Today’s comic, via Pusheen
So honored to see this up on QC!! Thanks again Jeph, feel better soon!
Hugo *SPOILERS*
Though this may be Marty Scorsese’s first foray into family fare (I <3 alliteration), decades of film experience don’t count for nothing, and Hugo is yet another masterpiece.
Hugo (Asa Butterfield) is a young orphan who likes to fix things. He lives in the Gare Montparnasse train station where his uncle worked winding the station’s many clocks. After his uncle disappears, Hugo continues to work the clocks and lives in hiding from the station inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), who’s always on the lookout for stray orphans. One day, he’s caught stealing from a small toy stand in the station by the shop’s owner (Ben Kingsley), Papa Georges, who confiscates Hugo’s father’s notebook full of complicated drawings of machinery, including one of a clock-punk robot (currently in Hugo’s possession). When the owner see the robot drawing, he becomes strangely angry and threatens to burn it. As Hugo tries to get it back, he and Papa Georges’ goddaughter (Chloë Grace Moretz) gradually uncover the old man’s past to make a shocking discovery.
*SPOILERS AHEAD* I apologize, but I can’t really write an accurate review without giving away the surprise. I think I’m just a sucker for anything that has to do with film history, and that’s why I enjoyed Hugo so much. Papa Georges turns out to be Georges Méliès, the very real pioneer of expressionism (and even of sci-fi/fantasy) in early motion pictures. But the film goes beyond merely telling us this twist, and shows us, in exquisite detail, the exhaustive process by which these early films were made; the elaborate costumes, impressive sets, and even primitive (but effective) special effects. As in The Artist, modern audiences get a glimpse into the past, but even farther back this time, to early filmmakers who did things that literally no one had done before, and somehow, Scorsese manages to dazzle us with clips from movies that many today would consider antiquated and cheesy. Hugo brilliantly weaves together the fictional story of the titular boy with the non-fiction story of Méliès, creating a strange amalgamation of historical fiction, biopic, and the aforementioned clock-punk elements. Kingsley is amazing as his character goes from a quietly bitter shopkeeper into a tragic fallen artist; when he reveals his great pain, it’s almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. The child actors too, Butterfield and Moretz, derserve commendation. Butterfield hypnotizes us with those big blue puppy-dog eyes of his. My only complaints are mostly superficial; don’t expect anyone in this Paris-based movie to actually speak French, or to even speak with a French accent. Then again this isn’t the first movie to put the wrong accent in the actors’ mouths, and it probably won’t be the last. Overall, Hugo is a delightful, multiple-persona film; a heartwarming tale of a child’s journey for meaning, an insightful introspective on the beginning of film, and a look at what it means to be a true artist. 8.5 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: “…a broken machine makes me a little sad because it isn’t able to do what it was meant to do. Maybe it’s the same with people. If you lose your purpose, it’s like you’re broken.” - Hugo
The Help
Tate Taylor’s adaptation of Kathryn Stockett’s novel, The Help, definitely has its upsides and was enjoyable to watch (for the most part), but it falls short at being the racially-conscious film it’s trying to be, and has just a little too much of a 21st-century touch to be convincing.
In Jackson, Mississippi in the early 60’s, a young journalist named Skeeter (Emma Stone) has just gotten her first job doing a cleaning column for the local paper, but she is itching to write something of substance. She finds it when she becomes interested in how her friends and family treat their black housemaids. She asks her friend’s maid Aibileen (Viola Davis) to tell her about her experiences, and although initially reluctant, she realizes this may be the only way she and her fellow housekeepers can have their tragic stories be heard. Skeeter, Aibileen, and another maid, Minny (Octavia Spencer) work hard to write the book, even with the constant threat of retaliation if anyone in Jim Crow-era Mississippi finds out they’re trying to expose the fact that just because slavery is no more, the bonds of servitude are still strong in the south.
For all the work that went into it, The Help doesn’t feel authentic. The entire look of the film is off - everything looks a little too manufactured. The film doesn’t feel like 1960’s Mississippi; it’s too obvious that it’s just a Hollywood attempt at 1960’s Mississippi. Everything from the set to the actors is just a little too stiff and forced. The bright look and vivid colors of the movie are at odds with the somber subject matter, and I’m not just talking about the scenes involving the white upper-class women; even the scenes in the slums where the black families are forced to live seem too polished and made-up. This film also lacks subtlety. Too much effort went into making sure the audience knows Skeeter stands out as the one we’re supposed to like. She has a contemporary haircut unlike everyone else who has era-appropriate hair; and some of her clothes seem a bit out of place, too. Whereas the book gives her character flaws (like any good character has), the movie makes her just a little too perfect. Octavia Spencer does her best with what she’s given, but her character came off as one-dimensional at times, not helped by the fact that she’s (partially) a walking stereotype (“Fried chicken just tend to make you feel better about life”). Of course all this isn’t to say that this film has nothing to offer; it is a relevant and heartbreaking story, and Jessica Chastain nearly steals the show in one of the subplots. Where the main plot is concerned, Viola Davis and Bryce Dallas Howard pretty much make the movie; Davis is the realistic hero missing from Skeeter, and Howard makes a terribly enigmatic villain. For all it’s faults, The Help knows how to pull heartstrings and really does convey the horrors caused by Jim Crow, which I think is something that my generation could definitely stand to be reminded of. 7.8 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: ”You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” - Aibileen
Tree Of Life
I remember seeing the preview for Tree Of Life in theaters, and when it was over, I distinctly remember thinking “I have no idea what that movie’s about.” But you know, sometimes trailers are like that. They don’t always fairly depict what the movie will be like, so I didn’t think much of it. Now that I’ve finally sat through it, I see now that the trailer was actually very accurate. It was ambiguous, and the film itself takes ambiguous to the next level. Actually, more like the next eight levels.
Instead of writing a synopsis, I think it’ll be easier if I just describe what Tree Of Life tries to accomplish. It’s the story of a couple with three sons, one of whom dies at 19. The oldest son, Jack (Sean Penn), reflects on growing up with his family, and the various forces that shaped his adolescence, mixed in with musings on the nature of the universe and how human lives fit into the grand scheme. It’s supposed to be a multi-layered examination of the forces of both nature and nurture that make us what we are, but Terrence Malick takes possibly the most convoluted road to get there, and in my opinion, he didn’t make it. This film tries way, way too hard at being mystical and evocative, and instead comes off as pretentious and more than a little ridiculous. It’s like if you gave a freshman film student an unlimited budget. The cinematography is loose and choppy, and yet the movie is still somehow slow-moving. The effect of the camera work is disorienting and makes the film that much more unpleasant to watch. The narrative is disjointed with different viewpoints, which wouldn’t be a problem if the viewpoints were more distinguishable from each other and didn’t switch so abruptly. Tree Of Life’s biggest flaw, however, is its staggering vagueness. Jack is the only named character; we only have faces for everyone else. It’s not as though the other characters are unimportant, it’s just that there’s probably a total of a hundred speaking lines in the entire film. The dialogue is needlessly stingy, which is especially bad for this movie, since rapt attention has to be paid for when someone does talk, and it’s honestly hard to keep paying attention sometimes, what with the slow pace and meandering shots jumping from characters to nature to who knows what else. The film is so slow that when things do happen, it takes the viewer by so much surprise that they can barely register what happened, much less react. Is that supposed to be a reflection on what life can be like? An admirable goal, but no so great for making a coherent, watchable movie. By the end I didn’t know what I was suppose to be feeling; I didn’t feel anything except confusion and boredom (mostly boredom). I think I can see what Tree Of Life is going for, but it tries so hard at getting there that the only place it ends up in is up it’s own ass. 6.6 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
No memorable quotes stuck out. Go figure.
Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close
I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing this one. I was afraid I was in for a more action-oriented movie ripe with the shock and sadness that typified 9/11. What I got instead, thankfully, was a much more introspective film about loss, and how one special child struggles to deal with it.
Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close (hereafter shortened to ELIC) is the slightly epic story of Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn), a strange, neurotic boy who is trying and failing to cope with the loss of his father, Thomas (Tom Hanks), who perished in the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. Thomas was the only one Oskar was close to; constantly testing his son’s considerable brains with puzzles and little expeditions of his own design. A year after his death, Oskar decides to rummage through his father’s closet and finds a tiny envelope with the name “Black” written on it. Inside the envelope is a lone key. With only a not-uncommon last name to guide him, Oskar becomes obsessed with what the key unlocks, feeling like this is the last mission his father left for him, and hoping against hope that his father left him more than memories after his cruel death.
ELIC shows the effects of 9/11 on the most innocent victims: the children who suddenly found themselves with just one parent. It’s an important perspective to consider, especially from a kid as singular as Oskar - he may or may not have asperger syndrome (he mentions the test was “inconclusive”), and at the very least is most likely obessive-compulsive, and after 9/11, phobic of many things. Maybe it’s the strange, awkward kid in me, but I found his exploration for meaning touching and relevant. Horn’s performance is wonderful, and he manages to have chemistry with every actor he shares the screen with. Of course, this is helped by the fact that he shares the screen with other amazing actors. Oskar’s intelligence and organization would be distractingly unrealistic, but Horn plays him well enough so that the audience realizes that his genius comes at a price - he’s only able to go through with his plans because his anxiety isolates him, and his determination to find the key’s lock soon changes to unhealthy obsession. ELIC starts to drag a bit towards the end, but it’s well worth sitting through to the end; the few issues I’d been having with the film are wrapped up neatly and (somewhat) realistically. I have a feeling that the main reason I enjoyed ELIC is because I was able to relate to Oskar a lot, but I can also see how his mannerisms might annoy some viewers after awhile. Then again, just because a kid has a grating personality doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings, and it certainly doesn’t mean he’s exempt from the awful feelings anyone would have after having someone important taken away so terribly. If someone doesn’t speak for them, who will? 7.8 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: “I…tried to think of each person as a number…but it wasn’t working because people aren’t like numbers. They’re more like letters, and those letters want to become stories, and dad said that stories need to be shared.”
War Horse
Spielberg’s latest epic, War Horse, is everything a sweeping adventure should be - very insistingly so. It has some of the best ingredients of a great film, but the end result tastes a little funny, and not ha-ha funny (obviously since it’s about World War I).
The story begins with the birth of a colt in 1910’s rural England. Albert (Jeremy Irvine), The son of an unfortunate farmer who lives nearby, watches the colt grow into a magnificent young stallion, and is the only one who is delighted when his father (Peter Mullan) buys him for twice what he’s worth at an auction, just to one-up another bidder. Though not initially cut out for farm work, Albert painstakingly trains the horse, who he names Joey, and they develop a strong connection. Despite their perseverance, however, hard times force Albert’s father to sell Joey to local army recruiters following the outbreak of World War I. Heartbroken, but too young to enlist himself, Albert promises Joey that he’ll find him again someday. It is here that the adventures and trials of Joey begin; as the war wears on, he finds his way around Europe and through the fighting, touches the lives of everyone he meets, and sees things that no horse (or person) should see.
Make no mistake: this film has a lot to offer: a touching and powerful story about friendships stronger than war, told with loving detail and captivating cinematography. Even the most violent battle scenes have a certain visual appeal ( possibly aided by the fact that the carnage is a lot less bloody than it should be, at least when it comes to the humans). However, what drags this film down is how overripe it is with sentimentality. I’m not saying a heartwarming story is stupid, it’s nice to feel warm and fuzzy inside sometimes, but War Horse makes it abundantly clear in the first ten minutes that its main goal is to rip out your heartstrings so that John Williams can string violins with them. The score is far too grand, making it clear on what it wants you to feel and when. I didn’t shed a tear during this movie because when the touching moments happened, the music did all the feeling for me. The film uses both tragedy and wonder to provoke the audience, and it quite obviously steers audiences’ feelings in a single direction. The movie is very specific on what it wants you to feel, instead of letting the feeling emerge naturally as it progresses, and leaving no room for the viewer to draw their own conclusions. It hopes it’s grandeur will distract you from how implausible nearly everything that happens is, and little annoyances, like why none of the German soldiers speak German among themselves. Though a beautiful film with a great story of friendship, War Horse is overly-saccharine, and too insistent with it’s emotional goals. 7.5 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: ”Yes, your father drinks. You might drink too if you’d been where he’s been; seen what he’s seen.” - Rose Narracott
The Descendants
Alexander Payne once again weaves together a poignant story of loss and relationships in what’s probably the least spectacular film on the Best Picture list. Although the title is just a little too cool for the movie itself, The Descendants still casts a relevant look into the youth of today, and the modern breakdown of the family unit.
Matt King (George Clooney), a wealthy lawyer and Hawaii landowner, finds his life thrown into upheaval when his wife (Patricia Hastie) is left in a coma after a boating accident. Matt is suddenly the single parent of two daughters (Shailene Woodley and Amara Miller), neither of whom he has a real connection with. Any hope King had of things going back to normal is dashed when the doctor tells him his wife will never wake up and that she’ll be taken off life support in a few days. Further turmoil is added when his oldest daughter reveals that in the months preceding the coma, her mother had been having an affair. It falls on Matt to not only rebuild the remnants of his shattered life, but to also to realize that the actual shattering had begun much earlier than he’d thought. He slowly learns what’s truly important in his life, those of his children, and even the land he’s responsible for in the most deceptively peaceful state in America.
The Descendants has excellent structure and flow, aided by great dialogue. And dialogue is important for this film since most of it involves Matt talking to a LOT of people about his wife and his trust with his family’s land, which many other of his family members want to sell and develop, a b-story that hangs in the background of the movie, but gets minimal attention compared to Matt’s efforts to learn the truth about his wife. If the script was weak, this film could have been boring. However, the writing is solid, driving the film where it needs to go, making the paralleling emotional journeys of Matt and his oldest child heartwarming without being sappy. There is a bit of a bleak atmosphere in the film, creating a bit of dissonance against the insanely beautiful backdrop of Hawaii (and believe me, the movie gives you plenty of looks at it). There is dissonance too, in the score, which mostly consists of upbeat native Hawaiian music in between scenes of anger. These unsettling contrasts tie in neatly with the film’s themes of deception and things not being how they seem on the surface. Clooney is a great actor, but when he plays an everyman (or close enough to one for Clooney), he can get a little tiring to watch after awhile. That could have happened here, but again, the dialogue is smooth, yet believable, bringing out the best in the whole cast, especially Woodley and Nick Krause, who plays Alexandra’s tactless, yet genuine friend (boyfriend? They aren’t too clear on it) Sid. Though I’m not sure I’d call it Best Picture material, The Descendants is well worth watching, with a subtle statement on modern families and our society’s misplaced priorities. 7.7 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: “A few months ago my dad was killed by a drunk driver. Well, both drivers were drunk.” -Sid
The Artist
Important note: When I first sat down to see it, I did not know that The Artist is in fact, a silent film. There is seriously no diegetic sound apart from two (obviously carefully picked) exceptions. To say I was surprised was an understatement, but looking back, I think it was better that I went in unprepared.
The Artist revolves around two actors who meet almost by accident in 1927, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) and Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo). When they meet, Valentin is the biggest star in Hollywood and in love with himself. Miller is a rookie, but everyone in the biz soon becomes taken with her spirit. One day, Valentin is informed by his boss (John Goodman) that he’s introducing the advent of sound into all future movies, and that there’s no room for the older faces of silent film. Undaunted, George insists that “talkies” are just a fad and that the public will continue to love him. As the 20’s become the 30’s, Valentin and Miller have nearly opposite experiences with the changes Hollywood makes, yet their lives become strangely intertwined, and all too soon Valentin finds out just what an actor is worth.
As I said, I think it’s better that I didn’t know there’d be no spoken dialogue, or indeed any non-musical sound in nearly the whole movie. If I had known, I would have ended up dreading it; not because silent movies are bad (I’ve seen a few), but they are a wee bit out of date, and how many present-day filmmakers can you think of who could effectively pull it off? The point is, I would have been put on edge by the notion, and to properly enjoy a silent film, it helps to have a little patience and an open mind. And in the case of The Artist, having an open mind pays off. Michel Hazanavicius’ film is incredible, and yet might seem baffling since we’ve spent the last 80 years taking talkies for granted. Watching this film drives home how much harder both actors and audiences had to work before the microphone; with no dialogue, an actor has to rely on facial expression and body language to get their point across. The dialogue must be carefully chosen, since the presence of the word cards cuts into screentime. The audience too, has to make more of a commitment. People go to movies today and can zone out; only present for the one-liners or explosions, but back then a moviegoer had to pay attention, not miss any dialogue cards, and listen carefully to the soundtrack (played by a live orchestra) for the musical cues. It sounds tiring, but if it’s truly a good movie, then the immersion into the story makes the commitment not a chore, but an experience. An actor can’t be half-asleep in a silent film; he’s got to give it his all, as does everyone in this film. Dujardin and Bejo both light up the screen with their performances and charm, but special mention has to go to James Cromwell, as well as, if you can believe it, the jack russel terrier that plays Valentin’s loyal pet and co-star. The lack of speaking is more than made up for by the beautiful score, terrific acting, and the unique atmosphere created in so many old Hollywood movies that modern movies just don’t have anymore. But for today’s audiences, The Artist is new, fresh, and fascinating. Kinda ironic, really. 8.3 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Midnight In Paris
When I first heard the plot of Midnight In Paris, I thought it sounded a little corny, but Woody Allen’s hands are those a screenplay can be trusted in, and the same is true for this genre-bending love(ish) story.
Gil Pender (Owen Wilson) is a successful Hollywood screenwriter, but is tired of writing popular hackneyed material and is trying but struggling to write a legitimate novel. While vacationing in Paris with his fiancée (Rachel McAdams), he falls in love with the city and becomes disconnected with the woman he’s supposed to marry and the life he’s lived. One night, when he just happens to be standing at the right streetcorner at midnight, a mysterious old-timey car drives up, beckons him in, and somehow drives Gil to his favorite time period - the 1920’s. As he converses with some of greatest artistic figures of the early 20th century, Gil finds himself facing the fears and disappointments of life; questioning his motivations, actions, and most importantly, his love.
Midnight In Paris is a love story, but not in the usual boy-gets-the-girl kind of way. It’s more about one man’s (inadvertent) journey to learn what true love is, and the painful realization of what it’s not. Mixed in are elements of a belated coming-of-age story, especially since it concerns a writers first real venture out of the bubble of Hollywood. The film juggles between modern-day Paris, and Paris in the 20’s; the contrast between the two is often jarring, especially in the attitudes of the people of both eras. The movie is so rife with literary and other artistic references that viewers who don’t have an affinity for 20th century art might feel left out of the joke, but most people have heard of the principal figures Gil interacts with (Hemingway (Corey Stoll), Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston), and Picasso (Marcial Di Fonzo Bo) just to name a few), so it’s not a big problem. Plus, the parts set in 2010 do a great job of bringing the film back to earth for people who’ve gotten tired of the fantastic-yet-historical elements. In fact, this movies excellent ability to blend together the genres of romantic comedy, fantasy, and drama allows for a wider audience. Midnight In Paris is a unique, lovely film with an wonderfully-picked cast that subtly brings its message across in true French style - with elegance and earnestness. 7.9 out of 10 stars on IMDb.
Quote: ”All cowardice comes from not loving, or not loving well, which is the same thing.” -Ernest Hemingway
