Category Archives: Past

Film Review: Mulan – 1998

Director(s)Tony Bancroft
Barry Cook
Principal CastMing-Na Wen as Fa Mulan
Eddie Murphy as Mushu
BD Wong as Captain Shang
Miguel Ferrer as Shan Yu
Release Date1998
Language(s)English
Running Time 87 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REPORT CARD

TLDRMulan’s story of a woman turned warrior looking to upend a backwards militant system is as entertaining as it is thematically rich. The use of musical cues to extend thematic and narrative movements not only helps the story moving at a quick pace but also cue the audience in to what truly matters.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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Film Review: Men – 2022

Director(s)Alex Garland
Principal CastJessie Buckley as Harper
Rory Kinnear as Geoffrey
Paapa Essiedu as James
Gayle Rankin as Riley
Release Date2022
Language(s)English
Running Time 100 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

A young woman, Harper (Jessie Buckley) comes to an English countryside where she rents a cottage to deal with trauma stemming from her husband’s (Paapa Essiedu) unexpected passing. To get her mind off the situation, she goes on a stroll through the grounds and ends up in a forest ripe with greens all around. She finds herself at the entrance of a tunnel, a dark passage to an unknown location; the hole captivates her and she enters it.

Her voice echoes in the cave, reverberating against itself in cycles. She sings a variety of different tunes, some with only a few notes, against one another, transforming the collective soundscape into an evocative ouroboros-like melody wherein each discrete set of notes fades into the next before eventually returning. But Harper’s song of echoes comes to an end as a silhouetted man appears at the other side of the tunnel. The man breaks the moment’s serenity and gives chase to Harper all the way back to her cottage.

This scene defines and crystallizes the logic of Men, a work in which narrative, visual, and auditory patterns are interwoven against and within one another, generating a complex schema of meaning contingent on how the viewer orients themselves towards the cinematic experience. This act of interpretation places the viewer squarely on Harper’s side; as she navigates a matrix of men, each obnoxious in their own chauvinistic, irritating way, and has to deal with all manners of gaslighting from them, the viewer is forced to make sense of how different story threads suture around one another and come together to form a cohesive narrative, surreal or not.

From the moment Harper meets the residents near her abode, these interpretative decisions start to sprout up: each of the men she meets sports a similar face – an intentional decision as they’re all played by Rory Kinnear. Yet this similarity in appearance is never noted by Harper or any of the characters, leaving its purpose up to interpretation. The viewer gets to determine whether or not the homogeneity is due to Harper’s subjective view of all men being the same or the film’s themes suggesting that the men are so similar that their physical appearances should reflect one another or something else entirely. Each interpretation is suggested by the film as the echoes generated by its elliptical formal choices tie seemingly innocuous details into larger theses that bracket the film in one discrete direction versus another. These choices in perspective have such a compounding effect on the nature of the narrative that a viewer could leave justifiably thinking that the film only portrays one character death, shown in flashback, or showcases multiple character deaths sprinkled throughout the story. However, regardless of which path the viewer and Harper choose to follow, the center of that journey always terminates in man.

Thus, Harper’s journey, whatever the viewer determines it is, elliptically orders itself around the nature of a subject’s relationship to men and the social order oriented around and indexed towards their positions. Regardless of which man Harper finds herself encountering, the same cycle ensues: her attempts at individual peace are interrupted as she’s forced to give attention to the man in question, the nature of that attention being contingent on the above interpretative schema.

The dream-like quality can easily be dismissed as art-house pretension, especially as the subtext sublimates in a visceral body horror that threatens to confuse more than illuminate. But by leaving the viewer in the same fractured and entranced state as its protagonist, Men manages to provoke an empathetic engagement with the subject matter, even if the nature of that engagement differs wildly from viewer to viewer. Far from gaslighting the viewer with obtuse, opaque threads meant to elicit confusion, Men forces the viewer to take responsibility for the narrative they craft from the film itself.

REPORT CARD

TLDRMen is an ambitious piece of film-making that investigates the nature of gaslighting and obfuscation by making the viewer responsible for piecing together the narrative and taking charge of what it means. The unnerving, surreal imagery takes on a new life as its purpose takes on a subjective meaning, letting the horrors take firm root in the mind. Even when the thresholds for explanation wear thin, the experience generated by the emphatic connection with a protagonist going through a similar labyrinth of meaning and construction ensures the feelings of the film still wash over.
Rating10/10
GradeS

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Film Review: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent – 2022

Director(s)Tom Gormican
Principal CastNicolas Cage as Nicolas Cage
Pedro Pascal as Javi
Release Date2022
Language(s)English
Running Time 107 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

The movie opens with a scene from Simon West’s Con Air, a movie where Nicolas Cage plays the role of Poe, a former sergeant, current prison inmate who longs to see his daughter for the first time. Without even knowing it, we’re caught up at a climactic moment in that story and become invested in Poe’s struggles to get to his daughter. It’s at this point the movie proper starts and the scene from Con Air continues to play, this time as part of the scene as opposed to its entirety; a young woman (Alessandra Mastronardi) and her colleague continue to watch it in complete rapture. Given our proximity to the scene, it’s easy to relate to the characters’ investment in the moment- we, both the audience and the characters, wait with baited breath for the resolution to the moment.

But then the room is raided and the young woman is kidnapped by a group of trained men. This larger kidnapping narrative is the framing mechanism that the movie uses to couch its more intimate character drama, a drama which the film cuts to. Nicolas Cage (Nicolas Cage),a fictionalized caricature of the actor based on pop culture , attempts to land an acting job capable of catapulting him back to the top of stardom. He bemoans his lack of recognition and struggles to find himself.

When he begins to question his path, a fictionalized version of Nicolas Cage, Nicky, based on the manic persona of his younger days (Wild at Heart) comes in to raise the spirits. The younger Cage always pushes against the older Cage, raising the latter up. Stardom is the priority and getting roles capable of achieving relevant stardom is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Cage can’t land the gigs capable of satisfying his inner superego and his obsession consequently begins to affect his family life. His obsessions become projections which he forces on to his daughter, Addy (Lily Sheen); he refuses to allow his family to authentically engage in any interaction and forces his opinion at every juncture. He has to be the star of the show at both the films and at home and with no films capable of satisfying his inner aspirations, he has more than enough time to steal to the spotlight at home.

But eventually his bills come due and Cage is forced to make a pragmatic decision; with no other way to make money due to lack of work, he chooses to accept an invitation to attend a birthday party of a mega-fan of his work, Javi (Pedro Pascal). However, the CIA, suspicious of Javi’s affairs, taps Cage in as agent to extract information from Javi to help in the retrieval of the young girl from the movie’s opening, the daughter of a tough-on-crime politician; the echoes of Con Air can be felt.

Yet, Javi, far from being a criminal element, acts as a foil to Nicky, adulating Nicolas for being a gift to the cinematic craft. As opposed to knocking the actor for any roles, he expresses appreciation for any role, big or small, and attempts to jumpstarts the creative drive hidden within Nicolas, determining that the actor’s creative issues stem from the turmoil of his personal life, an issue exacerbated by Nicky.

This positioning of Nicky as a devil to Javi’s potential angel is where the story shines, allowing Nicolas Cage, as the actor proper, to go through a range of performances that fans of the thespian will wholeheartedly enjoy. Every Cage, from the manic and jittery to the macho and confident and so on is given a moment to shine in the limelight, demonstrating the range of Cage’s oeuvre. With Pascal playing the perfect second fiddle, the intimate character moments are filled with a dynamism that, when allowed to shine, makes the narrative a joyous ride.

However, the CIA framing narrative that this more intimate character drama is couched within absolutely lags the story’s momentum whenever it creeps up. When it becomes the focal point in the third act, the clever character work and meta-commentary on the nature of the movie’s logic and Cage’s persona are brushed aside in favor of something more generally palatable and less interesting. Instead of allowing Cage to lean into his range and engage in a subversion about his image and stylistic tendencies, thereby playing like a Cage-like version of Cinema Paradiso, the story lampshades its inability to be more clever and proceeds to close its “meta” commentaries in the most simplistic fashion, providing enough entertainment for Nicolas Cage fans to justify watching but never reaching the potential that a wholesale exploration of juxtaposing Cage’s popular persona against the actual totality of acting present in his work should be able to.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent should serve a more than satisfying time for fans of Nicolas Cage, providing him moments to act against both himself and an equally game Pedro Pascal, but the uneven overarching CIA narrative that encompasses the enjoyable character moments stifles momentum and more clever subversive moves.
Rating7.2/10
GradeC+

Go to Page 2  for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
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Film Review: Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness – 2022

Director(s)Sam Raimi
Principal CastBenedict Cumberbatch as Dr. Stephen Strange
Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch
Benedict Wong as Wong
Xochitl Gomez as America Chavez

Rachel McAdams as Christine
Release Date2022
Language(s)English
Running Time 126 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

NOTE: This review contains spoilers for: Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame, Wandavision.

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.

Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), complete with a brand-new hair and wardrobe style, and a teenager, America (Xochitl Gomez) run down a shimmering bridge in a seemingly cosmic realm. They make a mad dash towards a floating tome in the sky while avoiding the attacks of a cosmic terror chasing after them; the creature blocks the duo’s path to the tome and Strange begins to despair. He turns to America and tells her that due to the level of threat the duo faces, he’ll have to sacrifice her; the creature is after her powers and she can’t control, so sacrificing her and allowing the experienced Doctor Strange to take the powers instead will at least give the “good” guys a fighting chance. America is aghast at the proposed solution, but as Strange reaches over to begin the sacrificial transference, the creature impales him, stopping him in his tracks.

America freaks out in response to the attack and subconsciously uses her power, breaking a star-shaped wormhole in the fabric of reality; both she her and the recently deceased Doctor Strange are up by the force of the portal. The camera rotates 180° as the two are sucked in and the corpse of Doctor Strange takes central focus – a sudden match cut to the Doctor Strange we know. He wakes up in a fright obviously disturbed by his nightmarish vision. His face is reflected in a broken watch face, reflecting the turmoil and lack of cohesion he feels.

He magically changes clothes and adorns a suit and tie – a far cry from his robe. He makes his way to his former lover Christine’s (Rachel McAdams) wedding where he’s accosted by a former colleague on the decisions made during Avengers: Infinity War; Strange is challenged on the possibility of having allowed Thanos’s brutal snap due to ineptitude rather than necessity. But Strange persists that he did what he had to do.

When he goes to congratulate and honestly talk to Christine about her future and their shared time together, he’s once again brought to task for his decision-making process. Christine points out that their relationship would never be able to work even if Stephen wasn’t a sorcerer tasked with protecting the realms because his inability to let other people, herself included, handle or share responsibilities make genuine connection and change impossible to achieve. The nightmarish opening rears its ugly head again as the most recent confirmation of this truth: Doctor Strange cannot trust others to act properly so he has to ensure things go according to his vision and his vision alone.

Before he can think for too long, a monstrous disturbance makes its presence known. Doctor Strange seamlessly transforms on screen via the use of his magical cape and dashes into action with magical aplomb. He reveals the source of the disturbance, an tentacular cosmic creature, who wreaks havoc chasing after none other than America, the girl from Strange’s dream.

Director Sam Raimi, no stranger to super-hero fare, captures the sorcerer’s battle with the creature using his trademark style from the Spider-Man trilogy; Strange and company move deftly through the cityscape as terrified bystanders run around, lending to a chaotic flurry. Raimi cuts to singular shots of the bystanders reacting to the spectacle on display, accentuating the campy aspects of the story while capitalizing on the catharsis inherent to watching a super-hero rescue the innocent. The battle beats may be familiar, but the vitality inherent in their craft makes them a joy to watch. Finally, the battle ends with a gory finish atypical of Marvel fare and more reminiscent of Raimi’s own filmography- a sign of the things to come.

Strange questions America regarding her presence; it’s not everyday figures from dreams burst into reality. But America pops Strange’s bubble and reveals that his vision, far from being a dream, was a reality from another universe, one of many universes spanning the multiverse. America’s unease around him suddenly makes sense; it may have been him from another dimension, but it was still a Dr. Strange that threatened to and attempted to kill a teenager in order to preserve the greater good. But our Strange convinces America to divulge the nature of her troubles and comes to understand that she’s being chased through the multiverse by some entity desperate to use and her control her powers; America has the ability to freely travel the multiverse through her star-shaped portals but presently does not have control over when and where the power manifests.

With no other clue to go on besides some runic enchantments on the tentacle creature from before, Strange sends America to the magical abode of Kamar Taj with Sorceror Supreme Wong (Benedict Wong) and visits Wanda (Elizabeth Olsen), the only magical being he knows of who may be able to understand the runes. Unfortunately, she warns him that the threat chasing after America is far more dangerous and threatening than he could have conceptualized. Strange realizes the stakes of allowing such a creature access to unbridled access to every universe would be catastrophic and is now tasked with protecting America’s power.

As the antagonistic force chasing America comes closer to succeeding, the film is allowed to become stranger and more in line with Raimi’s horror filmography à la The Evil Dead. For the first time in the M.C.U’s franchise history(28 films including this one), it feels like the director has been given reign to exhibit the unexplored territories of comic book movies and Raimi takes full advantage to ramp up the tension and intrigue. The force chasing after America is a behemoth of an antagonist and Raimi captures their presence as monstrous; there are sequences that feel straight out of a slasher film as the enemy pursues America, generating a palpable tension that the franchise has never truly had before.

Canted angles, well-timed jump scares, brutal death sequences, and even the spectral P.O.V shot Raimi created in The Evil Dead are incorporated to underscore the depravity of the threat. The score cuts out at perfect moments to build up the dread and the brutality by which the antagonist carries out their mission always feels like a serious threat. It’s in this commitment to visually reinforcing the terror of the antagonist that Raimi finds a way to counterbalance the campy, goofier sections of the film without incurring a tonal whiplash.

Yet, in spite of the film’s distinct Raimi-isms, it never feels contextually out of place within the grander scheme of the M.C.U because it develops its characters’ arcs in germane fashion relative to what came before. For Doctor Strange, the journey he experiences in Doctor Strange, going from doctor saving lives with medicine to sorcerer saving lives in the trillions with magic, is never broached on again in the other entries of the franchise involving the character. He never has to deal with inability to reconcile with Christine or how the nature of his role as sorcerer runs in direct contrast to his Hippocratic oath; the idea of sacrificing America at the start of the film is reminiscent of the Strange we’ve seen up to now and this story sees him returning to his roots to re-discover just why he’s doing what he’s doing.

Likewise, Wanda’s’ journey from Wandavision picks up soon after the series ends and follows her as she navigates the nature of her powers and the ways they implicate her reasons for acting. Like Stephen, her character has had little time to deal with the depths of her trauma and is given an opportunity to tackle those issues head on while traversing the multiverse. Both characters get to meet alternate versions of themselves who, driven by the same passions, have made slightly different decisions than them resulting in vastly different lives. Through this, the characters are given the opportunity to reflect on themselves in an authentic fashion.

By maneuvering the set-pieces and pivotal story moments around emphatic character moments, Raimi is able to elevate the hobbled narrative that finds itself jumping from one MacGuffin to the next. Because every movement is motivated by or centered around the characters’ decisions, they feel relevant and make the piecemeal story cohesive. While the logic behind the story might be forgettable, the emotional resonance of important character beats persists and makes an Frankeinsteined story wholly engaging.

The biggest proof of this is America who serves as the biggest MacGuffin of all. She’s both the target of the antagonistic forces and Doctor Strange and company. One side definitively wants to kill and take her powers and the other side is willing to protect her but has shown the capacity to act in a more malicious manner. Both sets of characters are in constant pursuit of her and as their convictions come to the surface, the status of her relation to her powers changes. She becomes an external representation of the characters’ arcs and her status as MacGuffin reflects these developments. Consequently, when the character arcs start to come to a close, the film proceeds in domino effect with each arc pushing one another to a close.

While this approach may disappoint fans of the franchise looking for more explosive worldbuilding or rich storytelling, its a refreshing change of pace that should entice those tired of the usual trappings associated with the genre. The character focus is gripping enough to keep the viewer engaged and Raimi’s direction buoys otherwise contrived story moments and makes emotionally rich moments all the more compelling. Fans of the characters and of the horror sensibilities of Raimi will be more than satisfied with this latest superhero outing.

REPORT CARD

TLDRDoctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is a much needed breath of fresh air for a genre and a cinematic universe that’s felt stylistically barren for most of its existence. The focus is on delivering an engaging spectacle that grips the viewer. While the story is basic and patchy, the vitality present in the film’s construction make it an absolute delight to watch. The story may be on the lighter side in the grand scheme of the cinematic universe and doesn’t engage in as much fanfare as some viewers might want, but it’s navigation of characters and their respective arcs makes it truly resonant when it needs to be.
Rating9.4/10
GradeA

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

Film Review: Pompo the Cinephile – 2021

Director(s)Takayuki Hirao
Principal CastHiroya Shimizu as Gene
Rinka Ôtani as Natalie
Konomi Kohara as Pompo
Akio Ootsuka as Martin
Release Date2021
Language(s)Japanese
Running Time 90 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

In Nyallywood (aka Hollywood), the producer who reigns supreme is Pompo, an exuberant young woman with a flair for dramatic entrances and an eye for nabbing the best talent to surround her; her B-movies are a thing of legend and accrue rewards and adulation all around. Her assistant, Gene, in shocking comparison to Pompo, is a tired looking, unenergetic husk whose only saving grace seems to be his intensive love of cinema. Far from just being part of his job, Gene uses cinema as his primary frame for interacting with the world at large around him, spending his free time poring over copious notes he’s taken regarding the production process or watching and absorbing films at breakneck pace.

Consequently, even in his day-to-day outside of the studio, he finds himself framing the world as a director would. While travelling to an routine casting session, he notices a young woman running across the street. As she playfully jumps past a puddle, his pupil transforms into a camera lens, showing us how the seemingly small moment becomes something cinematic; time slows down and his brain starts doing post-production (color grading) to the moment of jubilation, applying colors and filters to the everyday moment thereby rendering it cinematic. A simple jump – a split moment – becomes frozen in time and becomes something greater than it is.

When he finally makes it to the audition area, he runs past the girl once again; this time her face is covered with a miasma of despair – a sharp contrast to before. As the two cross one another’s paths, discordant jump cuts are used to create a stutter effect- time breaks as the two seemingly unrelated persons enter one another’s space. It becomes clear that their paths are meant to cross, even though Pompo informs Gene that the young woman, Natalie, was rejected from the studio’s current film due to an inability to act.

But inability in the moment does not entail incapacity in general, and Pompo decides to spring a surprise on Gene: she offers him the chance to serve as director for her new script, a non-B effort titled Maister. The script – a story of an elderly hardened man learning how to embrace the world via a chance encounter with a young, passionate woman – immediately captivates Gene who finds himself completely enamored with the characters in spite of the generic trappings of the narrative. To his surprise, Pompo reveals that the part of the heroine is to be played by none other than Natalie. Even though the aspiring ingenue’s test performance lacked, a certain aura she possessed captivated Pompo to the point of writing the role in this script explicitly for her; like Gene, Pompo can’t help but take the inspiration from the everyday and transform it into something cinematic.

Thus, Gene is set to direct his first feature film. Suddenly, the never-ending series of notes he’s taken on sets up till now become a template for him to traverse down the path to becoming a full-fledged director. However what opposes him is not a direct antagonist or series of enemies to be defeated but the process of creation itself; getting shots to work in spite of production issues, keeping true to the vision of the script while heeding to cinematic limits, conveying key story beats without relying on excessive exposition, and finding a way to edit down the final product in spite of a wealth of gorgeous footage become the obstacles that Gene and his crew find themselves tackling.

By structuring the film proper around the mechanics of the film-making process, director Takayuki Hirao is able to get the viewer to directly consider each and every choice made. There’s a direct focus on the nature of what makes a good film: decisions related to acting, shot composition (ex: wide shots vs close-ups), and editing are brought up directly by the characters as they discuss how to overcome the various hurdles they encounter. By having the characters walk the audience through the logistics of their decision-making, the film is able to get viewers to subjectively tap into and become involved with the film in a dialogue. Our attention is drawn to the nature of cinematic technique and its intended purpose, so as the film starts to become more “overtly” stylized, it becomes astoundingly clear that even the most seemingly minute decision is being done to engender a certain feeling.

Match cuts (both within Pompo and between Pompo and Maister ), jump cuts, rewinding/fast-forwarding footage within the film proper to explain parallel character decisions, using reflective surfaces in the background to juxtapose characters’ thoughts versus their actions, and moving the camera back from supposed establishing shots to reveal said scenes are nothing more than character perspectives or scenes being projected on the big screen reveal the liminal space between cinema and memory. Not since the works of Satoshi Kon (Millennium Actress, Perfect Blue) has an animated film so effectively tapped into the idea of cinema as a dream-machine; for the characters this dream is both literal – they want to produce and create films for audiences – but is also metaphorical as these same films are expressions of their innermost desires come to life, rendered on a canvas that promises infinite possibilities.

As Gene shoots Meister, he finds that his own life not only serves as a template for how he approaches the content but that the content then, almost as if in response, becomes a guiding force for him to evaluate and progress within his own life; life and art become two mutually reinforcing sides, generating a new creative order. While there are similar works like Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! or Shirobako that also navigate the process of creatives attempting to take their fanaticism to the level of art, what separates and elevates Pompo and its themes is the level of commitment at making the fictional work its about, Maister, as polished and entertaining as the film proper. Even though we’re only privy to brief snippets, the scenes chosen are all pivotal in how they reveal the underpinnings of the story proper while conveying a completely distinct tale that’s enthralling all on it’s own. It’s one thing to cheer on a character as they set out to pursue their dreams, but by making the painful, brutal costs and transcendent rewards of their efforts so transparent, Pompo is able to hammer its points home.

REPORT CARD

TLDRPompo the Cinephile is a love letter to cinema and animation that emphatically demonstrates the ethereal powers of moving images. The film’s unabashed enthusiasm and wit makes it endlessly entertaining and endearing for anyone who’s ever “found” themselves in a work of art.
Rating10/10
GradeA+

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

Film Review: Dual – 2022

Director(s)Riley Stearns
Principal CastKaren Gillan as Sarah / Sarah’s Double
Aaron Paul as Trent
Beulah Koale as Peter
Maija Paunio as Sarah’s Mother
Release Date2022
Language(s)English
Running Time 95 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

A young man (Robert Michaels) rushes to a table stacked with weapons. He struggles to select one of them but during his moment of indecision an arrow flies past him. While he may be indecisive in picking his combat option, his opponent is not. A crowd cheers to the violence; this duel is a public spectacle.

The young man finally decides to act, evades the arrows that are fired at him, and moves towards his opponent before proceeding to butcher the latter with a knife. The camera moves to the corpse which is identical to the young man we’ve been cheering for; this has been a fight between doppelgangers. An announcer comes forward to congratulate the victor and asks him whether or not he’s the original or double. The young man responds that he’s the double and he is subsequently crowned the “true” Robert.

Thus, the stakes are set. In this world, doubles of persons exist and there are Battle Royale like duels between them to determine which one of them can stake their claim to being the “real” person in question. Identity, far from being a given, is a social marker that must be fought for. Furthermore, the doubles are well-defined, empathetic persons who seek to survive and not the pale imitations of an original one might expect. Dual intentionally opens from the perspective of the double instead of the original Robert to position the viewer behind them; we naturally cheer for the character we initially identify with and so when it’s revealed that they’re a “double” who has “stolen” their life from an original, our empathy is turned on its head. While it seems proper to cheer for someone fighting for their life, a double fighting their original in an attempt to subsume the latter’s life and identity along with it presents its own set of ethical issues. The same action becomes framed from two perspectives one of which is predicated on the idea of one owning their own identity and the other on the idea of one owning their own life; the schism between life and identity is what Dual seeks to explore.

The story cuts from the newly crowned Robert, to a young woman, Sarah (Karen Gillan), who seems to be living her worst life. Her apartment is saturated in depressing blues that make telling the time of day impossible. Her mom (Maija Paunio) constantly calls and messages her, interrupting any attempt at alone time. Her partner, Peter (Beulah Koale) is off at work and seems to be uninterested in conversing with her. Her only form of interaction with the world comes from the blue screens of her phone and laptop illuminating her face. It’s clear that Sarah is alienated; there’s no vitality to be found as she passively engages with a world that seems to ignore her angst.

But she soon learns that she’s contracted a terminal disease and is guaranteed by her doctor that the chances of surviving are 0%. Consequently, Sarah is offered an opportunity to replicate herself and create a double to live on in her place after her passing. The procedure is marketed a gift to be given by the soon-to-be deceased to their living friends and family as a way of taping over the grieving process; it’s fine that your special someone has died because you can live with a clone formed from their DNA.

Despite being unable to afford the procedure herself, Sarah signs on when she’s informed that her double, upon assuming the role of “Sarah” on passing, would then be responsible for the payment plan responsible for their genesis. Sarah has nothing to worry about because she’ll be dead. Sold on the idea, she signs on and meets her double, aptly named “Sarah’s Double” soon after.

While the latter questions her source on “their” shared interests and hobbies in an attempt to better emulate her, it becomes apparent Sarah and her double are not the peas in a pod promised by the advert. The double seems to have opposite tastes in food, entertainment, and aesthetic style. If she’s supposed to serve as a stand-in for Sarah’s friends and family, she seems to be a poor fit. Yet, Sarah’s mother and Peter seem more than okay with Sarah’s Double, reacting to her with a sense of warmth and energy that fly in direct contrast to the treatment Sarah had to deal with. She comes to realize that far from taking her place upon death, her double has decided to make the transition early and take over as fast as possible.

Thankfully, or so she thinks, Sarah learns that her incurable terminal illness has somehow gone into remission. As a result, she’s allowed to put in a request to decommission her double. However, her double appeals under a newfound amendment to the constitution to “stay” and continue living as “Sarah”. Consequently, the original Sarah is locked into a duel to the death for the privilege of existing as “Sarah”. The opening becomes reframed as a death knell; if doubles are capable of winning in brutal fashion and celebrated for doing so, then the outgoing and more energetic Sarah’s double seems more than certain of defeating the lethargic, unmotivated Sarah.

By channeling the essence of Yorgos Lanthimos’s (Dogtooth, The Lobster) brand of surreal humor – deadpan delivery of serious lines meant to call attention to the absurd nature of the situation with accompanying stoic reactions – director Riley Stearns forces the viewer to focus on the nature of the identity problem inherent to Dual instead of the logistics or theatrics of the situation. This is a story that’s more curious on the logic by which identity can be stripped and gifted by personal, social, and legal entities, revealing the contingencies upon which identity furnishes itself. As Sarah is forced to deal with her impending duel, she’s’ made to reckon with the dual nature of the lives her double and her live.

She starts as a woman sentenced to death who willfully accepts the same and decides to live by extension through a double. Her double does what she’s advertised to do and brings a love and warmth to Sarah’s loved ones that Sarah herself finds herself unable of producing. Upon realizing that she’ll survive, Sarah tries to kill via decommission her double and “take back” her life, a life which we know is in sharp contrast to the one she had lived up to the point. Once Sarah is challenged to the duel, she starts training to survive a battle to death for a life with people who want nothing to do with her as she is; in this vein, the identarian battle takes on a metaphysical character wherein Sarah’s double comes to stand-in as Sarah’s persona. Sarah is forced to tackle the source of her alienation – the disjunct between what she is and what she thinks she ought to be – in a literal battle.

However, while the film excels at demonstrating how Sarah navigates the contours of her personal life, it falters when it comes to connecting those aspects of her identity to the overarching bureaucratic forces that she’s forced to navigate. One of the running themes of the film is how Sarah’s day-to-day existence is structured around capitalistic institutions: the treatment she pays for is expensive and relies on a perverted extended payment plan, a lawyer to represent her, monthly fees to her double until the time of the duel, monthly payments to her trainer Trent (Aaron Paul), on top of everyday bills. Yet, the film never opts to show how she makes money, opting to tell the viewer about her financial struggles instead of showing or embellishing them. These moments would have not only given context to her struggles but would have also helped tie the larger thematic movements of the film with Sarah’s personal journey. This lack of cohesion between the minor and major aspects of Sarah’s life make the subversive gestures Dual tends towards less poignant. Instead of appreciating the way the narrative unfolds, this lack of an obvious “bigger” point might frustrate viewers who don’t want to grapple with the sardonic presentation the film opts for.

REPORT CARD

TLDRRiley Stearns’s Dual might miss the mark for viewers looking for a clear, hefty film with messages to gleam through, as its exploration of a battle between original persons fighting their clones for the former’s identity takes on a cerebral, sardonic tone that operates via subversion and suggestion, but it should satisfy those viewers attuned to the absurdist comedic leanings of Yorgos Lanthimos’s works.
Rating8.6/10
GradeB+

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Film Review: Twilight – 2008

Director(s)Catherine Hardwicke
Principal CastKristen Stewart as Bella Swan
Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen
Billy Burke as Charlie Swan
Taylor Lautner as Jacob Black
Release Date2008
Language(s)English
Running Time 121 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REPORT CARD

TLDRTwilight’s tale of intense passions and supernatural romance may be overbearing at times, but the enthusiasm by which it approaches its subject matter makes it more than endearing. Though some of the visual and acting choices don’t land, the intent behind the fantasy of the story is comprehensible and fans of it will be more than satisfied with the offering.
Rating7.2/10
GradeC+

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Film Review: The Hitman’s Bodyguard – 2017

Director(s)Patrick Hughes
Principal CastRyan Reynolds as Michael Bryce
Samuel L. Jackson as Darius Kincaid
Élodie Yung as Amelia Roussel
Gary Oldman as Vladislav Dukhovich
Salma Hayek as Sonia Kincaid
Release Date2017
Language(s)English
Running Time 118 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The film opens with a series of split-screen shots depicting the routine of Michael (Ryan Reynolds), a private bodyguard for the wealthy and powerful. He puts on his watch, picks out a suit from his collection, drinks some coffee, gets his weapons, and kisses his partner, Amelia (Élodie Yung) on the cheek before departing his scenic abode. The split-screen shots demonstrate the rigid order he lives his life by; every moment is part of an elaborately planned sequence.

He picks up his client, Takashi (Tsuwayuki Saotome) and proceeds on pace for a secure delivery. Takashi gets on his plane and Michael waves him off with a smile. But right as the plane is about to depart, Takashi is shot and murdered.

Despite all precautions, Michael finds himself with a client down; he’s in shock. While his men run around him to take hold of the situation, Michael stares dumbfounded, unable to come to terms with his failure. Two years pass and his expression remains the same – the weight of his past remains. He escorts an drug-addled client in dejected fashion; clearly he’s still good at his job, but the loss of a client has certainly hurt his reputation as security detail, so he’s forced to take on much worse clientele.

Michael (Ryan Gosling) agrees to Amelia’s (Élodie Yung) deal to protect Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson).

While Michael tends to his mundane everyday life, his ex-girlfriend and current Interpol agent, Amelia, is tasked with escorting a notorious hitman, Darius Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson), to the International Criminal Court to give witness testimony against Vladislav Dukhovich (Gary Oldman), the dictator of Belarus charged with counts of genocide and ethnic cleansing. But on their way to the court, Amelia’s convoy is attacked; far from being a secret, their movements have been leaked to outside attackers. Amelia and Kincaid momentarily team up to get out of the area, but now they must find a way to get to the court without Interpol’s help. With no else left to turn to, Ameilia phones Michael and asks him to help transport Kincaid.

Michael is initially reluctant to help. On one level, he doesn’t want to deal with Amelia due to their break-up. On another level, due to the nature of his work, he’s found himself on the opposite side of Kincaid many times, often having to keep his clients protected from the hitman. There’s a clear antagonism present in the group. But Amelia promises to help reinstate Michael’s company’s security rating through her government connections if he gets Darius to the court on time to testify. Thus, the reluctant duo between hitman and bodyguard is born.

Unfortunately, the plot that follows goes exactly as one would expect: a love-hate relationship is formed by the duo who ribs and endears themselves to one another over the course of their trip all while they survive increasingly elaborate attacks by Dukovich’s party. Though disappointing, the narrative would be fine if it at least served as a vehicle for stylized action sequences or entertaining character moments, but none of these moments ever bear fruit because the movie would rather tell than show.

The visual creativity from the opening never happens again which is a shame because the primary antagonism between Michael and Kincaid is how they orient themselves towards planning. While Michael is rigid and disciplined, Kincaid is very much the opposite, opting to play situations based on how they proceed in the moment. Consequently, when the character’s find themselves dealing with a threatening situation, they tend to have different reactions; Michael thinks something out and tries to stick by the book while Kincaid goes for the clearest immediate option available. Instead of demonstrating this visually like he does in the opening, perhaps by shooting Michael’s character with split-screen shots to showcase the sequential planning and Kincaid’s character with jump cuts to demonstrate the haphazard movement, director Patrick Hughes opts for standard coverage of the duo as they deal with their problems. We don’t get to see the difference between the characters manifest in poignant fashion and are forced to gleam the essence of their relationship through their conversations.

This proves to be an issue because most of the dialogue is insipid and insists on the basest humor to get a laugh. Ryan Gosling and Samuel L. Jackson may be talented actors, but there’s only so much they can do when most of their conversations end in a punchline about smelling like ass. This type of humor is uninspiring on its own but contributes to a serious tonal whiplash when the story jumps from these jokes to scenes of the primary antagonist planning/committing genocide and genocide-related activities.

All of this culminates in a general feeling of disengagement. There’s nothing to get invested in. The characters are placeholders for the story that give their actors little room to breathe life into the narrative. The jokes are indexed to the lowest common denominator of humor and undercut any sense of tension or gravitas. Even though the action scenes are shot competently and give a clear sense of what’s going on, you don’t care because there’s nothing to cling onto.

REPORT CARD

TLDRThe Hitman’s Bodyguard is a movie that lacks any sense of personality or identity worth investing in. The aggregation of safe buddy-cop story beats provides very little entertainment as even the most minute action is predictable. Even the comedic stylings of the leading duo can’t give the movie a pulse as the script insists on having them repeat the worst punchlines to jokes repeatedly.
RatingD
Grade5.5/10

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Film Review: The Avengers – 2012

Director(s)Joss Whedon
Principal CastRobert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark / Iron Man
Chris Evans as Steve Rogers / Captain America

Tom Hiddleston as Loki
Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury

Mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner / Hulk
Chris Hemsworth as Thor
Scarlett Johansson as Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow
Jeremy Renner as Clint Barton / Hawkeye
Release Date2012
Language(s)English
Running Time 143 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

The title sequence starts with the Marvel logo prominently in the center of the screen. The camera pulls back from the logo which becomes encompassed by blue flames, flames which are revealed to be the core of the Tesseract, the cosmic item recovered by S.H.I.E.L.D in Captain America: The First Avenger. The screen fades to black.

A voice mentions that the “Tesseract has awakened” on Earth. The camera pans up an elaborate, alien staircase where a hooded creature bows to an unseen figure. The creature, the narrator from earlier, continues and claims that an informant who is intimately aware with the cube will claim it for them. The screen fades to black.

The informant in question is handed a glowing scepter. Another fade to black.

Then an army of armored alien creatures, the Chituari, start to roar as the narrator guarantees that the informant will take the Earth as compensation for retrieving the cube, using the army of Chituari to take control. Upon retrieving the cube, the unseen figure will rule the universe. A final fade to black.

Once again, the Tesseract takes center stage and the camera starts to push into it. This is an opening that makes it clear from the get-go: The Avengers is more epic than the films that came before. The rhythmic fades to black induce a sense of a grandiose force building up. The alien world and set-piece confirms that this story is taking place against a much grander backdrop. As the camera pushes in through the Tesseract, to the planet of Earth it becomes clear that worlds are going to collide.

A S.H.I.E.L.D base is being evacuated as a helicopter arrives at the facility. Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) steps out and begins to head into the building that everyone else is running out of. He runs down to the testing facility overseen by Dr. Selvig (Stellan Skarsgård) where tests are being run on the Tesseract. Selvig explains that Tesseract is active and is taking action of its own accord, setting off fluctuations and discharges as it pleases. Clint (Jeremy Renner), the agent overseeing the experiments, tells Fury that any disruption on display is not due to any party on “this” side. Suddenly, it becomes clear. If the Tesseract is a doorway, then it reasons that it can be opened from two sides. One side might be on Earth, but the other side is somewhere else entirely and is raring to invade the planet.

On cue, the Tesseract discharges a bright blue light, opening a portal to another location. The informant from earlier makes their appearance in spectacular fashion, completely shifting the feeling of the room. We cut to a close-up and learn that this intruder is none other than Loki (Tom Hiddleston), Thor’s (Chris Hemsworth) brother who we had been led to believe was dead at the end of Thor. The questions begin to pile up: How did Loki survive? Who hired him? Why do they want the Tesseract so badly?

But Loki’s not concerned with giving any answers, and he quickly takes charge of the situation, blasting agents with his scepter and laying waste to the highly, secure government building. He turns his scepter to both Selvig and Clint’s chests and takes control of their minds; they switch allegiances immediately. Fury is easily handled and the Tesseract is stolen from the premises but not before the cube releases one last burst of energy, destroying the facility in its entirety.

For the first time in the franchise, Fury is thoroughly trounced and left beaten. He declares an emergency and tells his agents to begin looking for the cube. Loki’s attack means that the world is now at war and needs to prepare. One of his subordinates, Agent Coulson (Clark Gregg), asks what they can hope to do. The Avengers theme starts to play in the background as the title card drops as a response. Fury’s answer is a given: it’s time to assemble to the Avengers, a task force made up of individuals capable of mounting a resistance to forces that conventional might cannot stand up against.

But far from being a solution to the Loki problem, creating the Avengers brings about a whole host of other issues for Fury because the rag-tag set of individuals he seeks to have work together are far from cooperative. Given the persons that Fury wants to involve with the project, namely the heroes of the previous Marvel films, it’s easy to see how problems could stack up. Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) is a ego-maniac who can’t help but demonstrate just how smart he is. Bruce Banner (Mark Ruffalo) of is a man so afraid of himself that he’d rather live his life as a wanderer than be near people and risk harming them as the Hulk. Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) is a man haunted by the loss of his past and is desperate to do anything to numb those sensations. Thor might be fond of the Earth but his priorities lay with Asgard and its people. Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) only shows true loyalty to Fury and is more than willing to pull one over on people to achieve any given mission. Meanwhile, Clint Barton is compromised and controlled by Loki.

Balancing these personalities isn’t easy, but director Joss Whedon successfully manages to plot a narrative course that lets the characters bounce off each other authentically. The characters act as we would expect them to given their previous cinematic depictions; the fun emerges from watching the sparks between the characters we know and love getting to experience the same level of familiarity with one another. It’s clear that the actors are enjoying themselves and play off one another seamlessly, so it’s hard not to get invested in the burgeoning friendships. As bonds begin to form between members at a more personal and at a larger ensemble level, the various narrative threads from the previous films start to make sense as a larger puzzle. The group feels less a collection of arbitrarily selected heroes and more like a naturally forming assemblage. Consequently, even when the technical maneuverings of the plot feel outlandish, the energy on display by the key players ensures that no moment remains dull. This is a narrative that knows how to keep a steady hand on the momentum and keep the viewer engaged.

The film’s formula is so effective that it’s effectively served as the de-facto template of the franchise ever since. A story of a diverse group learning to work together maps well with the depths of the Marvel Universe, offering any minor character from a previous film a chance to reprise a more important, embellished role in a future entry. Learning to fight together means that the narrative can be built around multiple fight set-pieces; have the heroes get a minor win, then suffer a loss of sorts, before finally coming together and achieving a victory of sorts. Progression can be clearly marked and delineated which makes character arcs easier to notice and subsequently appreciate.

Yet, The Avengers remains unique even after a decade filled with films taking inspiration from its formula because there’s an earnest enthusiasm in its construction. Long one takes and extensive use of spectator reactions to the spectacles gives the film a distinctive visual identity that many other entries in the franchise are missing. The characters also all have a distinct sense of personality; they’re not all quipsters, so when characters like Tony make a snarky remark, those moments register because they operate in contrast to otherwise “straight” dialogue. This makes the humor hit harder and the serious events linger for a moment of reflection. While the seams sometimes crop up – an inevitability given the film’s duty in patching together every previous Marvel entry – concerns regarding them melt away due to the sense of wonder and enthusiasm on display.

REPORT CARD

TLDREven a decade after it’s release, The Avengers still entertains due to the spontaneous and organic way it mixes the founding Marvel cinematic characters and their respective story threads. The foundational super-hero ensemble film demonstrates that any character can find new purpose if helmed in another story and that characters from seemingly different, developed worlds can come together in a coherent manner in which the sum is greater than the parts. The film’s ambition has paid off multiple-fold, establishing the basis of the largest cinematic franchise the world has seen to date.
Rating9.0/10
GradeA

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

Director(s)Chris Columbus
Principal CastDaniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter
Rupert Grint as Ron Weasley
Emma Watson as Hermione Granger
Robbie Coltrane as Rubeus Hagrid
Richard Harris as Albus Dumbledore

Kenneth Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart
Tom Felton plays Draco Malfoy
Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy
Release Date2002
Language(s)English
Running Time 161 minutes
Report CardClick to go to Review TLDR/Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REPORT CARD

TLDRHarry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets expands on the magical world of Harry Potter in great fashion, delving into the backgrounds and darker underpinnings of Hogwarts as an institution. Director Chris Columbus improves on the original film’s formula with a tighter ,darker script and much better CGI/practical effect incorporation. It’s a more engrossing journey from start to finish.
Rating8.6/10
GradeB+

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