J.D. Hansel

JD Hansel

The Silence of the Lambs Review

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It’s always difficult for me to write anything about films which have already received immense praise from countless better writers than I, so I’ll be brief: this film is practically perfect.  I love it to death.  One significant thing about it is that, while it is clearly a Hollywood entertainment film, it unusually has no clear place in the genre system.  It’s kind of a detective drama, kind of a psychological drama/thriller, kind of a horror film, and kind of a comedy.  Maybe it’s all of them, and if it is, that’s a tough balance to achieve.  While this may not be my favorite Jodie Foster performance, Hopkins makes up for this in spades, and his character clearly shaped many later works of media which I love.  It’s not quite in my top 20 favorite films – maybe it’s just not a very “J. D. Hansel” kind of movie – but I approve of its status as one of the best films of all time without any reservations.

Star Wars – The Last Jedi Review

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This is my favorite Star Wars film.

Yes, I know it has problems.  A lot of problems.  But I’ve come to expect that from contemporary Hollywood blockbusters.  So today, when I look at new movies from Hollywood, I usually only focus on the flaws if a film is so void of substance that there is nothing else upon which I can look.  That isn’t the case here.  There is not only substance to this film, but an intellectual depth, an emotional appeal, and maybe even a level of artistic craftsmanship that I have not seen in any prior films in the franchise.

I’ll take these points in reverse order, starting with the artistry and crafting, spoiling as little as I possibly can considering the topics at hand.  The film is very well put-together, demonstrating an understanding of how to borrow from many very different sources to create a unified whole.  Slate has a list of everything outside of Star Wars Rian Johnson pulled from to strengthen the film, and some of these choices are very clever.  Primarily, I’m impressed with the use of The Rashomon Effect because this is a nod to Star Wars’ inheritances from the samurai films of Kurosawa that uses a particular Kurosawa film that one would never think would be useful to the Star Wars franchise (making it almost a joke, but only for film majors).  I actually didn’t even pick up on that until I read it after the fact.  Still, during the movie, I was blown away by the look of the film – especially Snoke’s room, which has the best set design I’ve seen in any film in the past decade.  The careful use of editing to link Rey to Kylo Ren is also the mark of a daring filmmaker, as is the choice to use practical effects for characters which one would assume they’d surely do with CGI today.  My favorite moment in the film in terms of artistry, however, is that moment of total silence, which is pure and concentrated “cool.”

More importantly, it’s a scene that creates a great affect (and I do mean affect in this case, not effect), which is something Johnson knows how to do better than a lot of other contemporary filmmakers.  While most Star Wars films don’t really grab me, this film pulls me in.  To a large extent, the film does it with its comedy, and this is no surprise: few would argue with the view that The Last Jedi is probably the funniest Star Wars film.  There’s more to it than that though.  I’m invested in Rey’s quest in a way that I was never invested in Luke Skywalker’s “quest” in the original trilogy, and I’m even invested in Luke more than I had been before.  For whatever reason, I find that I just care about the characters more in this film.  Furthermore, Johnson also knows how to build up a desire in the audience and satisfy it.  The scene in which we expect (if only for a half second) that Kylo is going to kill Rey, followed by an epic turn of events, is one of the most thrilling moments in movie history, at least for me, and I can only compare it to the way I felt during the climax of the final Hunger Games film: I didn’t realize just how much I needed to see this moment until right before it happened.

That being said, I know the film wasn’t very satisfying for most Star Wars fans, and I can understand why.  The way that the character of Luke Skywalker is handled in the film is controversial to say the least.  While he’s not eating babies, he’s not necessarily the man that most fans want him to be at this point in his life.  Personally though, I’m happy about that.  I think it’s about time the whiny farm boy gets brought down a peg.  Sure, Luke seems highly irresponsible for staying secluded on this island, but that’s just him channeling Yoda and Obi Wan, who also loafed around lazily as the Dark Side reigned.  We should be hating those two jerks more than Luke, but somehow, he’s getting all the blame here, even though he couldn’t even tell what was going on in the rest of the galaxy having cut himself off from the force.  (Some say it seems petty for Luke to have made such a drastic decision after making one mistake with just one of his trainees, but I argue that, since Luke’s greatness in the original trilogy is found in his dedication to Han and Leia – particularly in Empire – he probably felt like he had ruined their lived by betraying their trust and letting their son fall to the dark side.)

Of course, the main reason why the fans hate the film is that this film wasn’t made for them, as is stupendously explained in this wonderful piece by Andrew Kahn: “The Last Jedi Isn’t for the Fans.”  As this publication points out, it’s about fandom, nostalgia, and mythology – and the dangers of all of them.  This piece from Forbes also covers this subject, so I don’t feel the need to explain it myself, but I will say that this is what makes The Last Jedi so satisfying for me: this is the first Star Wars movie to finally address the importance of critical thinking and a healthy skepticism when it comes to mythology.  In all the previous films, the skeptic – of the stories of the Jedi, of the power of the force, etc. – is always wrong, but here, it’s a lack of a healthy skepticism of myth that causes characters to stumble.  This honest look at the nature of fandom, the danger of mythology, and the immense stress and tension that comes from constantly trying to hold yourself up to the standards of legends, cultural norms, and collectively shared images of ideals.

Without this film, the Star Wars franchise is philosophically barron and culturally toxic, propagating a plethora of regressive ideas about faith and belief.  With this film, however, the franchise is redeemed, and my love for Star Wars is tripled.  This isn’t the Star Wars movie we wanted – and it’s trying hard not to be the Star Wars movie we wanted – but it’s the one we need, the one we deserve, and the only one with the potential to make the world a better place.  The choice to lay the biggest and most controversial elephant in the room of media bare before us all makes this the most daring, and perhaps most important, film of the 21st Century thus far.

Horse Feathers Review

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My main problem with Marx Brothers films, with the exception of Duck Soup, is that they are not Duck Soup.  When it comes to film comedy, that movie pretty much sets the bar for me.  I’m not sure why Duck Soup works – it feels like it shouldn’t – but it does.  Maybe it’s just one of those “lightning in a bottle” things.  Consequently, Horse Feathers isn’t everything I might hope for, but fortunately, it’s pretty darn close.

This is a good movie for college students to see.  It offers some catharsis in this crazy phase of life to think that maybe the reason why everyone at your university hates the administration is that the president is a bozo like Groucho.  With as many comedy films have taken on academia, it still hasn’t gotten as much spoofing as it deserves, so it’s nice to see the Marx Brothers take on the subject.  It’s also not one of those Marx Brothers films that tries to shove a serious romantic plot into the film alongside the Marx antics, so it’s light on the boring scenes.  It’s one of those films that I’d like to have on in the background at parties – it’s something fun that I could watch over and over again, but I don’t feel like I lose much if I don’t pay attention to the plot.  It’s more about the lunacy of the characters and the highly hilarious (albeit very stupid) jokes, which are all I need to have a really fun movie night.

Coco Review

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The general rule of thumb when it comes to my opinions on Pixar films is this: other people complain about the ones I like, and I complain about the ones other people like.  I like a different tone and sentiment than the one Pixar usually offers, and it’s the tone they offer that makes so many people love Pixar.  It’s obviously more complicated than this though – even though I’ve heard people complain plenty about Inside Out, it’s generally regarded as a great Pixar movie, and I’m actually in the camp that really likes this one.  My brother, a far bigger Pixar nerd than I, also loved Inside Out, but I like Coco a heck of a lot more than he did, and it’s hard for me to understand this disparity.

The main reason why he didn’t like the movie is that, according to him, it doesn’t feel like a “real” Pixar movie.  He likes how most Pixar films give humanity or “souls” to objects and species that we generally don’t think have them: bugs, toys, cars, rats, monsters, robots, Scottish people, etc.  That being said, The Incredibles doesn’t do this, and Cars 2 does, so go figure.  He does have a point though: Coco feels more like it could come from Disney’s name-brand animation studio just as easily, and it does feel a little more formulaic and cliché than Pixar’s average feature.  (He noted that The Emoji Movie, which came out first, has a remarkably similar plot, and yet The Emoji Movie is the one that gets points off from critics for being too cliché.)  So I probably shouldn’t have enjoyed the film as much as I did.

To be fair, I actually have a bias towards this film – one of the makers of the film came to my college campus and gave us a sneak peak, so I feel a special attachment to it – but according to Rotten Tomatoes, 224 out of 232 critics also liked it, so there must be something here.  Part of why it works is the very fact that Pixar was trying to do something different.  They told a different kind of story than usual with a different style (certainly with darker comedy than usual), and their experimentation shows that they have some range.  The visual style is particularly dazzling, and I think the introduction of this new color pallette to the (generally bland) look of CGI animated films is one of the best things to happen to the animation industry in a decade.

More importantly though, much like with The LEGO Movie, this film knows what it’s doing when it uses the clichés.  It’s taking a formula we’ve all seen before and using it to fully show off a fresh, vivid, imaginative, and highly detailed world.  Pixar is using every trick in the book here – even tricks going back to “Skeleton Dance” – to give us an old-fashioned fantasy adventure film with lots of great music.  Even the film’s opening narration uses a kind of visual storytelling I’ve never seen before, and it serves as a great callback to old shadow puppet shows.  It’s also worth noting that this film will be, for many American children and probably a number of American adults, the first time they see a film that expects them to identify with an explicitly Mexican protagonist, which also makes the film feel fresh to me.

Still, I think I’m mostly pulled in by the emotion in the film.  Pixar hasn’t done a lot of movies about artists.  They’ve done films about characters who want to find their families (Finding Nemo), characters who feel rejected by their families (Toy Story), characters who miss their dead family members (Up), characters who have dysfunctional families (The Incredibles), and so on.  This is a story about family as well, but much like The Little Mermaid, it’s a good, old-fashioned story about someone who wants to do something that’s considered acceptable by the powers that be.  It’s a film about an artistic rebel – and a far more relatable one than Remy.

It’s always music and the arts that grab me emotionally, and this film does a beautiful job of depicting not only how music can connect people and bring out the best in people.  It perfectly captures the experience of being a kid who forms a bond with someone he’s never met because they speak the same artistic language and share a special passion.

I used to be that kid.  For me it was people like Jim Henson.  I can’t help but wonder who it will be for the kids who see this film, and wonder what lives they’ll lead because of it.

Elf Review: Upon Further Consideration…

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People who find out that I dislike Elf tend to assume that I am either a Scrooge or a devil.  The truth is that I am a skeptic.

As I often explain, this means I like reason, logic, the scientific method, asking questions, and staying curious.  What I dislike is the promotion of belief.  When I say belief, in this case, I mean it the way my English 101 professor defined it: something accepted as truth based on faith.  The problem here is that belief and faith are essentially interchangeable terms: it’s hard to define one without the other, and the best way out of this definition cycle is to incorporate terms like conviction or assurance into the cycle, which just widens the circle without breaking it.  This is by design though – the whole point of “believing” is that you don’t have good, logical reasons for your views, but you choose to accept them anyway (generally because they bring a sense of “hope,” as is implied by the excellent definition of faith offered by Hebrews 11:1).  The problem with belief, or at least this kind of belief, is that it discourages questioning and challenging ideas, which makes it the enemy of the skeptic.

This is why I get so annoyed with Hollywood films, and I often use Elf as my primary example of this issue.  In this film, being a bad person is synonymous with being a skeptic, which in this case means believing Santa Claus does not exist.  Becoming a good person, according to logic of Christmas films such as Elf, is directly tied to becoming a believer.  The father exemplifies the Hollywood metamorphosis from bad to good: he starts out heartless, but then he realizes that his family is more important to him than his job, and from there he gets to see some sign that Santa is real (namely, he meets Santa, but seems unsure as to whether or not it’s really him).  He then opens his heart by singing Christmas songs, and then becomes a believer in Santa, and then is finally free to be a happy, loving, and moral person.  Note how singing the Christmas carol, even when one does not believe in the words, serves as a sort of speech act, verbally claiming one’s “faith” until an actual belief develops, which is commonly done when converting to a religion.  In other words, what Elf is promoting is a religious kind of faith in Santa Claus – a belief regardless of belief, in a sense – and it assumes that this belief is tantamount to having a happy spirit.

We have to consider how significant this really is.  Every year, we are indoctrinating children with these ideas, and we are re-training our own adult brains to think in these terms.  We teach our children and ourselves that morality comes with faith.  Even if you don’t accept the moral problem here, at least consider how absurd it is that we want to watch movies that tell us to believe in Santa Claus.  Santa Claus is the one thing in this world that every adult knows about, but doesn’t believe is real, and yet, here we are telling ourselves to pretend it’s real so that we can be good people.  How insane could a culture be?

I should be able to stop here; the case is closed, right?  No, because I now have to address an important objection to my argument: why Elf?  If this problem runs rampant throughout other Hollywood films – particularly Christmas movies – why is it Elf that always works me up?  Why not The Polar Express?

Indeed, The Polar Express is far more evil than Elf, or at least it’s more explicit and extreme in its propagation of the same evils.  The title song is called “Believe” for a reason – that’s the message of nearly every scene in the movie.  Every few minutes, the protagonist is taught not to ask so many questions, and the importance of following one’s heart is drilled into the viewers head more times than I can count.  What hurts me the most is that the unnamed hero really isn’t closed-minded – he’s curious, as is demonstrated by the fact that he’s looked into the question of Santa Claus and collected evidence to inform his views, like a good thinker.  In my opinion, this means he is a very good person at the start of the film – someone we should want to be a leader someday – but it is the girl (the believer) who is told to lead, and the protagonist who is told to believe.  Stories designed to discourage curiosity and questioning, such as many of the fairy tales in the Germanic tradition, have infamously been used as tools to empower dictators, so I cannot help but see The Polar Express as a danger akin to Triumph of the Will.

Yet, there are many good reasons why I harp on Elf more than Polar Express, although the first reason has nothing to do with the contents of either film.  Because people talk about Elf more, they are far more likely to bring up Elf around me, so my rants on this topic are usually sparked by Elf just because folks want to know why I’m not a fan.  As for the film itself, it isn’t a terrible movie, apart from the aforementioned ethical issue.  It begins on the highest note possible, with allusions to classic Christmas specials and old family films, narrated by the brilliant and legendary Bob Newhart.  The problem is that it mostly goes downhill from here, focusing on an annoying protagonist, rehashing the cliches of all the other family comedies of the time period, and forcing the story to work even if it makes little sense.  In short, once Buddy leaves Santa’s Workshop, the next half hour is just Will Ferrell acting like a stupid, awkward man-child, getting cheap laughs from immature behavior like a middle-schooler, and the last half hour is a random about-face to drama with Buddy saving Christmas (as though somehow the movie was about that the whole time).

There’s no convincing me that the third act isn’t a mess.  Santa’s flight problem more or less pops out of nowhere, the father’s change of heart has no setup, and a couple hundred more people singing Christmas songs than usual is weirdly conflated with literal belief in Santa Claus on a massive scale.  I’m particularly confused about how the news network realized that there was even a news story worth covering here since they started the piece with a picture of a man dressed as an elf walking around Central Park, as though that’s newsworthy for New York City.  It’s all very forced and awkward, just like Jovie’s uncomfortably fast integration into Buddy’s whimsical life (it is always the exact moment when Jovie says the word “Papa” at the end when I realize I have just wasted 90 minutes of my life on foolishness).  I don’t demand realism from a film, but I do expect believability – I want the actions of the characters to follow from who the characters are, but this film feels cheesy because the characters sing so the scene can be happy.  The climax is the epitome of cheesy sentimentality, and it makes me see the film as a dumpster-fire of mindless sappiness.

Again, the film starts strong.  The use of the stop-motion characters is brilliant.  The costumes are delightful.  Some of the casting is really smart.  The music, including both score and soundtrack, is the best music of any Christmas production since Muppet Christmas Carol, or perhaps even A Charlie Brown Christmas.  Much of the film’s strength comes from Zooey Deschanel, who is clearly one of the greatest musical talents of our time, and I hope she goes down in history as a music legend.  Some parts make me laugh a little, but this is no Marx Brothers film; it’s a Jon Favreau, which means it has some intelligence behind it and some good personal touches, but it’s not good enough for me to really like it.  At least The Polar Express has Bob Zemeckis at the help and keeps me wanting to see what inventive and whimsical treats are in store if I keep watching, whereas Elf uses up its creativity in the first half and then succumbs to trite “save Christmas” and “restore the family” formulas as it progresses.

In all honesty, though, I don’t like Elf because it’s overplayed and overrated.  If most people felt that the film was only passable, acceptable, tolerable, mediocre, or below-average, I probably wouldn’t care about it much.  Unfortunately, this film is hailed by many as the greatest Christmas film of all time, and it is frequently marathoned on television and shown to children in schools.  Some would say that this is not a good reason to dislike the film, and I would agree with that, if not for the ethical problem.

I tend to think in consequentialist terms, so I look at the effects of an action, choice, or occurrence to determine if it is good or bad.  The Polar Express is not widely celebrated – its reviews were mixed at best – but Elf is a holiday juggernaut.  Children will see Elf, and it will firmly reinforce our poisonous cultural norms surrounding the importance of belief.  Elf may not be the worst propagator of anti-skeptic doctrines, but it is certainly among the worst, and it has the biggest following of devoted disciples.  This is what makes it such a dangerous cultural cancer.  We already have enough people in America who believe in what they hope for with or without evidence: they are called Trump supporters, and the younger voters in his camp grew up with Elf.  People do not learn to be good people from watching Elf; they learn to enjoy formulaic Hollywood films, they learn to accept cheap laughs as good comedy, they learn to quote a narwhal with a funny voice, and they learn that being a skeptic is bad.  Elf may have its clever moments, and I understand its appeal, but it is nonetheless among the worst Christmas presents the world has ever received.

The Nightmare Before Christmas Review

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This film has been a source of inner conflict for me for a long time.  I saw most of it years ago, but I couldn’t finish it.  I found it too boring, even though I recognized its creativity.  I thought that I could overcome this dilemma by coming back to it a few years later, but sadly, I’m still caught in the same spot.

This film is brilliant.  Its visuals are absolutely stunning, and the attention to detail is so praiseworthy that one would have to bow down to Henry Selick in order to overstate how great the detail is.  Even the very idea of the film, with all of its characters and little gags, is pure genius.  In a way, I love this film.  The problem is that it gets very dull very fast.

The reason for this is that the film only has one note – or at least it holds the same note too long.  There are a few moments that stand out in the film as contributing something different to the film from its usual aesthetic: the scene in Christmas Town, the scene in which the toys attack the children on Christmas, and the scenes in which Santa is in the clutches of the Boogie Man.  All of these scenes are strong, and I like them a lot – the first is charming, the second is very Gremlins, and the third is very Tim Burton.  Apart from these, however, most of the film is just the same few feelings and motifs on repeat.

Some of this is due to the writing, and the actors might be partly to blame also, but this one mostly falls on Elfman.  “This Is Halloween” is a good, catchy song, but almost all the other songs run together and are nearly impossible to tell apart.  They all use the same few chords and are very limited in the emotions they express.  Consequently, the film feels like a broken record.  So I don’t think I could stand to watch this film every year, but since there’s clearly a lot to love hear, I’ll try to squeeze it in a couple times a decade.