Four and a Half Stars

Casablanca Review

September 23, 2015 by JD Hansel

There’s not much I can say about this one – I can’t critique perfection, but I must confess that, initially, I was not a fan of the film. I started watching Casablanca back when I was about eleven years old, and I didn’t get anything that was going on: I didn’t know the history or context, I didn’t care about the characters, I wasn’t into the music, I couldn’t appreciate the technical aspects, I didn’t get the jokes, and I wasn’t sucked into the drama. I couldn’t even finish the movie. I eventually decided that it would be best to watch the film again, and finally finish it after having completed a high school-level history course some time ago – not to mention a history of film class.

Even still, I found myself doing a little bit of research online within the first few minutes of the movie to make sure I understood the historical and political context correctly. With that out of the way, I was able to fully appreciate the film, and I got wrapped up in every detail. The first thing that stuck out to me was the visual presence, and while the visual style I tend to prefer is quite colorful, the lighting of this picture is so theatrical and dramatic that I all but drool at half the sights the film offers. This was followed by an appreciation of the music, since I could not have asked for a much better soundtrack for this particular story. I quickly came to love the marvelous cast of colorful, distinct, and memorable characters that are found at every turn, all of whom are performed to perfection, and casting the lovely and charming Ingrid Bergman as the leading lady was the best decision anyone has ever made since the repeal of the Eighteenth Amendment (at least I remembered something from history class). Lastly – and this is what made me fall in love with the picture – while I was expecting a totally serious drama, I was enthralled to find that the superb dialogue adorning the screenplay is filled with the Epsteins’ witty and hilarious lines, all of which are right up my alley. While I do not consider this picture to be my favorite, and I refuse to let its critical acclaim alone determine my rating, I simply must give this film the highest praise simply for making me want to be a much better writer.

Carrie (2013) Review

July 17, 2015 by JD Hansel

I have extremely high standards for the handling of this particular story, even though I haven’t read the book, or even seen the 1976 classic. What I have seen is a theatrical production of the musical based on the book, which was performed a couple years ago at a nearby community college. That performance was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, and it is that show, along with the Broadway production of The Lion King and the StarKid musical Twisted, which makes me fear that I may never be moved by a film in the way I have been moved by musicals on stage. I now must compare a film with a rating of 48% on Rotten Tomatoes with one of the most moving moments of my life.

Amazingly, this movie was just what the story needed.

In all honesty, here is what went through my mind as I watched it: from the moment Carrie drops into her school’s swimming pool, we are plunged into a pool of fiery pressure, where we must quietly wade as the gates of Hell creak in the distance. We know it’s only a matter of time before Hell breaks loose, so we watch anxiously to see which flame will be the one to push open the gates, allowing the fire to consume us all. But that’s not the scary part; the horror is in our powerlessness to do a thing about it.

So what is this fire? That’s simple.

High school.

I have absolutely no interest in the average horror film, which tries to make what’s on the screen terrifying. I have no patience for a film that flashes scary images on screen or makes me anxious about a fictitious terror. (I already have to deal with plenty of fear in my real life, so I don’t need anymore of it in my entertainment unless it’s really worth it.) What excites me is a film that makes me detest reality and fear life itself. To do this, one must capture the essence of powerlessness, and high school is the perfect setting for achieving such a thing. The scenes that show the inadequacy of the school principal, the misguided punishments enforced by the gym teacher, the subtle mockery provided by the English teacher, and the overall inability of the school system to handle abused students are the ones that have a lasting sting and send shivers.

The scenes with Carrie’s mother truly strike fear and rage into my heart, since I know that similar households could easily exist perpetually without anyone ever raising an eyebrow. The portrayal of the mother, in my view, is spot on, making me cringe and nearly scream. It is that particular character that stirred me up in a way few other characters in film have before, particularly with her relentless superstitious attribution, forcing the world to meet her particular worldview just so that she can process it. That is perhaps the most despicable element of religion, and it brings to mind the philosophical question of Sam Harris’, “If someone doesn’t value logic, what logical argument could you provide to show the importance of logic?” The line in this movie that really sticks out to me is when Carrie retorts some of her mother’s nonsense by saying, “That’s not even in the Bible! It doesn’t say that anywhere!” There are thousands, or maybe millions, who similarly display vehement dedication to their own imaginary edition of the Bible that happens to conform perfectly to their worldview, and this film is a delightfully horrifying reminder.

This story can be, when done right, a masterpiece in cynicism and disgust. I think it ought to be contrasted to Disney’s Tomorrowland, largely because Carrie‘s strength is Tomorrowland‘s weakness – the resemblance to reality. When one considers the much beloved 1976 Carrie movie, which I must confess I analyze based on the trailer alone, it seems to have a surreal, theatrical, otherworldly style. Generally, this is the style I greatly prefer in film, and I think that the ’70s film has shots in it with an an outstandingly fantastic look . . . just not for this story. I can’t look at a very ’70s movie about a girl with a goofy accent and take it seriously, especially if it goes so far as to cast John Travolta as the highschool hunk, which just sounds like a parody of ’70s movies (although casting Ansel Elgort may be the modern equivalent). Frankly, the trailer to the 1976 film makes me laugh, which is exactly what should not happen. This story must be portrayed as close to reality as possible, which does not become the issue it did with Tomorrowland since it’s so obviously a fantasy story.

The movie has the same Tomorrowland-like goal of shouting its message to the world, but it does so by bluntly displaying our society’s detestable ugliness. This, in turn, makes it beautiful. As a visual experience, it’s just fine (even though it’s not my style). As a story though, it is stunningly gorgeous, with a build up that screeches with the scraping of Hell’s gates pushing against the floor in fractions of a centimeter, expelling “nails on a blackboard” from the phrasebook, only to reach an immensely satisfying conclusion to drive its point home. It boldly declares to everyone, “Your world is so miserably broken that only so much as one little tweak to the laws of nature could end hundreds of lives and destroy cities.

“Fix it.”

Inside Out Review

June 28, 2015 by JD Hansel

(CONTAINS SPOILERS)

PureFlix is – and I expect always shall be – my archenemy, but Pixar sure does come close.

Pixar seems to exist only to irk me specifically more than anyone else on the planet, and it has a few tricks for doing this that serve as “the Pixar old standbys.” To me, a movie that tries to tug on the heartstrings too soon is like a guy who gropes a woman’s bum in the first minute of a blind date. It is blatantly violating, and yet Pixar gets away with it constantly. Both Pixar and Disney have become notorious for killing off characters seemingly solely because they don’t know how else to hold our attention, or they think we’ll feel unsatisfied with our Disney experience if we don’t meet a certain tear quota. I think it is largely because of Pixar that killing off a character in a children’s movie is no longer an act of courage, but ironically of cowardice, fearing that the audience cannot be emotionally moved enough by the characters without a death involved. They also have one of the fundamental principles of storytelling backwards: anyone who’s taken a high-school-level class in journalism ought to know that empathy with a character is used to make the audience care about a situation, so to use a situation to try to make people empathize with a character is taking the horns by the bull. Yet, somehow, projects under Lasseter’s thumb frequently use emotional, tragic circumstances in an attempt to make us care about a character – in lieu of simply writing a character that’s interesting from the get-go regardless of circumstances.

Above all, Pixar is notorious for an awe of “The Aw.” “The Aw” can refer to either the sound a canned sitcom audience makes when a character is sad, or the sound that a stereotypical (or perhaps typical) preteen girl makes when brought joy by immense cuteness and sentimentality. As a proud skeptical cynic, I find that watching Pixar with a crowd is comparable to being a punk rocker at a Carpenters concert – the urge to puke is overpowering. Sometimes watching Pixar makes me feel more like being in a very strict religious school, except the intense dogma has been replaced with intense sappiness that is inflicted upon me. Now, the studio that lives to make us cry – a prime directive I find mildly immoral and satanic – has the audacity to make a film about the importance of sadness.

So why in the name of Bing Bong do I love this movie?

Well, it was pleasant, impressive, and simply fun in every way from start to finish, and actually seemed to be aimed right at me for a change. The film is the most imaginative commentary on the human mind I have ever seen, only closely followed by Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex. As a big believer in the notion that the replacement of practical effects, puppetry, hand-drawn animation, and painted sets with CGI has largely been to the detriment of film, and I do think the film could have benefited from being a 2D or puppet film instead. I must recognize, however, that this is probably the best all-CGI film I’ve seen in terms of visuals, so it’s certainly on par with The Lego Movie in at least one regard. The way the human mind is imagined in this film is just so clever that one wants to spend forever wandering about this world, much like in The Wizard of Oz.

I also consider Inside Out to be Oz-like in terms of story structure, and unlike some films, this pulls off an Oz storyline without seeming weak or unoriginal for a second. I think every screenwriter should study Inside Out as an example of how to write a nearly perfect screenplay. It’s a very interesting premise to begin with, and the execution of the idea satisfies by exploring all of the areas of the mind that one would hope to see explored. Pixar’s take on dreams was spot on, it’s take on memories was clever, and its joke about facts and opinions was absolutely brilliant. Somehow this script is mostly a series of wonderfully clever jokes, but they never get in the way of the plot. The characters were all delightful, and the casting was superb. I liked essentially every character in this movie – even Sadness.

This, of course, leads to my thoughts on both the portrayal of Sadness, and the use of sadness. The role of Sadness essentially seems to be adding weight and significance to important people, places, and things in our lives by revealing how painful it would be to lose them. This is just a modification of the age-old contrast excuse: bad must exist in order for good to have meaning. Pardon me for getting philosophical, but I’m not a fan of this argument since knowledge of bad would actually be all that is required for good to have meaning, and no actual, existent bad is necessary in any form. This means that sadness is still an unnecessary emotion if one has a sufficient amount of knowledge, understanding, perspective, and good reasoning. While Inside Out’s solution to the Sadness problem is not perfect, I do think it is acceptable, but I personally would have emphasized the important role sadness has in empathy. This brings us to Bing Bong.

Somehow they found a way to incorporate death, and it’s in the most bizarre way, especially when one considers that people can recollect things that they’ve long forgotten, so a mere mention of Bing Bong from Riley’s mom could resurrect him. Still, the decision to kill of Bing Bong is an odd one simply because it’s not really necessary, which just makes it feel like an excuse to get the audience crying. I suppose that he was, by the end of the movie, just dead weight, but he could have stuck around. The cleverness of using his wagon to get back up over the Cliffs of Insanity made that scene powerful and impressive enough as it was, and the wagon had no need to stall. This is, however, nitpicking.

Amazingly, nitpicking is all I can do to criticize it. This comes so amazingly close to the perfect screenplay that I am just as impressed as I’d hoped I would be. I am so happy that Pixar finally made a hilarious, charming, and imaginative movie that’s right up my alley. At last I can congratulate Lassiter, Docter, and the rest of the Pixar team for a job well done.

(Monty Python’s) Life of Brian Review

June 2, 2015 by JD Hansel

This film is not sacrilegious. This film is not about Jesus. It is about the importance of rationally thinking for oneself rather than just accepting what others say is true. It mocks group think, pokes fun at activists, and challenges people to be critical thinkers, making it very much the skeptic’s film. In fact, Pythoner John Cleese has said that a number of Christians have told him how much they enjoyed the film, because they understood that making fun of religion is not the point. Cleese has also gone on record saying that he has always thought Life of Brian would be considered the best Python film ever made, but I have to ask myself, would I say such a thing? Well, let’s analyze the story, characters, and comedy, comparing it to what has been my favorite of the Python productions, Holy Grail.

In terms of story, Brian works better. Its story has far more structure to it, and the plot is more conflict driven, with a narrative that would work well even if it was not a comedy piece. The pace is actually a little slow, but it’s still a very interesting story on the whole. The main character, Brian, has much more reality than King Arthur, making for more investment in a relatable character. This also lends itself to a great comedic situation as Brian is a voice of reason in a world of lunatics, and no one really listens to him. Also, the supporting characters are fun, will-written, and performed excellently, but this film is still not as fun or funny as I had hoped.

There was little to make me fall out of my chair laughing, but most of the movie did manage to put a smile on my face or get a chuckle out of me. Part of the problem was the culture-specific jokes throughout, such as the parody of the British political activist groups at the time, and the jokes based on the Pythoners’ mutual experience with learning Latin in school – something that is not as common in the US. In a way, the film is more of a tragicomedy than a comedy, largely because the audience cares a bit too much for Brian to be okay with his suffering (or at least I did). I tend to be very empathetic concerning movie characters I like, so I was legitimately happy when Brian was happy, but in turn, some of what he dealt with was hard to watch. Particularly the stupid people who didn’t really listen to him no matter how well he communicated – I knew I was supposed to laugh, and I suppose I did some, but I couldn’t help but empathize with his misery too much.

Comedy is a tricky thing since it requires keeping people interested in what the characters endure without letting them get too invested. So, in the end, I do not find Life of Brian to be their funniest film. I do, however, think it’s Monty Python’s most important film. I cannot help but respect this movie immensely for making a piece that helps us see why we must be critical thinkers, while making us smile at giggle at the same time. This film serves as a perfect example of how to make a message movie: its focus is on a strong character in an interesting situation; it makes it clear that this is not our world, but rather an absurd variation on our world; it is not at all preachy, but instead puts fun first; the audience is left smiling, but still thinking about the nature of humanity.

For this reason, I highly recommend the film to everyone, because in a way, it may be Monty Python’s finest achievement. (Not to mention, “Bright Side” is pretty great.)

P.S. My next movie review concerns another message movie that needed to learn a lesson or two from Life of Brian, so stay tuned . . . .

Ever After Review

May 8, 2015 by JD Hansel

Do you know how often I give a movie four and a half stars? I’ve done over 50 movie reviews and I only gave such a rating to two of them … but today you can make that three. To be honest, I probably should have given this rating to a couple other really good movies I’ve reviewed, such as Annie Hall, but I really wanted to save such a high number for the absolute best of the best. For this reason, it is odd that I would choose to give this rating to a film that stars one of my least favorite actors in the lead role. (What, you don’t see why I don’t like Drew Barrymore? I can’t really explain it, but I find her voice pretty annoying, and the roles she plays are often the kind of characters that seem like they were written just to bug me.)

Here’s the thing: that’s pretty much the movie’s only flaw. Everything else, from the story to the dialogue to the performances to the visuals to the music, was done right. The world of the film is enchanting, the characters are delightful, and the story manages to capture all of the best elements of the story upon which it is based, Cinderella, while carefully adjusting what does not hold up. The story of “Cinderella” is a timeless one, which means it does not need an update unless something extra special will be added. Rather than adding anything too terribly brilliant or different, this film adds the basic thing that “Cinderella” lacked – a love story that’s actually a love story. And it’s a good love story at that.

The movie owes much of its success to the main character, and while I think it was the writing that made the character great, Barrymore’s performance was really not bad. The character could have been ruined by someone who lacked talent, but Barrymore’s acting talent allowed for the character to shine through in exactly the way it needed to, making aCinderella that the audience really cares about. It helped that she was doing an accent, but what really helped was the way the dialogue was written. It was done in such a way that the character is strong, smart, independent, and brave, without seeming like an annoying know-it-all. This is a fine example of the type of character I would like to see more often in cinema.

If I may note one other thing, and I do believe this is key, I think it helps to have the writer be the director, or at least have some additional control over the project so his/her vision gets across. Many of the other movie’s I’ve reviewed that I enjoyed the most had Woody Allen as both the writer and the director, or at the very least as both writer and star. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles came very close to getting four and a half stars out of me, and Silver Linings Playbook succeeded in doing so. Both of those had the writer direct as well. Perhaps this is just the wishful thinking of a screenwriting control freak, but I want to see this become common practice.

Silver Linings Playbook Review

January 17, 2015 by JD Hansel

(MAJOR SPOILERS)

How does this film get away with so many problems? The main character makes stupid decisions and obsesses over a game in which I have no interest. One of the main turning points is meant to be a surprise, even though it is rather predictable. The movie suddenly shifts point of view in the third act, making the ending confusing. While on the subject of the ending, it’s very cliché, with the male lead running down the streets to make up for the sadness he brought her, and then read her a letter confessing his love for her. Oh, and writers are advised not to overuse profanity as it is generally used for shock value to cover up a lack of genuinely interesting content. So why do I adore this movie?

It all boils down to a great high concept that was executed with strong characters and very effective storytelling.

The “high concept,” also known as the strange attractor, is the basic concept of the film summed up in a sentence or two, which has a unique, compelling intrigue. This film had me with the description on Netflix, which does not always do a good job when it comes to describing the film, since it rarely gives viewers the high concept or log line as it probably should. However, read this one: “After a stint in a mental hospital, Pat moves in with his parents and tries to win back his wife, until he meets a woman who’s as unstable as he is.” So, so, so compelling and intriguing.

However, it only works if the characters are interesting, and I think I was interested in the main character, Pat, right away. I understand exactly what it’s like to obsess over people and things that I should just forget about, and I was totally with him when he woke up his parents to rant about the book he just read. (For me, it’s a bad film, or a mostly great film with a bad ending, that makes me just about scream and punch the wall sometimes.) Somewhere in the middle of the movie, I get kind of tired of him making stupid decisions like going to the Eagles game, and I start to get annoyed with the character from whose perspective I am supposed to be seeing the story, which is a big problem. But, by that point, Tiffany is a big presence in the film, and between the writing and the performance, I found her to be the more interesting character anyway. At the end of the day, she is the character with whom I empathize, and she is the one I want to see happy more than anyone else. This, I think, is why I did not mind it too much when the movie shifted to her perspective – I was more interested in her perspective before the shift occurred.

Now that we are on the subject of story structure, I think that the story is well-built. There were a couple of times when I actually had a hard time figuring out how to interpret what I was seeing or hearing, but I figured it out eventually. Really, it just required thinking a little bit, but I imagine I would not have had this problem had I not watched it in pieces over many nights. One could question whether or not the love story really works well since we do not necessarily see the development of the relationship of the two leads to quite the degree one would expect if we are to believe that they gradually fall in love throughout the movie. Also, if by the end of the film we see everything from Tiffany’s perspective, then I think the dance competition should be of more value to her than it is to Pat’s family, but with the way the story is written, that is not the case. Instead, we know that Tiffany has had an interested in the dance competition, but we do not know just how much it means to her, making the ending of the film a victory for the side characters rather than the girl who has suddenly become the lead. (This would not be an issue had the point of view not changed, which would not have been necessary if the protagonist had been more likable, so I still claim that Pat’s lack of likability mid-way through is the movie’s greatest fault, and even then, it is not a huge one.)

Overall, the story is decent, and the characters are impressive, but what could give the film a special edge? A great soundtrack. The soundtrack to this movie is just awesome. It features some of the most emotional songs ever recorded. The use of “Maria” from West Side Story is oddly perfect, and while they did not go with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra’s jazz recording of the song, which is my favorite version, I love the fact that they used Dave Brubeck’s cover. I love Dave Brubeck, and his music appears multiple times in the film. Additionally, “Misty” by Johnny Mathis is so gorgeous, and it was also used in the film at just the perfect time. Now let’s talk about the song that the movie features the most, “My Cherie Amour.” This is one of the greatest songs ever recorded, and it has the magical ability to grab listeners and suck them into its sweet sadness, and then drown them in the intense emotion. Such an amazing song, and once again, the movie used it to the perfect effect. Well done, movie.

I must confess that, like the professor who never gives anyone an A, I almost never give movies more than four and a half stars, even if I really like them a lot. This is because I have reserved five stars for my favorite movie of all time, and four and a half for movies that come close. While this movie has some serious flaws, it has the miraculous ability to make me love it anyway. This movie created incredibly close aesthetic distance by the end in a way that reminds me of Play It Again Sam. It moved me emotionally to the point that I was on the edge of my seat at the very end of the film, hoping and praying that everything would work out between the leads, with the horrible fear that the movie made take a turn for the artistic and end on a downer. Then, when they kissed, I finally sat back and let out a sigh of relief. I was so impacted, that I had to go for a walk to ponder it (around midnight) so I had a chance of getting to sleep.

So, while I may really, really regret this, movie, I think I’ll be nice and give you the bonus half a star. Well done.