Tagged: movie reviews
“Decide”, A Review of Mothers’ Instinct by Benoit Delhomme
If you’ve somehow hesitated on this one, rest assured that it is worth watching. It isn’t perfect. But compared to all the other trash that is being proffered as “movies” these days, it is a return to the classic definition. (You don’t even want to know what my co-workers were about to watch when I came to the rescue.)
The tone was perfectly subdued, precisely unpronounced. No one holds your hand and points out what to notice. You either get it (and are disturbed in the titillating manner you found appealing) or you probably are bored and never really wanted to watch it.
As far as the leading ladies, Hathaway performs her role better than Chastain. But she also has the easier task.
The best part of the film is how the immediate fallout from the boy’s death is so natural. By way of comparison, consider the tragic mid-air. People’s reactions have centered on personal responsibility (pilot error) vs. systemic failure (FAA/ATC). And that debate is crazy to me. It’s actually why I choose to fly. I have ultimate authority for the safety of the flight. Not many jobs offer that.
As a recap, the helicopter pilot said, “Traffic in sight.” And then we all learned that he did not have the traffic in sight.
In this movie, the tragic death is more purely accidental. The trick, or hinge, to it is that one mother happened to see it coming but couldn’t get there in time, and the other mother should have been watching. But, different than the pilot, the boy never said, “I know I might die if I am wrong, but I am not wrong.”
I say all this to bring to the forefront that the post-tragedy questions “how to respond” and “how to interpret with and deal with others’ responses” are totally distinct from the mid-air’s “how to prevent this from ever happening again” question.
Moreover, the truly fascinating aspect of the plot is how powerfully the story debunks utopian notions of how good life could become if only. Life is great, people. But death is a part of life.
Death is a part of life. You don’t want life to be worse because of death. So talk about it. Think about it. Prepare for it. As a topic, death should be no different than meals or clothes or relationships.
Ultimately, I want to say this. If you feel death approaching, say, at the hands of an unstable woman, flee! It’s best not to hesitate on that one.
Pumbaa’s Error
“Oh. I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away.”
How does Disney create the idea that Simba’s animism (the stars are spirits of the dead) is the right astronomical view?
Timon and Pumbaa laugh his notion off, and yet every movie watcher walks out of the theater happy that Simba believed his dad and the subsequent delusional interpretation of one bright night’s dynamic weather.
It all starts with Pumbaa’s error.
Imagine with me if the writer had an ounce of astronomy training.
****
Pumbaa: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?
Timon: Pumbaa, I don’t wonder; I know.
Pumbaa: Oh. What are they?
Timon: They’re fireflies. Fireflies that, uh… got stuck up on that big bluish-black thing.
Pumbaa: Oh, gee. I always thought, when their light was analyzed with prisms, they were determined to be ever-changing balls of the very same elements that make up our world, acting, in fact, under the same forces and for the same reasons which carry both the sound of my voice to you but not much farther and the heat of this desert sand to our feet but not up our legs—but were like really far away and surrounded by LOTS of empty space.
****
Can you even imagine the ludicrous family tradition of past kings looking down following such a silly guess by the warthog?
No, no you cannot.
It’s not merely a killjoy, either. Plenty of ways to make the movie still work. Mufasa can talk about how his tribe had overcome great difficulties and that it took ridding themselves of envy and sabotage—and learning from whoever had something obviously better to contribute. And then Simba can simply remember this confirmable truth after a rebellious and disastrous few years of life with the poor—I mean—the wild animals.
It’s Like Movie Stars Complaining About Discrimination
As I keep reading essays and books essentially on “the definition of science”, I can’t help asking, “Where does the conflict with religion come in?” I can readily admit that I feel the conflict, but after spending any time in contemplation on the supposed conflict, I resolve everything to, “It’s comparing apples and oranges”. The only conflict is between bad religion and bad science. The real deal of either each stands alone and never the twain shall meet.
This new thought (in the post’s title ⤴️) about the conflict occurred to me just now.
So let me get this straight. The authors of all the mainstream science textbooks that are endlessly promoted and in use (or their conclusions are—which is the same) by all major educational institutions, these authors uniformly decry religion as, in general, something that holds humans back. Or that it stunts the development of knowledge and civilization etc.
Yeah. Okay. I believe you. Just like I believe the claims of millionaire celebrities that they’re victims of discrimination.
Gimme a break.
“Comedy in the Old Sense”, A Review of Joker: Folie à Deux, Directed by Todd Phillips
Everyone knows what a tragedy is. The word has kept its meaning through the years. The meaning of comedy, however, has not held constant. In a sense, this change is no different from how the concept of heat as substance was discarded in favor of heat as motion upon experimental data which confirmed there was a difference between temperature (strength) and heat (quantity).
Anyone know in what sense comedy was used in the past, say for such a work as Dante’s Divine Comedy? That’s right, “a happy ending.” That story has a happy ending. (Spoiler: It ends in Heaven.)
That is the sense that I mean when I chose to title this review, “Comedy in the Old Sense.” I do not mean that the film is funny.
As a family man, I do not get to the movie theater much these days, so I had to wait, like the rest of you, to watch the movie on a streaming service (co-worker’s account). So I was more than well-versed in the terrible reception of the highly anticipated film. While I would like to believe my critical eye is objective, I offer some backstory to the tardy review because I cannot deny that I came into the movie with a different mindset and much lower expectations than the World before me. Truth be told, by the time I watched it, I needed to prove everyone wrong. I needed to see the genius.
And so here it is.
The movie, unlike its predecessor, is pure comedy. As no one wanted to see that, because no one expected that, everyone missed it. Regardless of its initial reception, like the Divine Comedy, literally for the exact same reasons, I offer that this comedic work is an instant classic and will stand the test of time even more-so than Joker. Because we do like our happy endings.
Time for a proper [SPOILER ALERT]. (But I’d keep reading because the movie is better when not a mystery.)
Joker is the bad guy. And the bad guy dies.
That’s right. Good guys win; bad guys lose. That’s a happy ending, right? Well, the final scene in Joker is that a fanboy fellow asylum-mate unexpectedly (perhaps only to Arthur Fleck) kills Arthur.
Get it? From this old perspective, the first movie is a tragedy, because Joker, while arrested, clearly wins. But in the sequel, the continuation of the story, he dies. The bad guy loses—which is what happy endings require. So it’s a comedy.
If the film misses any mark, it is that the “good guy” remains nebulous. Is it Batman (meaning merely our awareness of the character since he is not in the film)? Is it rule of law in general? A jury trial in particular? Is it truth-telling in the face of fear? Is it truth in general? We aren’t really told, so it’s anyone’s guess.
That’s the broad strokes. But I want to hit some minutia for posterity’s sake.
Hollywood is messing up on casting right now (GLADIIATOR being the other major instance). Certain actors are too talented for small roles. In Joker: Folie à Deux, the problem is Gleeson. His character was fairly important to the story, but his past credits are too distinguished. The polish he brought resulted in him standing out like a sore thumb. It was all tease, no climax. Let’s not do that again.
In America’s on-going battle of the blondes, Hollywood thinks Margot Robbie could only be topped by Lady Gaga. (This isn’t criticism, just acknowledging who’s hot and who’s not—according to our betters.) This is interesting. Gaga did a perfectly fine job in the film. We probably can just admit she did a perfect job. But I’d say she risked more than she needed to on this role—even as she should be flattered beyond belief.
I recently watched Alien: Romulus as well. I am not sure why I didn’t review it—it is good. But I am very sure that the first time I saw the xenomorph appear I thought, “Man. That is so beautiful. Probably the best looking bad guy ever.” Update: after watching Joaquin Phoenix with the makeup on and hair green and charisma maxed out, I’d say it’s a tie. Joker is just beautiful. I’m telling you, keep an eye on how this movie is received down the years. We like beauty, as a species.
Let’s end on a philosophical note.
In the film Red Belt, the martial art’s instructor goes through a list of, “If you stand here, can I strike you? If you stand here, can I strike you?” Etc. This continues, of course, until he positions his student outside of striking distance and concludes, “So don’t stand here (anywhere close).”
Joker is killed by the nicest-to-him inmate (not Batman or the police or the law), precisely when/because his guard is down. I just can’t help but wonder, “WTF, over?”
Why do we hurt each other?
It Makes Me Want to Teach
[SPOILER] Good sermons make me want to preach, and good movies make me want to teach.
Gladiator II is good. As I said yesterday, it isn’t that good, but it is good. Here are some areas it missed the mark and which hold it back from ever becoming a “classic”. The areas are remarkable because they are so easy to identify. (High notes will be listed at the end.)
- You must know what your movie is about. Gladiator was not about Rome or Maximus’ wishes for Rome. Gladiator was about the penultimate gladiator—Maximus. (Insert infamous “husband to a…” quote.)
- Never, never, never, never believe you can fool an audience. We’re just too smart. No red-blooded American believes you should give up. Ever. Never give up. The idea that it is noble to peacefully and without resistance enter the after-life is un-American. Do not try to show how it contains value of some sort. “Rage, rage!”
- I saw a clip where Ridley Scott answered a question with, “I just know.” The question was about the leading man. This was way too arrogant. Hollywood and entertainment is far more complex than that. Sure, the leading man—unremarkable as he was and will prove to be—was definitely not a let down. But the whole movie wasn’t as good as it could have been and this is obviously because it rested on “I can’t make a bad movie” reasoning, instead of a good story and good storytelling. We’re not paying to see Ridley Scott. We’re paying to see a good story told well.
- While the movie wasn’t “woke”, it could’ve entered the always available ranks of “timeless” by avoiding some obviously “woke” ideology. Again, this did not have to be the case. Specifically the movie had way too many irrelevant BIPOC characters (and close-ups) that contributed nothing but shades of brown to the screen. To repeat: in great movies everything in the movie must have a purpose and that purpose is to tell the story. In Gladiator, the Black and German slaves were there to make us like Maximus even more. It wasn’t about DEI. It was about Maximus—the gladiator. This leads to the next point.
- We never cared about Lucius. This is because we were forbidden to by the first Gladiator. He had been introduced to us as little more than a spoiled rich kid. I think it would have been possible to care about him if we were shown how. I’m thinking that the story would have had to include some highly skilled and discerning followers or servants of young Lucius accompany him to wherever he goes to hide and resent him for their having to give up court life etc. Then over time they come to respect him and are willing to die for him etc. But there are a lot of difficulties with that concept too, so I’d have to give it more thought. The point is we absolutely cared about Maximus every single second of the film. Seriously, what wasn’t or isn’t there to like?
- The villain was too diffuse. Great movies have one villain and he or she or it is identifiable immediately. Surprises work for thrillers, but Gladiator II did not aim to be a thriller. “Temet Nosce” (know thyself).
- Just like life-making love-making, there can only be one climax in a movie. What is weird about this movie is that it has events which in and of themselves didn’t have to be “climaxes”, but were shot/told/scored as if they were the climax. So you feel spent only to now be disappointed that there was more action coming. Again, it’s a simple mistake that hurt the project.
- The final area I want to mention is something which probably has an industry term—I just don’t know it. It’s best exemplified by Expendables 3. There were all these individual scenes dedicated to each action hero on the squad. But the scenes had no “tie that binds.” Gladiator II similarly introduced many characters with scenes that were well-acted and almost interesting, but their presence diminished the movie, instead of augmenting it. Bluntly, by contrast, I cannot think of a character or scene in Gladiator that didn’t make me like Maximus more than I previously did. Characters offered contrast to Maximus, and scenes fulfilled the role that time does in increasing our desire to see new love, in this case Maximus, again. Gladiator II’s non-Lucius scenes merely confused me while creating an atmosphere wherein I did not want to give myself completely to what I thought the story was. And all this because, say it with me, the director didn’t know what the story was.
To conclude, and to balance, here are the obvious positives.
The opening scenes and battle are evidence of Scott’s greatness. Does anyone do epic better? No. He is without peer. They are masterful. He is the master.
No scene taken by itself is low quality—more evidence of greatness.
The acting is top tier.
And despite it being CGI, the CGI is almost transparent. Pointedly—it is probably the best CGI to date. Good job.
No Helmet, A Review of Gladiator II
The refrain, “This is good,” repeatedly sounded in my head for about the first third. And the movie is good. But it isn’t great and it misses for some questionable reasons.
Most importantly, there was no helmet.
Secondly, as in the first film, there is a use of “paper” that is totally a-historical. No one had disposable paper in 200AD.
Thirdly, CGI.
Fourthly, let’s just give Russell Crowe his due. Even his hand in wheat seems divine to this day.
Lastly, there was a moment—you’ll know it when it comes—that I felt disappointed that there was more movie to go.
Husbands: Throw Away the Romance Novels, A Review of The Island (2004) by Michael Bay
Husbands, I’m looking squarely at you! Throw away those romance novels and pick up the remote control. On Paramount+ right now you will find the most sensational, the most sultry, the most seductive film ever created to help save your marriage. Grab your wife, plop down on the love seat, and get ready for sparks to fly.
Husbands: you know the situation. Right now there is “culture” and there is “husband”. It is war. And us husbands lose every time.
How do we right the ship?
The answer is easy: wives must be shown a model.
Wives, as is well-documented and only too well-known, have little to no imagination. So they need to have a ready-made “felt experience” from which to draw memories. Enter, Mr. Bay’s 2004 classic The Island.
After the film lays out the story (post-apocalyptic indoor world, boring as shyte to men, exciting to women, with the only hope of change being a timely, random lottery every so often promising relocation to the last uncontaminated spec of land on the earth—an island) we meet the needed ingredient to help us win back our families. That ingredient being, the “culture” in the movie—the company cloning the rich people—puts out a “contamination” alert for Ewan McGregor’s character. But McGregor has already got the hand of Scarlet Johansen, and so here’s the kicker: Mrs. Johansen trusts and follows Mr. McGregor despite what the screens and other women advise!
Even more fantastic than this scene, the couple live! As they live on together, often even touching, they both learn just how much the “culture” lied.
Sometimes McGregor leads the running, other times he gets bogged down by some heavy lifting and Johansen continues the chase at the front.
Their object is the same—escape the prison of “culture”—so it really doesn’t matter who appears to lead according to the variables of time and space. What matters is that she chose her man, consequently she and he are now one and, again, at the risk of repeating myself, the wife (future) ignores the “culture” in favor of her husband.
Now, as every Bay fanboy knows, there are rules to the universe and rule 17 requires Michael Bay films to include a perfectly outrageous highway chase scene where the husband must unload railcar wheels onto the highway from atop a random semi which they only leapt onto by sheer chance. But if your beloved has somehow dozed off during the film as this begins, gently nudge her when you recognize the set-piece. Why? Because there is an incredible moment when the wife states husband’s name in a very neutral—yet leaning naggy—voice. After the exact amount of time to be perfectly suspenseful and fully engage the initiative elapses, she says, “Nice work!”
A compliment!! Just amazing.
Like St. John says of Jesus,
And there are also many other things which if they were written one after the other, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.
So we should end this simple film review here. But time is short! Grab your wife. Grab the remote. And take back your marriage!
My Culture, A Review of Zombieland Double Tap, by Ruben Fleischer
Certain parts of life are incapable of being explained within the remaining time, and yet too important to be ignored—those parts are culture. I realized this a short while into my marriage to a woman not of my culture when I kept finding her seemingly unable to understand what I was doing, and for what reasons. Frustrated, I simply said, “Things are this way because it’s my culture.”
“‘My culture’,” she’ll repeat. “What is ‘my culture’?” remains her loving, if unbelieving, response in broken Engileezaynia.
Next time the situation presents itself, I will answer my wife’s surely earnest parry with, “Can you watch a movie? What am I thinking? Of course you can. So watch Zombieland Double Tap. When you understand it, then you will have your answer. Because that is my culture.”
What a great film. What a landmark.
Euphemism vs. Metaphor, A Joint Review of Collateral by Michael Mann and Parasite by Bong Joon-ho
Parasite is the more timely film, that’s certain. It also is the more biblical film of the two—so much so that it is fairly difficult to understand how it was ever mentioned by a wealthy person, let alone the winner of Best Picture. Albert Schweitzer’s “Men simply don’t think” is probably behind its uncommon success.
I have been putting off re-watching Collateral because with TGM and MI:42, and recent viewings of some easy to watch other TC fav’s, I had to do something in order to stop short of total devotion to the man. But last night I could feel the mood for a movie ebbing my way and I do love Michael Mann. Suddenly, however, a voice from outside myself sounded.
“Can I watch with you?”
It was my 14yo step-son. And it was at his bedtime, the very reason we stopped reading. In other words, I was taken aback at this development. Come to find out, tomorrow was no school.
“Uh. I wasn’t planning to watch a kid’s movie. But I guess we can take a look and see if there’s a compromise on Prime.”
There wasn’t.
“Sorry, man. I just don’t want to sit through a bad movie and I had already set my heart on a rated-R film. We’ll watch something this weekend. So that’ll have to do.”
I was racking my brain to determine just what made villainous TC a film for adults only. The violence was elite, but not gory. And there wasn’t even that much of it. As far as I could recall I wasn’t even sure what I liked about the movie so much. The problem that I have in these situations (deciding whether a movie is appropriate for uninitiated folks ), though, is I have been very wrong in the past. So I trusted my experience over my memory and did not think twice about my decision as I pressed play.
Elite is the word I would use again to describe Collateral. I like the “clean” aspect of that euphemism to “the best”. Then I remembered that’s what I like so much about it. It is no unstable hand at the teller. Whoever made the film had a story to tell and the power to demand it be told with precision. Every scene says as much.
But there is also a depth to the story that elite does not capture. And this is the rated-R part that I am glad I did not share with my step-son.
While Parasite puts wealthy people on blast, that film doesn’t dive below the surface, below macro-level societal questions. Collateral, on the other hand, has a cab driver and an attorney believably find reason to relate about whether they enjoy their work.
“Do you like what you do?”
What a simple question. And what a terrible question.
Terrible because of what you feel as you read this now. Terrible because if you confess that you do not like what you do, you next are forced to admit just what that implies. Maybe you are lying and do like what you do? Maybe you love misery? Maybe you are hiding an addiction that prevents you from doing something you like? Maybe you are lying to yourself about moving on to something you would enjoy someday? We could go on. And that’s the point.
Parasite is a metaphor. But Collateral is a euphemism. Parasite must be kept from the children because of the blood and gore and other adult scenes. Collateral must be kept from the children because Santa Claus is real, because Machiavelli cannot win.
Parasite must have that name to be great. Collateral must have that name to be attempted. But it really should be called, ‘Every Day You Prove You Are Meaningless’.” And since that issue is still up for debate, (unlike, Parasite’s, “Do wealthy people view the rest of us as parasites?” (answer: sure do)), then euphemism and Michael Mann win this battle.
Blind Aliens vs. Blind Cave Monsters, A Joint Review of A Quiet Place(s), by John Krasinski and The Descent, By Neil Marshall
I think I have a knack for learning foreign languages. In my heart of hearts, I don’t think it is an inborn or god-given talent, because I never enjoyed learning French in high-school and college. But at the seminary as we learned Biblical Hebrew and Koine Greek, I was more open to the idea and the professors began at the beginning. The beginning of language, naturally, are the sounds of the language. And with the table set so pleasingly, I was ready to give it my best and have since been rewarded.
Back in French, the teacher just started with all these new words and the tables of verb tenses etc. But in Hebrew and Greek, the professors began (and were kinda compelled too) with the sounds of the letters and the fact that there were no equivalent sounds in English. This was especially true for Hebrew’s “clearing the throat” sound. Once I understood that languages were not about trying to add vocabulary to English, but about trying to utter a totally new set of sounds, things became interesting (and easy).
Before leaving this lengthy introduction and the topic of sounds, I want to share that in full Pete-personality, I did get tired of the professor’s casual “this how this letter (of a dead language) sounds” claims and finally asked, “But if nobody speaks it, how could we possibly know?” And the answer was, (can you guess?) “Well, sometimes writers would assert that this particular letter sounded like the sound a sheep makes.” So the Greek “Beta” for example, sounds like, “Baaaa”. Kidding. It sounds like “Beeey”. The actual sound a sheep makes. Super interesting, in my opinion.
Let’s get to the joint movie review.
Not too different from the name “Trump”, for as long as I can remember, I have heard about some book called “Dune”. Always being terrified of confirming irrevocably my membership in the “nerd” category, I never gave in to curiosity. But these days even otherwise nerdy movies are pretty high quality and so I finally gave in and watched the new movie Dune. (Don’t tell anyone.)
Dune is great. The way it relates to these two (three) films today is that I used Dune to finally motivate me to do something I have long been interested to do: learn ASL.
I found there is a professor dude, Dr. Bill Vicars who has amazing content on YouTube and I have begun a really fun project of learning the letters (quite simple) and now the language as a whole. This is in addition to learning my wife’s language, Amharic, to try to find that ever elusive marital bliss. In fact, I have the whole family working on ASL with Dr. V videos. It is terrifically rewarding.
“Focus, Pete. Blind Aliens vs. Blind Cave Monsters. Where does ASL fit in?”
Funny you should ask.
Nothing at all to do with learning ASL, the other day I had three hours available for a movie. And I couldn’t find a good epic to settle into, so I decided to just watch two 1.5 hr films. Never having watched A Quiet Place, those were my choice. Wouldn’t you know it? ASL requires no sound! So somehow, as I am being introduced to the benefits of ASL, I also stumble upon a film that affords some practical testing. Weird.
The movies are held together by Emily Blunt, of Sicario. She will never top Sicario, so don’t expect that. But the movies aren’t bad. The sequel didn’t really lose much steam either—a rarity if you ask anyone. But I wanted to capture my thoughts on them in a blog post because I did notice something about them that is worthy of sharing.
The end of A Quiet Place: Part Two is good because it moves along at a good clip. It never dwells. Just keep moving the story forward. It recognizes exactly what kind of movie it is, and exactly what the viewers came to see, and it delivers. But in that delivery, it also is a bit too mathematical. That’s my complaint. There are two or three different locations of simultaneous action and the time spent at each location is almost perfectly matched. It’d be interesting to actually time it and see. “Start time: the monster is closing in…stop time. Move to other location. Start time: the duo is about to save the day…stop time. Move back to… Start time…” etc. You get the point. But the bigger criticism is that the precision detracts from the humanity of film.
Mr. Krasinski: I don’t want to know that you have studied me perfectly and given me exactly what I would find palatable. I want you to tell me a story. I want to see what the Muse gave you. As the chick says in The Descent, “If there’s no risk, what is the point?” There is no risk in mathematics. Besides concluding that, I feel it. And so I felt that your films lacked risk. For that reason, they are not great films.
Today, then, I had 2.5 hrs to watch a movie and decided to watch The Descent, which I had only seen once or twice since it came out in 2005. Besides the fact that I remembered it as very good, I had just commended it to my step-son, for when he is older as we scrolled past it on Prime for something to watch.
Best “female empowerment” movie ever made, if you ask me. I’m not saying that it portrays an ideal woman. I am saying that of all the ridiculous displays and forced “girls don’t have to play only with dolls anymore” roles in both movies and sports that we are forced to endure if we seek new entertainment, this one gets the actual job of “empowering” done the best.
And oddly enough I found myself thinking, “What is with me these days? Two (three) blind (but hearing) monster movies in two days? And precisely when I am learning the singular way to survive (ASL)? Crazy affirmations from La Ooniversa, I guess. ‘Thank you, Mr. Universe, Sir! May I have another!’”
In the end, The Descent ranks in the category of “perfect film” (right alongside Sicario and Ford vs. Ferrari). Besides moving at a good clip, it is perfectly efficient, perfectly toned, perfectly cast, perfectly acted, and perfectly climatic. There are also a couple of perfectly surprising “make you jump” frights. I found myself laughing at how I jumped. Not many movies have that effect on me these days. But this one got me. Probably for the last time of viewing it. But it was worth it. Sitting all alone and drawing closer and closer to the story and the screen, when “Blam!”, you’re three feet in the air and land laughing. A wonderful feeling.
I’ll end by saying this: after due consideration, I can still imagine happily exploring Space and other worlds—even hosting aliens, if given the opportunity; I cannot imagine descending into an uncharted cave—flashlight or otherwise.
Captain’s Log 