Category Archives: Reviews

SIFF Review: “Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari” (dir. Aleksey Fedorchenko)

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Still from "Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari"

Warning: As has become SIFF tradition, this review was typed and posted after midnight. The copy-editing and coherence may be a bit more lax than usual.

The Mari are an ethnic and religious group living primarily in a Russian republic 700 kilometers east of Moscow. And prior to learning of this movie, I had no idea they existed. Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari could be seen as little more than a series of disconnected vignettes, but I found it to be a master class in short-form storytelling. The film uses the lens of 22 women, all of whose names begin with the letter “O” (and please don’t quiz me on them – even with 2 years of Russian under my belt, these names were utterly unfamiliar to me) to explore the customs, culture, attitudes, cuisine, and pastimes of the Meadow Mari. And did I mention that the Mari worship trees? Animism, paganism, naturism… There are elements of all sorts of nature-imbued faiths at work here, and a healthy measure of mystery, sorcery, gods, and demons. And did I mention this is not a documentary? Each of these stories is a work of fiction.

And it is in its treatment of fiction that the film absolutely shines. There is a quote, often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, that is allegedly the shortest novel ever written: For sale: baby shoes, never worn. This is the sort of densely poignant short-form storytelling that the film embraces. While the stories vary in length from around 2-7 minutes, some of the shorter ones are also some of the most powerful. In one segment, a bride and her friends are bathing in a creek on the eve of her wedding. At the top of the overlooking ravine, a lone girl leans against a guard rail – fully clothed, and whistling with a leaf. As the merry, naked romp continues down below, the groom-to-be approaches the guard rail from off-screen. He attempts to touch the hand of the odd girl out, and she responds with a simple “Don’t”, and resumes her whistling. Each of these stories has a beginning, middle, and end – even if we don’t see all of the pieces on-screen. This is not to say that I found the film completely coherent – there were a great many inexplicable moments and eccentricities that I couldn’t explain, due to my complete lack of knowledge of this entire people. And yet, there was never a moment that I found myself doubting that there was a reason for everything I was seeing on-screen – which had the effect of keeping me completely engaged throughout the film.

Still from "Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari"

While we’re on the subject of films that take place in Russia, the filmmakers of A Good Day to Die Hard should pay particular attention to this point: if I can’t explain why any of the characters are doing what they’re doing for the majority of your film, it’s a huge potential problem. But Celestial Wives presents the perfect solution – an ensemble cast of characters who always know why they’re doing what they’re doing, and do a magnificent job of conveying that certainty to the audience. The Mari women are strong and powerful creatures, and they take center stage in this film. Their primary ambition is marriage and family, and yet it is clear that they sit in a position of particular power and reverence in this community. And what’s more, they are incredibly sex-positive and open in discussing their sexuality, which leads to a multitude of interesting moments. The film mingles desire and seduction with the group’s nature-focused religion (and sorcery) in ways that are alternately poignant, hilarious, disturbing, and at all times incredibly invigorating. One segment, in which a group of young women perform a ritual (seemingly) to both honor the dead and ensure that they find good husbands, they are interrupted by a group of…well, they appear to be young men…who slap a pig hock onto the table and say, without preamble, “Let’s play hoof.” I won’t say what “hoof” entails, but suffice to say, it is one of the most bizarre and hilarious sequences I have ever seen put to film.

Still from "Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari"

How can I possibly discuss this film further? Since each of these segments tells a complete story that is nonetheless a part of a coherent whole, I find myself unable to even discuss my favorite segments without entirely spoiling them. To put it simply, this film is exhilarating – and prone to moments of staggering poignancy. While there were certainly some segments that I enjoyed more than others, there was not a single one that I found boring. The film’s open approach to sexuality raises a myriad of fascinating questions over the course of the film’s runtime, to say nothing of the role of this culture that has somehow managed to remain a band apart (culturally and religiously) for so many centuries despite being surrounded at all times by conflicting ideologies. And I know you. You might be bringing a few of those ideologies to the table yourself. You might not be eager to check out a film with not one, not two, but 22 strong female characters. But that’s okay. Well, it’s really not okay… But I can assure you that the cast also includes the fine, upstanding gentlemen below.

FilmWonk rating: 9 out of 10

Still from "Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari"

SIFF Roundup: “Blackfish”, “The Kings of Summer”

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Poster for "Blackfish"

“I can’t imagine a society that values marine mammals as we do…without parks like SeaWorld.”


This quote, from an interview with a former SeaWorld trainer, appears in the latter half of Blackfish, and it is to the documentary’s credit that it doesn’t belabor or even call attention to the bitter irony that this one line so perfectly encapsulates. The film is ostensibly a hit piece on SeaWorld, centering around a captive orca named Tilikum who killed an experienced trainer named Dawn Brancheau in 2010, increasing his career body count to three. It expands upon the company’s allegedly dubious safety record when it comes to protecting those under its purview – animals and trainers alike. The film does moralize about the ethics of keeping captive intelligent animals in a glorified circus, but these moments are few and far between compared to the film’s pragmatism about keeping and interacting with orcas safely.

The film’s central argument seems to be this: If killer whales are potentially lethal, as their moniker would seem to imply, and if they are used to miles of unobstructed ocean territory in which to roam and settle their disputes, they cannot be practically held in captivity with any measure of safety. The moral implications of this point are broached throughout the film, but with an impressive level of subtlety. As a whole, the film is stridently opposed to the practice of keeping captive orcas, but it never feels like it’s making that argument directly. It simply presents the circumstances surrounding SeaWorld’s business and show-biz glamorization of their beloved Shamu(s), and leaves the audience members to reach this conclusion on their own.

The myriad former SeaWorld trainers in the film could come off quite negatively, but they really never feel like perpetrators so much as victims of their own affections and former naïveté. They readily admit that they swallowed and parroted the company line without question, sometimes quite disturbingly (such as when they told parkgoers the laughably false line that orcas live longer in captivity). By and large, the film strikes an effective balance in its tone. If writer/director Gabriela Cowperthwaite had set out to make a film that was morally opposed to keeping captive orcas, she might attract a small audience of like-minded folks who would scream their agreement and continue their previous practice of not going to SeaWorld. This was the problem with 2009’s The Cove, and one of the reasons it had little effect on the Taiji dolphin slaughter (which, as of this writing, continues every spring). It was a film for like-minded people – those who saw no reason for the wanton abuse of marine mammals they saw before them, but could see no means of halting it. While Blackfish might not be a “message film” per se, it is couched in a message of practicality, and guaranteed a wide distribution (the film will be showing on CNN later this year). What’s more, the film’s call-to-action couldn’t possibly be more simple: Don’t go to SeaWorld. Don’t spend your money. As messages go, at least it’s practical.

FilmWonk rating: 8 out of 10

Poster for "The Kings of Summer"

If Wes Anderson‘s Moonrise Kingdom took place in the real world, and were populated with real people, it might look something like The Kings of Summer. The film focuses on a trio of boys who decide to run away and build a makeshift cabin in the woods. Joe Toy (Nick Robinson) seeks to escape the drudgery of playing Monopoly with his surly widower father (Nick Offerman), while his best friend Patrick (Gabriel Basso) just can’t stand his own parents’ (Megan Mullaly and Mark Evan Jackson) enthusiastic and merciless mockery of him- a condition that somehow results in breakouts of actual hives. Also along for the ride is an extraordinarily weird kid, Biaggio (Moises Arias), who might just be the film’s strongest comic performer even if not all of his bizarre non sequiturs land perfectly.

This film would minimally have been a satisfying comedy buffet, with a cast that includes all of the above, along with a fantastic array of supporting performers such as Alison Brie, Mary Lynn Rajskub, and Kumail Nanjiani – but it managed to be something substantially more impressive- a taut, mostly well-drawn tale of teen friendship and rebellion.

The boys indulge in the kinds of backwoods shenanigans that seem, for lack of a better word, utterly real. A boy in the woods, even when he’s playing at becoming a man, will run, jump, climb, swing, chop, pile up, push over, set aflame, and dive into every last rock, tree, or watery delight that the woods have to offer; snakes and mosquitos be damned. In one of the film’s most amusing scenes (which also plays over the opening credits) the boys come across a long drain pipeline and proceed to bang out an impressive rhythm on it with branches. And why? Not because the camera was floating majestically around them, or because the film was desperately seeking some metaphorical catharsis – but because banging on a pipe is fun. For now. And when it stops being fun, we’ll go do something else.

The film depicts some relationships quite strongly while neglecting others. Much of the father-son dynamic is left for the viewer to guess at due to the fairly limited screentime between father and son, but Offerman brings the same stolid hilarity (and occasional vulnerability) that he renders so reliably each week on Parks and Recreation. While the precise source of Robinson’s angst remains a complex mystery throughout the film (despite several proximate causes to choose from), the film manages to draw some credible parallels between father and son. To put it bluntly, they both have the capacity to be miserable, life-sucking bastards. While Offerman’s performance is strong, it is Robinson who manages to impress, proving the rare teenage (or maybe 20-something) actor who can pull off a complex, occasionally solitary lead performance.

Perhaps the film’s biggest weakness is teen love interest Kelly, who feels underwritten despite a passable performance by Erin Moriarty. While she succeeds as a source of conflict between the two friends, we glean very little of what she really wants out of the situation, and the character seems to have precious little agency of her own. Nonetheless, the conflict does feel credible, particularly in its resolution – or rather the light tapering in hostilities that feels far more true-to-life than some dramatic, emotional exchange would have been. These are teenage boys. A sentimental exchange of middle fingers is really the closest thing to a tearful hug that we can hope for.

FilmWonk rating: 7 out of 10

SIFF Roundup: “We Steal Secrets”, “Stories We Tell” (Updated)

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Still from "We Steal Secrets: The Story of WikiLeaks"
We Steal Secrets: The Story of WikiLeaks
Directed by Alex Gibney (documentary)

Prolific documentarian Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer) is an adept interviewer, but he confronts a serious challenge when it comes to tackling the career and cult of personality of WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange, as well as alleged whistleblower PFC Bradley Manning. The film ends (as of March 2013, an end-credits crawl informs us) with both of its subjects locked in a room for an indeterminate length of time – Manning locked in the Marine Corps brig in Quantico, VA, and Assange in sequestered asylum at the Ecuadorian embassy in London. We Steal Secrets makes no claim of access to either of its principal subjects (although Gibney claims to have met with Assange on an estate in the English countryside, wherein he declined to appear in the film), but relies instead on the swath of publicly available material on both men.

Consequently, the film could be little more than a shallow, pop-journalistic chronicle of these events, but it succeeds in challenging much of the conventional wisdom surrounding the case. Julian Assange was indeed a thorn in the sides of several governments, as well as a crusader for free speech and free information. And yet, he is also an accused sex criminal who has declined to answer the official accusations against him. These events dovetailed into a level of paranoia that I (and Gibney, and many others) found quite alluring when they first came to light – surely the accusations were nothing more than an attempt to embarrass or discredit a man who had stepped on the wrong toes. But Gibney argues quite convincingly that that the internet hivemind’s opposition to Assange’s extradition or prosecution has little to do with the facts of the case, but rather with Assange’s cult of personality. Assange can be nothing more or less than a total guardian of free speech and information – a paragon, or nothing at all. The Internet, in all its subtlety, is unable to accept anything in-between. Nor is it willing to accept the conceptual utility of WikiLeaks as a tool for forcibly open democracy without a man like Assange – who dresses and talks like a James Bond villain – as its charismatic leader.

All of these contradictions come to a head in We Steal Secrets, whose title tells us a good deal more about ourselves as Americans and internet users than it does about WikiLeaks. Gibney focuses on the human side of whistleblowing – specifically, the chat logs between Manning and hacker Adrian Lamo. Manning comes off in a sympathetic, if not precisely admirable light. The secure dropboxing of confidential files becomes the desperate outreach of a lonely, tortured soul in the desert who just can’t come to grips with what he is experiencing – to say nothing of who he is. And for much of the film’s runtime, an uninitiated viewer would have no idea who the source of these chat logs might be, since they appear on-screen with simple, text-based flourishes and distant typing sounds. Manning’s musings become a lone voice in the darkness with no clear provenance. Editor Andy Grieve keeps the pace moving nicely (and makes one particularly haunting montage use of Lady Gaga’s “Telephone”). The film is 130 minutes long, but remains quite gripping throughout. Gibney manages to ask a great many provocative questions of several powerful individuals involved (including the thoroughly candid retired general Michael Hayden, ex-director of both the CIA and the NSA), which mixes nicely with a wealth of archive footage of Assange. Despite his lofty goals, the grudging consensus seems to be that WikiLeaks did little more than embarrass the countries involved. With this film, Gibney may have only accomplished the same for Assange himself, but this still makes an effective chronicle of a story that is very much still in progress.

FilmWonk rating: 7 out of 10

Update (2013-05-23): WikiLeaks has posted a complete transcript of the film, annotated with their own comments and rebuttals. You can read it here.


Still from "Stories We Tell"
Stories We Tell
Directed by Sarah Polley (documentary)

Actress and writer/director Sarah Polley is no stranger to putting personal stories on film – her 2011 drama Take This Waltz examines a crumbling marriage (focusing on a housewife played by Michelle Williams). While that fictitious story was undeniably put to film in the wake of Polley’s own divorce, the viewer is left to speculate about the extent to which Polley’s own experience may have informed her screenwriting. Not so with Stories We Tell. In this documentary, Polley brings an intensely personal story to life starring her entire extended family, and the narrative is structured in such a way that would practically prevent Polley from coloring it exclusively with her own perspective. This is a meta-narrative, in which we cut back and forth between Polley’s father (the captivating Michael Polley) sitting in a recording booth reading a prepared third-person account of his life experience, and being interviewed (in first-person) to react to the very same events. The contrast between these two perspectives (each from the same man with varying levels of preparation) is utterly fascinating, and becomes even more so when mixed with the other storytellers. These include Polley’s siblings, relatives, and various old friends of her now-deceased mother, whose life and children are the film’s principal subjects.

The mystery of Diane Polley (Sarah’s mother) is at the core of this film. With this woman dead and gone, all that her loved ones have left are their own memories and perspectives – and the narratives that they construct from them. The film gets at the heart of storytelling as a technique for making sense of the world, and does so in a manner that is utterly free from reproach. The Polley family never once struck me as self-obsessed or navel-gazing individuals. Not only are they a captivating bunch, but they also demonstrate a healthy measure of humility when it comes to rendering this intensely personal (and potentially humiliating) story. You really get the feeling watching the film that if this documentary were to be viewed by no one else except for the individuals involved, they would all be okay with that. This is one of the most earnest personal testaments that I’ve seen since 2008’s Dear Zachary, a film which served a much more subdued and heart-wrenching narrative than what is on display here. The saddest part of this story is that Diane is not around to answer these questions herself, and yet the stories that remain behind feel just as important and vivacious in her absence. This film is nothing short of a masterpiece – hilarious and heartfelt, and brilliantly blurring the lines between documentary and reenactment. It is an act of courage and personal conviction, delivered with an admirable measure of humility.

It’s only in the film’s final act that it shows its hand a bit, and some viewers may find the “making of itself” portion of the documentary to be a bit tedious. For a film nerd like me, it did nothing to diminish the experience, since it only served to further elucidate the precise nature and value of good storytelling. To illuminate how this documentary reluctantly came together only served to add additional weight and consequence to the story. Even as the film’s principal subjects debate who was the most fitting person to render these events into a narrative, it becomes ironically clear that this story ceased to be their exclusive property the moment they decided to tell it. The genie is out of the bottle, but the world is better off for it.

FilmWonk rating: 9 out of 10

FilmWonk Podcast – Episode #33 – “Stoker” (dir. Park Chan-wook)

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Poster for "Stoker"

This week on the podcast, Glenn and Daniel take a dour and disturbing journey into director Park Chan-wook‘s first English-language film, starring Mia Wasikowska, Matthew Goode, and Nicole Kidman. Can this bizarre, gothic fairytale rise to the levels of disturbing sophistication of Park’s beloved Vengeance trilogy? Listen below and find out! (34:48)

May contain some NSFW language.

FilmWonk rating: 7.5 out of 10

Show notes:

  • Music for this episode is the track “Uncle Charlie”, from Clint Mansell‘s original score.
  • Minor correction: When this film was shooting (September 2011), Wasikowska was 21 years old.

Listen above, or download: Stoker (right-click, save as, or click/tap to play on a non-flash browser)

Sam Raimi’s “Oz the Great and Powerful” – A cynical prestige

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Sam Raimi has pulled off some kind of trick with this film, but it may not have quite been the one he was going for. He presents a reluctant hero-cum-charlatan in Oz (James Franco), a Kansas illusionist who has thus far used his charm and trickery to hoodwink simple country folk in the film’s 4:3 black-and-white cold opening. For the crowds, he performs tricks for a pittance of coins. For the many ladies who pass through his sphere, he spins fantastical tales of mystery and nobility, all in the hopes of stealing a kiss. The results of his pickup artistry remain the stuff of PG ambiguity, but it forms a rather crucial plot point in the film when he meets the witch Theodora (Mila Kunis) upon arrival in the fantastical land of Oz. He plies her affections with the same tricks and tales that work so well on wide-eyed farmer’s daughters, and yet is unknowingly bolstered by two supporting factors. First, the people of this land believe him to be their salvation – the great man of prophecy who will deliver them from the Wicked Witch.

But it is the second factor from which he benefits the most. Witches are fearsome things. They are not used to being approached, and they are not accustomed to anything but reverence twinged with fear. This is true for all three of the witches we meet in this film, whether it is the sullen and enigmatic Theodora (Kunis), the stern and calculating Evanora (Rachel Weisz), or the ethereal but intimidating Glinda (Michelle Williams). Each of the trio is transformed in turn by their encounters by Oz, and yet Oz himself never seems to be a deliberate architect of these transformations. He bumbles through, never quite knowing what effects his actions may have, but always capable of acts of genuine goodheartedness. This is a man who can tenderly patch up the broken legs of a little girl made of china (voiced by Joey King) immediately following a Scrooge McDuck-worthy plunge into a vast chamber of gold, giddy at the possibility of tricking the people of Oz into gifting it to him. His acts of goodness may spring from shallow motivations – ambiguous concerns about the unearned trappings of power – but they are good nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the film’s most important relationship – that of Oz and the Wicked Witch – is also the least developed. The actress (whose identity I will withhold for the sake of spoilers here) is utterly captivating in her initial presence, and yet becomes broadly cartoonish the moment her true malevolence springs forth. Everything about this final characterization – whether voice, physicality, or makeup – feels just a bit off. The result is a villain who feels like a fraction of the threat that she was intended to be. Oz’s inexorable (albeit temporary) triumph over the witch – while cleverly scripted and executed (making particularly good use of the Emerald City’s vast fields of opium precursor) – feels like a shallow victory. He caps the engagement with a feel-good decree about how the people of Oz shall henceforth be “free”. What were they before? They seemed relatively free under both regimes. But what’s more, Oz is indirectly responsible for what the witch becomes, and only accepts a fraction of that responsibility – and that amount, arguably for the sake of public appearances.

But I can’t help but think these are all deliberate choices. We’re invited behind the curtain to pay attention to the man therein, and what we find is a character who is towering and capable, but actually pretty unworthy of admiration. And yet, Franco’s performance manages to make him captivating nonetheless. Oz the Great and Powerful has a good deal of cynicism surrounding the tropes of a hero – perhaps Raimi’s response to the diminishing creative returns of the Spider-Man franchise. At its best and worst, it oddly evokes the original Shrek – Zach Braff even voices a loudmouthed companion that’s just a single letter away from being called Donkey. This may not be the hero we expected. He may even be a bit off-putting at first. But he’s the one we’re getting, and we’d better try and make it worth nonetheless.

The film is also quite beautiful. You may blame my still-fresh memory of Life of Pi for not mentioning that sooner. While the visuals in that film felt like an essential component of its appeal (making the Rhythm and Hues fiasco that much more depressing), they feel a bit more like expensive set dressing in this film. The look of Oz is distinctive – nicely separating itself from the influence of its Alice in Wonderland producers. But Franco’s disinterested reaction to the film’s wondrous world seems like it ought to detract from the visual appeal a bit. After all, if Oz is unimpressed, why should I be? But this attitude – likely an accidental byproduct of filming Franco at length upon greenscreen – only served to reinforce my fascination with Oz as a character. He’s not bothered by winged monkeys, humongous lilies, or towering bejeweled cityscapes. His concerns seem so human and mundane – money, power, and women, with only the occasional break for friendship and nobility.

In the end, that’s the film’s greatest trick. Oz shouldn’t be all that likable – but he is.

FilmWonk rating: 6 out of 10

FilmWonk Podcast – Episode #32 – “Warm Bodies” (dir. Jonathan Levine)

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Poster for "Warm Bodies"

This week on the podcast, Glenn and Daniel check out the latest bizarre genre blend from writer/director Jonathan Levine, Warm Bodies. Can Nicholas Hoult leverage all of his acting prowess from the second series of Skins as a disaffected romantic zombie? Can Rob Corddry exhibit some alarmingly effective dramatic work with less than a dozen words of dialogue? Can a truly disgusting romantic premise wildly succeed? Find out below! (25:31)

May contain some NSFW language.

FilmWonk rating: 5 out of 10

Show notes:

  • Music for tonight’s episode comes from the Warm Bodies soundtrack, including Bob Dylan’s “Shelter From the Storm” and M83’s “Midnight City“.
  • The zombie augmented-reality running game that Daniel referred to was called Zombies, Run!.

Listen above, or download: Warm Bodies (right-click, save as, or click/tap to play on a non-flash browser)

FilmWonk Podcast – Episode #31 – “Zero Dark Thirty” (dir. Kathryn Bigelow)

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Poster for "Zero Dark Thirty"

This week on the podcast, Glenn and Daniel take an understandably spoiler-filled look at director Kathryn Bigelow and screenwriter Mark Boal‘s triumphant followup to The Hurt Locker, featuring a performance from Jessica Chastain that makes or breaks the film to an exceptional degree. (30:45)

May contain some NSFW language.

FilmWonk rating: 9 out of 10

Show notes:

  • Music for this episode is the track “Flight to Compound“, from Alexandre Desplat‘s score.

  • The European Court of Human Rights does consider sleep deprivation to be “a practice of inhuman and degrading treatment” (and thus a violation of the European Convention on Human Rights), but not precisely torture, as it does not “occasion suffering of the particular intensity and cruelty implied by the word torture”. According to memos released by the CIA, sleep deprivation is a technique that was used in post-9/11 detainee interrogations, and whether or not it constitutes torture is still controversial.
  • We refer back to our podcast of Act of Valor from last year. Check it out!
  • As promised, I did look into whether or not the audio recordings of 911 calls from September 11th were genuine or reenactments produced for the film. I have been unable to find definitive word on this (I’m sure the director’s commentary on the DVD will settle the issue eventually), but in the course of searching, I found many 9/11 recordings and transcripts that were as disturbing or more so than the ones featured at the beginning of Zero Dark Thirty. I will not link to them here, and I would encourage you not to seek them out.

Listen above, or download: Zero Dark Thirty (right-click, save as, or click/tap to play on a non-flash browser)

FilmWonk Podcast – Episode #30 – “Promised Land” (dir. Gus Van Sant), “Django Unchained” (dir. Quentin Tarantino)

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Poster for "Django Unchained"

This week on the podcast, Glenn and Daniel take on a surprising double-header. First comes Promised Land, a reunion between Matt Damon and Gus Van Sant (Good Will Hunting), along with newcomer John Krasinski (from “The Office”), featuring salesmen trying to convince a small town to let them drill for natural gas in their backyards (a process known as fracking). Then comes Django Unchained, an escaped-slave revenge romp from Quentin Tarantino starring Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, and Leonardo DiCaprio. The biggest surprise? After declaring Inglourious Basterds the FilmWonk favorite of 2009, we had a very different experience with Tarantino’s latest (1:09:22).

May contain some NSFW language.

FilmWonk rating (Promised Land): 7.5/10
FilmWonk rating (Django Unchained): 4/10

Show notes:

  • (0:00) Review: Promised Land
  • (13:06) Spoilers: Promised Land
  • (26:00) Review: Django Unchained
  • (46:01) Spoilers: Django Unchained
  • Music for this episode comes from Luis Bacalov‘s original theme song to the 1966 Sergio Corbucci film Django, which also appears in Tarantino’s film.
  • While we certainly don’t attempt to settle the fracking issue on this podcast, you can read more about it here.
  • CORRECTION (from Glenn): Upon reflection, I must retract my comment about Spike Lee. While he did attack Django Unchained for depicting slavery in the context of a spaghetti western, and has criticized Tarantino about his use of racial epithets previously (NSFW), he has not (to our knowledge) ever stated that Tarantino’s race is a factor in his ability to make a film about slavery. Read his exact position (in brief) on Twitter. We apologize for the error.
  • While Glenn adored Inglourious Basterds, Daniel was definitely not a fan. Revise history in his presence at your own peril!

Listen above, or download: Promised Land/Django Unchained (right-click, save as, or click/tap to play on a non-flash browser).

Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” – A bloated and beleaguered adventure

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Poster for "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey"

Why does this film exist? As the line between art and commerce grows increasingly blurred with the unchallenged rise of franchise filmmaking, it’s certainly a fair question. Of course, on the heels of a billion-dollar franchise like Lord of the Rings, a second trip to the well was a virtual certainty. I ask this question not out of some naive sense of entitlement for artistry to emerge from the studio system, but rather as a self-contained quibble with the film itself. As I watched a nearly shot-for-shot remake of a sequence from 2001’s The Fellowship of the Ring, featuring hobbits Bilbo (Ian Holm) and Frodo Baggins (Elijah Wood) – looking 11 years older as actors, but inexplicably younger as characters – I found myself wondering what exactly was the point of this protracted exercise in nostalgia. The film is saddled in equal measure with sequences that simultaneously pad the runtime and remind the audience of the horrific fate that awaits Middle Earth in the trilogy we’ve already seen. And yet, it was only as I got to know the younger version of Bilbo (Martin Freeman) that my skepticism and apathy began to fade a bit. For it is Freeman’s light touch and sympathetic performance, as well as the film’s characterization of Bilbo, that allows it to pass as a standalone adventure story. Even as it frequently seeks to undermine itself by adhering to self-referential bits of fan-service.

To cultivate audience sympathy with a reluctant hero is a daunting task. In this very same weekend, I saw Rise of the Guardians, an unfortunate misstep from Dreamworks Animation that mingled brilliant visuals and a strong supporting cast with an utterly unsympathetic protagonist. The Hobbit was saddled with a similar burden – to allow Bilbo Baggins to initially be the most useless and reluctant member of a party of dwarven warriors who all ostensibly have personal reasons for being there. The wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellan), who seems just a bit more capable now than in his twilight years, imposes upon Bilbo’s hospitality relentlessly (in a sequence that is nearly interminable), and insists upon the hobbit’s value to the endeavor. And yet, the wizard compels him to join by appealing simultaneously to his boredom and racial guilt, rather than any specific contribution he might make. And what is their noble quest? This band is setting off to reclaim their stolen homeland, yes, but also to recover the massive bounty of gold – mined through dubious labor practices under a monarchic regime – that is cached within. They are initially no better than a band of pirates at eliciting audience sympathy, and are just as minimally characterized. And yet gradually, Bilbo comes to truly believe in their quest, and when he finally explains his motivation for sticking with this diminutive baker’s dozen, I found that my own interest level had risen similarly.

Martin Freeman in "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey"

Dwarf leader Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) is given a nice, meaty revenge tale to work with, and acquits himself well on-screen. But the other dwarves are given scarcely more characterization than Snow White could muster, with their attributes reduced to simple, one-word descriptions. Thinking back to how effectively Jackson’s previous trilogy managed to characterize a nine-member ensemble and myriad supporting characters, I can’t help but wonder whether nine was simply the breaking point. Apart from plump gourmand Bombur (Stephen Hunter) and ancient, genial Balin (Ken Stott), I could hardly tell you a single one of these dwarves’ unique strengths or contributions to the party. We hear that some of them are farmers, merchants, and miners, but I would task anyone to point out which is which, without the aid of Wikipedia or the IMDb. I’ll admit, my memory of the novel (which I read when I was 12) is faint, but if any such differentiation was present in the source material, it hardly makes an appearance in the film.

But speaking of appearances, I must address the film’s 48 frame-per-second 3D presentation, if only because I ended up quite unexpectedly enjoying it. Yes, every bit of rapid motion looks jerky and anomalous, but I found myself asking whether it really looked bad to my eyes, or whether it simply looked unfamiliar. After about 10 minutes of staring into what looked suspiciously like British TV, I found that my brain had adjusted completely to the illusion, and these events – and the gorgeous cinematography that captured them – were simply a window that I was gazing through. Apart from the occasional wandering audience member in the foreground, the illusion was never broken for me throughout the film, and I found that it worked hand-in-hand with the obvious advances that Jackson’s Weta Digital FX shop has made in rendering all-CGI characters in the past decade. Whether I was gazing upon an overlong cameo from Gollum (Andy Serkis) or a grotesquely blubberous Goblin King (Barry Humphries), I felt an overwhelming sense of being there, in the presence of these entirely real creations. While not all of The Hobbit‘s technical virtuosity serves to the story’s benefit (I still don’t quite understand the point of those brawling mountains), it is certainly one of its great strengths.

Bilbo asks Gandalf a simple question at the outset of the film. “Can you promise that I will come back?” The wizard answers no, and yet the audience is capable at all times of answering yes. The film is at its best when it allows Freeman to emphasize Bilbo’s personal stakes through his performance and characterization, rather than reminding us that a far greater threat – and a certain safe return – loom in the hobbit’s narrative future. Likewise, the dwarves (aided a bit by flashback) manage to eventually present their quest as a noble endeavor, worthy of story and song. And as long as they can carry it to a swift completion, they may manage to give this series of films a real raison d’être. But as it stands, the film just meanders from setpiece to meaningless setpiece with no room to breathe in-between. The quest never picks up any steam, and the party seems more like an ambling family R.V. that can’t make decent time because Dad insists on stopping off for a family photo in front of the Great Big Lawn Chair off Route 6. They may eventually reach their destination, but they might find the journey was scarcely worth it. And when Grandpa is a wizard capable of summoning air support with the slightest effort, you can’t help but wonder whether hiking across every mountaintop was really worth it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what a strained metaphor looks like.

FilmWonk rating: 5 out of 10

FilmWonk Podcast – Episode #29 – “Life of Pi” (dir. Ang Lee)

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Poster for "Life of Pi"

This week on the podcast, Glenn and Daniel bask in the unfilmable visual splendor and existential complexity of Life of Pi, the new film that proves that director Ang Lee is not a man to be tied down in a single genre (32:45).

May contain some NSFW language.

FilmWonk rating: 8/10

Show notes:

  • Music for this episode comes from Mychael Danna’s score for the film (track “The Second Story“).
  • We compare this film to both Avatar and Cloud Atlas – check out our word on those films as well!
  • Point of interest – Piscine Molotor is a real swimming complex…but it’s no longer open.

Listen above, or download: Life of Pi (right-click, save as, or click/tap to play on a non-flash browser).