JD Hansel

Deadpool Review

April 9, 2016 by JD Hansel

This is, first and foremost, a comic book movie. I would not consider this to be a farcical comedy film that simply borrows elements from superhero stories, or that parodies comic books in the way that Holy Musical B@man does. This is a comic book movie that borrows from the farcical comedy. When looked at this way, it is a unique and very admirable film, which may even be ahead of its time.

I will address the issue that so many have had with this picture, which is its offensive nature. It is deliberately as inappropriate for children as possible, and many consider it terribly “dirty” or immoral. With as much as I may have been disgusted at times by some of the bloody and/or horrific images used, I do wish to respond to the complaints that it went too far with two main thoughts to consider. The first of these points looks at it as comedy. I very much appreciate Groucho Marx’s criticism of dirty comedy, but I do think that even the filthiest comedy can very good comedy – perhaps even intellectual comedy – if it is cleverly and creatively crafted (and I think even Groucho got a little risque on occasion). In this movie, clearly the writers did put thought and care into the dirty comedy, and most importantly, they used it to ruin, taint, or disgrace the comic book movie, which is exactly the kind of thing that comedy should do. My second point is that the reason why the film had to be this way is to make Deadpool a unique character. He seems to me to be completely separate from both the usual kind of Marvel hero, and the kind of hero that appears in comedy projects based on more official heroes.

Not every little bit of the film is perfect, and far better critics than I have already done a fine job at expressing why/how this is, so I will not waste my time with it. What I will say is that I am pleased that this year has introduced something new and original to cinema, which I think has the potential to make the movies a lot more fun.

The Peanuts Movie Review

April 6, 2016 by JD Hansel

I am fairly certain that, in the world of comedy (if not the world in general), it is a sin for me to say that I have never been much of a Peanuts fan. That’s not to say that I didn’t like the works of the Peanuts characters – I do enjoy their most famous Christmas special, among other staples of Schulz’ work – but I simply wasn’t exposed to them early enough in life to appreciate them the way so many others do. The Peanuts specials and comics have a kind of humor that is generally rather slow and deliberately underwhelming, as it focuses on a mumbling failure who tends to dread living. I certainly do identify with this kind of character, and I greatly appreciate Schulz’s approach to writing for the character, which is summed up in this simple, classic quote of his: “Most of us are much more acquainted with losing than winning.” With this in mind, I can’t help but look at the 2015 Peanuts film as a perfect example of both what it is I love about the Peanuts, and what it is that I just don’t know how to appreciate.

Right from the start, this film was full of surprises. The trailer alone stunned me with the distinction of its animation style, as it is probably the best use of CG animation I have seen since at least Inside Out, if not The Lego Movie. Because of the purity of the style, the film had earned my respect before I had even seen it, but then again, I was unsure as to whether or not it would be worth seeing. I am now glad that I did choose to see the film, because if I thought that the animation style was surprising, I was quite shocked to see how much I enjoyed the humor. No Peanuts production or comic had ever made me laugh so hard, and I think this is largely due to the way most of the jokes relied on the animation style. By doing this as a CG film rather than 2-D, this movie ensures that it does not appear to be a continuation of the old Peanuts specials, but rather an homage to the comedy and animation of older cartoons, making for an experience that’s easy to enjoy. However, both the laughs and the surprises grew fewer and fewer as the movie progressed, and I was bothered to find myself losing interest.

This is the problem. I eventually found myself playing a video game on the Wii U while the film was still on, because there was so little need to pay attention during most of the movie. The plot was predictable enough, so I didn’t really need to keep a close eye out for much, and the overall storytelling approach didn’t interest me much at all. Half of the movie seems to be spent on an irrelevant B-story taking place in Snoopy’s daydreams of chasing the Red Baron, which might have been worth including had they used the classic song, but even the superb sight gags towards the end of his fantasy aren’t quite enough of a pay-off to make it worth my time. The main story, obviously focused on Charlie Brown, was cute and relatable, but was still a little lacking in substance, and could have been over with much quicker. The ‘A’ story could have been a ‘B’ or ‘C’ story, and the Snoopy bits could have been two or three very brief scenes, which would have left room for a stronger ‘A’ story.

All that being said, this is a good movie. It’s fun, clean, and has both the frustration with life and the delightful purity required to make it feel like a classic Peanuts production. Getting a G-rated movie in 2015 was already miraculous, but it’s even more satisfying to find that it’s a good movie that adults can enjoy just as much (or maybe more) than children. It has a lot of charm and heart, which are very hard to generate without being sappy, but this movie does the job just fine. Forgive me for ending on such a cliché, low-hanging joke, but I can’t resist: “You’re a good movie, Charlie Brown.”

Rashômon Review

April 5, 2016 by JD Hansel

I like stories. I especially like stories when they are delivered with the standard Hollywood three-act narrative. It’s a good structure for movies, and I think that’s because of the logical form at play in the medium. Nearly every film that’s ever been screened – or perhaps every fiction ever invented – has built its story, whether or not the writer(s) realized it, on the following idea: given this fascinating set of circumstances, these fascinating events are what would/could follow (or, to express it in propositional logic, “C → E“). It makes sense that the first act would establish the circumstances and the main character that will be used to express their consequences, followed by a second act in which several chaotic events take place as a result of the established circumstances, a climax with the culmination of all of the chaos thus far, and finally a conclusion that sorts everything out into some sort of inevitable, orderly result. Naturally, I always get nervous when a director decides to break this form in favor of his/her own idea of whatever would be interesting to present on film. For this film, however, Kurosawa somehow managed to use the same logical principles, but with a different form than Hollywood’s, that strangely works beautifully for this story.

From the beginning, the tone of the film puts the audience in a mood to hear a story, as we see what almost seems like an equivalent to a man walking into a bar our of the rain to tell a story to the bartender. We know right away that we’re about to hear a dreadful tale, and the flashbacks are no surprise. Flashbacks had been long-established by this point, so everyone knew what they were and how to “read” them. We also understand the cinematic grammar of a court hearing, so the way that the flashbacks are organized and presented makes sense. Ultimately, the form of this film still retains the basic concept of presenting circumstances and the events that would follow from them, but if Hollywood’s form is a bowling ball hitting the pins, Kurosawa’s form is a cue stick hitting the triangle of object balls – the point isn’t to push everything in one direction, but to scatter in every direction. In other words, Kurosawa uses a structure that shoots various mutations of a story in different directions, and we are meant to make sense of the general ideas running throughout all of them in order to make sense of the conclusion.

What is perhaps most impressive about this movie is that it offers satisfaction without answering the film’s main question. While I do not wish to give too much away, I will say that the ending is a hopeful response to the events of the film . . . in a way. Rather than having a conclusion that is set up directly by the events that take place in the story, this film ends with more of an Our Town ending by ending on an answer to the film’s theme, and even the film’s form. The form of the film is inseparable from the plot, so both the form and plot keep the audience curious about what’s to come. We can still play “the movie game” of trying to guess where the plot will go because the grammar of the film is intuitive enough, but the ending makes one realize that the game is not the point. The point, like with most stories, is the moral we learn from the fable, which makes Rashomon a very fascinating sort of fairy tale.

Romero Review

April 1, 2016 by JD Hansel

I have decided to relieve myself of duty. For almost 21 months now, I have been reviewing every movie I watch for my first time, with only a few exceptions (such documentaries, or movies I have only seen through Mystery Science Theater and related productions). At this time, however, I am concluding this journey by ending the “mandatory” status of my online movie reviews. This is the 100th movie I have reviewed in this series, so it is a fitting place to end. Why is this particular film special enough to serve as the conclusion to an important chapter of my life’s story? Because I believe that experiencing Romero was a significant turning point in my life; for I now understand the nature of humankind.

Pardon me for being even more pretentious and over-dramatic than Romero itself, but this is a very telling film about what people always have done, and what we always shall do. What we see in this movie is the struggle to combat oppression. Over and over and over again, all throughout history, people are required to stand up and fight just to be called people. Humans are always finding new excuses to oppress people, as can be seen in just the recent history of Africa, Brazil, Panama, Cuba, and of course the United States, among several others that my readers will just have to research for themselves. I haven’t time to list every instance in the past century in which an entire populations have been denied their basic rights, and have been treated worse than animals.

This is what humans do. We harm without reason, we kill without cause, and we torture for pure pleasure. We silence those with whom we disagree and deafen ourselves with the gunshots that kill them. We invent new ways to kill more people more quickly, to hurt more people more violently. We dehumanize anyone we feel we must in order to manage our own fragile, pathetic emotions. This is what we do. This is what we are.

However, it is not all we are. What makes the human race such a fascinating species is not the fact that we are so oppressive and abusive that revolutions of liberation are commonplace, but rather the fact that we have made these revolutions commonplace by refusing to tolerate intolerance. People consistently demand liberty and are even willing to die in order to obtain liberty for the posterity of their people. If evil is in power, we will find a way to overthrow that power, no matter how long it takes us to do so. This is what we do.

This is what we are.

This movie contains many other elements that I could obviously discuss in more depth. The Hollywood white-washing is, of course, quite embarrassing, and the way that this movie cherry-picks information (such as the unsettling fact that the United States was supporting the oppressive government of El Salvador at the time by providing training and arms for the abusive soldiers) can be frustrating. I have little to add about any connection to certain characters in the story, and some of the characters were a mustache shy of a cartoon villain, but I will say that Raúl Juliá’s performance as Romero truly did move me. If one considers it to be a religious film – which I suppose is fair since it was produced in part by a Catholic production company – than it is certainly one of the best. It may be slow and boring at the start, but the more the film reveals about the evils humankind must endure, and about the powerful response humankind fires back at these evils, the more the viewer must appreciate the beauty of liberation.

Out of the Past Review

March 31, 2016 by JD Hansel

In contrast to the western, film noir is more like my cup of tea. I’ll take the visual style of noir over the visual style of the western any day of the week. It’s so dark, smokey, dramatic, theatrical, and mysterious. How could a saloon girl compare to a deadly, spunky femme fatale? How could a singing cowboy compare to an eerie saxophone? Film noir has a special charm about it that I appreciate, but I haven’t actually watched many films in the genre (if any) all the way through, until I finally saw Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past. This picture is a good example of what film noir has to offer to the history of cinema, but what it presents is both the good and bad aspects of the genre.

This is, in its own way, a very interesting movie. It still strikes me as “tederesting” more than captivating, but it is very easy to get lost in the world of the film. The structure is surprisingly pleasant, because the first act or two is/are done almost entirely within a flashback. The plot does take surprising twists and turns, and it handles the twists and turns well . . . for the most part. Eventually, as can happen with noir, the plot becomes unintelligible. It gets too difficult to tell who’s who and why each of them is doing what he/she is doing. As it turns out, the characters are also unsure of what’s going on, and they are surprisingly struggling to know why they are doing what they are doing.

I wish to elaborate on the subject of motivation, because it is an important subject in art and philosophy that I have yet to address in a movie review, and this is the ideal motion picture for beginning this discussion. In fiction, deterministic fatalism is generally treated as a pleasant view of life – the good side is predestined to beat the bad side, and the chosen one simply must save the day because the prophecy says so. While I am not a fatalist, I am a determinist, which is to say that I stand by the evidence that our thoughts and actions are determined by subconscious brain activity we cannot control, which leaves us without freedom of will (in that we are not the source of our own intentions and desires). That being said, I would obviously much rather live in a world in which we do have free will, and the fact that this cannot be is troubling. This movie exemplifies how the genre of film noir uses this troubling predicament to make good drama.

Kathie is the femme fatale with a lot of bad habits, from shooting people without sufficient reason to being a compulsive liar. When challenged for her actions, she persistently claims that she didn’t want to do what she did – she had to, and she couldn’t explain why. In my film history class, the professor explained why. Noir is fascinating because it shows the consequences of living in a world with not only determinism, but fatalism, in that the characters have certain actions that they must commit regardless of their intentions, and they have no control over whether these actions will be good or bad. This is, when pondered, a rather terrifying concept, which brings all the fiction that celebrates “destiny” under serious scrutiny. As annoying as it was to repeatedly hear Kathie’s rejection of responsibility for her actions, this did make me realize that there is a certain kind of conflict that I want to see far more of in cinema: the struggle for freedom in a world that cannot have free will. This subject may very well be the most captivating concept that any work of art could discuss, at least in my opinion, and I wouldn’t have even thought of it if not for Out of the Past.

Overall, this movie is fine. It’s true that I couldn’t fully appreciate the characters, and it’s true that I found the ending a little unsatisfactory. I found it rather slow at many times, particularly in the last act, and I could not keep track of the chaotic plot-line (which was more of a plot-scribble) if I were well paid to do so. However, it does provide a bit of entertainment, and can even be surprisingly thought-provoking, so I give it a pass.

The Twelve Chairs Review

March 16, 2016 by JD Hansel

No, not Spaceballs. Not Blazing Saddles. Not even The Producers or Young Frankenstein. Mel Brooks insists that his best film is The Twelve Chairs. Not too many others seem to agree, but I can understand why he makes this claim. Is this my favorite Mel Brooks film? No, I still reserve that spot for High Anxiety. It is, however, a beautiful example of a wonderfully written and perfectly performed chase movie that captures the essence of fun.

My first exposure to this movie was the theme song. One day, I was trying to find a song that would perfectly express my daily anxiety, pessimism, and general expectation that everything in my life would go wrong, so I naturally sought the song “High Anxiety” from High Anxiety. When I purchased this song, I found it was actually cheaper to buy Mel Brooks’ whole greatest hits album, which happened to come with a song I’d never heard of – “Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst.” I naturally just had to hear this song, and it was just as satisfying as one would hope – it perfectly captured my feelings about living. I then realized just how crucial it was that I saw The Twelve Chairs. My hope was that the song would be part of a huge, extravagant, over-the-top musical number a la “The Spanish Inquisition,” but alas, this movie does not have such an extreme, flamboyant tone.

This film is sort of a change of pace for Brooks, in part because it’s one of his only G-rated films, but also because it’s not trying to parody anything – it’s just an adaptation of an old novel. However, this makes it a much safer choice to show the younger members of the family (although it is not completely clean), and it also means that the side of Mel Brooks that we see here sticks to a strong story led by likable characters, which happens to thrust the characters into very chaotic situations. In a way, it’s a little more down-to-earth and believable than a lot of his other works, but at the same time, it gets so, so wild and crazy that it makes Spaceballs seem tame. For someone expecting Men in Tights or Young Frankenstein, this may be a little disappointing, but I can completely see why Brooks considers it to be his best work.

Rather than trying to throw crazy, “cartoonish” jokes at the audience the whole time, and rather than trying to put a twist on things that have been parodied to death anyway, Brooks managed to get an enormous amount of comedy from a small cast and a simple premise, while keeping the story first instead of the jokes. One of the best moments in the film is surprisingly when we see some very dramatic tension between two of the main characters, and because it comes in the middle of such a silly movie, it’s actually one of the most powerful moments in all of cinematic drama. The ending, while not as climactic as I had hoped, has a lot of heart to it, and better yet, it handles the heart in a way that even I, the hater of all things sappy, can really, really enjoy. It just puts a smile on my face.

As is usual by the time that I have reached the last paragraph of a review, I am left with only a few miscellaneous thoughts about various aspects of the movie, which in this case might hopefully persuade readers to find a way to see this rare work of genius. There is not a single moment, at least to my memory, when this movie is boring, and there are very few movies that can get such praise out of me. The whole production is perfectly paced, the story is marvelously structured, and the performances are exactly what they ought to be. I would go so far as to say that Mel Brooks’ acting in this movie is funnier than his acting in any other (Muppet Movie-inclusive). I still wouldn’t say that this is my favorite Mel Brooks film, as it doesn’t quite have that special, unique distinction about it that a Young Frankenstein or a Spaceballs has (which is to say that the movie’s cast and setting lack a unique collective personality that sets the world of the film apart from ours). I must also reiterate the lack of satisfaction in the conclusion of they’re chase, because the story has a twist ending of sorts which I find devastatingly underwhelming. What I will say is that I can never argue with anyone who claims that this is Brooks’ best work; for it truly is a masterpiece.