THE IDES OF MARCH (2011)

“You can lie, you can cheat, you can start a war, you can bankrupt the country. But you can’t f*** the interns. They get you for that.”

That’s Rule #1 of Presidential elections, according to Stephen Meyers, an up-and-coming campaign manager (played by Ryan Gosling).  He’s successful, knows how the game works and is not green behind the ears. He knows that elections aren’t great, well-intentioned battles between highly competent people. It’s about hoping that the voters think the deep blue sea is worse than the devil. Everybody is a pawn on somebody’s game board.

The Ides of March charts the events preceding the American Democratic Party presidential primaries in Ohio and the valuable life lessons learnt by all the characters.  Off the bat, the most striking thing about the film is that Ryan is the new George Clooney. And George is the new Marlon Brando.  With a supporting cast (Evan Rachel Wood, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei and Philip Seymour Hoffman) that played off each other brilliantly and did justice to the excellent dialogue, this film stayed true to its Thespian origin.  Rembrandt lighting and Alexandre Desplat’s moody, vintagey music between scenes gave the film an air of quiet drama.  If this extensive set-up hadn’t yielded any conspiratorial plots and skulduggery, I’d have been thoroughly disappointed (spoiler alert: I wasn’t).

While it is tempting to see this film as the story of Gosling’s loss of innocence,  there’s more to it than meets the eye.  None of the characters are what they seem.  George Clooney while coming across as the dream candidate, who has everything working for him, learns a valuable lesson in the importance of discretion. Gosling is an old hand at political intrigue, but all it took was one charismatic man to make him wonder if, perhaps there was something to the whole ‘honour’ shtick after all. Evan Rachel Wood is just a lowly intern, but she’s also the daughter of a very powerful politician. She’s mature and sexually confident, but she’s also just 20 years old. The scenes with Wood and Gosling were sizzling with chemistry– he’s the boss, she’s just an intern but she’s the one who’s leading the waltz.  I’m sure I don’t need to say anything about Giamatti and Hoffman, who despite having comparably less screen time, carved memorable characters. But be warned, Hoffman: you are in imminent danger of getting typecasted as The Foul-mouthed and Dishevelled Politico.

George Clooney plays Mike Morris, a presidential candidate whose optimism and principles are infectious. But eventually, everybody disappoints without fail; we are not built to live up to others’ expectations.  Even the most admirable will fall, and take with them the last vestige of any idealism you may have ever had.

The thing about George is that, while he’s terribly handsome, smart, has crinkly eyes, etc, he just… Clooneys around, you know? It becomes hard to separate suave and sexy George from the suave and sexy character he’s supposed to be playing, barring some memorable films like Syriana (2005) and O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000). If he’s keen on winning a Best Actor Oscar, he needs to be less suave and charm-oozy  (since the Academy is refusing to institute that Award for Best Clooney in a Motion Picture).  Fortunately, George pulls off Morris’ character very well. He’s the young, optimistic and honourable politician, reminiscent of JFK and Obama– the cool, hands-on kind of guy who’s in love with his wife. But under that charismatic veneer, he always seems too good to be true. Which, as you know, usually means that it isn’t true.

While one could find a number of minor things to quibble over, the film’s backbone is its simple plot, superb lines and the confidence with which it let the actors rather than events take centre stage.

I was somewhat disdainful of Stephen Meyer’s decisions; what else was he expecting from a politician, I remember wondering. In politics, isn’t everyday is the Ides of March? Is is a sign of how disillusioned we’ve become when we are smug (even relieved) about Mike Morris’ fallibility? If the film-makers’ aim was to show us what manner of creatures we’ve become, then by Clooney, this is a better film than I thought possible.

THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN (2011)

If you are anything like me, you read Tintin comics in your school/neighbourhood library and have hazy but extremely fond memories of the series.  You were probably thrilled to hear that a beloved bit of your childhood was being adapted to the big screen, with the formidable Peter Jackson-Steven Spielberg duo at the helm. Peter Jackson, the man who managed to silence one of the most vociferous (and astute) fan bases with his remarkable adaptation of the greatest book ever written, and Spielberg, who is practically an institution.  If you are anything like me, do not make the mistake of watching the The Adventures of Tintin with a rabid fanboy.

For the 3 people on the planet who have not heard of this comic book series, “The Adventures of Tintin” is about an alien explorer from the planet Zargon X, come to study humanity. He disguises himself as a dog, Snowy, and gallivants about the place with his sidekick, Tintin. He solves many mysteries and catches many bad guys, occasionally with Tintin’s help. The 2011 film adaptation combines some plot points from 3 comics, and is otherwise a completely new story (the blackest of sins, I was told).

I think it’s time we struck up a dirge for 3D films. Sure, there were some spectacular animated films that made glorious use of the 3D, but they seem to have regressed to that gimmicky, pre-Avatar era. Apart from 2 or 3 scenes (a superb sea battle and Tintin dodging traffic on a busy street come to mind), I watched the entire thing without glasses. Half the exciting murders and skulduggery in the Tintin universe happen at night, and once you have the glasses on, you can’t see a damn thing.  I must also mention that Captain Haddock’s animation and motion capture was awful. No animated character has looked as creepy, since the dead-eyed zombies ofThe Polar Express (2004). The animation was otherwise top class and even incredibly lifelike in parts: qualities that one has now come to expect from Weta Digital.

Now, onto the meat of the matter: how was the film?  Eminently watchable. This was not a lets-just-render-one-book-for-the-screen-and-smirk-all-the-way-to-the bank movie. The film-makers had a loftier goal: to stay true to the spirit of the series, but with a new plot. Suspense, adventure, Thomson/Thompson pratfalls and little clues for the viewer make for a most enjoyable film. They had lots of references to the comics without ever going overboard.  One particularly enjoyable moment was when Tintin gets his caricature drawn by a street artist and the audience collectively went, “Heh. Good one”.  Sure, some of the humour was a bit over the top (Haddock fuelling a plane with his whisky breath, or buildings merrily sailing away on a flood), but this sort of slapstick humour was expected. I mean, have you read a Tintin comic lately?

Fanboys on the other hand, there’s simply no pleasing them. This is known. If you do succeed in gaining their approval, rest assured that nobody else will watch that film because it will be mired in trivia and easter eggs. They will carry on about how the masthead of the Unicorn was three inches off, or how the wrong sort of ivy was growing on Marlinspike Hall. They forget that the magic of Tintin does not lie in its self-referential in-jokes or Sakharine’s backstory; it was the good, old-fashioned, almost fantastic tales of adventure and mystery that first made you fall in love with the series. It was like a travelogue for children, who then went and sailed the seas in their imaginary ships and bathed their bedroom floors in the blood of countless mad scientists and oil sheikhs. Fanboys be damned, this film lived up to its promise.

Although, I’ll give them this much: I wouldn’t have caught half the easter eggs if it hadn’t been for excited whispers of “That’s from Blue Lotus!” and “That vase in the corner is from Something of the something else” emanating from the next seat. Oddly endearing, even if you are resisting the urge to beat them with a bag of rotten oranges.

*****

BONUS FEATURE: PARTY GAME!

“Bait the Fanboy“

You will need:

1 bottle of tequila

1-2 fanboys (must be passionate about same TV show/cartoon/comic)

1 Comfortable armchair/couch

How to play:

1. Find 1 or 2 fanboys and engage them in conversation. Within 5 minutes they will have mentioned their comic/cartoon/TV show/movie of interest.

2. Tell him/her how much you love their subject of interest. This is to lull them into a false sense of security.

3. When they’re deep into a monologue about the cultural/artistic/social significance of pg. 15 of the third volume/season, interrupt them and say, “Yeah, and I really loved the movie adaptation. It was spot on!”

4. Sit back, and let them start talking. Every time they use the following words/phrases, drink 1 shot: “outrage”, “shallow”, “disregards established canon”, “misunderstood”, “did not stay true to the spirit”, “director of the film should be drawn and quartered”. Drink two shots for every time they use the word “travesty”.

5.  Enjoy the party and remember to keep yourself well hydrated!

SUPER 8 (2011)

The movie that Super 8 most obviously evokes is Steven Spielberg’s E.T. – the idea of an alien creature coming into the lives of a group of young kids, and the ways in which the subsequent encounter alters their relationships. Considering that Spielberg is credited as producer, and the movie is directed by his much spoken about protégé, J.J. Abrams, this is not unexpected. What is surprising though, are the ways in which Super 8 manages to stand out on its own, away from the towering shadow of one of the greatest works of a master director.

What helps is that it is a homage about homage. The central group of child characters in Super 8are obsessed with the magic of the movies: there is the scene-scouting director (this is gold!), the obsessed-with-explosives SFX man, the powerful young actress, the queasy leading man, and our make-up artist protagonist. There is a wonderful moment where a film projector involuntarily interrupts an already tender scene between two characters, and the resultant projection elevates it to another level. The best scenes in this movie simply involve the kids playing off against each other, working up to creating an award-winning zombie movie with heart. Abrams is successful in supplying this movie with that very heart, and the fantastic first half gives us a lot to play with.

J.J. Abrams

The movie our young filmmakers are trying to create leads them to witness a massive train crash – where the train’s mysterious cargo escapes. Before they know it, the U.S. military is on the case, and strange occurrences start happening in the town. The dogs are missing, electronics have vanished, and soon people start following suit. There is a tremendous amount of tension built up with these early sequences, as we are left guessing about the nature of this creature.

The problem is, nothing can quite match up to what the imagination creates, and Abrams’ final revelation of the “monster” is somewhat underwhelming. Where the first half builds itself on charming character-play and thudding suspense, the second half veers into full-blown spectacle – and suffers as a result. The spectacle itself is well done, and the action sequences thrilling, but there is a somewhat discomfiting genre switch that is a bit hard to digest.

That said, Super 8 still works. This is, thanks to, in no small part, the excellent performances Abrams extracts from his young cast. Recall if you will, that E.T. featured a young Drew Barrymore; this movie has Dakota Fanning’s younger sister Elle Fanning, and in a scene that moves the characters within the movie to tears, she begins to steal the film. Our protagonist has a milder approach to his character that still remains quite endearing. Kyle Chandler as the father is not quite the sympathetic presence he was in Friday Night Lights, but I think he is partly let down by a poorly written character.

A final word on the movie-within-the-movie. Make sure you stay back for the credits; we get to watch the full version of the movie our young filmmakers have been working on. It is charming, faux-scary, and a pure blast of fun. Kind of like Super 8 itself, really.

(as published on mylaw.net)

REAL STEEL (2011)

Science, forget about flying cars and that cure for common cold and please get cracking on making robot prize fighting a reality. ROBOTS! PRIZEFIGHTING!  You'd think that sort of thing has universal appeal, but Rotten Tomatoes' verdict on Real Steel is, "Silly premise notwithstanding, this is a well-made Hollywood movie."

WHAT.

Which part of 8-ft monsters of steel beating the shit out of each other (occasionally in slow-mo) for our entertainment is a "silly" premise? I'd pay good money to make this happen. So stop douching out on us, RT.

The year is 2020 and robots have replaces humans in the boxing ring. Hugh Jackman is a small-time robot promoter (beater-upper? handler? guy who controls the remote control  for the fighter-bots?) who was once an almost-boxing champion before robots replaced him and his ilk. Troubled with financial issues and a thoughtless approach to bot-boxing, he leads a hand-to-mouth existence till his illegitimate son is foisted on him. His son turns out to have that same stubborn streak and passion for boxing as him. The kid finds an ancient robot (Atom) in a junkyard, which Jackman reluctantly enters into underground boxing matches and surprise, surprise, Atom turns out to be the Seabiscuit of boxing robots with a talent for taking a proper beating and then giving it back good. In the process, Jackman and kid do some serious father-son bonding.

I know, this whole career-oriented/macho man forced to care for a smart alec child theme is trite [The Game Plan (2007), The Pacifier (2005), Daddy Day Care (2003), Big Daddy (1999), Liar Liar (1997), Mr. Nanny (1993), Fatherhood (1993), Kindergarten Cop (1990)]. Besides, apart from the Fannings, precocious children in film are a vile, vomit-inducing group.  Which is why a normal little kid who is stubborn, curious, rude and constantly ODs on comic books and soda makes for a nice change. Also, can we take a moment to pause and reflect on that buff, aviator-rocking hunk of yumminess called Hugh Jackman?

It's not like anybody is going to read this caption anyway.

There was a long queue to do this. Worth it.

Okay, where were we?



Obviously, Real Steel didn't have the greatest character development ever seen on film, and if one were to nitpick, one could find a plot hole or five.  Hugh Jackman and son hate each other because he's just a money-grubbing rascal and then, when the climax showdown scene is 3 minutes away, he suddenly begins to care. We've seen this a dozen times. It is also pretty ridiculous when a small child uses only his powers of cuteness and sugar high to indulge in complicated robot-hot rodding (alas, if only 10 cans of Dr. Pepper could give one an epiphany). And yes, since all evidence suggesting that the robots were just machines slightly superior to your washing machine, it is highly improbable that Atom magically became self-aware, especially when they give us no reason for this to be a possibility.

I thought that little background they give us about robot-boxing was interesting. When robots initially replaced humans in boxing games, they tried to keep them as human-looking as possible, but then they realised that people didn't want to see uncanny valley residents. People wanted proper violence and lots of it, so robots started losing their human resemblance and began to mimic Transformer toys.  Atom, being an older-generation robot, still bore resemblance to humans (think Eva meets Bumblebee). But is that what really draws us to underdogs? Their human qualities?  Noisy Boy was a really cool robot and Zeus was easily the greatest robot ever created, and yet, it was Atom with his tenaciousness, robot dancing, big blue eyes (which make you wince every time he's hit) and his "human" style of bot-boxing, that ended up as the favourite. So I understand why they needed Atom to be self-aware. Otherwise, it's like asking the audience to root for a refrigerator. I just feel that the film would have worked better if they had left it a mystery: just the kid's desperate yearning for Atom to be self-aware or implied that Atom's self-awareness was just his imagination, but never actually showed us a self-aware Atom. A self-aware robot pretty much destroys the very foundation of the film and leaves too many unanswered questions. But if they had built on humanity's desire to name our ships, cars and computers, give these bits of metal and plastic emotional value and even assign them human qualities, this film  could have struck a very deep chord, without becoming silly.

All said and done, I immensely enjoyed this movie.  Perhaps it was because it wasn't just another lazy attempt to make money. Or perhaps it was the beautifully captured shadow boxing scenes. Or perhaps it was that ridiculously awesome soundtrack. But most likely it was the utter gorgeousness of Jackman's muscly forearms.

THE HELP (2011)

You know how Hollywood’s idea of an endearing female lead is a pretty, thin, amazing girl whose only faults are watching her weight and being adorably clumsy? Somebody decided to shake things up a little for the modern ladyfolk and gave us that wonderful category: The Non Rom-Com Chick Flick. And it’s a thriving industry too: Mona Lisa Smile, The Blind Side, Julie and Julia, Amelia, Eat Pray Love, Whip It and most recently, Bridesmaids. Some were a breath of fresh air, others reek of the same, tired garbage.  It’s always a choice between the jerk boyfriend/society ladies’ approval and a super-duper career/kind and selfless act, isn’t it? Oh woe is me, how is one supposed to choose?

The latest offender is The Help. Set in 1960s’ Mississippi, young unmarried Skeeter Phelan is shocked by her friends’ campaign to build separate bathrooms outside the house for the African-American servants. Instead of quietly embroidering her trousseau and finding herself a man, she decides to write a book (anonymously), compiling the experiences of the maids– the good, the bad and the horrible. But if anybody finds out, she stands to lose her social status and the maids, their livelihoods.

To give credit where it is due, the book this movie is based on is an engaging read. There is no single protagonist, and there is no White Heroine benevolently scattering largess to the downtrodden ethnic minority.  The tone of the book treads a line between funny and horrifying, because the stakes are that high. Lynching is a reality, and common too. One word from a white employer and a maid and her entire family’s livelihood is ruined. People get their tongues cut off.  The racism isn’t just the obvious acts like segregation, but insidious things like not letting your fingers touch the maid’s when she hands you coffee, having a separate plate and cup for her to use– the kind that nobody really notices or thinks is a problem.

Racism in ’60s Mississippi is not a light-hearted subject, and certainly should not focus on a pretty white woman who was like, totally a feminist and civil rights activist and showed all those prissy white folk how them liberals roll. Emma Stone getting the biggest cut of the screen time and being the protagonist completely destroyed the foundation of the story. What does she have at stake? No boy in Jackson would marry her and the society ladies would throw her out of the bridge club if they found out she was associating with maids. Boo-fricking-hoo.

The real story is about the brave maids who put their families and themselves on the chopping block to tell their stories. Unfortunately, this film simply did not convey that sense of danger and the tense atmosphere they lived in. Apart from one throwaway mention about a lynching, the characters seem more concerned with boyfriends and frenemies. Even though the maids are the ones risking everything, only two of them get any semblance of a backstory. The climax of the film was centred around the cardboard cutout villain queen bee’s hissy fit.

What irritated me the most was that the film never had the courage to follow through on premise of the book.  It always remained superficial, and as I mentioned before, comic in tone. The most egregious lapse to me was the story arc related to Skeeter’s maid’s fate, where the plot was changed from the book and as a result, became pointless (sorry, can’t reveal it without giving away spoilers).  A number of superfluous characters were retained in the movie to maintain similarity to the book, but the film simply failed to capture the soul of the book.  Once the maid’s interviews are published, there’s a bit of unpleasantness for about five minutes and everybody goes on with their lives.  In the book, the publication of the interviews is only the start of weeks and months of fear and the bitter reaping of consequences.

But fortunately, some Hollywood executive realized that lynching and torture are heavy subjects, simply not suited for us fragile womenfolk.  Us gals would obviously prefer a frothy film for Girls Night Out, to work up a thirst for cosmos after.

If you have not read the book, you wont hate the movie, because you wont see the wasted potential. There is no doubt that all the actors performed admirably, and the film definitely had its moments but ultimately, it failed for me because of its spineless script. On the plus side, at least now we know what the lovechild of American History X and Mean Girls looks like.

SPEEDY SINGHS (2011)

Poor Anupam Kher. Despite having a career's worth of iconic roles, he gets type-casted as the Punjabi Father Who Hates Sports. This is his third time around, after all. At least no one can accuse him of meting out differential treatment to his screen sons and daughters. In Speedy Singhs, Vinay Virmani plays his son, a Indian-Canadian boy, who is a (cocky) ice hockey aficionado and has lost touch with his Sikh roots. His father wants him to become a truck driver and take over his uncle's business, while he wants to become a sportsman. After some half-hearted racism incident, he convinces his friends to form an all-Sikh ice hockey team for some bush league tournament and gets Rob Lowe to coach them.

Spoiler alert: they win and he gets the girl.

The underdog team sports movie, especially the ethnic community underdog team sports movie has been done only a few million times before and Speedy Singhs does not even come close to exploring new territory. Seriously, if you have watched Bend it Like Beckham, just imagine Parminder Nagra without the bosom and a hockey stick instead of a football and you're golden. You will predict the entire plot of movie within 5 minutes, including (and especially) the climax. It's not exactly a suspenseful film. Having said that, I enjoyed it immensely. You shouldn't watch it for the paint-by-numbers plot, but for the funny, witty dialogue and surprisingly excellent performances by the supporting cast. The Speedy Singhs shared a believable camaraderie and their scenes had excellent comic timing without ever being heavy-handed or maudlin. In fact, the supporting cast (especially that sheepish goalkeeper) were so funny, that I wish they had got more screen time.

And the music? AWESOME.

My biggest problem with this movie was the extremely underdeveloped plot. It didn't have to be such a big pile of clichés. A lot of interesting story arcs were mentioned and then promptly abandoned. Racism was used every now and then to move the plot along. Okay, tell us about racism in Canada. Don't throw one cardboard cut-out racist hockey team and otherwise nice, happy Canadian people at us and expect it to create an undercurrent of racist tension (and therefore, motivation for the protagonist). Sure, they wanted a cute, funny movie and not a deep, insightful film about racism. But whoever said the two were mutually exclusive?

Also, why did Rob Lowe agree to coach the team, and that too, with nothing to gain? What's his motivation? He could've been an interesting character, if he hadn't been rendered into a cheap supporting role. I was also thoroughly unconvinced by Vinay Virmani's passion for the sport. Did he ever try out for any of the teams and get rejected for being an ethnic minority? Playing with your neighbourhood buddies on weekends and then ambushing a team's practise session to beg for a try-out was unprofessional and seems to suggest a lackadaisical attitude towards the sport. Not exactly the kind of traits that make you want to root for the protagonist. Fortunately, Virmani is handsome and therefore got my vote (just about).

Usually, underdog movies have montages of the motley team sucking at the sport and slowly improving. Hell, montages make up 1/3 of the running time of any self-respecting sports movie. But here, there was very little of the sport itself and all that improvement stuff happens off screen and Rob Lowe simply says "oh okay you guys are much better now yay for us." This was presumably a pragmatic decision, because their target audience are Indians, who don't know a thing about ice hockey. Nevertheless, a sport movie without well-executed, heart-stopping climaxes is just odd.

I'm sure you're wondering if Russell Peters was superfluous. Yes and no. He isn't strictly necessary and his character is meant to be the obnoxious jerk who gets his comeuppance by the end of the film, but he does it so well that it is impossible to hate him. He got the funniest lines and his banter with Vinay Virmani make for the some of the best scenes of the film. Come on, I chuckle every time I watch the "Somebody gonna get a hurt real bad" sketch. He's okay in my book. Akshay Kumar's cameo on the other hand, was totally superfluous. But then, one could say that about every single one of his roles.

Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea

We suspend disbelief when we enter the cinemas – at least, it usually helps if we do. With a Hayao Miyazaki film, we’re also required to suspend expectations of narrative coherency and the conventional logic of linear storytelling. “Dream Logic” is a term frequently ascribed to Miyazaki’s work, and even in this, one of his most simplistic tales, the moniker is apt.

Ponyo is the journey of the eponymous character, who starts out as a five-year-old mermaid, daughter to an initially sinister-looking underwater dwelling man and the Goddess of Mercy, who makes her way to the shore. Once there, she comes in contact with the similarly aged Sasuke, and the two form an instant bond. A barrier comes in the way, however, when Ponyo’s father comes to reclaim her and drag her back into the ocean. She’s having none of this though – it’s being human that she desires and soon enough, she’s reunited with Sasuke, now with arms and feet to boot. The transformation comes at a cost: Ponyo’s upset the balance of nature by crossing the divide and causes a tsunami to engulf the seaside village – though everyone remains miraculously unhurt. It is also important that Sasuke manage to prove his faithfulness to her – if he does, she stays human, if he doesn’t, she turns into the sea froth.

If you notice any similarities to the plot of The Little Mermaid, rest assured that this movie is regardless a dazzlingly original work. The whimsicality of Miyazaki’s imagination is evident in almost every frame – be it the lush underwater opening sequence or the image of prehistoric fish swimming over a seaside road that’s been submerged under water. The characters react in wonderfully matter-of-fact ways to the bizarre happenings of the story, making the turn of events all the more fantastical. This is a world in which magic and mysticism exist nonchalantly along with the mundane. So Sasuke’s mother’s only reaction to Ponyo’s proclamation that she’s from the sea is to offer her soup; while the discovery of the town’s flooding is met by simple musings about how it will now be navigated.

There’s an environmental agenda that trickles through most of the Japanese animators’ works, and here it is first witnessed when Ponyo is dragged through a filthy sea-bed near the start of the movie, and later on when her father elegaically chastises humans for upsetting the balance of nature. Never does the preachiness get heavy-handed however; this is a movie that prefers to show rather than tell.

Miyazaki’s ultimate achievement may be the fact that aside from the regular basket of wonders he unveils with every successive work, it’s the humanity of his characters that remains particularly indelible. Sasuke is an incredibly empathetic character here, and the dynamic of two children simply playing is captured quite perfectly. His mother Risa is another well-developed character: occasionally moody, mildly neurotic, but also heroic in her own manner. Her struggles involve dealing with the fact that her husband patrols the ocean waters and thus lives away from home. This then leads to Sasuke and Risa sharing the most quietly beautiful scene in the movie as they communicate with his father (in a patrol ship in the ocean) with a series of signalled light flashes.

“I LOVE YOU”, signals the father.

Risa is a bit annoyed with him, though, and the lights signal back to him: “STUPID, STUPID, STUPID”.

The father’s response to that is something that wouldn’t look out of place in a typical Hollywood romantic comedy. But since this movie isn’t “typical” in any sense of the word, I’ll leave you to savour that moment.

(as published on mylaw.net)