Moana (3D)
Cert: PG / 113 mins / Dir. Ron Clements & John Musker / Trailer
If I had a time-machine, I think I'd go back to 2002 and wait outside the busiest cinemas to comfort audiences leaving The Scorpion King. "Listen," I'd say to them. "I'm from the future, and I'm here to tell you that everything's going to be alright. Well, not the economy, politics, society at large or the permanent incandescence of opinions on the internet. But Dwayne Johnson, that's going to be fine. Yes, I'm fully aware of what you've just watched, but rest assured that a day will come when his name in the credits of a film will make you smile. I mean not in Hercules, obviously, and you might want to avoid the Doom and G.I. Joe movies on general principal. But have faith and patience, and you will learn that The Rock has a natural comic-timing, even when he's in a relatively 'straight' role. Look, just wait fourteen years before you see him animated in another fantasy movie, okay? Well, he does a Disney musical and he sings in it, and it's great… no, I am not on meth, I have a time machine. No, really! Okay, suit yourself, guys. Yeah, enjoy San Andreas…"
Which is largely why I should not be allowed a time-machine. Anyway…
Dwayne Johnson is the best thing in this movie. And it's a very good movie. Structurally, along the lines of Disney's 90s-era, with the eponymous Polynesian chieftain's daughter (ie Princess™) being set on a quest which takes her far from the insular island that's been her childhood home. Quickly learning that she is the chosen-one, she's taken from the overbearing protection of her father and warm mentorship of her grandmother, through a series of challenges and obstacles with a useful sidekick and a magical artefact, towards a climactic showdown in which she can only triumph by being herself, rather than applying brute-force. This is The Hero's Journey. The real tale as old as time, and one which never tires of being told.
From an animation point of view, the film looks absolutely flawless as you'd expect, even if the character design feels a little uninspiring (given that it's a full-on Disney production). Similarly, the story is punctuated by songs from the central players (although it's by no means 'a musical'). And while they're never unwelcome there's an over-produced blandness to the numbers which fights (successfully) against the actual songwriting and adds to the air of overall homogenisation hanging about the film. I'd hoped that perhaps this film would be doing for Polynesian island folklore what Kubo did for Japan. Alas, not.
And in addition to the mono-myth template, I also picked up quite a few more specific nods to the Galaxy Far, Far Away*1. From the moments of "What's in the cave..?" to waking, upside-down about to be eaten by a creature and 'there's always a bigger fish'. The strongest of these would probably have to be Johnson's performance as demigod Maui, who's basically Han Solo for the entire story, even down to the "Ya-hooOO! which Dwayne's got down perfectly.
But despite my eyebrow raising at the things which have been borrowed and added to the mix, Moanais its own film, and one which should stand shoulder-to-shoulder with its studio-mates in the animated pantheon. It's a timeless tale in the truest sense, brought to life by the team best qualified and experienced for the job. Inspiringly written, beautifully animated, frequently funny and constantly engaging...
I only wish the film had more of its own identity and less of Disney's…
Well, I'm going to go ahead and say Kubo and the Two Strings.
Narratively, they hold the same values and standards, although the latter is the superior movie ;)
The scale of the cinematography will work better on the big screen, but the heart of the story will be fine on any size.
Just about, yes.
From the performers I'm familiar with, not quite.
From the ones I experienced for the first time here, keep up the good work.
Nope.
No, but that 'hawk-screech' sound effect seems to be used once every seven minutes or so.
Level 1: This film features the voices of Jango Fett and K-2SO.
(although the voice-cast of Moana is pleasingly diverse from an ethnicity point of view, Tem Morrison appears to be the only person in the Southern Hemisphere that doesn't have an American accent. Rachel House tries hard as the heroine's grandmother Tala, but ends up with one toe in the Pacific and the other nine somewhere in Southern California…)
*1 Although, don't I always?
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Two things I always seem to forget with The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1) that it's a Disney production and 2) that Tim Burton's name may be attached*1, but he didn't direct it. While I've watched the film many times over the years, it's not one I break out routinely each holiday season, and this was the first time I'd seen it in a cinema. And because my local was presenting a one-off showing of the 3D version rather than a weekly-run*2, it was absolutely packed, which always adds a new element to a familiar home-viewing movie.
And while I never forget how much I enjoy this movie, I'm always pleasantly surprised by the amount of textured detail in the models. Years of over-merchandising and pop-culture appropriation seem to have persuaded my memory that the film is closer to 2D cell-animation somehow, even though I know it isn't. ILM's 3D conversion is absolutely gorgeous, offsetting and complementing the deliberately framey nature of the character movement. The (original) camerawork is stunning too, with cinematographer Pete Kozachik treating the film as an expansive live-action feature.
And in addition to the numerous visual homages (I noticed a reference to Hammer's The Creeping Flesh for the first time, this evening), there are also some bizarre moments of cross-reference foreshadowing on display, too. It's the film that keeps on giving, whether it knows it or not…
I'd also never noticed before how much Chris Sarandon's dialogue-track for Jack Skellington riffs on Gene Kelly's in Singin' In The Rain in terms of delivery and timing. But the thing which perhaps stood out most tonight was Danny Elfman's music. Far stronger and more fluid than his regular film-scoring work, The Nightmare Before Christmas's structure, recurring themes and motifs make it more than just 'a musical', to the point of almost being a re-engineered operetta. Musically, the film tells a far more nuanced story than the fast narrative pacing allows, because when you watch the movie from a more orchestral point of view, it just underlines how damn short the whole thing is. To the point where the ending feels both rushed and tacked on. The central characters have just about enough room to grow, but any themes the story was trying to develop are lost in the edit. I suppose it's too much to ask for an extended cut from Burton or even re-imagined version from Laika Studios at this point, so probably best to enjoy the film for everything it brings rather than those it couldn't quite manage ;)
Serious question, though: If the icon-bearing trees we see in the film's introduction/overture are the doorway into each magical realm, how does Jack come across the circular clearing during a lengthy walk instead of emerging from the door of the Halloween-tree?
*1 A bit like "Lee Daniels' The Butler" or "Peter Kay's Car Share", yes. *looks into camera*
*2 The only screening of the film was at 20:15 too, meaning there were almost no little-ones present. Of course for a 1993 movie, this is borderline nostalgia-programming now anyway, but we still got pre-trailer ads for some new type of colouring pencil, Play-Doh, Haribo and… a Black Sabbath tour-promo. So at least one advertiser knew who was going to be in the room tonight.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Sully Cert: 12A / 96 mins / Dir. Clint Eastwood / Trailer
The new Clint Eastwood directed movie, Sully - the story behind airline pilot Chesley Sullenberger and the famous forced water-landing in 2009 whereby he successfully prevented any fatalities - is currently sitting at an 85% critics' approval rating over at Rotten Tomatoes, with the audience response slightly higher at 87%. I only mention this because if you want to read something reassuringly positive and uplifting about the film, that's where you'll find it…
Fresh from failing to adequately depict or explore PTSD, Uncle Clint manages to take another remarkable story which would have made a fantastic documentary, and instead fashion a mawkish, simplistic and completely patronising TV melodrama. Naturally, in addition to several depictions of the forced landing in question, the film also features two exquisitely CGI'd sequences of a passenger jet crashing into the New York skyline in a ball of flames and seared flesh, just to show that our heroic captain is having 'episodes' after the incident and absolutely not at all to be exploitative and dramatic about an event where everyone actually survived. Dear me no, no. Dear me, no.
Todd Komarnicki's screenplay*1 clunks from one scene to the next, with characters either narrating exactly what's happening on-screen or just verbally spouting their inner monologues full of clichéd platitudes to fill the gaps. Overall, it's Aaron Eckhart who manages to escape with the most dignity, starring as Sully's co-pilot with the fewest lines in the script. And don't let the reviews kid you, Tom Hanks' performance in this film is in no way special or extraordinary; he just plays Tom Hanks With White Hair, metaphorically phoning in his performance (unlike Laura Linney as his wife, who literally phones in hers). Meanwhile, the dastardly crash-investigation team smirk and twiddle their moustaches for two and a half acts before Mr Eastwood stops one beat short of sending a silver-service butler into the courtroom to announce "And now ladies and gentlemen, some humble-pie of truly epic proportions is about to be served!". All that remains is a closing-credits sequence whereby the actual real Mr Sullenberger is reunited with his actual real passengers in an aircraft hanger for forced jollity all round. Like the film hasn't already shown the guy going through enough without having to appear as himself in a bad version of his own worst day.
I'm very much aware that due to its content and tone, Sully is a sort of cinematic sacred-cow. I don't care, this is a terrible movie and it needs to be called out. The film doesn't celebrate Chesley Sullenberger, it patronises him to within an inch of his life, and Clint Eastwood couldn't direct traffic on a one-way street.
Biting the inside of your own cheek to avoid shouting at the screen for an hour and a half.
Yeah, the four (four) flight simulations we're treated to at the film's climactic courtroom scene work so much better on the big screen.
According to the folks over at RT, yes.
Obviously, I beg to differ.
It's not even Eastwood's best as a director, and that's saying something.
Y'know what? I might, a little bit…
There isn't.
Level 2: This film stars Sam Huntingdon, who was also in Fanboys alongside Carrie Fisher, Billy Dee Williams, Ray Park and a metric shit-ton of Star Wars references.
*1 The poster cites this as "The untold story behind the miracle on the Hudson". Untold story. It's based on Sullenberger's own book. That's where we are before we've even sat down in the auditorium...
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Okay, much like the film itself, this review of it will feature some unnecessarily bad language; sporadic and largely inoffensive in the grand scheme of things, but acting as a lexical placeholder so that nothing more meaningful has to be written. Like I said, as per…
INT. DREAMWORKS SCRIPTING OFFICE. DAY.
TWO DISHEVELLED MEN SIT OPPOSITE EACH OTHER AT A LARGE DESK.
BOB: So Terry, we're making progress here, finally. Our seasonal comedy has got eight producers, six writers and two directors working on it, as well as a crowded cast-list, over-headlined by supporting actors. You've had four weeks to come up with a title, what have you got?
TERRY: Well, just erm… how does this grab you?
TERRY slides a note over the desk to BOB.
BOB: …how does what grab me? This is a sheet of paper with three words written on it. In fact, this is the sheet of paper I gave to you a month ago with the broadest possible outline for the movie scrawled over it. That's my writing. It just says "Office Christmas Party". That's when you asked what the film was about and I had to distil it as much as I could because I was on the phone to the distributor at the time. That's the setting of the film, the background, the concept. Where's my fucking title, Terry?
TERRY: …it's the simplification of-
BOB: I'll tell you what's simple, Terry. YOU. You've had a fucking month to think of a zippy title to attract the 25-35 crowd, high on Christmas cheer and the 'fuck it, it's December, let's go out watch a movie and get hammered' spirit which comes of working with people you hate for the other eleven and a half months of the year and you've done precisely fuck-not-nothing! As a title - an actual film title - "Office Christmas Party" is perfunctory, reductive and unimaginative. It shows complete contempt for an audience that we think needs everything spelling out for them, in the largest letters and lowest-common-denominator sight-gags. In fact, I'd bet a pound to a fucking penny that presenting this in a title-sequence will consist of one shot with the text laid in a single line across the screen in Helvetica bold, solid white, belying any irony while displaying the total lack of imagination that's gone into the whole, sorry project…
TERRY: I've read the script, Bob. That title works.
BOB: …Yeah, fair point. Scotch?
The chosen title, and perceived logic behind it*1, tells you all you need to know about the film.
And y'know what? The film's not awful. It's just a series of disparate sketches, some far more successfully executed than others, awkwardly tacked together with a screenplay so mechanical it makes Optimus Prime look like something you'd buy at the Deli-counter. If you like people swearing, people falling over, people over-acting drunk/high, too many dick-jokes and the occasional boob, this is your film. Sure, you can get better elsewhere, even with the same overall lack of dignity, but Office Christmas Party is a movie every bit as forced and clichéd as the workplace gatherings it claims to be satirising.
The weirdest thing is that it features a cast you've enjoyed elsewhere struggling through the half-written script as if they're reading it for the first time, playing themselves all the while. Kate McKinnon, TJ Miller and Karan Soni coast on the charm they've accrued this year in much better movies, Jason Bateman and Jennifer Aniston continue to be stuck in the rut of mediocrity to which they've become accustomed, while genre-regulars Jillian Bell and Rob Corddry lend the kind of screen support that will do them no favours in climbing higher up the ladder. At least Olivia Munn is moving in the right comedic direction. Just.
Not without smirks and a couple of guffaws, just nowhere near enough to cover the cracks which make up the entire rest of it. While it pushes (way too) hard for the happy-everyone ending, the film doesn't even try to tug at the audience's heart-strings. This, I suppose, is a blessing.
For best results watch once only and in An Advanced State Of Refreshment™.
The kind of thing that Universal usually wheel out at this time of year. Even though this isn't Universal's. Sure feels like it, though..
No, this is a £3 DVD from Asda while you're picking up pizza, some beer and a bottle of cheap vodka.
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Level 2: This movie stars that Jamie Chung, and she was in Suckerpunch with Oscar 'Dameron' Isaac.
*1 and the choice of typeface as well. I'm not making that shit up. Bizarrely, the title-shot in the film uses Helvetica whereas the poster uses Arial. That's how little effort has gone in, here.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
