by Philip Price Director: Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey & Rodney Rothman Starring: Shameik Moore, Jake Johnson & Nicolas Cage Runtime: 1 hour & 57 minutes Rated: PG In the 16 years since Sam Raimi's “Spider-Man” first debuted we've had seven different Spider-Man films featuring four different incarnations of the webslinger. And while each of those incarnations have their own unique qualities that make each effort commendable (even the less successful ones-I'm a fan of the Marc Webb ‘Amazing’ films, even), with “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” we get something that would seemingly be the nail in the coffin as far as originality in blockbuster cinema goes. I mean, "Seven Spider-Man films in sixteen years? That's a new Spider-Man every four years and didn't we just get a new Peter Parker last summer? Why do we need another Spider-Man let alone another Spider-Man movie?" These are all valid questions and concerns, but somehow-rather than being the tipping point that sends audiences over the edge into full-on superhero saturation directors Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman have crafted a superhero film that does the complete opposite and reinvigorates the genre over and over again with its brisk two-hour time frame. What ‘Spider-Verse’ does to separate itself from the past incarnations of the character is not only introduce a new Spider-Man in the form of Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), but to also offer a completely new origin story that also offers a new perspective on what it's like to be a superhero. The movie, which comes from producers Phil Lord and Chris Miller (“The LEGO Movie”) with Lord getting a sole screenwriting credit, knows exactly what it is and if you've seen any of Lord and Miller's previous work then you know how aware and how smart they are about recognizing the genre they're operating within, completely lampooning that genre, and then creating an experience of a movie that exists within that genre that is somehow simultaneously one of the best examples of that genre. For instance, if you were to pool this year's list of superhero films (a very strong year to boot) ‘Spider-Verse’ would still be among the very best of them despite the fact superhero fatigue and references to past missteps in the series are explicit within the film's DNA. By executing the tropes audiences have become accustomed to in such expert fashion and placing this fresh twist on our expectations of the genre, ‘Spider-Verse’ is able to stake claim in the fact that while viewers have seen plenty of superhero movies before, they've never seen one quite like this. Full disclosure: I'm absolutely unsure as to how much of what is on screen in ‘Spider-Verse’ is based on the Miles Morales run of Spider-Man comics thus far, but as someone who read Spider-Man comics growing up and came to love the character through that nineties animated series that ran from 1994-98, there was admittedly some trepidation going into this new realm of Spider-Man knowing that it was going to potentially, significantly alter the Peter Parker I grew up knowing and loving. In trying to be a human being that doesn't always fear change though, but rather embraces it – ‘Spider-Verse’ begins by introducing this unassuming kid who couldn't imagine himself being further from the prototype of what a traditional superhero looks and acts like. Herein lies the kernel of the main idea that the film is doing its best to convey without lathering on like an after-school special: there is no pre-defined template for what makes someone a hero. Rather, it is the qualities one is willing to look inside themselves for and conjure up that determine whether or not they are worthy of taking on such a mantle. This message is summarized perfectly in the Stan Lee quote that graces the screen in a mid-credits tribute; the saying going, "That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed, without a doubt, a real superhero.” While we're on it, yes, the Lee cameo here gains a fair amount of weight and significance due to the comic book titans recent passing, but that it is his sentiments that seem to be living on the most through this work is what is all the more impressive and heartening. Moore's Morales is a teenager barely past puberty who has recently transferred from his school in Brooklyn to a more prestigious boarding school known as Visions Academy (which I feel like probably has some significance in the comics that I'll have to learn about later) and is not adjusting well. Morales is somewhat the nerd Peter Parker was, but he's definitely not an outsider. Morales is a nerd in the vein that he isn't necessarily comfortable talking to girls yet, but while he's very clearly book smart he also has a passion for creating art-more specifically, in the realm of tagging and graffiti art-that nod to Banksy is pretty great-and is someone who finds solace in the company of his Uncle Aaron (Mahershala Ali) who encourages such creative outlets whereas his police officer father, Jefferson (Brian Tyree Henry), couldn't feel less supportive of who his son wants to be while seemingly being concerned with nothing other than who he wants Miles to be. While out with his Uncle one night and contemplating his own "great expectations" of himself, Morales is bitten by a spider that he quickly brushes off and thinks nothing of. Of course, the next day when his clothes no longer fit and he begins sticking to everything it becomes apparent quite quickly that something in Morales' world has gone awry. It is at this point in any seasoned movie-goers mind that the story would begin to go down the rote route of Morales learning to adapt to his powers while at the same time someone close to Morales would also begin a character arc set on a different, more villainous path so that they might be pitted against one another in a final confrontation for the ages. Some of this happens, some of it doesn't, but what is most important is none of it happens in the order or in the way in which said viewer will expect it to happen. Shortly after acquiring his powers Morales runs into the current Spider-Man in his universe as is portrayed by Peter Parker via Chris Pine (I love Pine but would have loved for this to have been Tobey Maguire if, for nothing else, so that he would have given the film's opening monologue). In this quick meeting of past and present Spider-Men Parker acknowledges that Morales is like him and promises to train him while we, the audience, deduce that this new radioactive spider that bit Morales seems to have come from Wilson Fisk's (Liev Schreiber) laboratories where he-in association with the Green Goblin-is currently testing a particle accelerator in order to access parallel universes so that Fisk may re-connect with alternative versions of his wife and son. While Parker's Spider-Man attempts to disable the accelerator the efforts of both Green Goblin as well as Prowler cause the accelerator to only malfunction rather than completely disable thus still opening up whatever time space continuum there might be and allowing access to these parallel universes for a flash of a moment. Spider-Man is severely injured by the accelerator malfunction but hands off a device or "goober" that can disable Fisk's machine to Morales for safe keeping. When Morales is left to his own devices to figure out how he might stop Fisk from opening up any more gateways though, he must figure out what it takes to be his own version of the wall-crawler. Morales is then unexpectedly joined by other Spider people who fell into his world from other dimensions when Fisk opened up the portal including an older Peter Parker (Jake Johnson, truly a national treasure) who is having something of a mid-life crisis and needs to get his act together, Spider-Gwen AKA Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), Spider-Man Noir (Nicolas Cage), Peni Parker (Kimiko Glenn), and Spider-Pig (John Mulaney) all of which will band together to help Morales stop Fisk and his evil goons (which also includes Kathryn Hahn's iteration of Doc Ock) so that they too might make it back home. Seriously though, Johnson is so good as a jaded Peter Parker who is more or less serving as the voice of the viewer who thought they were done with superhero movies that it almost makes you want to see a whole series devoted to a meta-commentary of the genre through the eyes of one of its most iconic characters. Beyond introducing a pretty ambitious story endeavor that I don't know has been attempted in a feature film before, but is typically reserved for long-form television series' a la the "multi-verse" ‘Spider-Verse’ poses a story so outlandish and ridiculous at times that the style in which Persichetti, Ramsey and Rothman have chosen to tell it is seemingly the only way it could have been told in what is both a credible and incredibly cool way. The visuals contained in this thing are beyond entrancing. It's like the first time you saw computer animation or a Pixar film and knew that it was going to be something revolutionary, something special in the way that it was the birth of a whole new way of conveying a story. In what now seems like the logical next step in the animation evolution, ‘Spider-Verse’ combines traditional hand-drawn animation with computer generated animation that is layered in the textures of familiarity as if it were an actual comic book that has been read and re-read countless times by enthusiastic adolescents. The animation is both perfectly flawed yet possesses this true to life smoothness where the characters don't look or feel like special effects; they are real people that cross an authenticity barrier not typically associated with animated films. Furthermore, once Morales is bitten by the spider the comic book effects and facets really begin to amplify themselves making it feel all the more as if this is truly what it looks like were a comic book to come to life on the big screen. Everything about the movie is just cool. From the animation style to the color scheme, to the way the characters dress and carry themselves, to the thumping beats featured on the soundtrack-even the abbreviated Daniel Pemberton score is funkier than it has any right to be-down to the ways in which the script flips certain trademarks of the Spider-Man lore on its head, "With great ability, comes great accountability." The movie just exudes this effortlessly cool factor that, even if it wanted to, it couldn't shake. And then there is the story that so delicately balances all five hundred things going on at once and yet makes all of them feel intrinsic to the arc of Miles Morales. Everything about Lord's screenplay is so perfectly symmetrical in that everything it sets up it perfectly pays off-from Kingpin's family, the love of graffiti and the design of Morales' own suit, even down to a bit about something called "the shoulder touch"-it all lines up in this perfect fashion to create a narrative that's not only easy to invest in, but appropriately moving as well. In other words, to quote Cage's Spider-Man Noir, "This is a pretty hardcore origin story," and by hardcore I totally mean that it pushes the envelope, breaks all the rules, and as a result will create a movement in the worlds of both animated films and the superhero genre that I can't wait to see the ramifications of.
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by Philip Price Director: Travis Knight Starring: Hailee Steinfeld, Dylan O'Brien & Justin Theroux Rated: PG-13 Runtime: 1 hour & 53 minutes “Bumblebee” is produced by Steven Spielberg, but it doesn't feel like a 2018 Steven Spielberg-produced movie, it feels like a 1987 Steven Spielberg-produced movie. That is to say this Travis Knight picture is undoubtedly influenced by the young ensemble adventures of Spielberg's early days and is nothing short of a welcome change of pace for a franchise that, let's be honest, had long since passed its breaking point and was desperate for some change in direction (take note, Wizarding World!). Knight, the son of Phil Knight AKA the co-founder and current Chairman of Nike, Inc., who is himself now the current president and CEO of Laika Animation-a studio he helped re-organize and re-brand over a decade ago-had only directed a single feature (2016's “Kubo and the Two Strings”) prior to taking on the task of re-energizing a major franchise, but damn it if the guy doesn't have a grasp on exactly what this franchise needed: simplicity. The key is simplicity in everything and Knight as well as sole (emphasis on sole) screenwriter Christina Hodson understand that from the perspective of the story all the way down to character design; things are streamlined in order to simultaneously wipe the slate clean and inject some much needed adrenaline into the concept of robots in disguise. Gone are the convoluted plots and multiple McGuffin’s of Michael Bay's films and stripped are the overly detailed and multi-colored Transformer designs as Knight and co. make everything better by making it easier. In doing so, “Bumblebee” quickly establishes itself not only as a thrilling, adventure origin story of sorts, but as one of the more heartwarming films of the season as well (I know, I'm as surprised as you are). A true coming-of-age story for both the title character and Hailee Steinfeld's Charlie that features a few massive action set pieces rather than the other way around, “Bumblebee” is somehow able to retain the tone of a Saturday morning cartoon while rising above being little more than a campy homage to those Spielberg-involved films of yesteryear a la “The Goonies” or “E.T.” In fact, “Bumblebee” is more an unabashed update of “The Iron Giant” that changes the setting from space race era America to the radically free MTV-inspired era of the ‘80s. With its feet firmly planted in a universe where the kids are always smarter than the adults, where the aliens are as fearful of us as we are of them, and where every scenario we're presented with is one any group of young children could play out in their backyards “Bumblebee” resuscitates a series that had long been surviving on life support.
First things first, “Bumblebee” isn't anything radical that re-invents the wheel, but what it does do is cleanse the palette of all the trash and bloat that has piled up in association to the live-action ‘Transformers’ franchise over the last ten years. It's re-invigorating and fun and re-focuses things on the key relationship between a young, impressionable, but ambitious human being and a robot. To this extent, and as stated in the previous paragraph, both Charlie and Bumblebee experience actual growth as characters as they both have arcs with beginnings, middles, and ends that are both symmetrical and well-rounded as well as fulfilling the goals of both the characters and plot. In other words, “Bumblebee” feels like a real movie and not something that was patched together in a writer's room over several months and then shot in a way where the action sequences dictate the rest of the film. No, Knight clearly has a knack for the character moments as is evidenced simply in the time and care he takes in developing the rapport between Charlie and Bumblebee. Viewers are treated to an opening sequence on Cybertron that will no doubt make fans of the original, animated series giddy with excitement as Knight documents how Bee wound up on earth and, as a result, how he lost his voice. This plot point is mentioned specifically as, while it is necessary for continuity's sake if not to keep in line with the mythology, what Knight and the team of animators working on the film are able to do through the title character's eyes is a win in and of itself. Bumblebee's body language and facial expressions articulate a whole range of emotions that the Bay series of films would have never even flirted with. It is also thanks to a more stripped down and frankly, cleaner, visual design that intentionally hues closer to the squared out with more distinctive silhouettes look of the generation one animated series, that we get a clearer interpretation of not only what these robots are conveying, but who they are as living organisms. There is no confusion as to who is bad and who is good or which robots belong to which side, but instead-in this film-there is the core relationship between Charlie and Bee that is the heart of the film and developed accordingly and then there is the throughline plot of the film that deals with what are referred to as "triple changers" in Shatter (voice of Angela Bassett) and Dropkick (voice of Justin Theroux) who have followed Bee to Earth in order to track down and destroy the remainder of the Autobots. It is the summer of 1987 (20 years before the events of the first ‘Transformers’) and 18-year old Charlie is still reeling over the death of her father whom she was clearly close with and who was the person that taught her how to fix up old cars; a skill that has turned into a crutch. Charlie's mother (Pamela Adlon) has already moved on to a goober of a new guy (Stephen Schneider) that dresses so much like he's in the ‘80s that the ‘80s themselves are rushing to the finish line while her younger brother, Otis (Jason Drucker), seems to have been too young when their father passed to be too mad about the fact he's already been replaced. Charlie remains sullen and alone when at home often times retiring to the garage to try and finish restoring the car she and her dad once worked on together. Living in a suburb of San Francisco, Charlie works at a corn dog stand down on a carnival pier during the day. She rides a moped to work and is oblivious to the fact the nerdy, shy guy (Jorge Lendeborg Jr.) who lives across the street and who also works across from her at the churro stand is desperately trying to work up the nerve to ask her out. All of these factors are about to experience drastic changes of course when Bumblebee lands on earth and immediately alerts the U.S. armed forces, as represented by the one and only John Cena as Agent Burns, to the existence of extraterrestrial life forms and the threat they pose to our planet. Bumblebee's arrival on earth is quickly interrupted not only by Cena moving his troops forward on what they don't know and therefore don't understand, but by a Decepticon who battles the young and overwhelmed Autobot into a weakened state forcing Bee to retreat until he can find proper refuge and alert his fellow Autobots of his position. This leads Bee to a junk yard owned by Charlie's Uncle Hank (Len Cariou) where he eventually winds up in the possession of Charlie as Hank allows her to take the VW Beetle off his hands free of charge on her 18th birthday. Charlie quickly discovers the secret of her new car and begins forming a bond with the machine through their shared sense of loss, their shared sense of being afraid in this new world they're seemingly both embarking on, while Charlie realizes she can help her new friend find his voice and Bee can inadvertently push Charlie out of her comfort zone and, by consequence, this slump she's been sulking in. The relationship that forms between these two principle characters is notable in that they are completely supportive of one another-furthering our investment in them-and thus reassuring the viewer that even though the plot will inevitably come into play-a plot we've seen countless times before-that there is enough here outside the machinations of the bad guys versus the good guys that we'll walk away talking about more than just how good and cool the special effects looked. What is maybe most refreshing about “Bumblebee” though, besides the fact it takes the character beats seriously, is that it aspires to be exactly what it needs to aspire to be. There is always this rule I hold myself to when giving out these arbitrary star ratings to pieces of art that countless people have devoted countless hours to in hopes of making something that might either make an impact or make them money (or both) that comes down to the base question of how well this particular film accomplishes what this particular film set out to accomplish. With “Bumblebee,” there is no ambition greater than delivering a competent ‘Transformers’ film that brings the series back to basics while re-establishing the series as more personal by including some genuinely heartfelt and dramatic moments. Steinfeld sells the relationship between her and Bee in such a way that we truly do care about the pair while Cena and Schneider aptly handle the more comedic elements of the script. With Knight bringing all of this together through the lens of not only the time period his film is set in, but by actually constructing the film as if it were born from the ‘80s the audience is given the sense that Bumblebee is a movie that was truly born from simpler times and is therefore more intelligible and straightforward because of it. Sure, there are choices-such as nearly every scene including some kind of musical cue from the decade or certain sequences where the over-indulgence in CGI does in fact hue a little too close to the Bay films-but never does either instance last long enough to sideline the experience and never do any of the choices Knight makes distract from the overall tone of pure fun that is so clearly the driving force for everything that is being projected on the screen. Knight, a child of the eighties himself who grew up with the original animated series, infuses the film with what is not necessarily the sense of wonder that was so key to that first live-action film being so appealing as this would be near impossible to re-capture a decade on, but rather he balances tone so as to keep expectations in check and then incorporating a significant enough touch to rise above those expectations. “Bumblebee” is easily the best live-action Transformers film since that initial film and while that might not be saying much the change in approach is what is really critical here and should signal nothing less than an auspicious new start for one of Paramount's biggest properties. As much of a throwback as one can get in terms of tone and atmosphere, “Bumblebee” is executed in such a stylish, fun fashion that, as hard as it might be to believe, there's renewed interest in where things might go from here. by Philip Price Director: Alfonso Cuaron Starring: Yalitza Aparicio, Marina de Tavira & Diego Cortina Autrey Rated: R Runtime: 2 hours & 15 minutes “Roma” is what one would call a hard sell. Despite being writer/director Alfonso Cuarón's follow-up to his Oscar-winning “Gravity” (Cuarón won Best Director for this effort) it couldn't be more different and because of this, more daring. It's daring based simply on the fact it is a two-hour personal opus, shot in black and white, and featuring English subtitles. In going ahead and acknowledging the elephant in the room, it's not difficult to see why the production companies who gave Cuarón $15 million to make the project also decided to go with Netflix as their distributor. And while, based on nothing more than its pristine aesthetic, Cuarón's most personal film to date certainly deserves to be seen on the big screen, given the content of the film and the types of people whose lives “Roma” explores it also makes perfect sense that the film be released to audiences in the most accessible way possible. It is a fine line to walk and while, as someone who loves going to the cinema, will always believe seeing a movie in the theater is the best way to see a movie it's hard to argue that the majority of mainstream audiences don't see many a film until years after they've been released and on their own televisions or other devices. Is it a shame some viewers will only experience the beauty of Cuarón's cinematography (yes, he serves as his own cinematographer here too) on their smart phones? Of course, but by making a film like “Roma” available to those who aren't within driving distance of a theater but have a subscription to Netflix allows for the film to connect with what Cuarón is illustrating as well as connect with a bigger, more diverse audience than it likely would have if limited to a traditional theatrical and home video release. The key word here though, is illustrate. “Roma” doesn't so much as tell a specific story or drive home a certain narrative as much as it does illustrate a contemplative yet precisely executed observation of a year in the life of this upper-class family in Mexico City in the early seventies and more pointedly, on that of the family maid, Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio, making her acting debut).
As soapy water soaks over stone tiles in what could literally be hundreds of thousands of different locations anywhere in the world planes fly overhead as if to feel so close but leaving to go so far away. The routine of soak, wash, and drain becomes clear given the opening credits scroll over this repeated task until the last bucket has disappeared from the now clean floor. The camera pans up and we learn that not only are we in Mexico, but that this particular set of stones function as a garage where Cleo and another maid, Adela (Nancy García García) have been washing. Shortly thereafter, we are introduced to Sofia (Marina de Tavira), the matriarch of the household, along with her four young children, Toño (Diego Cortina Autrey), Paco (Carlos Peralta), Pepe (Marco Graf), and Sofi (Daniela Demesa), as well as Sofia's mother, Teresa (Verónica García), who also lives in the house. Sofia's husband Antonio (Fernando Grediaga)-a doctor-is returning home from work the first time we meet him and is none too pleased to find his driveway littered with dog feces despite the efforts of Cleo and Adela that we are more than privy to, but that Antonio couldn't care less about. It is clear as Cuarón guides his camera through the bustling household that Cleo's day rarely slows down whether it be ensuring the kids are awake and getting ready for school, preparing their meals, picking up loose ends they've left around the house, running errands, and/or cycling through all of these chores again once the family returns home in the afternoons. As much as there is an expectation of Cleo though, there is an attachment and fondness for her as well-especially from Sofia and the children. Cuarón's purpose for establishing this home as familiar, as our own, is not solely to connect with the atmosphere or the similarities to viewers own home lives though, but also to highlight a strain in the relationship between Sofia and Antonio. The doctor is getting ready to leave for a conference in Quebec and it seems neither he nor his wife are sure if he'll be coming back. The children know nothing of the tension, but Cleo can clearly sense there is a rift between the two and must not only balance her level of involvement with the family and her duties, but also that of how she serves what are no longer two employers on the same page, but employers with a drastically shifting personal dynamic between them. It is in these unspoken nuances of how much more there is to Cleo's job than what the surface description would offer that lend “Roma” an inherently personal tone. Cuarón focuses on Cleo, but this attention doesn't serve to push Cleo to the forefront, rather it exemplifies how all of what Cleo does impacts and reverberates through the whole of the story of this family. The director contrasts this very intimate tale with that of the brewing social unrest in Mexico at the time-specifically the 1971 Corpus Christi massacre, where a group trained in martial arts by the government attacked student demonstrators. These bigger, broader events don't so much play into the plot of the film as they do inform the atmosphere if not infrequently come into play story-wise out of little more than natural circumstance. To discuss too many details of the story would be to do the experience something of a disservice but given the film doesn't necessarily have what one would traditionally call a "driving narrative" it is also difficult to discuss the film at all without touching on or at least hinting at the types of events that take place. To this extent, while it is initially difficult to pin down where “Roma” might take its audience what it does very well and pretty obviously from the get-go is to expertly layer in all the numerous personal dynamics at play. For instance, as we are seeing Cleo's life events unfold from the perspective of Cleo the majority of the men present seem solely interested in sexual satisfaction. Beginning with Antonio and moving through to Cleo's boyfriend, Fermín (Jorge Antonio Guerrero), who is the cousin of Adela’s boyfriend, Ramón (José Manuel Guerrero Mendoza), as the four initially meet up to see a movie together, but don't end up doing so when Fermín suggests to Cleo that they rent a room. This leads to something of a striking scene in which Fermín, after he and Cleo have clearly had sex and while still completely nude, shows off his martial arts skills using the shower rod as a pole. While the forwardness with which Cuarón documents this may at first be disarming it is as the film continues to play out the character of Fermín becomes more clearly defined with the reasons as to why Cuarón chose to not only disarm his audience, but the character as well becoming clearer. Fermín leaves everything on the table but proves very little and accomplishes nothing more than leaving the opposite of the impression he likely hoped to convey. Like Antonio, or the men at a wealthy Christmas party at a hacienda who seem more interested in their guns than they do their wives, Fermín is a man who craves an identity outside of partnership and separate from whatever category his family or heritage might have inherently lumped him into. He is a man of pride, of selfishness-like all men-but he is also a man unwilling to own up to his responsibilities; there is no shift in priority when it's obvious there should be thus displaying a lack of humanity. As much as “Roma” is about capturing a very intimate portrait of this very specific time period it is also a confrontation of reality, of how alone in this society the woman is left to feel despite carrying the brunt of the burden said society demands. What is curious about this interpretation of one aspect of “Roma though, is that it feels like such a small piece of the larger puzzle that is the whole of the film. It feels as if “Roma” is about so much at once and yet is simultaneously so simple in its intent if not its execution. In highlighting this single piece that deals in what amounts to the uselessness of men to so many of the women that are a part of the film’s narrative it's difficult to discern if this theme stood out due to the fact I myself am a male or if it's in fact a key element in the film's meaning. “Roma” certainly feels as if it serves as this testament to not only women, but more specifically the women who shaped Cuarón and populated his world, but if my focus came to lie on the aspect of how men played into their lives am, I not appreciating the undoubtedly numerous other ideas the film is emphasizing about these women? To take what feels like the director's main idea and parlay it into the wake-up call this viewer took from the film would seem to be justified. To this credit, Aparicio does a fantastic job in her first feature in both verbally and non-verbally communicating the resilience of Cleo and these other women who, despite all the social unrest and frightening things that were going on around them as a result, kept on; continuing to choose to rebuild, continuing to choose to raise children, all the while sustaining this sense of ease and wonder in the children's eyes that surrounded them on a daily basis. Despite all of this though, there was something of a disconnect emotionally between me and the emotions we are both meant to invest in and be affected by. A symptom I'm often afflicted with is that of allowing single moments or scenes to re-define how an entire film is evaluated even if more of the film left me lukewarm than didn't. There is certainly a danger in doing this with “Roma” as the film builds to a doozy of a climax that is near impossible to come back from and is unquestionably powerful not only in the moment that it presents, but in the unimaginable number of new questions it unboxes. The question of guilt that comes into play, the questions of how right or wrong Cleo was to feel the way she did in response to certain events given the perspective she has that we become privy to when Cuarón takes us back to the near-destitute village Cleo visits when searching for Fermín that lends a new appreciation for her life, where she's come from, and the difference in how she was raised and the raising of the children she is overseeing in her domestic occupation. The question being, does this new light that is turned on for both the audience and the main character near the conclusion of the film that imposes a new interpretation of previous events immediately improve the majority of the film that initially might not have been as engaging? It's hard to say for, with this new information, repeat viewings will almost certainly be viewed as improvements, but should a film at least attempt to do all it was meant to do within a single viewing? As unfair as that may seem it in fact seems that, while “Roma” is an unequivocal visual masterpiece, it leaves a desire for investment that is meant to develop organically, but only connects momentarily. by Philip Price Director: Peter Farrelly Starring: Viggo Mortensen, Mahershala Ali & Linda Cardellini Rated: PG-13 Runtime: 2 hours & 10 minutes There isn't a person you wouldn't love if you could read their story. I tend to try and not speak in absolutes and there may or may not be some exceptions to this rule, but the point is an obvious one: all the races and people with different sexual orientations or different religious beliefs can get along once we really get to know one another; that we're not really all that different after all. That's all well and good, but it's also a tried and true formula that at least one Hollywood production trots out every awards season to try and make us all feel better about ourselves. One might think, given the current cultural climate, that any movie attempting to bring people together might immediately be dismissed as one party's agenda to corrupt another into actually having a conversation with a person of opposing views, but maybe that's ultimately why “Green Book” feels so good right now and ironically, so needed. There isn't a damn thing here you haven't heard or seen before and director Peter Farrelly (one half of the brother directing duo who brought us comedy classics like “Dumb & Dumber” and “There's Something About Mary,” but also brought us “Dumb & Dumber To” and “The Heartbreak Kid”) directs with the eye of about as mainstream a filmmaker as it gets meaning there is nothing glaringly unique or interesting about the way in which he captures these events, but this does mean it will undoubtedly speak to a very large audience. There was some slight hope that Farrelly might utilize his experience in his years of making broad studio comedies to infuse the many predictable formulas this movie utilizes with a more striking tone or presence, but while taking on a project like this might have been a bold thing for the filmmaker to do given his past credits he alas decides to do nothing bold in the execution of this change in pace, but instead plays it right down the middle. Fortunately for Farrelly, the story has such a great inherent hook and given he's hired two more than capable talents to lead his film it hardly matters how he's saying what he wants to say as long as it's competent enough to capture how Mahershala Ali and Viggo Mortensen are saying what they want to say. It's largely through these two performers that “Green Book” transcends the calculations of a movie such as itself, eclipsing every predictable note it plays that could have so easily rung false to become something genuinely endearing; a true crowd-pleaser in the least cynical and most delightful of ways.
Maybe the most educational thing to come out of “Green Book” is not how much we can learn about ourselves or how alike we are when we set aside our differences though, but rather it is the inspiration for the title and what an actual green book is. This explanation or definition comes into play when Dr. Don Shirley (Ali), a virtuoso pianist who also happens to be black, decides to embark on a tour of the deep "Jim Crow" south in 1962, and hires a white, Italian man by the name of Tony Vallelonga or "Tony Lip" (Mortensen) who has a reputation for being something of a brute to serve as his road manager and bodyguard while on tour. Prior to leaving New York, where both men call home-though Tony is from the Bronx and Shirley lives above Carnegie Hall-Tony is handed what is known as a "green book" by Shirley's record label exec (P.J. Byrne) who tells him it is a guide for black travelers to find safe havens throughout the South. Having no idea this facet of the civil rights movement even existed despite making complete logical sense, it only serves to emphasize the nature of the country at this point in time. This stark contrast between the civility Shirley is greeted with at each of his engagements throughout the south and what it actually takes to survive this road trip (i.e. the green book) lends a great amount to how this core friendship eventually comes to be. It is this friendship that is obviously the heart of the film meaning screenwriters Nick Vallelonga (Tony's real-life son) and Brian Hayes Currie along with Farrelly (who gets a co-writing credit) know well enough to develop said friendship with as much intuition as they do craft. Now, given Vallelonga had tapes of interviews with both his father and Dr. Shirley giving their perspective on these events to draw from it's easy to imagine writing a film like this wouldn't amount to much of a task, but while the material may have been more than sufficient it is the act of boiling all of that material down into a three act structure that both makes sense and conveys the proper arcs for its two primary characters that is the difficult part. As one might guess based on the previous paragraph, “Green Book” largely uses tropes from odd couple and road trip movies where we know that despite the fact these two guys don't get along in the beginning that by the time, they get back home they'll no doubt be the best of buddies-a part of one another's lives for the rest of their lives. Throwing two guys together who are more or less complete opposites and forcing them to work out their differences is a premise that has been used countless times, but it's how well the dynamic is sold between the two actors that makes it work or not and both Ali and Mortensen show up for work here. It also doesn't hurt that the film avoids the one trope where our odd couple experiences a single moment, bond or share a big laugh over it, and then are friends from that point on. “Green Book” doesn't rush the connection, but allows it to play out in a more believable manner so that, by the end of the film, we firmly believe in the final scene that we knew would be the final scene from the moment Tony took the job offer from Dr. Shirley. Shirley is a refined, but complicated man who speaks eight languages and was the first African-American admitted to the Leningrad Conservatory in Saint Petersburg, Russia at the age of nine. Tony, on the other hand, is a tough-guy bouncer who worked as a maître d’ and supervisor at the Copacabana club, starting in 1961. It is when the Copa is set to close for two months due to renovations and Tony is out of a job and looking for work to temporarily replace his income that he is referred to Dr. Shirley as someone who might be a good fit to help protect him on this trip through the south. The catch is, Tony's something of a racist himself as demonstrated early in the film when Tony's wife, Dolores (Linda Cardellini), hires two black guys to help fix their molding kitchen floor and who Tony sees fit to not drink after given he throws away the glasses they use after Dolores offers them a drink. Smartly, the film doesn't make Shirley completely likable either as he consistently talks down to and hurls intellectual insults at Tony that Tony is sometimes too dumb to even recognize are insults. It is the evolution of both of the characters that comes to serve the main idea that while each of them comes to learn a lot from the other and have undoubtedly changed over the course of this journey the key is that they understand one another more while still being two distinctly different people. They talk, their guards drop, they connect, and we see the humanity in each of these individuals. Ali playing up the eccentricities and duality of what being a black man at this point in America must have felt like, especially a black man in Dr. Shirley's unique set of circumstances who somewhat amounts to the harmless black guy that always preaches non-violence so as to not scare off us white folk. Meanwhile, Mortensen somehow manages to play up the most extreme stereotypes to a point so far gone that it somehow wraps itself around back into, if not the truth, at least something that feels authentic. Admittedly, “Green Book” is almost formulaic to the point of being offensive and it's not difficult to understand why certain audiences or critics would in fact be offended by the stereotypes and clichés running rampant in this thing. It's not difficult to understand not only why some, more seasoned viewers, may be turned off by what is admittedly a rather toothless endeavor on the surface, but to try and convince myself that what I experienced wasn't genuinely effective or didn't move me with some force simply because of the familiarity through which it played and the predictably sappy archetypes in which it plays upon would be a lie; in all honesty, I was grinning through my teeth by the time that inevitable final scene came around and these now devoted characters with somewhat disparate souls were all brought onto the same page with just the right amount of understanding between them. It was pure cinematic gold and I bought every ounce of it. Needless to say, there is much to like about “Green Book,” but what is so endearing about the film in particular is that it is able to breathe new life and real heart into the clichés and stereotypes that might come across as insulting on the surface. The characters are fully realized, and we know this because, despite neither of them being particularly likable, we still enjoy spending time with them in the car while actively listening to their bickering; we may or may not have been friends with either or both of them in real life, but they are entertaining to watch regardless. Furthermore, both Tony and Dr. Shirley find themselves in situations that, if one has ever seen a period piece dealing in race, can be seen coming from a mile away and whether one knows the true story or not prior to walking in one can probably guess how things will turn out, but despite even this there is a sense of alarm when these characters find themselves in dire circumstances. We, the viewers, find ourselves rooting for these characters because we care and know that, above everything else these two may have differences over or disagree on, that they have each other's back. Factor in the strong humor that is nestled into the drama, the musical performances and score from Kris Bowers, and the fact it highlights a new aspect of this terrifying chapter in history (in addition to the titular book the film also highlights sundown towns which, if you'll excuse my ignorance, was something I was unaware of existed prior) that help lend it the feeling of having this very dark, very serious subject matter (which it is), but still operating as largely hopeful. There is a stigma of sorts that only heavy dramas warrant the highest praises, but sometimes (or most times) it's nice to walk out of a movie that wants to make you feel good and “Green Book” accomplishes as much not necessarily with exception, but with ample amounts of charm. by Philip Price Director: Phil Johnston & Rich Moore Starring: John C. Reilly, Sarah Silverman & Gal Gadot Rated: PG Runtime: 1 hour & 52 minutes Walt Disney Animation Studios is now in the stage of their resurgence that began in 2010 with “Tangled” and was cemented two years later with “Wreck-it Ralph” where they are hoping to maintain the momentum of this resurgence by beginning to produce sequels to the movies that helped solidify their name as an animation powerhouse once more; that Disney could still be Disney without Pixar. Whereas the former flourished in hand-drawn animation for years and years (obviously) the mouse house hadn't had much luck with their transition to computer animation (“Chicken Little,” “Meet the Robinsons” and “Bolt” each largely failed both critically and commercially at the time of release) and in trying to re-capture the magic of their nineties hot streak with the hand-drawn “Princess and the Frog” in 2009 it only seemed the studio was moving backwards instead of forward. With “Tangled” though, things began to shift, and, in many regards, the first Wreck-it Ralph was a confirmation that the Disney brand was back in full effect. “Wreck-it Ralph,” unlike the more traditional approach “Tangled” took, was a cool and hip concept that was both relevant and nostalgic, but most importantly it was an idea that-when you were a kid-would have loved to think could really be true. Like “Toy Story,” “Wreck-It-Ralph” was about what happens after the kids are done playing and characters must go on with their lives. This was all well and good and spurned a rather fantastic and inventive film about feeling insecure in the role society has assigned you and securing the confidence to break free of that mold and not only become whatever it is you aspire to be, but to gain confidence in and embracing what others might inherently assume about you. Though this wasn't exactly a stretch for the studio given it was ultimately a variation on the "be yourself" lesson countless pieces of children's entertainment have spouted, it worked well given the format. The catch was, “Wreck-it Ralph” told such a tight and compact story that it was difficult to imagine how directors Rich Moore and Phil Johnston would naturally extend the film into something new that felt organic and wasn't dark as hell considering the inevitability of this arcade eventually closing and all of the games getting unplugged (which they'll have to address in the trilogy-capper, right?). And while the trailers hinted at something scarcely close to “The Emoji Movie,” “Ralph Breaks the Internet” is the rare, equally inventive sequel that strives to say something more even if what its saying gets somewhat lost in translation. Even still, the dynamite dynamic between John C. Reilly's Ralph and Sarah Silverman's Vanellope is enough to hold down the fort...or the Internet.
It's been six years since Reilly's Ralph first graced the screen and saved Vanellope von Schweetz and her game, Sugar Rush, from the maniacal Turbo and the two have remained friends ever since and are presently living out Ralph's idea of a perfect existence. Vanellope isn't doing too bad either, but shortly into our re-introduction of the characters it becomes quite obvious Vanellope is also getting restless in the limited number of courses Sugar Rush offers and the lack of new, exciting options life is offering her. In short, she's fallen victim to routine while Ralph, her best friend, is relishing in it. It is when Ralph tries to assist his friend by carving out a new track in the candy land that makes up Sugar Rush though, that Ralph does more harm than good. Vanellope, her heart set on trying the new course veers in the opposite direction of the real-life player in the arcade forcing the steering wheel on the arcade game to break. Mr. Litwak, the owner/curator of the arcade, is overheard telling the young girls who broke the wheel that the price of a new part is more than Sugar Rush makes over an entire year and that he'll unfortunately have to unplug the game. By unplugging Sugar Rush, Vanellope and every character in the game are essentially rendered homeless leaving the rest of the games and their characters to find homes for them. While Ralph tries to be optimistic about the turn of events by framing it to Vanellope in such a way it sounds like she no longer has a job and therefore no real responsibility, Vanellope can't help but to acknowledge the reality of the situation as her glitch begins to worsen without a game to belong to in which her code is written into. Vanellope is no longer the fun-loving, adventurous princess Ralph knows and loves despite the fact he now has more time than ever to spend with her. After a conversation with Fix-It Felix Jr. (Jack McBrayer) at Tapper's, where Ralph typically has an after-work root beer with Vanellope, he is reminded of the newly installed Wi-Fi router that he can use to access the Internet and more specifically, a site called eBay, where he knows there's a new wheel for Sugar Rush available to purchase thanks to one of the aforementioned kids in the arcade. Ralph hurriedly relays his plan to Vanellope who is completely on board and the two make their way to the wi-fi port via the surge protector and follow Litwak's avatar into this new world. It is here that “Ralph Breaks the Internet” really digs into its premise of taking these analog characters into a completely digital world and the opportunities that might be unlocked because of it; something that might be of great potential danger to a friendship where one party is living the dream with things as they are and the other is craving change. Within the Internet Disney has essentially allowed themselves to run rampant with the countless IPs and brands they own, but while this very well could have felt gimmicky (see “The Emoji Movie”) it never comes off as such and instead is quite astute about the Internet in and of itself. This is more in a sense of our present culture that feels all-consumed by online personas and the need for validation from anonymous clicks and likes by people one may not even know. It is in this sense that Ralph comes to judge his own merit and worth based on the feedback he sees in a comments section which, if you know anything about the rules of the Internet and more specifically-about putting any part of yourself on the Internet-then rule number one is to never read the comments. It is in the comments section of life (excuse the corniness) that people tend to lose themselves to who they think they should be rather than who they truly are and while one might not expect a Disney sequel to reassure them of their own perceived shortcomings that are likely glazed over in online profiles are more like fingerprints in that each of us have our own and that they're ultimately what make each of us individuals, well...leave it to ‘Wreck-it Ralph 2’ to call that bluff. “Ralph Breaks the Internet” isn't going to only be about the darker aspects that lurk within the Internet of course, but Moore and Johnston along with their screenwriting team were clearly intent on delving deeper into this huge aspect of our present culture outside of simply resorting to a, "Hey! We bet you recognize this from the Internet!" mentality. This works to the bigger theme of the film that deal in self-destruction and the destruction of key relationships by painting a picture of Ralph that becomes consumed by this need to maintain his friendship with Vanellope because with her he at least knows none of these things he's read on the Internet are true. It's quite a powerful and surprisingly dark (my just turned four-year-old daughter was scared by the visual representation of this feeling) moment in the film. Ralph completely loses his perspective as he's allowed these things other people have said about him to manifest in his personality resulting in a Ralph, we nor he recognizes. That's the heavy stuff that you can dig into if you're an adult bored with the idea of characters chasing a steering wheel around a fictional embodiment of the Internet, but don't think for a second Moore and Johnston and Disney weren't going to also capitalize on everything the studio encompasses that is available through them online. Once again though, this isn't done in a gimmicky fashion as the much talked about Disney Princesses scene is both appropriately self-aware and celebratory around who each of the individual characters are. And if Disney isn't printing the tank tops each of the princesses were wearing in said scene to sell in every park and store across the country, I take back everything I said about them being intelligent because that would be dumb. On the other side of the whole Internet premise, the world it creates, and the timely themes it touches upon “Ralph Breaks the Internet” is also a layered metaphor that could resonate with multiple kinds of relationships whether it be parent to child, significant other to significant other, or-as is most obvious given the film's example-that of a friendship. As hinted in the previous paragraph, Ralph becomes consumed in retaining his relationship with Vanellope despite her inclinations to move forward with her life; to move on to something new outside of their arcade. The film more explicitly deals in the nature of how different individuals deal with change within these relationships while reinforcing the ideas that there is validity in your own goals even if they may not match what authority figures or those who love you want for you. This is an admittedly dangerous line for the film to walk as there are no doubt cases in which this will be taken the wrong way, but as much as it seems the movie might suggest doing what you want no matter the objections, it is sure to emphasize the specific line of thought that is doing what you know is right for you rather than simply doing something because it goes against what superiors want for you; more a "follow your own path" ideal than anything, but within the circumstances of a relationship that undoubtedly mirror what large portions of the audience have experienced-whether it be groups of tween friends who are hearing this sermon for the first time or new parents (such as myself) who need gentle reminders that we can't hover over and control every aspect of our children's lives. Furthermore, “Ralph Breaks the Internet” doesn't just use this new world of the Internet to drive the plot forward, but rather-especially as the film enters the crux of the second act and on through to the third-the film becomes more about the roles the characters are playing in each other's lives than it does the roles they are playing in the movie. While the steering wheel is what both Ralph and Vanellope are after, it is not what either of them actually gain. Rather, Ralph is struck by these tendencies he didn't even realize he was exuding and while his actions may come off as negative what is more magical and slyly intelligent about the film than any self-aware reference is how well the sequel actually builds off the development of Ralph in the first film. In “Wreck-it Ralph,” Ralph was a guy who'd been labeled as one thing his entire life and was tired of the stereotype. In going through the journey Ralph did in the first film he was able to find comfort not only in who he was, but in these new relationships that confirmed-for him-that he was more than just a villain, that he wasn't a "bad guy". And so, it's understandable that Ralph would fear losing something that he's just recently obtained or that he would (literally) become self-destructive in an effort to maintain this new normal. That “Ralph Breaks the Internet” culminates with our titular hero not so much acting like a hero, but learning that his needy, greedy, and self-destructive tendencies are pushing his friend further away rather than keeping her close is bold. To go a step further and illustrate that Ralph has to fix his own insecurities in order to allow Vanellope to follow her path and ultimately feel best about who he is not because he got what he wanted, but because he did the right thing in allowing his friend to be happy makes this equally inventive sequel that strives to say more than, "Hey! Look! It's the Internet!" that much more meaningful. |
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