baron Vladimir Harkonnen Zendaya as Chani Javier Bardem as Stilgar Jason Momoa as Duncan Idaho Josh Brolin as Gurney Halleck
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A deep boisterous rumble emanates from a dark abyss; subtitled translations appear and clarify this guttural noise is a message from something somewhere: “Dreams are messages from the deep.” The text disappears and the production logos pop onto the screen. Like Dario Argento’s iconic Deep Red, director Denis Villeneuve challenges the boundaries of the non-diegetic title sequence and transforms the film from being just a piece of media to a “message from the deep.” The introduction prefaces the production elements of the film, not the other way around. Thus, from its start, Dune starts off as a dream; the story to follow is nothing more than vision from an unconscious that the audience experiences. Far from being passive observers of a story, we’re part and parcel of the experience that grants that story coherence.
Once the production logos fade away, the story picks up again with a new narrator, Chani (Zendaya), who speaks to us in a language we can understand. She explains that her people, the Fremen, the indigenous population of the desert planet Arrakis, are forced to deal with the constant plundering and sacking of their home world by outsiders who seek to harvest “spice”, a drug which serves as the most valuable commodity in the galaxy, both providing health benefits on top of being the catalyst for any and all intergalactic travel. We see Chani and her fellow Fremen position in the sands, blow up one of a spice harvesting machine, and escape from the scene of the explosion. She whispers the name “Paul,” and the vision fades away as our story’s protagonist, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), wakes up. Far from talking to presumably the audience like the previous entity, Chani seems to be speaking to Paul through his dreams. But how?
The two dreams layered on top of one another suggests either that Paul also saw the first dream as a precursor to second, or that the audience is privy to an even more encompassing vision that exceeds even Paul’s. Ambiguities in the dream qua messages in regards to their senders, receivers, and method of transmission give the film an opacity which places the audience firmly on the side of the story’s hero. Like Paul, we see visions but are unaware what they fully mean. If messages are meant to inform their recipients, then the storyraises the question on what exactly dreams are meant to tell us.
Following the unconscious encounter, Paul makes his way towards the dining room to eat breakfast with his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson). Immediately, she asks about his dreams. It becomes apparent these visions from Chani, or more accurately the beyond that may or may not be Chani, are recurring and important enough to prompt dialogue. He responds coolly, mentioning that he had them, before then asking his mother to pass over a cup of water. She refuses and instead tells him to use “the Voice” to force her compliance. Unable to refuse, Paul commands his mother to hand him the cup.
But his voice transforms as he utters the demand, going from soft and quiet to amplified and menacing, masculine to feminine. All other sounds fade out and his words takes center stage, booming out in such fashion that a jolt in response would be appropriate. Jessica’s eyes flitter for a moment and the impact of Paul’s words continue to ring through the room. Suddenly, her hand moves a cup of water towards Paul before her eyes come back into focus and her agency returns. No explanation is given for the power or its place, but its presence informs the audience that Paul and his family are far from normal.
As if to confirm the Atreides position, Jessica promptly informs Paul he needs to change for an Imperial Procession, as his father, Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) is to take control of Arrakis from House Harkonnen as the Emperor’s new fief ruler. Arrakis, Chani’s home world and the place of Paul’s dreams, thus becomes his new destination as his family, the Atreides, is tasked with overseeing spice production on the planet. Dreams and reality converge as Paul goes to confront his destiny.
This is Denis Villenevue’s Dune, a multi-textured cinematic dream machine that takes the task of translating author Frank Herbert’s science-fiction magnum opus to task, successfully re-creating the metaphysical visions and grandiose politicking of the books in the most spectacular fashion. If the opening few moments serve as any indication, it’s to pay close attention as even the minute characteristics have the capacity to radically alter the context by which events are evaluated. Everything seems to be connected, like pieces in a puzzle, but the shape of the image being constructed is up to the viewer.
Details invade every single frame. For example, a story of a bull told by Leto to Paul before they depart to Arrakis seems trivial at first glance, but the head of said bull makes a constant set of appearances through the film, representing the stature of the Atreides family based on its framing in the room. Thus, a simple verbal mention transforms into a powerful visual motif that remains hidden in plain sight.
Likewise, the soundscape employs heavy use of leitmotifs. Composer Hans Zimmer creates unique musical cues in relation to all the major players- the Atreides, the Harkonnens, the Fremen, the Bene Gesserit, and so on – vying for control of Arrakis and its associated treasures and employs them to convey the constantly shifting power struggles. A scene which starts with the more soothing Atreides theme indicates who’s really in charge once the sound fades out in favor of the whispery, choral theme of the Bene Gesserit. In this sense, the score acts in lieu of traditional voiceovers, giving the film an sense of direction without out-right spelling it out.
By littering the narrative, mise en scène, and soundscape in such fashion, Dune is able to fully immerse the viewer into an ethereal, dream-like experience. Every moment has so much waiting to be interpellated in relation to everything else, that one can’t help get lost in the film’s milieu. Thistruly feels like the culmination of Villenevue’s career up to now. Just like his previous large-scale science-fiction masterpiece, Blade Runner 2049, Villenevue fills every frame with such visual splendor that it becomes hard to not gawk at the screen (especially in IMAX). But with Dune, he puts more faith in the audience to piece together what’s happening without as many overt hints, stringing together surreal and “conventional” in fashion more similar to his cerebral thriller Enemy. That’s not to say there’s no exposition, but said exposition pales in comparison to the amount of subtle world-building done around it, providing just enough to the viewer to help them latch onto and make sense of what else is happening. The end result is a film that grabs full hold of the viewer’s attention, leading them along a path without ever spoiling where the subsequent journey will fully lead.
If there is a problem with Dune, it’s that it ends too soon. Two and a half hours pass by as the slow, cerebral, burn of the film takes hold of the viewers mind. By the time the run-time comes to an end, one is left fully ensnared and is left wanting more, as the spice-fueled dream machine truly feels like its transported the viewer elsewhere.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Dune is the science-fiction film of a century and is an experience that demands to be seen on the big screen. Villenevue expertly combines epic scale with characters worth investing in, juggling between larger macro-political struggles with intensive internal character struggles. By the time the film ends, viewers will only be left wanting more.
If possible, this is an experience that needs to be experience in a thematical setting, preferably in IMAX, because it so wonderfully demonstrates the transformative power cinema contains.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Jaime Lee Curtis as Laurie Strode James Jude Courtney as Michael Myers Judy Greer as Karen Andi Matichak as Allyson Anthony Michael Hall as Tommy Doyle
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
As a fan of director David Gordon Green’s 2018 namesake, revival and sequel to John Carpenter’s original 1978 masterpiece, Halloween, I was hopeful that Halloween Kills would continue its predecessor’s measured approach at delving into the psychology of the characters, namely Laurie(Jaime Lee Curtis), in relation to Michael(James Jude Courtney). While not in the same league as the original, Green’s previous film at least seems to understand that the terror of Michael stems not just from his brutality but from his inability to be understood or cognized. As an emissary and force of evil, he remains an enigma.
Unfortunately, Kills forgets this key fact and throws nuance to the wind in favor of brash and abrasive points, many of which become especially confusing when given a few moments thoughts. The film’s title sequence serves as warning for what’s to come. In contrast to Carpenter’s original film’s eerie and evocative opening sequence which sets its pace with a slow push in on a jack-o-lantern that flickers menacingly, Halloween Kill’s introduction opts for something more grandiose, pushing in on a sea of flaming jack-o-lanterns which dissipate upon contact with the camera. The former approach favors the slow build-up before the spectacle, choosing to savor the moment of impact, while the latter favors extravaganza for its own sake, trading slow and methodical for bombastic. These orientations towards terror set the stage for their respective films; Halloween is a tense, atmospheric, palpable nightmare waiting to imprint its horror onto its audiences’ mind, while Halloween Kills is a to-the-point gore-fest that seeks to assault its audience with a barrage of scenarios that fail to leave a lasting mark after their initial presentation.
While the story picks up right at the end of the previous film, it almost immediately undermines everything that happened before. As Laurie, Karen(Judy Greer), and Allyson(Andi Matichak) make it to the hospital, Michael is promptly freed from his burning prison and soon starts to slaughter everything in sight. His massacre calls the attention of the residents of Haddonfield, who, under the rallying cry of a much older and still very much traumatized Tommy Doyle(Anthony Michael Hall), the young boy Laurie babysat in Carpenter’s film, go to ensure “evil dies tonight.” Consequently, the narrative jumps between groups of civilians who try and hunt Michael through the city, unaware soon-to-be victims caught in the middle of his rampage, and Laurie along with her family recovering at the hospital.
Alas, none of these narrative threads is interesting or unique. Laurie’s story might as well have not been in the film given how little she ends up doing, and all the non-Laurie related plot-lines follow the same formula as one another: introduce character, introduce said character’s quirk in lieu of meaningful personality, kill character in brutal fashion. If the character is a mob character as opposed to just a victim caught unaware, they will mention, without fail, how dangerous Michael is to confront alone, let alone with group, before then confronting him alone. Forget predictable, try exhausting. Never at any point, does anything amount to more than casually interesting, and most of the film comes up much shorter than even that.
Rather than setting firm foundation and direction for the story and its ideas to traverse along, Green and his fellow screen-writers seem content with establishing threadbare connections to Carpenter’s ’78 film, as though mere association is enough to transfer heft from one story to another. Halloween Kills confuses reverence to the most minute details for enthralling cinematic texture, assuming that because the characters are related to the first film, that somehow the audience will care about them and invest into their respective stories. Every single character or detail, big or small, is highlighted by the film as if screaming, “See, it’s all connected!” But, by and large, the effort comes off as farce. No one outside of Laurie and her family, has any embellished reason for doing what they do, and the narrative never gives the audience a reason to root for the mob and their efforts.
Furthermore, even though the last film makes it clear that Michael’s murder spree in 1978 isn’t as serious a sequence of violence as status quo events (ex: modern shootings), Kills expects the audience to now believe that there are throngs of people around who are as upset and devastated about the spree as Laurie. This insinuation not only undermines the contextual work of the last film but also moots Laurie’s unique connection to the situation. If everyone is as obsessed about the event as her, then the last film would not have happened as it did, but Kills requires this to be true in order to ramp up to the ham-fisted themes and set-pieces that it so desperately wants to present as evidence of its artistic depth.
It’s evidence that the film wants to serve as a moral warning against succumbing to mob violence; don’t pursue uncontrolled violence lest you become a monster yourself. However, the story presents no alternative to the problems mob violence seeks to resolve, especially within its own context. When a police officer talks about how they didn’t want to shoot Michael once apprehended due to respect for shared human empathy and respect for the law, it seems obvious that, without context, the audience should be in favor of such a view. Officers killing unarmed and captured enemies should not be encouraged. But because we know Michael is a brutal murderer, a point the film gleefully reminds us of as he mutilates teenagers, couples, and the elderly galore, the message of restraint and respect for rule of law becomes much more confusing, especially when the narrative constantly demonstrates just how inept the law is at dealing with such events. If monsters are bad and the law is unable to stop them, chastising mob violence and condemning it in such a moralistic fashion muddies the discourse surrounding the issue.
The point also fails to make any resounding impact given that the film is a CELEBRATION of violence. It’s hard for the consequences of mob violence to linger in one’s mind in thought-provoking fashion when the camera treats this violence no differently than it does Michael’s carnage tour. If we’re supposed to marvel and cheer at the effective, technical execution of the latter, it becomes difficult to explain why the audience shouldn’t cheer for the former, especially when both are treated in the same manner: on-display gore for the audience to gawk at.
As a result, even though Halloween Kills share many of the same qualities as the early movies in the Friday the 13th franchise, namely disposable characters and focus on brutal set-pieces at the cost of narrative or thematic depth, it never reaches near the same levels of entertainment because it takes it forces its subject matter to be treated with a undeserved gravity that makes the overall experience uneven and tepid. Despite boasting Carpenter’s excellent score, slicker moment of gore, and a more robust production than many of the Friday films, Kills inhibits enjoyment by trying to tie the gratuitous and over-the-top violence to more severe and intricate themes.
With no one to cheer for and no hefty ideas to mull about on, it’s hard to recommend Halloween Kills to anyone but ardent fans of the franchise, good and bad, and gore hounds looking for mean-spirited slayings. The story is confused and doesn’t know if it wants to be a serious contemplation on evil or a carnage candy exhibition; consequently this identity-crisis permeates and undermines the film at critical junctures, leading little to offer. I can only hope that the follow-up, Halloween Ends, wraps things up nicely, but with how disappointing Kills ended up being, I’m not holding my breath.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Halloween Kills is a sorely lacking sequel that not only squanders all good will engendered by director David Gordon Green’s previous film Halloween but also fully drops the ball for the upcoming finale, Halloween Ends. The film wants to be both a blood-bath and a piece with heart, but it fails to do either effectively because it spends no time setting up its characters or its story beats for meaningful success. Only ardent franchise fans and lovers of gore should check this one out.
Rating
4.8/10
Grade
F
Go to Page 2for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
