Ryan 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
A photo of Amelia (Élodie Yung) and suits. Michael gets weapons. Michael (Ryan Gosling) says goodbye to Kurosawa. Kurosawa (Tsuwayuki Saotome) gets shot. Michael is a man of order and regimen. He goes through his daily schedule and sets out for a day at work like any other. He secures his client and escorts them to safety only to lose them at the very last moment to a surprise bullet.
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.
Michael (Ryan Gosling) is in shock. 2 years pass. Michael (Ryan Gosling) is still in shock. Michael’s failure haunts him 2 years later; he’s still in shock that his client died.
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
TLDR
The 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.
Rating
D
Grade
5.5/10
Go to Page 2 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 / 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
Marvel title card. Marvel title card dissolves in the flames of the Tesseract. The Tesseract rotates. A hooded figure narrates to an unseen usurper. The informant receives a scepter. Chituari soldiers roar. The Tesseract spins. The camera pushes into the Tesseract. The opening sets the stage for what’s to come. The title card dissolves into the Tesseract which becomes the focal point of the sequence. There’s a universal scope in this story as we see alien figures plotting an invasion of the Earth in search of the cosmic cube. The rhythmic fades to black create a foreboding effect and as the camera pushes into the Tesseract, it becomes clear that intergalactic conflict is coming.
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.
Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) and Clint (Jeremy Renner) talk about the Tesseract. The Tesseract opens a wormhole. The informant appears from the wormhole. The informant is revealed to be Loki (Tom Hiddleston). The cosmic cube discharges and the war mentioned at the film’s start begins. The informant is revealed to be Loki and the scale of the film becomes clearer – this is a story where characters from any of the previous films become fair game. The stakes go up.
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?
Loki takes control of Clint (Jeremy Renner) using the scepter. Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) declares a level 7 emergency. The world is at war. The Avengers title card. Loki utterly trounces Fury and leaves him in the dust. The world is now at war and there’s only solution: the Avengers. Now it’s up to Fury to build the group of heroes up before Loki completes his quest.
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
TLDR
Even 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.
Rating
9.0/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter Rupert Grint as Ron Weasley Emma Watson as Hermione Granger Robbie Coltrane as Rubeus Hagrid Richard Harris as Albus Dumbledore Kenneth Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart Tom Felton plays Draco Malfoy Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy
Harry looks at a picture of Lily (Geraldine Somerville) , James (Adrian Rawlins) , and himself. The image reflect’s off of Harry’s (Daniel Radcliffe) eyes. Harry looks at an image of Hermione (Emma Watson), Ron (Rupert Grint), and himself (Daniel Radcliffe). Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) does not exhibit the same warmth or regard for the photo of his friends. The film opens on Harry as he flips through his magical photobook. He stares at the image of his parents with a warmth and regard. The image of them lingers in his eyes. He looks at an image of his friends and there’s a distance. The question is why, especially given all the group went through?
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) looks down at a photograph from his past of his parents holding his younger, infant self. Even though he can’t remember the moment, the magical image conveys a liveliness that he yearns for; the “lost” memory reflects off his glasses emphasizing its power on him. Then he flips the page. An image of him with his best friends, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), takes center page. But unlike his previous reaction, there seems to be less of a longing here; the image isn’t reflected off his glasses and his reaction is more muted. Why the distance towards his friends? Given the adventures the trio shared during their first year at Hogwarts, the difference in temperament is even more pronounced.
Suddenly, Hedwig, Harry’s owl, starts to fidget in its cage, causing quite a ruckus. Harry tries to calm her down and explains that her entrapment is his extended family’s decision and not his. Harry may not be stuck in a cup-board any longer, but his connection to the magical world which sustains him is limited and constrained; the Dursley’s might not have been able to stop him from going to Hogwarts but they certainly won’t let him mention it or anything related to it.
Hedwig’s outburst doesn’t go unnoticed and Vernon (Richard Griffiths) calls Harry downstairs regarding it. He goes downstairs where Vernon, Petunia (Fiona Shaw), and Dudley (Harry Melling) await. Vernon reminds Harry that the night is crucial to Vernon’s success; he’s hosting his boss for dinner and requires that Harry to remain completely silent – out of sight and out of mind – until said company has left. Outbursts like Hedgwig’s are unacceptable. Harry attempts to barter; if Hedgwig only had some time to fly free, she would be less agitated and noisy. But the Dursley’s push back and claim that Harry would such opportunity to reach out to his friends. Harry sadly notes that he has received no messages from any of his friends so sending anything back to them shouldn’t be a concern. His detachment when viewing the earlier photograph becomes clearer; he feels isolated and forgotten.
He trudges back up to his room, condemned to a night of silence but comes upon a creature on his bed; the creature introduces himself as Dobby, a house-elf assigned to a wizard family to serve as their magical servant. Dobby warns Harry that nefarious events will take place at Hogwarts for the upcoming year and urges the young wizard to take the year off and stay home. But Harry pushes back; he mentions that his home is no home at all and that he needs to see his friends.
Dobby retorts that Harry’s friends are no friends at all if they don’t even write the young wizard. Alas, the information gives the house-elf away. Harry questions how Dobby would know such information; Harry had only explained as much to his extended family a few moments earlier. Sheepishly, Dobby reveals a host of letters from Ron and Hermione and explains that he intercepted and hid the letters in hopes that isolation would cause Harry to lose interest in Hogwarts. Understandably, Harry gets irritated and makes a grab for the letters.
Harry( Daniel Radcliffe) exchange words. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) chases Dobby downwards and the latter comes upon the cake. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) tries to stop the cake from falling on the guest’s head but is instead positioned as the culprit behind the affair. Dobby quickly wreaks havoc in Harry’s life, issuing an ultimatum: skip out on Hogwarts for the year or suffer your extended family’s wrath. Harry’s choice is already made and he’s consequently made to suffer the consequences as he’s framed for the cake incident.
But Dobby escapes and runs downstairs to where Vernon and company sit. Harry freezes. Dobby realizes the stakes and offers Harry a deal: stay at home and agree to not go to Hogwarts or watch as the desert Petunia made for the evening drops on one of the guest’s heads. Harry pleads but Dobby doesn’t relent and casts a spell with a snap of his fingers; the cake starts to float up and moves towards the guests. Harry tries to catch the cake before it falls but instead ends up getting incriminated for the incident as the desert falls right as his hands get around it.
Unsparingly, Vernon does not take the debacle well and places additional bars around Harry’s room. Forget going to Hogwarts. Harry is no longer even allowed outside and is kept prisoner in the Dursley household; his room is little more than a jail-cell.
Ron (Rupert Grint) comes to break Harry out of his prison-styled room. Vernon (Richard Griffiths) grabs Harry’s leg. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) is amazed at Ron’s (Rupert Grint) magical house. Harry is transported from an anti-magic prison at the Dursley’s to a magical wonderland at the Weasley’s; talk about a stark contrast.
Thankfully, Ron and his brothers make their appearance to break Harry out in their flying car. They latch the bars onto the enchanted vehicle and rip them off. The disturbance wakes the Dursleys who burst in and try and stop Harry; Vernon grabs his nephew’s legs as the latter gets into the car, but he’s unable to maintain his grasp and falls onto some shrubbery as the car flies away. Harry and company make way to the Weasley household where the former is completely entranced by the difference between Wizard and non-Wizard life. Pots and pans clean themselves while needles knit clothes without any help. It’s a house of utter magic. Finally, Harry feels at home.
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) uses Floo Powder. Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) is saved from Knockturn Alley by Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane). Hermione (Emma Watson) fixes Harry’s (Daniel Radcliffe) glasses. Lockhart (Kenneth Branagh) uses Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) for a photo opportunity. Harry’s journey to Diagon Alley is filled with mishap. He ends up in the dark underbelly of the wizarding market and is almost taken advantage of until he’s saved by Hagrid. But he’s still not safe in Diagon Alley where he’s treated as a photo opportunity waiting to be exploited.
He gets acquainted with the rest of the Weasley’s and sets out to Diagon Alley with the group. However, as a wizarding family, the Weasley’s travel to the location not by normal means of transport but by Floo Powder, a substance which when used in a fireplace can transport a user to a fireplace at a named location. Ron demonstrates the method of transportation before Harry is told to have a go at it. But a mispronunciation on Harry’s part has him landing in a different location, Knockturn Alley, an environment which exudes a dark malevolence in contrast to Diagon Alley’s warmth. As Harry is accosted by dodgy folks looking to take advantage of a young, lost wizard, Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) shows up and helps him out.
Harry is led to Diagon Alley where he meets Hermione. Just like she did in The Sorcerer’s Stone, Hermione casts a spell to fix Harry’s glasses before taking him to the bookstore where the Weasley’s wait. However, Harry’s fame has only grown since his first foray into the wizarding world and he’s recognized by Gilderoy Lockhart (Kenneth Branagh), an up-and-coming author, who capitalizes on the opportunity to do a photo-op with the young wizard. Suddenly, Harry is rushed forward and forced to become part of a publicity stunt he wants no part in.
Lucius (Jason Isaacs) confronts Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), Ron (Rupert Grint), and Hermione (Emma Watson) as they leave the store. Lucius (Jason Isaacs) leans into Harry’s (Daniel Radcliffe) face and peeks at the latter’s scar. Lucius’s confrontation with Harry clues us in that dark forces are very much entwined with Harry’s fate.
As Harry tries to exit the store, he’s accosted by Draco (Tom Felton) and Draco’s father, Lucius (Jason Isaacs), who both notice him due to the unwanted attention from earlier. Once again, Harry is rendered an object of interest as the elder Malfoy exhibits a great curiosity in Harry given the latter’s role in exterminating the Dark Lord; Lucius lurches forward and examines Harry’s scar – the proof of the aforementioned exchange. The camera tilts as Lucius leans inward; the fascination with the mark of darkness is a sign of dark things to come. The confrontation dissipates and the parties make their respective ways.
Unfortunately, Harry’s trials and tribulations are only starting, and he finds himself caught in a web of deceit and mystery from the moment he makes his way back to school. As history starts to repeat at Hogwarts, Harry finds himself tasked with not only getting to the bottom of the school’s past but his own as well, all while dealing with a maze of ever-shifting allegiances that will have him questioning who’s really friend or foe. Just from it’s opening, it’s clear that this second installment in the Harry Potter franchise is darker, richer, and more thoroughly consistent than what came before.
In many ways the start of the film mirrors the way The Sorcerer’s Stone picks up. In both films, Harry is locked away by the Dursleys, he’s saved by a magical ally from his past, he’s taken to Diagon Alley where his past is commented on, and he even gets his glasses fixed by Hermione. But far from being emulation, The Chamber of Secrets embellishes each of these moments with a connective tissue that enriches the piece as a whole; the mystery driving the story rarely takes a backseat which gives the narrative a cohesive feeling. This is why the film can adopt the same slice-of-life approach as its predecessor, chronicling different sections of Harry and his peers’ lives over the school-year, without feeling as disjointed. The threads behind the mystery are set up from the very start of the story, so there’s a throughline to hang onto even when the pace it feels like its lagging.
Fluffy looms over Ron (Rupert Grind), Hermione (Emma Watson), and Harry (Daniel Radcliffe).Draco (Tom Felton) gets bit by a Mandrake. The image of Fluffy from the first movie and the image of the Mandrake from the second illustrate just how much better the use of CGI has gotten. There’s a better sense of incorporation present that lets the real world and practical/digital effects interact in a more tangible, genuine fashion.
Director Chris Columbus also improves upon the overall look of Hogwarts with much improved CGI that makes the magical encounters feel far more authentic. If Dobby wasn’t enough proof, there are multiple CGI creatures that interact with the cast in believable fashion. This impact can be felt most prominently in the third act when all the different elements come together in thunderous fashion.
This is exactly what a sequel should do: build upon what came before without undermining it. If The Sorcerer’s Stone established that a world of magic could exist hidden under the world we know, then The Chamber of Secrets explores just what such a division would engender. If the Dursley’s are Muggles [1] The in-universe term for non-magic persons. who abhor wizards, then their magical opposites must also exist: wizards who detest Muggles. With parties on both sides aware of the other, the mechanisms governing the worlds, both in relation to one another and internally within themselves, are intricate, and Harry is just starting to scrape the surface of what lies beneath.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets expands on the magical world of Harry Potter in great fashion, delving into the backgrounds and darker underpinnings of Hogwarts as an institution. Director Chris Columbus improves on the original film’s formula with a tighter ,darker script and much better CGI/practical effect incorporation. It’s a more engrossing journey from start to finish.
Rating
8.6/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2 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 35 minutes of the film as opposed to the site’s usual benchmark of 10-20 minutes. The same effort towards sustaining the intrigue and momentum of the film, especially in its second and third acts, is maintained in this review, and all plot details revealed are just meant to be a springboard to discuss the scope of the work in better detail. Nothing discussed should undermine the “best” portions of the film or the many mysteries that keep the story engaging.
Captain America’s shield lay submerged in ice.
Norway 1942 location card.
Hydra’s symbol features prominently on Schmidt’s vehicle.
Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) makes his dramatic appearance.
The opening goes from U.S.A designed shield to a ominous sign of a skull with tentacles protruding out – dueling symbols. The stage is set for the roles the protagonist and antagonist will take up in relation to one another.
A crew comes upon a wreckage in the Arctic. They go to excavate the remains and discover an shield with a red, white, blue star color pattern encased in ice. The camera pushes in on the shield as a member of the crew calls for assistance; the discovery is one that has been a long time in the making. What is the story behind this American symbol?
Suddenly, we cut back to the past – Norway, 1942. An elderly man guarding a temple of sorts is accosted by Hydra, an off-shoot branch of the Third Reich. The symbol of the organization, a skull with tentacles reaching out, becomes the focal point of the camera as a car adorned with it comes into view – a counterpoint to the shield from earlier. The leader of Hydra, Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving), makes his way from the car in ostentatious fashion and interrogates the elderly man on where the hidden object is. The man refuses to give in but Schmidt is able to surmise the location of the object, the Tesseract, one of Odin’s very own treasures.
Steve (Chris Evans) tries and fails to get drafted.
Steve (Chris Evans) calls out a member of the audience for disrespecting the troops during a pre-film tribute to the troops.
Steve (Chris Evans) picks up a garbage can as a shield to protect himself from the heckler.
A believer in justice through and through, Steve is unable to tolerate any slander towards those fighting the good fight. The markings of Captain America can be seen here from the attitude to the use of shield in combat.
The story cuts from Norway to the United States of America. A scrawny but determined young man attempts enlist for the efforts in the war. However, his medical history is fraught with complications, so he’s rejected from the war. But Steve’s patriotism knows no bounds; while watching a movie with a lengthy emphatic war-time advert preceding the picture proper, he finds himself in a battle with a heckler who loudly protests the length of the tribute. As the two deck it out outside the theatre, Steve picks up a garbage can lid and holds it up like a shield – a connection to the discovery at the story’s start.
While Steve finds himself unable to win the battle, his friend Bucky (Sebastian Stan) shows up to save the day. The two depart and talk about Steve’s ongoing efforts to enlist; he’s falsified his papers multiple times to try and get a different assessment but has failed repeatedly. Bucky tells Steve that the latter would be better off not enlisting, but the young patriot responds that his effort should match that of his countrymen. Unbeknownst to the duo, Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci), a German scientist working for the United States, hears the exchange and becomes interested in the lengths Steve will go through to help the war efforts.
Consequently, Erskine intervenes during Steve next enlistment attempt. He questions the aspiring soldier to be and concludes that Steve’s character might be the true difference maker in the battles to come. Finally, Steve is allowed to join in the war effort.
Unfortunately, his willpower doesn’t translate to physical might. He finds himself struggling with the regimen required of him but persists in spite of being ostracized by his peers. However, what he lacks in physique he more than makes up for in mental aptitude. His drill leader challenges the squadron of trainees to retrieve a flag from a pole; apparently, no one has ever been able to take it down. The group attempts to get the flag, jumping at the flagpole in indiscriminate fashion, but none of them are able to get it down. But Steve chooses to tackle the problem from a different vantage point; he takes out the screws holding the pole up and picks the flag up off the floor.
Like Erskine said, Steve’s perspective is what can shift the tides of war. Even Steve’s biggest detractors are humbled by the trainee’s charisma and unyielding moral compass. Erskine reveals to Steve that the latter has been chosen for a “Super Soldier” program initiative based on a earlier initiative that Erskine was forced to implemented on Johann Schmidt back in Germany, the same Schmidt who stole the Tesseract earlier. It turns out that Schmidt is obsessed with the ideas of Gods and treats mythology with the same reverence as history itself. He wholeheartedly believes in the idea that one can transcend and become greater than humanity; if Gods can walk the Earth and leave their artifacts then remaining locked by humanity is a sign of weakness. After his procedure, his beliefs and fervor towards achieving them only increased; the super-soldier serum amplifies whatever the underlying person’s attributes are.
While Erskine is gambling on an similarly amplified Steve on being able to deal the death blow, Schmidt hopes that the Tesseract and the weapons that it can power will be enough to take over the world. The procedure is a success and Steve transforms from a scrawny weakling to a muscular and imposing warrior capable of Thus, the stage is set for the battle between the two forces, one oriented towards protecting the peace and maintaining justice and the other oriented towards achieving dominance at all costs.
Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) is obsessed with mythological/religious iconography.
Captain America is made into a comic book character that’s beloved.
Schmidt is obsessed with myths and the images that suggest something beyond humanity while Captain America is rendered as icon in the form of comic book character, a modern kind of mythmaking. One man seeks to become a myth, the other tries to live up to one.
At its heart, Captain America: The First Avenger is a story about creating legacies, making a message out of oneself. Once transformed into the eponymous Captain America, Steve is forced to reckon not only with his newfound powers but the responsibility that such powers engender for him. Schmidt uses his power and influence to shoot him and his organization into the realm of mythos. Director Joe Johnston reinforces not only the intensity of Schmidt’s beliefs via stylized montage bits but also frames the character in ostentatious and showy manners, a manner fitting of a man trying to make himself into legend.
Captain America is used in a similar fashion initially and is forced to play the role of national galvanizer. His appearance becomes more about maintaining an image than anything else. If Schmidt is obsessed with religious and spiritual iconography because he believes that such works are proof of a world beyond, then Captain America’s immortalization as a cultural icon is proof that greatness is something that anyone can aspire to and achieve; being made an icon through the comic book depictions is analogous to a mythmaking of old that Schmidt is obsessed with emulating. In this sense, the primary battle between the two super-soldiers is about how legends are made.
By constantly referencing the two men along with their respective symbols, Steve with the shield and Schmidt with the Hydra icon, Johnston is able to reinforce the explicit nature of what the two men are fighting for. A shield is a tool for defense, protection, safeguarding. It’s fitting that a hero not bent on killing but on justice chooses to use such an instrument as his tool of choice and is associated with the same. Meanwhile the image of a skull with tentacles demonstrates Schmidt’s obsession with expanding his deadly influence, eliminating anything that doesn’t fit in with his vision; it’s a symbol of bloodshed and oppression.
Captain America’s shield lay submerged in ice.
Steve (Chris Evans) holds up a garbage can as a shield.
Hydra’s symbol.
Sequencing the symbols better would have given the narrative a stronger and more emphatic drive behind it. The bifurcated approach of the movie makes Steve’s story inextricably tied with that of Schmidt and Hydra when those parties should just be backdrops to contrast against. If the film went from the discovery of the shield to Steve’s connection with a shield, the film would have a stronger foundation by which to chronicle Steve’s journey. Tying the importance of the shield’s discovery to Steve’s journey would help highlight just how meaningful his impact has been. Cutting to the symbol of Hydra after establishing the importance of the shield and its values would then give a greater importance to the battle to come.
Alas, the film doesn’t utilize its strong groundwork as effectively as it should, choosing to settle instead of using its requisite elements to generate something greater than the sum of its parts. This issue is apparent from the very start. Once the camera pushes in on the encased shield, the film should have cut to an image of Steve with a shield, positing a relationship between the hero to be and the icon that represents him and his ideologies. For example, the film could have cut to Steve being beaten in the alley [1] Obviously, this assumes other minute plot changes and showed us his assent from the very start; given the importance vested in the shield, this direct connection would have made it clear that the movie is Captain America’s. The choice to instead cut to Schmidt and the symbol of Hydra suggests that this is both of their tales and both symbols are intertwined, which though true to an extent, makes the choice to open the movie on the discovery of the shield feel like a wasted storytelling opportunity.
The effects of this can be felt in the rhythm of the film. While the majority of the run-time goes to developing Captain America, very little goes to developing Schmidt. He gets the necessary backstory and the film cuts him doing “nefarious” things as a way to hammer in how “evil” he is in comparison to Captain America but therein lies the problem. His story is boring and interjecting it so often in the tale of Captain America’s assent only stifles the pacing of a tale that’s actually worth getting invested in; not bifurcating the opening would have made the impact and subsequent battle between the symbols and the men who represent them all the more impactful.
With all that being said, especially for an early entrant in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, The First Avenger does a more than adequate job juggling its elements around in satisfying enough fashion. When the story focuses on Steve, which it does for the most part, its engaging and should satisfy those looking for a lighter superhero outing.
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TLDR
Captain America: The First Avenger‘s tale of a weakling turned superhero should satisfy any viewer looking for an engaging, albeit predictable adventure that examines what it takes to become an true icon. Not all the moving parts synch up when they need to, but the story’s strong foundation lets it weather rougher patches and stay engaging from start to finish.
Rating
8.0/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
A man, Stan, drags a body into a decrepit, disheveled looking house. He places the body into a small hole in the ground and sets the house to flames. Who is being burned and why are they being disposed of in this fashion? These are the questions the narrative circles around; as Stan makes decisions, the film cuts to the scene of the fire, highlighting how his choices shape his relationship to the aspects of his past that he wishes to burn and move past.
With only a suitcase, a watch, and a few knick-knacks, Stan makes his way away from the burning household towards a bus. He gets on board and passes out. Suddenly, he’s woken at the last stop, a carnival, and makes his way out. It becomes clear that outside of getting away from his past, Stan has no clear goals; he’s merely a wanderer trying to make the best of his situation.
Though he comes in to the location by random, it’s clear that Stan is more than competent at making do with his situation. He travels through the carnival and comes upon a “geek” show. The carnival’s owner, Clem (Willem DaFoe), exclaims that even though “geek” in question is so feral he’s still been classified as a man. But still, he insists on posing the question: “Is he man, or beast?”
The crowd becomes fully enthralled by the tagline and buys into the show, forking over change to partake in the festivities. A malnourished and broken-in man (Paul Anderson) crawls out of a damp, grimy enclosing and approaches a chicken which has just been placed in the enclosure. The audience watches with baited breath, but Stan seems more disturbed by the ordeal than anything else. When the “geek” bites down on the chicken’s neck and severs its head, Stan turns while the crowd cheers and jeers at the ordeal.
He leaves the area and is approached by members of the carnival looking for physical labor. Without saying a word, Stan agrees to their proposition and quickly begins to work. He gets acquainted with Clem (Willem DaFoe) and agrees to take on additional work for food and pay; all his negotiations are carried out without an utterance on his part, only gestures. He’s more than content to nod along and play his part, whatever it may be.
It’s only when Clem sends him to capture the carnival’s “geek” after the latter escapes his cage that Stan finds a reason to open his mouth. Upon finding the “geek”, Stan attempts to bargain with the escapee. Stan promises not to inform Clem of his location and instead questions the “geek” on the nature of their predicament; how did this fellow end up desperate enough to eat live chickens for an audience?
But instead of an answer, Stan gets a blow to the head from a rock the “geek” throws. Words can do nothing here and Stan resorts to physical action, proceeding to beat to beat the “geek” into submission. Clem manages to find the duo and stops Stan from killing the performer before then offering him a permanent position with the carnival. Sensing Stan’s mysterious past, Clem suggests that the environment is perfect for the wanderer because no one working at the locale would pry into his past; maybe the “geek” responded in such fashion because he, like Stan, wants to keep his past a mystery.
Regardless, like the “geek”, Stan agrees to work for Clem at the carnival and eagerly embraces the change of scenery. He goes from saying nothing to becoming very talkative. He’s a people pleaser and seems to know exactly what to say to people around him. He’s approached by Zeena (Toni Colette), a carny with a clairvoyant performance who takes a liking to him quickly.
Zeena’s husband, Pete (David Strathairn) is a mentalist and an alcoholic who acts as a surrogate father to Stan. He quickly takes the young man under his wing and teaches him cold reading techniques capable of fooling even the best. With the techniques in hand, Stan blossoms, captivating any soul willing to listen to his words. He goes from a silent wanderer to a charismatic charlatan capable of conning anyone who comes his way, saying exactly what he thinks people want to hear. With the world seemingly at his beck and call, Stan proceeds out from the carnival and into the world determined to to use his skillsets to get everything he wants. But as his marks get more dangerous, Stan is forced to confront the depths of his deepest desires.
The film’s focus on how his desire unfurls is motivated by psychoanalysis – references are made directly in the text. In particular, Stan finds that his journey intersects with three women, Zeena being one of them, all of whom act as both a surrogate partner and mother to him. The Oedipal nature of the relation is intentional and informs the way the film operates. As Stan makes critical decisions in relation to these women, his final trajectory becomes apparent. The weight of every choice he makes reverberates and can be measured as the film cuts to flames as a visual refrain, a visual-call back to his original act of immolation showcasing just how far or close he is to the past he’s trying to escape.
His psychic journey is manifested in the production design. Director Guillermo del Toro does great work to ensure that Stan’s psychic encounters and battles take place in backdrops which reinforce the the shifting tides of power between parties. del Toro uses the noir stylings of the genre and narrative to accentuate the sets, leaning into the use shadows, smoke, and slanted angles to emphasize the nightmarish alleys that Stan finds himself traversing. The rooms and locales that people own are part and parcel of each characters’ identity, so as Stan engages in his mental excursions with persons, the nature of what the characters are after and why they’re after can be felt in even the subtle ways the camera moves.
The narrative, based on William Lindsay Gresham’s 1946 novel, is clock full of detail, providing ample narrative strings for the viewer to parse and put together against these larger visual flourishes. Every thread in play is set-up for a particular reason, and del Toro knows just how to litter the call-backs and references to generate a feeling of catharsis. No beat overstays its welcome and by the time the film’s ending comes into view, any viewer who’s become entranced will already know what is going to unfold and why its going to play out as it does because the way the film’s threads congeal is sublime.
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TLDR
Nightmare Alley’s meticulous machinations makes it a wonder to marvel at; each story and character beat has a purpose and watching the threads come together in explosive fashion makes the slow-burn journey all the more satisfying.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Keanu Reeves as Thomas Anderson / Neo Carrie-Anne Moss as Tiffany / Trinity Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Morpheus Jessica Henwick as Bugs Jonathan Groff as Smith
NOTE: There are light spoilers regarding the first act of the film. These spoilers are present in the second wave of trailers for the film, but if you are someone who’s trying to avoid any of the story’s twists, come back to this review after you’ve seen the movie.
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The screen is filled with sprawling green code. This is a set-up we’re familiar with. There’s few things that are synonymous with the franchise as the code which makes up the virtual worlds denizens inhabit. Bugs (Jessica Henwick) comments that the code segment she’s looking at is a modal, a sandbox environment where explicit code changes can be tested without compromising the main system, which is self-repeating – an anomaly in the system. She talks to her partner, Sequoia (Toby Onwumere) about the secrets the code could hide before jumping into the sequence of bits.
She appears in the background of a scene and suddenly it becomes clear; we’re back in The Matrix. More precisely, we’re watching the start of the first film where Trinity (Carrie-Ann Moss) finds herself accosted by police officers during her investigation into Neo’s location. Bugs watches the scene from the background; it’s obvious that this moment is one she knows about as she comments that Trinity is about to kick ass. However, the scene does not play out as Bugs or ourselves predicts.
Instead of seeing our Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) enter in like expected, we are introduced to his double of sorts, a new Agent (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), who sets the events in disarray. The script goes off the rails. Trinity gets chased down by the agents and Bugs is pulled into the simulation. Now the other players are aware of her, so she’s forced to switch from passive observer to active participant. She makes her escape from the agents and seemingly evades their tracks, making her way to what appears to be Thomas Anderson’s desk (Neo’s original name) where she runs into the new Agent.
Like Smith in the original film, this Agent exhibits a difference in perception, choosing to investigate the next location of his target instead of chasing aimlessly behind them. However, this Agent isn’t seeking to kill Bugs and instead begins a dialogue with her. They both confess that their perception of the world has been altered; they’ve both gone through experiences where the code of the world revealed itself to them, shattering their expectations of what is and is not real. They believe that these experiences are linked to Neo/Thomas, whose presence they can feel even if they can’t trace. Suddenly Bugs realizes that the Agent is none other than a representation of Morpheus, the man who first revealed the truth of “the Matrix” to Neo in the first film. But the duo is unable to figure out why Morpheus of all people has been coded as an agent in a never ending-loop chronicling Trinity’s discovery of Neo. Why indeed.
Their attempts to escape the modal fades into lines of code on another screen. This time the user can be seen and its none other Thomas Anderson, except this time he’s not the subject of the Matrix. He is its creator. The modal on his screen is revealed to be old code from his hit series of video games “The Matrix.” He’s the lead designer of the trilogy of games which depict the journeys of Neo, a renegade who fights machines and Agents in a computer-generated world. Instead of revealing the mysteries behind the code, this Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is responsible for the code itself.
The flip in perspective calls into question the entire nature of the franchise up to the moment. Are Bugs and Morpheus real or are they just scripts created by Thomas? Is the Matrix trilogy “real” or was it just a fabrication on the part of a coder who started to lose the ability to distinguish between his fictional world and the reality around him? The cracks between what is and is not happening and who is charge of who become blurred as Thomas goes through his work day. He’s haunted by visions – scenes ripped from the trilogy – but their presence isn’t comforting because their status as markers of truth is wholly based on context.
As Thomas learns from his therapist (Neil Patrick Harris), these visions could be an after-effect of delusional self-insertions. Artists often take from events, characters, and the like from their lives and use them as the basis for stories and ideas. The therapist argues that Thomas has done much the same with the Matrix videogames; unfortunately, because of his susceptibility to delusion, he’s reversed the inspiration process; instead of letting the game take cues from his life, his life is taking cues from the games. For example, the character Neo projects a hostility to Agent Smith. Because Thomas sees himself as Neo, a natural self-insert, he takes that hostility and applies it to the antagonistic force in his life, his boss Smith (Jonathan Groff). Unfortunately, these problems are only exacerbated when this same Smith reveals that the gaming company’s parent company, Warner Brothers, has demanded a sequel to the hit-trilogy; far from being free of the “Matrix’s” influence, Thomas finds himself in right back within its domains.
This is just the tip of the meta-rabbit hole that Resurrections offers to give any viewer willing to take its trip with an open mind. Far from being more of the same or a mere repetition, director Lana Wachowski’s return to the world of the “Matrix” is content with nothing less than pushing the boundaries on what the franchise is capable of. Franchise mainstays like the precisely choreographed gun-fu action set-pieces by Yuen Woo-ping or ever-present green tint in the lighting and production design are gone as this latest entry chooses to lean, more so than any of the previous entries, into its Alice in Wonderlandinfluences. Like Alice, Neo finds himself caught in a world that constantly pulls the rug out from under him and is desperate to find a jumping-off point that will allow him to determine who he is, to determine what his reality means, to figure out how deep the rabbit hole really goes.
The structure of the film exemplifies this energy as its first act starts as an analysis of the franchise itself from an external point of view. As Thomas develops the 4th sequel to his franchise, he’s forced into meetings with people who seek to breakdown what made the franchise popular. Is it the bullet time sequences, the themes of trans liberation, the mind melting storyline, or something else entirely that energizes and makes the Matrix tick as it does? These discussions aren’t meta for the sake of being meta; they’re meant to invite us into the conversation and get us to think about what the film entails.
There’s a comedic underbite in the meta-elements that makes us aware that the drive to capitalize on nostalgia is a method of placation, a form of hypnotism by which subjects are lulled into a state of complacency by being. It’s apparent that Lana is not interested in doing a rehash of the franchise’s greatest hits, so when the homages start to kick in, the immediate response is to question them. In this sense, Resurrections is the equivalent to being shown what seems to be a completed puzzle and a bag of puzzle pieces and being told to complete the full picture.
Given its set-up, it’s understandable why the film’s reception has been so polarizing. It’s not a sequel in a traditional sense and refuses to give the audience what they think they want. Like Thomas, many might themselves frustrated with Resurrections because they yearn for the comfort and stylings of what came before even as the film suggests that repetition of the same material ad infinitum only creates stagnation that resembles progress when its anything but. The traditional sequel would aim to be closer to Spider-Man: No Way Home, slyly putting call-backs to previous installments and using those moments to build up to a conducive story that serves as a continuation of what came before. Resurrections unapologetically rejects such an approach in favor of a leap of faith that upends everything that came before and puts it all back together in a way that allows us to re-imagine the franchise in wholly new ways.
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TLDR
In an entertainment climate filled with soft-reboots and rethreads of beloved story beats, its refreshing to see a sequel to such an enshrined franchise get so thoroughly broken down and reformulated in a film with as much passion and emotional heft. While The Matrix Resurrections might disappoint fans looking for a re-run of the franchise’s greatest hits like the crisp gun-fu action set-pieces, it should more than satisfy those who enjoy the philosophical possibilities inherent to the world.
Rating
9.4/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
The camera starts on street-level among scattered debris and slowly traverses the broken-in area, moving up towards the sky above. The sound of whistling can be heard as the camera continues to glide over a sea of rubble and torn-down buildings; a wrecking ball gets in position to knock another structure down, while the camera dips below it to reveal a manhole. The whistling is revealed to be coming from a young man who jumps up from the manhole; a sign of vitality among the disarray.
This young man quickly joins up with a group of all white men, all dressed in similar blue colors; these are the Jets. The group quickly breaks into synergistic song and dance, as their leader Riff (Mike Faist) leads them through the town; the camera feels like a member of the gang, pushing them forward in their choreographed tirade through the town, adding a kinetic surge to their movements. It becomes clear that the target of their march is none other than a painted flag of Puerto Rico – a symbol of national pride displayed in the Puerto Rican part of town.
Without missing a beat, the Jets quickly lay waste to the flag, smearing it with splotches of paint. But the Puerto Ricans refuse to take the vandalism lightly; a rival gang from their community, the Sharks, gives chase to the Jets as latter gang run off the premises. The groups converge and break into battle before the police arrive and break the brawl up. Even though both groups are at fault, the way the police interact with the parties involved makes it clear that their allegiances are racially charged; they’d rather arrest some Sharks. Neither side acquiesces to the request for information; it’s clear that both parties want to settle their grievances in a more intimate fashion than the law would allow. Lieutenant Schrank (Corey Stoll) admonishes both gangs for their paltry efforts at remaining relevant or trying to claim any turf given that their neighborhood both groups share is set to be demolished to make room for Lincoln Center, a place for the performing arts.
Unable to get a response, Schrank sends the Sharks off the premises. However, the leader of the Sharks, Bernardo (David Alvarez) doesn’t go quietly. He breaks out into a rendition of “La Borinqueña”, the Puerto Rican national anthem and the rest of the Sharks start to sing with him. Much to the chagrin of Schrank who constantly mentions the need for people to speak English, Bernardo and the Sharks refuse to give into linguistic domination and director Steven Spielberg matches their demand for equality by opting to not subtitle the lyrics. If the words of the English-speaking parties need no translation, then neither do the words of the Spanish-speaking parties.
With their brawl delayed, the gangs split ways from one another and vow to settle their dispute at another time. Riff mentions that the Jet’s former leader, Tony (Ansel Elgort), can serve as the group’s trump card. However, Tony, now fresh on parole for previously participating in a gang-related rumble gone wrong, is unwilling to go along with his former gang’s plans; he wants no part in Riff’s plans and makes as much clear to his best friend.
However, Tony’s involvement isn’t up to him – a lesson he finds out soon enough at the local dance that night. While the Sharks and Jets along with their respective partners engage in dancing qua battle, their choreography every much as energetic and exacting as an action set-piece, Tony locks eyes with María (Rachel Zegler), Bernardo’s younger sister, from across the room and it’s clear that a new love is blossoming. The love-struck couple makes their way to the back of the auditorium where the dance is taking place and take cover under some bleachers; their first dance takes place in the shadows away from the gaze of judgmental eyes. Alas, as the couple kiss they are discovered and María is taken away. A warning is issued to Tony; with the racial antagonism at a resounding high, no romance between the two sects can be allowed. The Romeo-and-Juliet inspired tale of star-crossed lovers is set in motion.
As someone unfamiliar with both the original stage musical and 1961 theatrical adaptation of West Side Story, I am unable to comment on the differences in Spielberg’s adaptation, but I can confidently say that this is an experience one can enjoy regardless of one’s level of familiarity. In fact, Spielberg’s decision to leave the Spanish sections of both the dialogue and songs untranslated adds to the sense of empathy the film is driving towards. Even if we can’t understand what’s being said between characters during a certain moment, we know the story trappings and can infer based on context clues not only the nature of what’s being said but also the emotions behind the same. It’s as if Spielberg is informing us that he knows that we know what’s going to happen, so as opposed to holding back any punches, he goes all out and embraces the inner workings of a musical to create an experience that fully entrances us in the magic of this world.
Never once does the film lag as the camera acts a constant participant to the dances the characters engage in – it’s an active member of the choreography and motivates how set-pieces unfold. The careful precision in getting the dancing right makes us aware of the slight space between fighting and dancing; both actions are physical, kinetic, and capable of creating new configurations upon interaction with other elements. The same hands that throw blows can also hold a partner. When the brutal fights happen, there’s a sense that it’s a dance gone wrong, or rather a dance that could have been; thus, the nature of the romantic musical serves as a powerful backdrop the racialized and institutional violence – a fantasy to aspire towards instead of a reality to fade into.
The minimal difference between these two modes of interaction is made explicit in the way the narrative cuts. Bloody bouts and horrific violence cuts to people joyously singing or acting in utter glee; life is precarious and it can teeter so rapidly in one direction vs another. What better way to demonstrate this than to show how violence and love can operate one after another in spite of the apparent discord; change and hope is always possible even if things look hopeless in the moment. In this effort, the actors, by and large, aid him as they seamlessly switch from cruel and brutal to vivacious, demonstrating the way temperament can radically shift. By infusing this contemptuous ebb-and-flow in every parcel of the film, Spielberg is able to present a vision on how the rhythm of life operates, transporting us to a wonderous world where wonders are possible even if they’re difficult to achieve.
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TLDR
West Side Story is a captivating tale that grabs you by the wrist on its journey through the ebbs and flows of human emotion. The story of star-crossed lovers hits the story beats you’d expect but does so in such gusto that you can’t help but be invested. Even when the story hits its bumps, the feeling it provides never lets up, captivating you till from start to finish. Talk about the transformative power of cinema.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Note: This review contains spoilers for: Spider-Man: Far From Home.
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
While the title credits start, Quentin Beck/Mysterio’s message from the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home begins to play. Spider-Man is framed as Beck’s murderer and the hero’s identity is revealed to be none other than Peter Parker (Tom Holland). This is where the credits stop and the film proper begins.
Peter takes MJ (Zendaya) on a journey through the city in an attempt to escape the citizens of New York who assail him as he web-slings around. Helicopters follow the couple, capturing footage which is broadcasted on news channels. He’s the new hot topic, and try as he may, he finds himself unable to lose the throng of people following him.
The effects of Beck’s message leave an lingering impact on Peter’s life. Far from just being the target of public scrutiny and distrust, Peter’s family and friends get similarly targeted – guilt by association. MJ and Ned (Jacob Batalon) suffer the biggest impact as colleges show no interest in accepting cohorts of Spider-Man, especially with public backlash against the hero at an all time-high.
Consequently, Peter goes to Dr.Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) in the hopes that a magical solution to his identity problem is possible. Strange mentions that a such a spell exists and can work, but while he casts it, Peter constantly interrupts and tries to carve out exceptions to it. His inability to make prudent decisions causes the spell to explode; far from containing the problem, Peter’s indecisiveness causes a ripple effect that spreads far wider than the duo could have ever imagined. Now the very threads of the universe threaten to unravel lest Peter figures out a way to resolve the effects of the botched spell, learning what it means to truly be “Spider-Man.”
If Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is a love letter to Spider-Man as a franchise then this third entry in the Marvel’s Spider-Man trilogy is a love letter to the Spider-Man cinematic legacy, touching on themes, motifs, and even characters that have come before the M.C.U(Marvel Cinematic Universe) came into play. In this sense, the film should please ardent fans of the cinematic web-slinging hero, as Tom Holland’s Peter Parker is finally pushed to the darker, more foreboding places that his forbearers were made to handle. Far from just casual references to the previous Spider-Man franchises, No Way Home relishes in the mythos established in the two former incarnations of Spider-Man world and finds a way to incorporate elements of both worlds seamlessly into the world and logic of the already established M.C.U.
Unfortunately, the strong reliance on elements from other films undermines the strength of No Way Home’s personal identity. Unlike Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, No Way Home uses homage as a way to drive the plot as opposed to using it to accentuate the decisions the plot ventures towards. As a result, those not familiar with or not as invested in the cinematic lore of Spider-Man will find many of the emotional moments lacking because the set-up for them happens in another film.
These issues bleed into the pacing and emotional structure of the narrative. On one hand, the film wants to be serious and morose, pushing Peter closer to adulthood by having him face serious, daunting challenges. On the other hand, the film wants to relish and celebrate its cinematic references. At times these threads support one another. At many other times they end up undermining one another; in particular, the comedic nature and timing of some of the references makes potential emotional gut-punches far less meaningful than they need to be. This is not to say the story is ineffective or unenjoyable. Peter’s journey is well-earned and his progression from start to finish is satisfying, especially in the context of the MCU’s Spider-Man trilogy. It’s just that the journey doesn’t feel like its greater than the sum of its parts.
This is probably the biggest issue with the film as a whole. While multiple scenes and moments are entertaining, there’s never an constant energy that sustains itself for more than a scene or two. This means that while the film never lags, it also never feels completely consistent within itself. There are moments of utter brilliance; Peter’s spider-sense starts to tingle and the sound fades out akin to a horror movie as he tries to determine what’s setting it off. It’s a fantastic use of sound that plays with audience expectations while adding to the story. However, there are also moments of straight-forward tedium, like the final battle which is chock-full of CGI, some great and some not-so-great, and decent, but not memorable action choreography.
The result is a film that should satisfy fans of the character and of the franchise, producing a greater sense of catharsis based on how much one is invested in the same. Those fans who have enjoyed previous incarnations of Spider-Man will absolutely enjoy the plethora of references and the way this incarnation of Spider-Man is made to tackle the same. However, those viewers that don’t enjoy the previous incarnations of the M.C.U Spider-Man films and don’t particularly care for the mythos of the character will find very little here to distinguish the film from others.
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TLDR
Spider-Man: No Way Home is a movie where your mileage will vary based on your investment in not only in the MCU’s incarnation of Spider-Man but also in the mythos of the Spider-Man cinematic franchises; the movie takes homage to the point of narrative and uses the trials and tribulations of what came before to push its incarnation of Spider-Man to becoming a more mature, adult hero. Because so much of the movie is contingent on the above, those who aren’t as invested in the same will find very little here to latch onto. However, fans of the above will find themselves in completely rapture at the levels of integrated fan-service on display.
Rating
8.1/10
Grade
B
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Kathryn Beaumont as Alice Sterling Holloway as Cheshire Cat Ed Wynn as Mad Hatter Jerry Colonna as March Hare Richard Haydn as Caterpillar Verna Felton as Queen of Hearts
Birds swim in the water and butterflies fly around. The camera pans through a field of flowers. The butterflies fly through the field towards Alice’s sister.Alice’s sister sits underneath a branch and lectures Alice from a book. The camera pans from a beautiful view of nature abound to Alice’s sister who disregards the same in favor of teaching Alice. However, Alice is more interested in the world around her. There’s a clear divide established between the mundane, adult world that seeks solace in structure and the wonderous, childish world that finds itself caught up in the world of sensations.
The camera pans through a wonderous environment filled with different types of wildlife; butterflies flutter in the sky while birds swim in the waters. But the camera settles on a young woman who could care less about the beauty of nature and is far more focused on educating her sister, Alice, who sits up above on a tree branch. Alice is fully caught up in her own designs and doesn’t pay attention to her sister’s lecture.
Alice’s sister calls Alice to attention. The latter sits on a tree branch and makes a crown of flowers. Alice gives the crown of flowers to her cat, Dinah. The crown of flowers drops from Dinah’s head……and falls onto Alice’s sister. While Alice’s sister lectures Alice, the latter crafts a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah. The crown falls off the cat’s head and falls onto Alice’s sisters head, cluing in the latter to Alice’s lack of attention.
Instead, she makes a crown of flowers for her cat, Dinah, and places it upon Dinah’s head, crowning the pet as royalty of sorts. Dinah shakes the crown off and it lands on Alice’s sister’s head. Alice’s sister looks up and chastises Alice for not paying attention. Alice claims that the lessons are boring and would better suit her temperament if pictures accompanied the words. Her sister responds that there are a host of books without pictures in this world which sets Alice off into another tangent.
If this world contains such boring books, Alice surmises that her world, a world of wonder, would contain no such thing; only pictures would be allowed in books. Her sister calls the idea nonsensical, but far from being deterred by it, Alice seizes on the description and wholeheartedly embraces the moniker: “nonsense”. If the world of sense is so boring, then a world of nonsense has to be better.
Alice tells Dinah about a world of nonsense. Dinah initially nods along. But eventually Dinah gets confused by Alice’s description of a nonsensical world. Meanwhile, Alice is utterly caught up in her description of the nonsensical world. Alice raves about her nonsensical world while Dinah responds to the descriptions in understandable confusion. Alice’s break with the rules of reality is demonstrated as the 180 rule is broken. She goes from facing left to facing right- a change has happened.
Enamored by the idea, Alice starts to describe to Dinah the way such a nonsense world would operate. Things would be what they are not and what they are not they would be. Alice says as much in a matter-of-fact manner, but if Dinah’s reaction is an indication, nothing she says coheres. Regardless, Alice fully commits to her worldview – a shift which is signified by the film’s breaking of the 180-degree rule as her orientation flips from facing left to facing right; she’s “entered” a new world.
Alice jumps off the tree branch. Alice curtsies to Dinah in order to teach the latter proper practice. Alice and Dinah go and stroll through the field of flowers while the former sings. Alice and Dinah make their way to a brook. The brook reflects Alice and Dinah. Alice creates ripples in the reflection on the surface of the water. The ripple discombobulates the colors of Alice and Dinah, merging them. The colors swirl and come out in new form, this time as a White Rabbit jogging along. This shift ripples outward. As Alice jumps off the other side of the tree, her sister can no longer be found. It’s clear we’re in a new world. Alice sings about the wonders of her dream world, calling out to the birds, flower, and brook
This change in environment is reflected as Alice jumps off the tree branch and her sister is now nowhere to be seen. Alice doesn’t notice this disappearance and instead breaks out in song describing all the different ways her wonderland would operate. Eventually the song ends and Dinah and Alice find themselves at the edge of the brook. Alice creates a ripple on the reflection of her and Dinah; the reflected colors of the duo break apart and come back together, this time in the form of a anthropomorphized White Rabbit who’s running along muttering about how he’s “late” to something.
Dinah and Alice give the White Rabbit chase. The White Rabbit runs without waiting. He can’t be late. Alice and Dinah crawl into the rabbit hole to follow the White Rabbit. Alice comments that the decision to enter the rabbit hole is unwise. Alice falls further into the hole. Alice waives goodbye to Dinah.
With her curiosity fully piqued, Alice gives chase to the White Rabbit, going so far as to venture down the same rabbit hole she sees him going down. While she crawls into the hole, she mentions to Dinah on how such a decision is unwise and foolish, but she refuses to heed her own advice and proceeds head on. Suddenly, the ground gives beneath her and she falls down into an abyss.
Alice is slightly illuminated by a lamp in the seemingly never-ending abyss. Alice floats down the abyss as lights constantly change colors around her. She notices herself in a mirror, upside-down. Alice thinks to herself she may be going to a place where people walk upside down. She sees the White Rabbit running from an upside-down perspective. But then Alice realizes it’s she who is upside down, and she gets back right-side up. Alice continues to give chase to the White Rabbit.
As Alice falls down the seemingly endless pit, she notices a lamp and turns it on. Suddenly, the lights start to strobe from red to blue to purple and so on. She continues to float down and notices an series of oddities including a mirror which reflects her upside-down. She questions whether or not she’s entering a part of the world where people walk upside down before then seeing the White Rabbit running upside down. However, Alice realizes that the Rabbit isn’t upside down; she is. She changes her perspective and continues to give chase to the Rabbit, desperate to figure out what he’s running late to.
Unbeknownst to Alice, the environment she’s running into is none other than a land consonant with her aforementioned nonsensical machinations; she’s heading straight into a world where everything and everyone is “mad” and any attempt at making sense is doomed to fail. Thus begins Alice in Wonderland, the whimsical adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s audacious and nonsensical Alice [1]Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass books. Though the film doesn’t explore its ideas with the same nuances of its source material, the story beats and ideas it does play around with provide a fertile ground for directors Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske, Wilfred Jackson to show their stuff in brilliant, surrealistic fashion.
The narrative is largely incoherent and functions more as journey through set-pieces than anything else. Alice enters a new location, encounters distinctive and personable denizens of Wonderland, engages with said inhabitants in their respective shenanigans, eats some food material which makes her larger or bigger, gets frustrated by said situation, and then leaves the location. Rinse and repeat.
While the overarching relationship between these situations and their respective characters is largely up to the viewer’s interpretation, the story does have a certain logic pervading through it: Alice begins to understand and respect the need for a rational syntax capable of organizing the world – a sense to wade through the nonsense. Her growth gives the narrative a feeling of momentum in spite of its haphazard jumping around allowing the the directors to focus on the random nature of the spectacle. There’s no need to explain why or how situations are happening so we’re allowed to experience the spectacle with a sense of youthful exuberance, becoming children in response to the wonders on display.
Characters transform. Environments open up into new ones. Denizens break into song/snippets, often times making direct references to the source material proper. There’s always something dynamic happening in the frame challenging your assumption on what could happen next.
Add in the iconic voice acting which makes each character leap off the screen and it becomes clear why Alice in Wonderland is so charming. It’s hard not to become mesmerized by the ever-evolving cascade of characters and situations. It may be nonsense, but that doesn’t make it any less moving.
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TLDR
Alice in Wonderland demonstrates the power of animation, presenting surreal sequences that demonstrate the creativity inherent to the medium. The nonsensical story, which moves from set-piece to set-piece, gives the directors’ multiple opportunities to just relish in sheer absurdity. There’s a sense of joy here that’s palpable, calling out to the whimsical child-like sense of wonder inside all of us.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2 for the for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
NOTE: This is a new release and the review is based off a theatre viewing. This means the review won’t feature common elements like visual analysis, extended theme analysis, or long-form discussions of the cinematic techniques being used. Once I am able to get a copy of the movie to watch, pause, analyze, and get stills from the review will be updated to match the current site’s standard.
As the title credits come in, we can hear a character asking questions. It’s revealed that this man, Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), is a radio host who’s interviewing children across the United States of America. He asks them about their lives, their perceptions about adults, and their visions of the future among other things.
However, in the midst of his work, he decides to call his sister, Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) , who he hasn’t spoken to in over a year since their mother’s passing. Instead of having the character’s mention the reason for their distance, director Mike Mills chooses to cut to the incident itself. We see Viv and Johnny dealing with their ailing mother, both of them obviously distraught, and the picture becomes more clear. Then we’re back to the conversation; a context has been given. Viv mentions that her husband, Paul (Scoot McNairy), has gone off and needs help. From the way she talks, it’s clear that something more is afoot; there’s an shared understanding between the siblings that issues are more serious than the conversation lets on. She explains that she has to leave town and “help” him.
Consequently, Johnny asks what she’s going to do with her nine-year-old son, Jesse (Woody Norman) , while she’s gone. Viv indicates she still has to figure out at plans at which point Johnny offers to help take care of Jesse until she has control of the situation. He comes down to Los Angeles and reunites with his family. While initially shy, Jesse warms up to his uncle and engages in playful conversation with Johnny and Viv during dinner. He mentions fungal tubes which help trees feed one another before then pretending to be an orphan in a ritualistic roleplay exercise with Viv to go to sleep.
It’s clear that he’s an eccentric kid and these patterns are only the tip of the iceberg, a fact that Johnny learns the next day when Viv leaves; Jesse starts the new-day by playing opera music loud enough to wake Johnny from his slumber, inaugurating the relationship between the semi-estranged uncle and nephew. Thus, the sad, and reticent Johnny is forced to dance to the beat of Jesse’s eccentric and kinetic approach to life while the latter joins the former in his interview campaign. Furthermore, far from just interviewing kids, now Johnny finds himself on the other side of the interview as his nephew probes and questions him in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two.
The interplay between the “professional” interviews by Johnny and the children he talks to and the “personal” interviews between Johnny and Jesse form the basis of the film as the narrative deftly interweaves between the relevant threads. In this sense, it can be said that the film is largely plotless. There’s no huge overarching goal for the character’s to move towards and the film never rushes to get to the next big set-piece. Instead, the film takes it time to develop the relationships between its characters in both a personal, intimate fashion and a larger generational, geographic fashion. By swapping between the larger interviews done by Johnny towards children to the smaller interviews done by Jesse towards Johnny, the film is able to find a universality in its particular story. These shifts also give the audience an opportunity to ruminate on what’s happening; as questions and answers stack up, avenues for deliberation open up as we take what’s being said to heart. We may not get answers but we’re constantly left thinking about the weight of what’s being discussed.
The decision to present the film in black-and-white, in addition to giving the film a classic, timeless feeling, gives Mill’s the opportunity to push the boundaries on how interconnected ideas, sensations, and places can be. The dark and grayscale background makes the white letters that grace the screen pop out and linger. These textual additions come in three forms: location titles, titles of works being read from, text conversations between Viv and Johnny.
Location titles are presented in the largest text and are even more important than they would otherwise because the film is attempting to show the diversity and uniqueness of every locale. Once in a location, the film cuts to multiple environmental shots involving both the cityscape and natural formations in between the respective interviews. We can feel the identity of each unique city which makes the content of what’s said in those cities more pertinent – diverse opinions take on their own texture but reinforce a universality inherent in thought as they echo one another in the most important ways.
Additionally, the titles of works pop up at least 3 times during the film as Johnny reads both fictional and non-fictional works out-loud. These works are presented in the second largest text size and take inform the viewer that a shift between media forms has happened. We’ve moved from the diegetic world of the film to a description of another work. In this sense, the boundaries between works and fiction and non-fiction become blurry, as the nature of the narrative seamlessly moves without us becoming immediately aware of the same. The choices of the works also gives Mills an opportunity to “cheat” in some thematic guidelines for the work, helping the viewer figure out manners by which to parse the film in more digestible manner. In particular, one work referenced talks about the nature of interviewing and how it gives a platform, a vantage point for subjects to express themselves. Dissemination of such thoughts gives them a chance to go in and affect the world.
Finally, the text conversations between Johnny and Viv pop up in the lower register of the frame in white letters. The use of texting against the black-and-white aesthetic introduces a kind of anachronism within the film’s texture – modern methods of communication taking place in an older time. Our conversations are just as timeless as those enshrined conversations in the past. These texts are presented in the smallest sized font.
Thus, a certain kind of textual taxonomy presents itself as a parallel to the story proper. Places serve as locales where works can arise from and give context to and works are nothing more than conversations between an audience and the work itself. But these works are no more transcendent than the conversations we have with one another – they’re just an extension. Like the fungal tubes Jesse mentions, every part of the film feeds into an other to make a cohesive whole that functions as a whole greater than the sum of its parts. In this way, Mills is able to transform the largely plotless, mumblecore-adjacent C’Mon C’Mon into a commentary and invitation to contemplate the ways in which we connect with one another.
That being said, none of the film would work if not for the free-flowing and polished work of the actors. While the adult actors deserve credit for the empathetic way they demonstrate their struggles and tribulations at both taking care of themselves and the young voices around them, the child actors deserve a hearty amount of praise for keeping up and playing off the adults so well. In particular, Woody Norman is able to keep up blow-for-blow with Joaquin Phoenix, making the emotional moments between their two characters heart-warming and poignant. The emotional current generated by the characters’ respective relations give the meandering plot a consistent thread to follow, giving the audience something to latch onto when the story feels like its going nowhere.
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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 .
