The Hobbit: The Desolation of J.R.R. Tolkien

At the beginning of the 21st century, Peter Jackson brought us what I consider to be one of the greatest trilogies of all time (along with all three Toy Storys and Woody Allen's New York trilogy): The Lord of the Rings.  Combining blockbuster action with emotional depth, the LoTR franchise captured the spirit of J.R.R. Tolkien's books as well as any.  The logical conclusion, then, would be to bring LoTR's shorter, gentler prequel The Hobbit to the screen.  Right?  Well, maybe not.  After being moderately pleased with last year's The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (mostly thanks to Martin Freeman and the always-reliable Andy Serkis), I was hopeful that The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug would make (much-needed) improvements.  I hoped wrong.

Before some of you write me off as nothing more than a book purist, let me straighten that out:  I am not someone who hates changes in film adaptions of books.  What I care about is that a movie stays true to the spirit of its source material.  And, with few exceptions, Desolation of Smaug strays far from the spirit of Tolkien's The Hobbit.

Let's start out with the elephant (err, elves) in the room.  I should preface this by stating that I don’t have a problem with Legolas’ (Orlando Bloom, Lord of the Rings) presence; as the prince of Mirkwood, chances are he was there when Thorin and co. got captured.  As for Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly, Lost), female elves exist, so yeah go ahead and make one a flesh-and-blood character.  What I did have a problem with is the way both Legolas and Tauriel were used in the film.  Legsy does nothing except shoot a bunch of orcs, deliver half-baked lines, and get star billing.  For her part, Tauriel serves as the compulsory Strong Female Character.  And then there’s the love triangle between the two elves and Kili (Aidan Turner, The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones) the dwarf.  Yes, it’s your typical contrived, unbelievable, soap opera-y trio of luv.  Furthermore, the film gives us absolutely no reason to think that Tauriel and Legolas even like one another, and no reason for Kili to like Tauriel except the fact that she’s hawt (are we NOT in the 21st century people?).  The worst part is that PJ devotes an abundance of screen time to such a paltry subplot.

Another major issue is Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman, Sherlock) — or the lack thereof.  As previously mentioned, Freeman’s Bilbo made An Unexpected Journey bearable.  After all, it’s through his eyes that we are meant to see the adventure (it’s called The HOBBIT for a reason).  However, in Desolation of Smaug, Jackson inexplicably places our hero in the background; rarely do we get to see scenes from his perspective (more on that later).  Instead, we are treated to scenes of orcs chasing the dwarves, orcs getting killed by Tauriolas, orcs receiving orders from the Necromancer (Benedict Cumberbatch, Sherlock), and orcs attacking the citizens of Laketown.  Because orcs are infinitely more intriguing than, you know actual storytelling.  When not focusing on the orcs, PJ spends most of Bilbo’s screen time depicting Thorin's (Richard Armitage, Robin Hood)  tormented-hero shtick and Gandalf’s (Ian McKellan, Lord of the Rings) vacation to visit the Necromancer’s casa.  All good and fine, but Bilbo’s journey is practically pushed to the side — nearly gone are his struggles of trying to fit in with the company and find his courage, and the important undertone of Thorin seeing Bilbo as expendable is mentioned, then swept aside.

Yet, the Twilight reenactment and AWOL leading man would be almost forgivable if not for Desolation of Smaug’s utter lack of uniqueness.  The Hobbit, in novel form, was written with a sense of wonder and whimsy, both of which are completely lost in translation.  Instead, Peter Jackson opts for more action, more orcs, more violence, turning DoS into little more than your typical action movie: Entertaining in the moment, but nothing to stick with you once you leave the cinema.  

Nevertheless, Desolation of Smaug is not without its silver linings.  Ironically, the two main ones come directly from the two eponymous characters: the Hobbit himself, and the dragon Smaug (Cumberbatch again).  As the titular hobbit, Martin Freeman once again shines.  Although he is given less to work with this time around, Freeman perfectly captures Bilbo’s spirit of adventure, curiosity, and ingenuity, as well as his eccentricity, lending energy to every scene in which he is allowed to shine.  And Smaug.  Oh, Smaug.  The golden-voiced Benny Cumberbatch was born to voice the conniving dragon, who is beautifully conceived in CGI rendering.  Cumberbatch makes more of an impression without ever appearing onscreen than Evangaline Lilly does in her bloated role.  The scene between Bilbo and Smaug is pure magic (perhaps partially due to the fact that Martin and Benny play Watson and Sherlock Holmes on the BBC’s Sherlock), and a hint of what The Hobbit films as a whole could have been, much like the riddles in the dark scene in An Unexpected Journey.  Others turn in worthy performances as well.  Ian McKellan is unsurprisingly exemplary as Gandalf, while Ken Stott brings a rare emotional angle as Balin (Thorin’s right-hand man).  As for the new characters, Luke Evans is a nice addition as the Bard, a widower who strives to protect Laketown.  And naturally, the technical details of DoS (special effects, cinematography, costumes, etc.) are all lushly spectacular.  It’s also worth mentioning that the barrel scene (my favorite in the book) is delightful and one of the few tableaus that successfully captures the spirit of the source material.

Those details ever-so-slightly redeem what is otherwise a generic blockbuster.  Even Howard Shore’s score is run-of-the-mill; the Lord of the Rings score was full of emotive, repeated motifs that inspired and depressed the audiences at once, whereas The Hobbit score is notable only when reusing LoTR patterns.  It’s indicative of the film as a whole.  But where Desolation of Smaug fails greatest is in losing LoTR’s emotional depth.  Lord of the Rings was action-packed and violent, for sure.  Yet the battles, the special effects, the costumes — they were always a means to an end, not an end in and of themselves.  Every time I watch any of the three films, they reach down to my core and speak straight to me on a personal level.  After finishing, I feel like I’ve learned something.   And sure, both An Unexpected Journey and Desolation of Smaug encourage things like heroism, fellowship, and good triumphing over evil.  But such values never scratch below the surface.  Martin Freeman tries, oh he tries; unfortunately, there’s barely anything for him to work with.

In the end, it’s not the changes to J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel that make Desolation of Smaug a disappointment, but rather the disregard for its spirit.   Not even gorgeous CGI, a marvelous hobbit, or the most attractive-sounding dragon in the history of ever can save this ship.  With a double amount of violence and extraneous characters and not even a fraction of the heart contained in The Hobbit book or The Lord of the Rings movies, this second installment is, sadly, a desolation. 

A Postscript:  In The Two Towers, Samwise Gamgee (Sean Astin) tells a downtrodden and despairing Frodo (Elijah Wood), “It’s like in the old stories … full of darkness and danger … folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t.  Because they were holding onto something … There’s some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

If Peter Jackson keeps that in mind for next summer’s There and Back Again, the conclusion to this trilogy could be satisfying.  Let us hope.

My Rating: 6.5/10

Frozen: The New Old Disney

I grew up on a strict diet of Disney movies.  Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Fox and the Hound — I loved them all.  Unfortunately, I grew up as the period known as the Disney Renaissance (which basically covers The Little Mermaid in 1989 - Tarzan in 1999) ended, and the Mouse House turned to lesser fare such as Home on the Range and Atlantis.  Pixar emerged as the leading animation studios, leaving this avid Disney fan with nothing more than old VHS tapes.  However, in 2007, Disney released Enchanted, a partially animated and partially live action film that functioned as both a parody of and love letter to Disney’s classic features.  It breathed new life to Walt’s brand, kicking off another Renaissance of sorts.  This Renaissance continued with Princess and the Frog (2009), Tangled (2010), Winnie the Pooh (2011), and Wreck-It-Ralph (2012) — all critically acclaimed and well-recieved by audiences.  Which brings us to Frozen, Disney’s latest foray into the fairytale canon.

Telling a (very loosely adapted) version of the Snow Queen, Frozen concerns Elsa (Idina Menzel, Elphaba in Broadway’s Wicked), a queen who was born with the power to turn everything she touches to ice.  When Elsa goes crazy and accidentally enslaves her (strangely Norwegian) country of Arendelle in eternal winter, her younger sister Anna (Kristen Bell, Veronica Mars) must join forces with mountain man Kristoff (Jonathan Groff, Melchior in Broadway's Spring Awakening) and friendly snowman Olaf (Josh Gad, original Elder Cunningham in Broadway’s The Book of Mormon) to stop the winter and teach Elsa to love.  Oh, and there’s a prince too (Santino Fontana, currently playing Prince Charming in Broadway’s Cinderella). 

By all accounts, the trailer was unremarkable, looking more along the lines of a crass, hyperactive outing produced by Dreamworks.  Having now seen Frozen, I can thankfully say that it is no way indicative of the film as a whole.  In fact, my first thought about Frozen when seeing it in cinemas, actually, was how DISNEY it was.  From a mystical opening number, to madcap adventures ending inevitably in love, to even a royal ball, all the elements are there.  As gentle as it is intense, as romantic as it is laugh-out-loud hilarious, Frozen is so stylistically classic that it somehow forgets to be snarky or ‘hip’.  

And then there’s the fact that it’s a musical — not just a movie with one or two songs, but a full-blown,  Broadway-style musical.  This is mainly due to two factors, the first being the songwriting duo of husband-wife team Robert and Kristin Anderson-Lopez (The Book of Mormon, Avenue Q, Winnie the Pooh).  Each of the songs serves to move the story along, with "Do You Want to Build a Snowman" (especially the last verse) and "The First Time in Forever" as the standouts.  However, it is "Let It Go", Elsa’s emotional declaration to hide her powers no longer, that reaches the ranks of "Part of Your World" and "Beauty and the Beast".  It will surely join those and other such numbers as one of Disney’s best.  Of course, without a talented cast, even the most well-written of musicals falls flat. (*coughcarrieunderwoodsoundofmusiccough*)  Luckily, Frozen does not disappoint.  Idina Menzel, Jonathan Groff, Josh Gad, and Santino Fontana all lend their theatrical vocals to grand performances.  Even Kristen Bell, the only singer in the film with limited vocal experience, delivers a Disney princess-perfect voice.

And yet, for all of the Disney-ness encompassed in Frozen, it transcends most of the Mouse’s fare (especially as of late) by actually breaking away from the Disney mold!

First of all, there are two (count ‘em) princesses (Well actually one is a queen.  You say tomato, I say tomahto) — both of them protagonists.  Frozen isn’t as much a story of romance (we’ll get to that later) as it is a story of true love between two sisters.  None of the lonely-princess-looking-for-a-prince shtick.  Rather, Elsa and Anna’s relationship is full of an emotional depth surprising for even Disney.  We feel Elsa’s pain of having to separate herself from her sister without telling her why, Anna’s sadness at being shut out from Elsa without reason, and finally their joint joy when both save Arendelle and are able to be sisters without reservation.  They’re characters that many girls (my younger sister and I included) can relate to.

The other way in which Frozen sets itself apart is its romance.  Yes, there is love at first sight between Anna and Hans (the aforementioned prince).  They dance, sing a song, and then get engaged.  Average Disney stuff, right?  Wrong.  Because Frozen actually MOCKS this tried-and-true mold used in every Disney movie in the history of ever.  A scene in which Kristoff questions Anna about details of Hans’ life and personality (which she has next to no answers about) pokes fun at the very subject.  Naturally, Kristoff falls in love with Anna — but only after getting to know her through multiple exploits and mandatory song-and-dance numbers.

Granted, Frozen is no perfect movie.  The score itself is fairly unremarkable (especially when compared to the likes of Hans Zimmer’s Lion King score).  Some jokes fall into the preteen boy urine-humor category. The eleventh-hour 'twist' isn't set up as well as it could have been.  And I would have liked to see more of Elsa’s story.  But these are all minor complaints for a movie that encapsulates the spirit of Disney while trying something new.

Indeed, Frozen, like most Disney films, is a love story.  But it’s a celebration of more than just romantic love; the love between Elsa and Anna takes center stage.  Furthermore, Kristoff and Anna’s love is well-founded.  And then there’s Olaf, who depicts the love of friendship.  He delivers one of the film’s best lines (“Some people are worth melting for”) and represents how Elsa’s powers can be used for good.  All three facets truly set Frozen apart.  Now, I doubt Disney will ever make an animated film as good as Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, or Aladdin (John Lasseter, you may take that as a challenge).  Frozen, however, comes pretty darn close.  It simultaneously embraces the best of Disney animation and defies the worst.  Time will tell if it becomes a classic, but this Disney-lover left the theatre with anything but a frozen heart.  The humor, music, and emotional depth form a beautiful portrait of relationships.  And that is something worth celebrating.

My Rating: 9/10

Silver Linings Playbook: The Anti-RomCom

Every once in a while, a film comes along that makes its audience think and turns the genre on its head.

Alas, that doesn't happen in the romantic comedy [hereby known as 'romcom'] department. After all, it's a paint by numbers formula, with little to no room for interpretation.  While it is, admittedly, a formula that has garnered millions at the box office and produced many a breakout star, it is also a formula that can feel predictable at best.  And Silver Linings Playbook, David O Russel's 2012 venture, would appear to fit that mold to a tee:  A down-on-his-luck guy, with the help of his friend's sister, tries to win back his ex-wife's love, inevitably falling for said sister.

But wait, the down-on-his-luck guy has been recently diagnosed as bipolar and just got out of a mental hospital. [that's not very romcommy.]

Oh, and his friend's sister is a depressed, borderline goth widow with mental issues of her own. [not your stereotypical rom-com heroine.]

I should also mention this guy's dad.  Aside from being OCD to the max, he got thrown out of Lincoln Financial Field for beating too many people up and now struggles with betting all his cash on Eagles games. [most rom-coms don't even feature the hero's parents.]

Let's also talk about the fact that Pat [Bradley Cooper] and Tiffany [Jennifer Lawrence] call the police on each other and only begin a friendship due to what they can get out of it. [did these people even read the romcom manual?]

Did I mention that it was nominated for 8 Oscars?

My Rating: 9/10.


The Good:  Though Silver Linings Playbook is truly a romcom at heart, several of its elements rise above genre cliches and take the movie to a deeper level of filmmaking.

1)  The All-Star Cast.  One of the most important elements to an enjoyable romcom is a talented cast who creates memorable characters, and SLP does anything but disappoint in this department.  In fact, it became the first film to garner Academy Award nominations in all four acting categories.  Top honors go to Jennifer Lawrence, who strays far from her arrow-wielding alter ego as Tiffany.  Lawrence's Tiffany deftly switches from a obsessive slut to a sensitive dancer with vulnerabilities, earning her the Oscar for Best Actress.  She's not the only star here, though.  Though Bradley Cooper ultimately lost to Daniel Day-Lewis' Abraham Lincoln, his portrayal of Pat is earnest and slightly off-kilter. In any other year, it would have been an Oscar-garnering performance [but really, how do you beat Abe Lincoln?].  Aside from the charming leads [who, by the way, have magical chemistry with each other], Robert Di Nero runs off with the movie as Pat Sr. Di Nero hasn't had a hit since Meet the Parents in 2000, and his depiction of the Eagles aficionado is neurotic and frequently hilarious.  Jackie Weaver [the fourth in the Oscar-nominated quartet] also offers a nuanced look at the stressed-out wife and mother who is left to deal with the Pats' messes.  Naturally, every romcom hero needs a crazy best friend, and Chris Tucker fits the bill perfectly as Pat's best friend, Danny, who seems to be constantly escaping from the mental facility.  Anupam Kher as Dr. Cliff Patel, John Ortiz as Tiffany's brother-in-law, Ronnie, and Shea Whigham as Pat's brother, Jake, round out a memorable supporting cast, and it was great fun to see Julia Stiles [10 Things I Hate About You] in a cameo appearance as Tiffany's sister.

2)  The Script.  Let's face it: everyone enjoys a good love story.  And Silver Linings Playbook is a textbook, boy-meets-girl romance.  Yet the script, adapted from a book of the same name, is written with such depth that the romance is really second-fiddle to the deeper theme of relationships.  We watch as Pat struggles to define his relationships with his parents, brother, best friend, therapist---and, of course, Tiffany.  Rather than descending into corny dialogue, this trope is handled with finesse, as David O. Russell's script gently shows the positive and negative aspects of living in community without ever coming across as preachy.

3)  The Comedy.  Silver Linings Playbook deals with heavy issues, and Russell does not shy away from the gravity of them.  Yet the more positive side of life [the silver lining, if you will] is also explored.  At the end of the day, all of us have felt like we're living in a sitcom, something showcased here.  The problems of Pat, Tiffany, and everyone else are never taken lightly, but they are also shown so absurdly that the viewer can't help but chuckle.  From Pat and Tiffany's awkward attempts at romance, to Pat Sr.'s obsessive game-day traditions, to Dolores' oblivious peacemaking, laughter is never far away.  Most delightful is the grand finale, in which all the storylines collide in a hilarious-yet-charming dance competition.  Also of note is the comedy NOT on display: SLP, while rated R for a good amount of language and some sexual dialogue, never stoops to nudity or scatological humor in order to garner laughs.  Instead, the hilarity comes from the character's personalities and situations they find themselves in, giving a classy air to the entire film.

The Bad:  I will admit, it was hard to find much to use in this section. In the end, I did think of two things, but neither takes away from the overall experience.

1)  The Profanity.  While nudity and gross-out humor are refreshingly absent, profanity is not.  I understand that people cuss in real life, and that's their deal.  But I have to wonder if so many f-words were necessary.

2)  The Stereotyping.  The one tired romcom cliche that Silver Linings Playbook falls into comes in the characterization of Anupam Kher as Cliff Patel, Pat's Indian therapist.  Patel comes off as a caricature of Indian stereotyping frequently seen in comedies, rather than the three-dimensional characters granted to the other actors.


The Message:  Silver Linings Playbook may be a comedy, but the merriment is not an end to itself; it is a means to an end--the end being the ultimate messages.  There are several, and each deserves its own subpoint.

1)  We all have something.  And by 'something', I mean that thing that makes us weird or quirky.  At first glance, it's bipolar Pat who is the weird one.  However, as the movie unfolds, we begin to realize that all the characters are dealing with something.  For Tiffany, it's her promiscuity following her husband's death.  For Pat Sr., it's his OCD and betting addiction.  For Danny, it's his mental issues.  For Dolores, it's her passive clueless-ness.  Even Tiffany's sister and her husband have marital issues.  It's a powerful picture that translates to the real world: not everyone has a diagnosed mental problem.  But underneath the shiny facade of Sunday football games and dance classes, everyone is hurting in some way, and everyone has 'something'.

2)  It's those somethings that make us who we are.  Tiffany mentions to Pat, "There's always going to be a part of me that's sloppy and dirty, but I like that. With all the other parts of myself."  Everyone has made mistakes or had a traumatic experience, and that's okay, because they become part of ourselves and part of our story.  Most importantly, those mistakes and tramuatic experiences can lead us to our destiny [or, as a Christian, God's call for my life].

3)  Life doesn't always work out perfectly.  Right after Pat is released from the mental institution, he begins reading Ernest Hemingway's work.  In the middle of the night, he storms into his parents' room, upset that Hemingway had no happy endings.  Pat's frustration with Hemingway's stories serves as a metaphor for the fact that expectations rarely ever mirror the ending; at the beginning of the film, we expect Pat to win Nikki back.  But he doesn't.  When, in a subplot, Tiffany and Pat enter a dance competition, the gods of romcoms dictate that they should win.  But they don't.  Pat Sr. should get over his obsession with the Eagles and find a loophole to be let back into the games.  But he doesn't.

4)  There's always a silver lining.  It's here that we discover the source of the movie's title.  No, nobody's perfect, and no, life doesn't work like we want it to, but, as Pat states, "everything happens for a reason".  No matter how horrible things are, there's something good in every scenario.  Indeed, just like clouds, life features silver linings.  Obviously, Pat and Tiffany are each other's silver lining.  Yet, the true silver lining in the movie is Pat's restored relationships--not just with Tiffany, but with Pat Sr., Dolores, his brother, Danny, and even Dr. Patel.  As for Tiffany, she also finds a makeshift family in these characters.  Danny is finally released from the mental institution and Pat Sr. even lets go of his OCD.  The allusion is clear: life rarely, if ever, works out like we expect it to, but disappointment leads to an end even greater than the one we expected.


The Bottom Line:  Every once in a while, a film comes along that makes its audience think and turns the genre on its head.

Silver Linings Playbook is that movie.  While presenting a classic romance, it also presents themes so deep and a quality so brilliant that, to quote Roger Ebert, "it could almost be a terrific old classic".  It may lack unpredictability, but that's no fault.  The ending is not the point; the journey to that ending is the point.

Is the film as amazing as the critics say?  Yes, without a shadow of a doubt.  IndieWire critic Eric praises Silver Linings Playbook adequately, exclaiming that  "both as solo screenwriter and director, Russell assembles a small, bubbly cast for an unexpectedly charming romcom that frequently dances — at one point, quite literally — between cynicism and bittersweetness with largely winning results."

Filled with spot-on acting, exuberant dance montages, and a kickin' soundtrack, Silver Linings Playbook is the feel-good film of 2012--maybe even of the next few years. See it with your significant other, your parents, your siblings and your best friends.  It is a celebration of the joys of relationships, the quirks we all possess, and the good in every situation.

I could sum things up with a witty and/or inspiring statement, but Pat accurately does so at the end of Silver Linings Playbook, so I'll let him close:

"The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That's guaranteed. I can't begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and everyone else. But guess what? Sunday's my favorite day again. I think of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy."

Much Ado About Nothing: The Best Party of the Summer

It's been suggested that there exist 3 ways to film a Shakespeare comedy:  Traditional-style [ala Hoffman's A Midsummer Night's Dream or Branagh's Much Ado About Nothing], teen-modern-update-style [ala She's the Man or 10 Things I Hate About You], or Romeo and Juliet-except-with-a-happy-ending-style [ala High School Musical or Grease].  Each, though formulaic, has led to its own brand of success.  So when it was announced that Joss Whedon, the patron saint of geekdom, would film Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, many were dubious.  After all, this was a guy whose talents lay in assembling superheroes and slaying vampires.  Things got even crazier when Whedon decided to film the entire thing over a weeklong break from filming The Avengers...in his house [to me, it sounded like a glorified home video project].  

But this modern adaptation of the original screwball comedy had one thing going for it: Whedon also decided to use Shakespeare's original script in its entirety.  It then turned out that Whedon's house was designed by his architect wife and was actually more like a mansion.  Add in Clark Gregg [aka Agent Phil Coulson] and a plethora of Buffy alumni, and things started looking up.  In fact, it was almost like a marriage of geekdom and Shakespeare. And so, while the White House was being attacked by humans and zombies alike at the multiplexes, we also got a Shakespeare adaptation worthy of the Bard himself.

The story is a familiar one:  While visiting the rich Leonato, Claudio falls in love with Leo's daughter, Hero.  After his best friend, Don Pedro, gets the two together, everyone turns their attentions to Hero's cousin Beatrice, who has sworn off love.  Their mission is to set her up with Claudio's companion, Benedick. The only problem is that both Bs hate each other.  Oh, and Don Pedro's brother, Don Jon, hates happiness and love and ergo tries to stop Claudio and Hero's wedding.

We all know how this is going to go.  But getting there sure is a blast.

My Rating: 8/10

The Good:  For a film about nothing, there's quite a bit to make much ado over here.  A few of the standouts:

1)  The Script.  You can credit this one to Shakespeare, who actually receives a credit as writer.  Many have commented on the timelessness of Will's plays, and his 16th-century script is every bit as hilarious set in modern-day America as it is in the Renaissance.  The wit is still fresh, and the situations are still relatable.  While the old-fashioned language takes a little getting used to, it ultimately flows with resonance.  Indeed, Will is possibly the best wordsmith of his time, using words with both cleverness and ingenuity, and it shines through here.

2)  The Direction.  Of course, even a movie with the best script ultimately fails without adept direction, and Joss Whedon rises to the challenge with more than competence.  Left with the task of bringing Shakespeare's hilarity to the big screen, Whedon adeptly balances the film between screwball comedy and sophisticated class.  Classic slapstick scenarios and well-placed physical comedic situations multiply the humor, while a jazz-filled score [did I mention that Whedon and his brother did the music themselves?] and luscious camera angles evoke the class.  To say nothing of his house--the vaulted ceilings and secret passages provide the perfect setting for people who have nothing better to do than gossip about each other's lives.  One scene in particular, in which the plotters attempt to convince Benedick and Beatrice separately of their love for one another, is Oscar-worthy in and of itself, using creativity and slapstick to convey one of Shakespeare's classic scenes.

3)  The Acting.  The final ingredient to Much Ado's success is its cast.  Although I was disappointed not to find Neil Patrick Harris among the Whedon Hall of Fame-ers present, practically everyone entertains.  First of all, there's Clark Gregg, and he's his typical awesome Coulson-y self as Leonato.  Fran Kranz and Jillian Morgese enchant as Claudio and Hero, the lovestruck couple at the center of the ado.  Sean Maher clearly has a blast as the scheming Don Jon.  Reed Diamond delights as Don Pedro.  Alexis Denisof will certainly steal some hearts as Benedick. Nathan Fillion absolutely steals the show late in the game as an officer called in to investigate Hero's "death" [just see it].  However, this is clearly Amy Acker's movie.  Her Beatrice is at once sympathetic and witty, casually spouting out Shakespearean verse as if it were everyday language.  Most importantly, the entire cast  blends seamlessly together, thrilling and ravishing the audience as they interact.


The Bad:  

1) Slowness.  As with many stage plays adapted for the screen, the action slows down in the middle, leaving audiences squirming and checking phones for a few minutes.  Luckily, it is just that--a few minutes.

2)  Conrade.  One of Whedon's updated moves was to change Don Jon's accomplice, Conrade, to a girl. Now, I have nothing against gender-bending, but Whedon uses the opportunity to add in absolutely unnecessary [though mercifully brief] sexual content in a couple scenes.  Moving on.

3)  The Language.  Not profanity; Shakespeare's original text.  Flowing and gorgeous though it is, it takes a few minutes to get used to.  If you truly want to enjoy the movie, my advice is to give up knowing exactly what the characters are saying.


The Message:  One thing to remember about the Bard is that his comedies rarely, if ever, feature messages of grandeur or touching moments.  However, Much Ado showcases a time when honor and virtue were held high, and the film clearly states that they are worth attaining and keeping.  The movie also features a positive attitude towards both marriage and fidelity, somewhat of a rarity with today's fare.  Finally, in satirizing gossip and its "scandalous" effects, Much Ado About Nothing gently teaches that it's always better to keep your thoughts and schemes to yourself.

The Bottom Line:  Much Ado About Nothing was my #1 "must-see" film of the summer, and it did not disappoint.  Rather, it is a film that entertains and enchants.  In fact, it's the most fun you'll have at the movies this summer.  The classiness and black-and-white give all the feel of the film noir genre, while Whedon's direction and the brilliant actors bring Shakespeare's classic to new levels of hilarity.  A few missteps cloud the proceedings, but never dampen the experience.  Indeed, Much Ado About Nothing plays out much like the cocktail party depicted near its opening: sophisticated, yet never taking itself too seriously.

And that is worth making some ado over.

Monsters University: How Pixar Got Its Groove Back

There was a time when Pixar could do no wrong.  After all, this was Pixar, the studio that made us cry over lost toys and robots in love.

And then came Cars 2.

While not exactly a flop, Cars 2 lacked the ingenuity and warmth seeping through nearly every other Pixar film to date.  Audiences then set their hopes on 2012's Brave, and while it was a step up, the Pixar touch was once again gone.

It was with caution, therefore, that I [along with Pixar aficionados across the country] decided to see Monsters University, the [seemingly] burgeoning studio's latest offering.  I had my doubts; this was a pre/sequel after all, and not one of the Toy Story name.

The result?  Read on.

My rating:  7.5/10

The Good:  Let me start off by saying that there are a lot of places in the movie where Pixar could have gone wrong.  For the most part, they don't.  A few of the major "right moves":

1)  The Visuals.  Good visuals in a Pixar film are almost a foregone conclusion, but MU's  are worth noting because of the sheer number of monsters at the titular university.  Animating that many individual scarers is daunting in and of itself; placing them each in frame after frame even more so.  Reviewer Jeffrey Overstreet even compares it to watching a live-action muppet movie.

2)  The Characters.  Monsters, Inc. made audiences fall in love with Mike and Sully.  Monsters University introduces us to the famous scarers before they were, um, scary.  In a Wicked-esque twist, it turns out that Mike and Sully were actually college roommates who hated each other.  Who knew, right?  The film casts Mike as the studious overachiever and Sully as the slacker jock, complete with a supporting cast of outcasts that the two must wield into a scare-worthy team.  Each character produces more than a few chuckles, although this is clearly Mike and Sully's show.  Also noteworthy is the introduction of Helen Mirren as MU's cold headmistress.

3)  College Life.  It's clear that the Pixar team wanted to make a 'college film', and they do so with hilarity.  Monsters University is original enough to be fresh, yet the filmmakers also lovingly spoof every college movie ever made [Animal House, anyone?].  From a fraternity initiation to the stealing of another school's mascot, the full spectrum of campus life is on display.  Of course, this is Pixar, and ergo there are a few twists on the cliche.  I won't mention these, but suffice to say they add humor while not taking away from the trope.

4)  The 11th Hour Twist.  I'll talk more about this in a few minutes, but this twist is what reminds us that this is Pixar, the studio that brought us cooking rats and flying houses.  It reminds us what Pixar can do when it puts its mind to something.  In fact, it reminds us why Pixar is still the best animation studio around.


The Bad:  Yes, this is Pixar, the studio that can make you cry with a 10-minute love montage.  It's also the studio that brought you Cars 2, and it's clear that the place hasn't quite wiped the dust off of its feet yet. As such, Monsters University falls victim to the predictability pervading most animated films of the day.  Furthermore, there are characters that serve as little more than backdrop and jokes that fall flat...

The Message:  ...but, after all, it is Pixar.  The movie "ends" exactly as you would expect it...only to provide a shocking twist.  In this twist, Pixar shares with audiences an important lesson:  everyone is a failure.  Everyone has messed up in one way or another.  It sounds trite until you realize that it's true.  It's not only a lesson that kids could stand to learn, but a stunning one that benefits older teenagers and adults as well.  Even better, it serves as an analogical apology of sorts from the Pixar team.  In this analogy, they are Sully, slacking off and working hard enough only to achieve a passing grade [high box-office].  "We failed", they're saying, "but we're going to do better".  At least it seems that way to me.

Also of note is Pixar's way of taking Hollywood's "you can be anything you want" notion and turning it on its head.  Yes, the film says, you can try your hand at anything, but at the end of the day, you'll be much happier doing the job you were meant to do.


The Bottom line:  After coming out of the cinema, I have bad news and good news about Monsters University.

The bad news?  It's no Toy Story 3.

The good news?  It's no Cars 2.

The better news?  It's a lot closer to Toy Story 3.

Will MU win any accolades?  Perhaps the Oscar, but it won't go down in history as Pixar's finest.  But that's not the point.  The goal of the movie is not to change lives, but rather to change directions---to a direction pointing backwards, in the way of Finding Nemo and Wall-E.  It's an enjoyable change, one that produces both laughter and contemplative moments.  As Matt Zoller Seitz [Roger Ebert's replacement] writes, there
are moments that are simply "vintage Pixar".  It brings back the warmth, creativity, and originality missing from the previous offerings, while laying by the roadside [most] bathroom humor and low-brow jokes.

In conclusion, I'd like to sum up Monsters University in three words while simultaneously issuing a warning to Dreamworks, et al:

Pixar is back.

A Postscript:  If you can, be sure to catch the short attached to MU:  The Blue Umbrella.  Though creepy at first, it tells with finesse the story of a blue umbrella and a red umbrella trying to find each other in New York City.  Reminiscent of last year's Paperman, The Blue Umbrella cleverly shows a love story without dialogue.  In fact, it had everyone in our theater "awwwwh"ing in delight by the end, further proof that Pixar still has its touch.

Blue Like Jazz: Christianity Without Religion

Disclaimer:  I am blessed to go to a biblically sound, Christ-centered church.  None of my remarks in this review are directed towards anyone there.

Here's the PR summary for Blue Like Jazz, outspoken Christian Steve Taylor's 2012 indie: "Don, a nineteen-year-old sophomore at a Texas junior college, tries to escape his Bible Belt upbringing for life in the Pacific Northwest at Reed, the most godless campus in America."

We all know what's going to happen next:  Our hero finds himself persecuted at said college and changes his beliefs in order to fit in.  However, after a personal tragedy, he attends youth group and decides to turn his life around.  We then watch a montage of the character volunteering at soup kitchens, inviting his heathen friends to church [all set to popular Christian music], bringing the youth group together, and basically being the nicest guy on the planet.  The film ends with the youth group [and a few of the now-redeemed heathens] celebrating their togetherness during a worship service.

Except that's not what happens.  

Or there's the other scenario:  The hero holds on to his Christian beliefs for a while...until he meets a free-spirited girl and fun-loving guy who show him the beauty of 'individuality'.  Throwing his beliefs to the wind, the character engages in every kind of hedonism possible, finding freedom without rules.  At the end, he apologizes to all of his newfound friends for being an intolerant Christian and they all go out for drinks.

Except that's not what happens either.

Except in a way, both happen.

Let me explain.

Blue Like Jazz is a little film that most people haven't heard of.  After reading a glowing review, I wondered why it wasn't better known.  So I did a little digging.  First of all, it's based on a book:  Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality.  And I got my answer.  The reason?  Well, with all the superheroes, presidents and singing beggars running around Hollywood as of late, it's fairly easy to fall under the radar.  I then turned to the Christian community.  Although it's admittedly crowded with football teams and crime-fighting dads, the problem isn't that Blue Like Jazz fell under the church's radar; the problem is that the film has been disowned by the Christian filmmaking community.  With some more digging, I found out that Sherwood Pictures [the company behind Facing the Giants, Fireproof, and Courageous] has actually forbidden anyone who worked on BLJ to work with them in the future!  

I had to find out what the fuss was all about.  And so I turned to Netflix, which just happened to have the movie in its 'new releases' section.

The hour and forty-five minutes following would impact me like no movie has done in a while.

My Rating:  8/10

The Good:  First of all, many of the things I liked are reasons why Blue Like Jazz has been excommunicated from the Christian filmmaking world.  Now that we've got that out of the way....

1)  Realism.  So often in Christian movies, when characters are exposed to "the world", the worst they experience is a recovering alcoholic or someone who cheats on tests.  But that's not how real life is, and that's certainly not how college is.  BLJ doesn't gloss over that.  Don, our hero, gets drunk.  He defaces public property.  He attends frat parties.  He cusses.  None of these are things I encourage by any measure.  But they're things that actually go on in the big bad world.  Don's experience shows us that everyone is susceptible to sin.  Furthermore, main characters include a homosexual and a guy who goes around campus dressed as the pope.  As much as the Church doesn't want to admit it, these people exist.  And not just as stereotypes.  They're just as broken and, ultimately, just as human as any of us.  At the end of the day, the movie presents an accurate portrayal of the struggles every human being experiences--and the church as well.  It deals with real issues, not ones sanitized for the sake of being family-friendly.

2)  Showing [not telling].  Also in Christian movies, characters learn most about Christian life by listening to sermons--sermons that we as viewers are also privy to.  And while I am certainly an advocate of churchgoing, church does not a good film make.  As Don explains near the beginning of the movie, "Life needs to be experienced".  And so he does: Don experiences every bit of life, from clichéd youth group lock-ins, to alcohol-filled parties, to a lighter, more redemptive church service.  The key, however, is not that Don experiences all these things; it's that we experience them right alongside him.  Don and his friends' search for meaning is not as much told through lines as it is shown through clever symbolism and actions.  And that makes for a beautiful film indeed.

3)  Satire.  Ever since the days of Socrates, satire has been one of the most effective storytelling tools.  Blue Like Jazz, whatever else it may be, is a satire--and an absurdly hilarious one at that.  At the beginning of the film, viewers are treated to a snippet of church life almost everyone can relate to, as Taylor satirizes the cliché brand of worship sweeping across America today.  Then, as Don transitions to Reed, the satire moves to college life, complete with outrageous student clubs, wild parties, and more stereotypes than High School Musical.  Although both scenarios produce amusing and often hilarious scenes, they bely a deeper truth: somewhere along the line, both parties went wrong [something we'll get to deeper in a moment].


The Bad:  Fun fact:  Steve Taylor, director and co-writer, is best known for being a rocker.  Fun fact #2:  A great rocker does not a master filmmaker make.  Taylor tries.  Oh, he does.  But the script still falls short in many ways.  The low budget is apparent.  And the actors are mostly forgettable [although each are believable enough].

And yet somehow, none of that really matters by the time the credits roll.


The Message:  Based on a book of essays, Blue Like Jazz conveys several different messages:

1)  We're all at fault.  In our culture, Hollywood sneers at the church while the church declares Hollywood to be the devil incarnate.  Gay rights activists accuse Christians of being intolerant while Christians accuse liberals of having no souls.  Mainstream movies make fun of Jesus Christ and His followers while Christian movies portray secular people as evil heathens.  Think back to our two opening scenarios.  The first is your typical Christian movie.  The second, your typical Hollywood comedy.  But rather than take a side, Blue Like Jazz points fingers.  At everyone.  It calls Christians out for hypocrisy, while chastising unbelievers for making Christians into a caricature. And that leads me to the second message...

2)  We're all broken.  Before the film began, Don was abandoned by his pothead father [known only as The Hobo].  Near the middle of the film, he's again devastated by a surprise announcement from his mother and his former youth pastor.  Pretty activist Penny has been hurt by her mentally insane mother.  We later find out that the reason Don's pope lookalike classmate hates God so much is because he was abused by the church.  Even Russian transfer student Yuri experienced the execution of his grandfather.  Everyone in the film has been hurt by something or someone.

3)  We all have value.  Not only has everyone in Blue Like Jazz been hurt and broken; everyone also as value.  Don wants to find purpose and love others.  Penny wants to alleviate poverty.  Lauryn [Don's lesbian friend] wants love [even if it is the wrong kind].  Yuri wants to find a better life than his grandfather's.  The Pope, we're told, wants to spare others from the kind of abuse he endured.  And Don's childhood friend Jordan?  Well, he wants to leave behind his life of tobacco-chewing, drinking, and partying, and find meaning.  Speaking of which...

4) We're all searching for meaning.  Ultimately, Blue Like Jazz is all about man's struggle to find meaning.  This is represented in Don, the everyman, as he searches for that meaning. He doesn't find it as a youth pastor's assistant, as he encourages kids to beat down cross-shaped piñatas and preaches Jesus to be merely an amigo.  So he goes to Reed, and attempts to find meaning in social nonconformity.  But that doesn't work either.  So he tries hedonism.  But that only lands him stuck in a latrine.  Symbolically, Don can't find the beginning of any meaning until he is quite literally rescued by a kindly priest whose church he has tormented.  That night, he ponders his father's words, that life is "like jazz, because it doesn't resolve."  But that's not enough.  Don then goes on to wonder, "...but what if we're not alone?  What if [the stars] are notes on a page of music written by God, swirling in the blue... like jazz?"  It is then that Don finds meaning.

5)  The church is not the answer.  As I've mentioned several times, characters in Christian movies have a tendency to only get their problems solved...when they go to church.  The hero is often the youth pastor, with the worship leader [guy or girl] as the love interest.  But Blue Like Jazz takes that cliché and turns it upside down, instead exposing the hypocrisy found in the American church of today.  If there's a 'villain', it's Don's former youth pastor.  There's also a tendency, not only in Christian movies, but in Christian churches as well, to have a mentality of sticking together as Christians and staying safe in churches.  Of course, the inherent problem with this M.O. is that, should we as the bearers of the Gospel stay in church and never get out into the world, the world will never hear the Gospel.  This is another issue that BLJ tackles head-on.  Don and Penny live in the real world.  But by the end of the film, it's apparent that the two of them are able to minister more than the former youth pastor.  Finally, it should be noted that the church is not portrayed as being intrinsically evil; one of the most sympathetic characters is the unnamed priest of the church next to Reed [the one who rescues Don].  Although he appears less than 5 times throughout the entire film and has the least lines of possibly anyone, it is this priest [along with Penny] who teaches Don what it truly means to be a follower of Christ.


The Bottom Line:  When Don is pondering whether to attend Reed or a Christian college, his father tells him to "improvise.  Write your own...story."  In a way, that's what Steve Taylor and company do with Blue Like Jazz.  Rather than conforming to the norms of Christians films, BLJ goes its own way.  Actually, it is in no way a Christian film.  Not only because it is neither family-friendly nor superficially sentimental, but because it portrays Christianity as something woven in to everyday life--not something separate from the rest of life.  Rather than glossing over church hypocrisy, Blue Like Jazz exposes it.  Rather than sanitizing college problems, Blue Like Jazz gives an acute portrayal.  It calls out both sides of the culture war, encouraging Christians that the way to bring others to Christ is through love, all the while encouraging nonbelievers to love Christians. 

And yes, Blue Like Jazz is getting lots of flak.  It will continue to do so.  It's not for everybody and certainly not for children.  But for me, it works.  In fact, it's so good that, if you have Netflix, you need to watch it right this moment.  If there's a Redbox or a library nearby, go immediately.  You won't be sorry.

At different turns hilarious, profane, relatable, and heartwarming, Blue Like Jazz ultimately points to a God whose aim is not to help teams win football championships or save marriages, but to use broken, everyday people as part of His Story.

And that gives me a jazzy feeling indeed.

Zero Dark Thirty: An Epic Tale of Hide & Seek

They say the top 3 hide & seek champions of all time are Waldo, car keys, and Osama Bin Laden.  Since Waldo belongs in books and a movie about car keys would be incredibly boring, it seems natural that someone would want to make a movie about what has been dubbed the greatest manhunt of all time.  Academy Award-winning director Kathryn Bigelow was up to the challenge.  And thus we get the Oscar-nominated film Zero Dark Thirty, telling the real story of the hunt for Osama Bin Laden.

My Rating:  8/10

The Good:  Many critics have sung the praises of ZOD, and I would like to concur.  Although there's a lot to appreciate here, there are 3 main things that make it work:

 

1)  The Acting.  Without a strong leading lady, ZOD would be simply forgettable.  Mercifully, this is not the case here.  Jessica Chastain may have lost to Katniss—I mean, Jennifer Lawrence—in the race for Best Actress, but her performance as headstrong CIA operative Maya is Oscar-worthy.  Chastain carries the weight of the entire film, all the while making us believe that she will find Osama Bin Laden.  And when she does, we celebrate with her.  But Chastain's not the only expert here.  Her mission to catch Bin Laden is helped along by strong showings by Jennifer Ehle {yeah, tis the season for ladies with J names} as Maya's doomed co-worker and Jason Clarke as foul-mouthed CIA agent Dan.  Basically, everyone puts their best foot forward and makes the entire operation completely believable.

 

2)  The Mission.  Perhaps the final 45 minutes-1 hour of Zero Dark Thirty is spent solely on SEAL Team 6 and the planning and carrying out of the actual mission to kill Bin Laden.  Was it exaggerated for dramatic effect?  Probably.  Do I mind?  Not really.  Maybe it's a small thing, but watching the SEALs bravely risk their lives gave me a sense of pride in the United States, especially knowing that they do such things every day.  The special forces don't get enough gratitude in the national media, and it was refreshing to find them thrust into a positive spotlight here.

 

3)  The Realism.  The film begins with a completely black screen, save for the words "September 11, 2001".  We see nothing else.  Rather, we listen as a myriad of frightened victims, family members, and 911 operators make calls.  It's an artsy move; a mature one; and most of all, an effective one.  This simple sequence sets the tone for the entire film.  Many a respectable filmmaker would have succumbed to the temptation to over-sentimentalize the hunt for Osama Bin Laden.  But not Kathryn Bigelow.  She takes a less-is-more approach that actually makes the entire movie more dramatic.  The understated music provides a believable, while never overwhelming, backdrop.  The camerawork, though at times shaky in the popular style, remains mostly stable.  The characters, while fully fleshed-out, tend not to over-emote.  And the script, rather than wasting time with emotional scenes, is straightforward.  All this makes the scenes with lots of emotion more dramatic.  The best part, however, is that this approach is carried through even to the end.  We all know how this story ends: the SEALS kill Bin Laden, Maya is vindicated; you would expect a celebratory ending with swelling music followed by slides of what happened to the characters afterwards set to an inspiring song.  Instead, Bigelow just ends it.  That's all.  There is no inspirational song, no celebration.  It's fitting for a film that centers on the killing of a notorious terrorist.   And it is this realism, carried throughout all of Zero Dark Thirty, that make it, while not exactly enjoyable, realistic.  

The Bad:  Of course, this realism isn't always a good thing.  Which leads me to 2 things I didn't particularly like:

 

1)  A slow middle.  This is a minor quibble, but it bears repeating nonetheless.  Yes, the hunt for Osama Bin Laden is naturally an exciting subject.  ZDT begins with a fascinating angle and ends with the actual mission.  But in the middle, things get rather slow.  I couldn't even tell you what happened during this time.  However, things pick back up once the SEALs come onscreen and it's definitely not something that would keep me from watching.

 

2)  The Realism, Redux.  Realism in a film is almost always a blessing and a curse, and Zero Dark Thirty is a prime example.  And while realism is a great thing in a movie like this, Bigelow at times takes it too far.  A man is brutally tortured.  People are blown up.  And the SEALs take no prisoners.  The camera looks on unflinchingly as all of this occurs.  I get that it's all true-to-life and don't doubt that it actually happens.  But that doesn't mean we need to see it all.

The Message:  One incredibly interesting thing about Zero Dark Thirty is that there really is no message.  It remains melancholy to the end, never overtly celebrating Bin Laden's death.  Normally, that would bug me.  But here, what message could you really send?  And so it works.  Bigelow doesn't as much give the audience life lessons as she does give everyone something to think about.  And that is an effective tool.  Although, with all this said, it should be noted that Maya's stubbornness and refusal to give up despite the worst of circumstances is admirable.  Likewise, the SEALs' courage gives the viewer patriotic pride.

The Bottom Line:  Kathryn Bigelow set out to tell the story of the greatest manhunt on earth.  She succeeded.  By going for melancholy and realistic, rather than sentimental and over-the-top, Bigelow creates a dramatic effect.  Add in some Oscar-worthy showings from the cast and a thrilling second act, and you have a truly exciting true story.  

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Waldo.