The problem with coming to a popular film like this later on is that hype gets in the way. With no awareness of the brand or comic, yet having been told numerous times how great this is, it is difficult to approach this in the right manner to review. There is no doubt that it is a lot of fun and a large part of this is down to Pratt who nails the lead, Quinn. Its bright and colourful (a welcome change to the lived in feel of many other sci-fantasy films) and confident in it's execution. Yet equally it is part of a Marvel formula that started to wear thin after the first Avengers movie - for all the talk of how different this film was to the usual Marvel film, it's only real surprise is just how tied to the Marvel template the film is - everyone trying to get hold of a MacGuffin of unspeakable power, culminating in a large scale battle and fight scenes that unfortunately lead to very little of consequence, with all our heroes surviving to fight another day and a tease as to where this is all leading to. Admittedly, the fun here is in the different characters they have created. But If Marvel are serious about creating a cinematic universe where all these stories are interconnected then at some point they are going to have to take a risk in the storytelling - this isn't it!
What happens when you give the keys to the Star Trek kingdom to the director of the Fast and the Furious movies? You get a franchise known for its thematic depth and attention to character reduced to a series of whiz-bang action sequences and only the shallow veneer of theme or character development on top of it. Make no mistake, Star Trek Beyond is a film that can barely get the surface-level details right, and stumbles in its abbreviated attempts to go beyond them. And the result is a generally dull action film that could have its serial numbers shaved off and thus be wholly unrecognizable as anything related to Star Trek.
The film is most striking in how it fails where its predecessors succeeded. It's true that there was little of the heady optimism at play in the 2009 Star Trek reboot, but what the movie lacked in thematic heft, it made up for in terms of giving the audience a journey focused on character. The greatest conflicts in the film are not between the Enterprise and the Romulans, but within and between the film's two biggest characters. Kirk starts out as a good-for-little scoundrel and through his experiences in the film, evolves into an officer, albeit one who is still charmingly rough around the edges. Spock starts out as a man unable to reconcile his human side and his Vulcan side, and through his experiences in the film's adventure, he find balance and peace. Most importantly, those two character arcs intersect in meaningful ways and make us invested in those in charge of the enterprise.
By contrast, Beyond suggests a similarly intriguing start for both Kirk and Spock, but peters out between the beginning of their journey and the intended destination. The idea of a somewhat jaded James T. Kirk, having lost some of his passion, wondering if his mission even matters given the enormity of space, and contemplating whether to hang up his spurs, is a superb one that made me think director Justin Lin and writer Simon Pegg (who also plays Scotty) and Doug Jung (who plays Sulu's husband) were following the 2009 film's lead in this regard. Similarly, the notion that Spock, rattled by his alternative timeline counterpart's death, also feels inclined to give up Starfleet to focus on carrying on the elder Spock's goal to rehabilitate the Vulcan people, creates numerous storytelling possibilities and a parallel sense of restlessness to the character that mirrors Kirk's. The state of play as Beyond begins seems poised to tell another compelling, character-focused story of growth and change.
Instead, by the end of the film, Kirk has decided to stay in active duty; Spock stays a part of his crew, and the reasons for their change of heart are fuzzy at best. Whereas the 2009 film spent ample time showing events that marked the changes in Kirk and Spock's mentalities and perspective, Beyond amounts to something along the lines of, "They wanted to leave. They went on an adventure. Now they don't" without nearly enough connective tissue to get at the why of the shift in their plans. It's an Underpants Gnomes approach to character development that falls flat. There are vague concepts of "unity" as an important principle floating the film, but Beyond does little to tie it into concrete incidents that motivate Kirk and Spock to be in a different place at the end of the film than they were at the beginning. Instead, they just go on an adventure and come back different, which makes their supposed evolution narrative unsatisfying and ultimately unearned.
It doesn't help that the whole "unity is good" concept underlying the film is dramatized in about as shallow and trite a manner as one could imagine. It's a fluffy theme to begin with, and Star Trek Beyond doesn't do much to make it any more weighty or meaningful in how its realized in the conflict of the film or the characters' actions, especially in the context of on-the-nose dialogue to that effect. Say what you will about Star Trek Into Darkness, and there's plenty to say, but at least the film had the moxie to explore, as its hallowed predecessors did, some of the major social and political issues of the day. There's room to criticize Into Darkness's approach, and other flaws derivative elements that hobbled the film out of the gate, but tackling concepts of militarization and the security state feels of a piece with the politically-charged spirit of The Original Series and its successors. Its reach exceeded its grasp, but there was a nobility in the attempt.
Beyond, on the other hand, is content to coast on a vague Barney-esque notion of teamwork as a guiding principle and theme that barely feels worthy of a generic space adventure, let alone a franchise like Star Trek. The new ally introduced in the film is a lone wolf, wayward traveler brought into the Starfleet fold, whereas it's villain is motivated by a rejection of unity and the benefits of collective action, in a skin-deep realization of that contrast meant to be the film's focal point. Idris Elba is completely wasted in the latter role, an outstanding actor reduced to snarls and platitudes that do not do him justice. In fact, few cast members are given material worthy of their talents. What little they're given to work with in terms of expressing this theme, undercooked though it may be, is lost in a sea of stock beats and action set pieces that feel almost wholly disconnected and inadequate to convey what the film is shooting for.
Those set pieces, which ought to be the saving grace of bringing in a director like Justin Lin, are also a surprising weakness for the film. While there's no shortage of action, almost all of it is shot and directed in a nigh-incoherent fashion that makes it difficult to follow what's happening from scene to muddled scene. Lin and cinematographer Stephen F. Windon pay little mind to ideas of geography or scope, rendering what ought to be a strength of Beyond, instead a collection of occasionally-cool moments with little to put them in context with one another. The film can boast an enjoyable anti-gravity sequence, and its Beastie Boys-fueled excitement is enjoyable if silly, but for the most part, the visual fireworks of Beyond fizzle out into a hodgepodge of undifferentiated combat and explosions.
The film does have its merits. The dynamic between Spock and Bones is the best realized element of the film and lives up to the humor and endearing qualities that Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley imbued into that relationship. And for however much the film's action falters, its design work is impeccable, from the unique look of newcomer Jaylah to the geometric wizardry of the Yorktown Space Station. But they pale in comparison to the fundamental elements of Star Trek, whether they be from the pre-2009 shows and movies or the Abrams films, where Beyond totally misfires.
At its best, Star Trek features the focus on character that drove the original series, bolstered the 2009 reboot, and is realized in only a meager, perfunctory fashion in Beyond. The franchise can soar in its examination of meaningful social and political issues in a fantastical setting, in keeping with its science fiction roots, a virtue Beyond sacrifices in favor of a generic message about working together. This film skips the heavy lifting of showing us how the characters at the core of the franchise develop and grow, and the burden of telling a story that can be both heady and thrilling, in favor of an easy, unambitious action film that has a handful of good moments, but only the patina of what made Star Trek special. Star Trek Beyond is like any other middling cinematic sci-fi adventure of the past decade, with only a Trek-inspired coat of paint to distinguish it, and that's the film's greatest sin.
Edit: On rewatch nearly five years later I...still agree almost completely with my previous review. I probably wouldn't rate it as poorly, but even knowing where everything is heading, this film is a narrative mess that substitutes bland platitudes and indiscriminate action for having an actual story or character or point with any genuine depth. With Simon Pegg as a credited screenwriter, there's more charming references to The Original Series (e.g. Kirk ripping his shirt, Chekov claiming that scotch is Russian) and even some homages to Star Trek: Enterprise (a mention of the Xindi!). But those cute callbacks don't make up for this flashy, indiscriminate clump of a movie.
The one thing I would revise is that there's at least a decent arc for Spock here. he thinks that living up to Spock Prime's legacy means leaving Starfleet to help Vulcans, only to see how much his friends and colleagues need him and realize that Spock Prime's legacy was helping and standing by his friends. It's bare bones, but it's there, and the movie deserves credit for it.
Still, a rewatch does this no favors. If anything, it just confirms the film's Underpants Gnomes approach to storytelling, the jumbled pacing and lumpy structure, and the unavailing action sequences that make it something less than the fun success of ST'09 and less even than the noble failure of Into Darkness. I'd probably upgrade it to a [5.5/10], but it's still a real low-light among the reboot films.
While I walked in the theater I expected a good movie. Because I liked the concept of the story as it was set-up in the trailer. But mostly because I 'trusted' Tom Hardy and Gary Oldman to pick a good movie to play in. While I walked out the theater I had different thoughts unfortunately. The film was disappointing to me and I will try to explain why. It wasn't the acting and 'world building' but I disliked the directing, screenplay and filming.
First of the directing and filming, all of the action scenes where flooded with shaky cam. This was handled very badly in my opinion. I couldn't figure out what was happening most of the time. Due to the shaky cam, number of cuts, close-ups and the peace of all that. That was the main reason why I disliked 'Safe House', which is also made by Daniel Espinosa. It almost felt like he was trying the make the filming and directing 'not perfectly on purpose' to make it 'real' but it didn't worked out at all! It all felt kinda clumsy and there were way to many meaningless shots overall. There were some exceptions, some shots of the cities and area's they visited where beautifully. They really landed the rough and dark tone that they successfully tried the show. Although they over did it sometimes.
Then the screenplay or script, which is based on a 'best selling novel', again! First of you get a nice back story of Tom Hardy's main character, which felt real to me. All of the other characters felt a bit empty, like they were there to fill a place that was written for them. That made it almost impossible for my to understand the characters and the decisions they make. I also missed the whole balance in the story. The first part was way to long ( set-up ), the middle was rush ( plot kicks in ) and the final party ( ending ) was also rushed and kinda unbelievable. I think because of this I wasn't sucked in to the story. The second and third party felt way to easy and straight forward. Like solving a child murder case which is spread over thousand of miles is easy. I think the story could be told in a better and more interesting way.
Overall I was disappointed by Child 44. The dark Russia after WWII was displayed intense but the story lagged suspension and balance. The action scenes sucked even more than the conversations because of the directing and filming methods they just. Tom Hardy did is part good but not brilliant and unfortunately Gary Oldman's characters was barely in it. I give Child 44 an 5 aka 'Meh'! Thanks for reading!
Suffering Sappho!
If there were ever a movie I wanted to be good, (though, realistically, I want almost every movie to be good) it would probably have been this one. Believe me, I was pretty hyped for this film. Actually, my initial reaction to the trailer for this movie was an awesome (in the literal, Biblical sense) headdesk, crashing to the table below, as I bellowed my indignation that I could not have been involved in the making of this movie myself! Is that a little grandiose? Sure, but so am I, so bear with me.
Unfortunately, the reality of this movie turns out to be a little bit of a patchy mess. It is uninspired in its aesthetic (not terribly surprising from the director of infamous Disney reboot "Herbie Fully Loaded," lesbian B movie "D.E.B.S.", and several episodes of "The L Word"), the pacing is erratic and jumbled at times, and the writing flies in the face of historical accuracy and vernacular speech.
Where the movie deserves praise, although sometimes at the expense of its worldbuilding mise en scene, is in the casting and performances of the three principals, Evans, Hall, and Heathcote (in credits order, though not truly in order of importance or merit). Here, each had moments of true brilliance, as the triad stood alone (sometimes too alone, to the detriment of the too-flimsy film world around them) against a sea of angry, very red, very white faces.
I never felt disengaged from the characters, and they were written flawlessly. Where these figures deviate from history (which, I hear, is at many points) I will allow poetic license, because they are painted so vividly and with such charming life. Even when the script is bad, the actors presented it well. Just as even when the script called for the location to be set in New York state, it still looked like Massachusetts.
This movie was truly robbed. With a better cinematographer, two more really good rewrites, and maybe some more specific focus, this movie could have been a serious awards contender, and a very great piece of art. As it is, it's been a blip through the cinemas, to be misunderstood and forgotten until such time as polyamory is more accepted in the social mores of the day, and it can be further misunderstood and miscategorized as evidence of how backward society was in 2017, that this was our take on the Marston/Moulton story.
Of course, by that time, there will be a better "Wonder Women" movie. There had damn well better be.
[9.3/10] At first blush, Baby Driver writer-director Edgar Wright and fellow director Wes Anderson don’t seem like a natural pairing. Wright’s films, like Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead tend to be overtly comedic, include a good quotient of action, and bring an adventure-focused quality to the proceedings. Anderson’s, by contrast, tend to be quieter, more droll pictures, that are certainly funny and have their share of exciting moments, but which find their form in the more reserved, music box sensibilities of Anderson’s oeuvre.
And yet, Wright and Anderson’s films have something very much in common. They both create films where it seems like the world was built to fit their characters, rather than more typical films where the main personalities find themselves struggling in a world that’s indifferent to them or even more commonly, which doesn’t fit them at all. Whether it’s Anderson’s elegant dioramas or Wright’s “everything’s foreshadowing” rube goldberg machines, the environments of these films bend to our heroes, not the other way around, resulting in some wonderfully well-choreographed cinema.
Baby Driver is the apotheosis of this tack, brought to bear in the form of car chases, gunfights, and the best jukebox soundtrack this side of the galaxy (and any attendant guardians). Indeed, Marvel Studios’ Guardians is a nice reference point, as both films not only feature countless rockin’ tunes, but also center on roguish but decent young men, holding onto to the last holy artifacts of their mother, finding solace in music and falling in with a rough crowd before deciding to stand for something more. It’s kismet that star Ansel Elgort, who plays the lead (appropriately named “Baby’), is signed on to be the past and future Han Solo in the latest standalone Star Wars flick, a character who’s very much in the DNA of Guardians’ Peter “Star-Lord” Quill.
Independent of any comic book counterparts, however, Baby Driver doesn’t offer much in terms of an original premise. Baby is a badass driver and a decent kid, mixed up with some bad folks, tentative about the prospect of blood and his hands, wanting to start a new life with his lady love. There are a lot of tropes in the film: the quiet but effective young naif, the loose cannon gangster, the slimy mastermind, the ingenue who represents a beacon of hope, the inevitable moral dilemma.
But what the film lacks in originality in its setup, it more than makes up for in performance, texture, and execution. Baby Driver has a murderer’s row of performers who chew up and spit out Wright’s script and make what could otherwise be stock character come alive and compensate for any dearth of depth with the sheer vividness of their presence.
Kevin Spacey looks alive for the first time in ages, bringing a blasé menace as the organizer of each heist. Jamie Foxx is at his extroverted best, rolling through pointed monologues and bringing a lived-in flavor of crazy. Lily James has enough homespun, wanderlust charm to balance out her underwritten part. Elgort is necessarily more reserved, but equally endearing and a fine fulcrum for the movie. And Jon Hamm brings his Mad Men practiced-gentility in a fashion that makes him seem like that much monstrous when the scales fall.
But while the performances carry the film in its quieter moments, what sets Baby Driver apart is sequence after superlative sequence of breathtaking kinetic cinema. Not content to simply toss in explosive but empty action to keep the heart-pumping, Wright, cinematographer Bill Pope, and editor Paul Machliss create these elegantly constructed set pieces of gorgeous synchronous stunts, twists, and turns, the hum right along with the music, just like the protagonist.
That works whether Baby is blowing the doors off the film’s opening with a series of death-defying terms perfectly sequenced to his backing track. It works when the young man finds himself embroiled in a firefight where surprise shots and returned fire blast back and forth in time with the beat. It works in chases on foot as the rhythmic thump of the tune of the moment matches the energy of pursuers and pursued alike. Even when Baby goes to get coffee, the world moves with him; from the graffiti on the walls to the buskers on the street everything goes where he goes.
In the same way, the film doesn’t so much present action scenes as it does ballets of chrome and octane. Baby Driver oozes with style and tempo, knowing how to hold the audience’s attention through great escapes that and close scrapes that keep topping one another, and quieter scenes where the tension comes from sweet interactions juxtaposed with combustive elements, leading the viewer to wonder which will win the day.
It’s also a near perfectly-paced movie. Like a perfect mixtape, Wright knows when to kick things into gear and when to slow things down to let the audience catch its breath before putting his foot on the gas once more. While the film starts to feel a bit overextended at the very end, with the villain creeping into unkillable slasher territory, for the vast majority of its runtime it holds your attention from moment to moment and scene to scene expertly. In that, Wright matches the talents of his protagonist, directing and maneuvering this complex machine like it were a rough-and-tumble ballerina, full of slick thrills and inimitable grace.
He achieves this with a movie, a setting, and a lead character, that each move like clockwork in sync with one another. While Baby Driver is neither as quiet or twee as Wes Anderson’s work, it brings with it the film’s own sense of longing and melancholy beneath an intricately constructed world. Every scene is a dance, every moment a confluence of sound and imagery and movement, whether in the pulse-pounding races against cops or robbers, or gauzy imaginings of another life that might be. In Baby Driver, Wright has built his most elegant, intricate toy, and it’s a treat and a pleasure to see him play on the screen once again.
Amazing movie overall. I instantly fell in love with it, it's so charming and funny and the way the soundtrack blends perfectly with every single scene dazzled me. Most of the actors have some sort of musical background and it makes it even better. This movie is an ode to music in a way that it was more important to me than the story it was trying to tell. Every actor was crazy good, but kevin spacey and jamie foxx were amazing. Ansel was great in its way, I know him more for his music than his acting so I don't know if he was looking off because of the character or because of his acting. But it created a weird vibe and I appreciated that.
The only reason why this movie is not a 10 for me is the third act. It felt so rushed, one minute baby is trying to save the girl from the post office, the other he's Impaling Bats with a beam. Deborah didn't even questioned why Baby was suddenly killing people and robbing cars, she just went with it and helped him, all for that sweet escape. Did it ruin he experience? nope, but I left thinking it could have been even better.
Few other thoughts:
Opening credits with Baby walking to the street with his eadbuds: AWESOME.
Ansel pulling an Ansolo with his mixtapes: AWESOME.
Dollar bills and bullets sincronized with the song: SO FREAKING AWESOME!
The setting becoming a character in a film is a cliche. It's easy to give in to the charms of talented production designers and themes rooted in a particular time and place and declare that a well-established center of events rises to the level of personhood within a story.
But this desolate den of thieves and junkies and ramshackle mobsters in the Ozarks is more than just a character in Winter's Bone, it is a visceral realization of the mood of the film. What I love most about this film is it's restraint. There are few grand scenes of exposition, only a couple of big moments, and little in the way of on-the-nose dialogue to explain who these characters are or what their hopes and wants and weaknesses will be. Instead, it finds other, subtler ways to convey character and conflict and stakes.
None of these is so potent as the surroundings that Ree Dolly finds herself in. While the camera rarely acquiesces to the stark if scenic beauty of the area, it takes time to linger on the dull gray and washed out colors of the Dollies' corner of the Ozarks. The desperation of this place, the lack of hope and the sense that the same patterns are doomed to repeat in its grizzled confines come through without anyone needing to say it.
More than anything, Winter's Bone gives us an ecosystem, a hierarchy, more through implication than by anyone laying it out for us. We see the way that the women of this area have to look to men for approval, and yet are the real muscle and motivators that solve the problems the story presents. We see the elaborate games of telephone, the way that honor must be shown and recognized, that drive the characters from one point to another. And we see the bonds of family, the way everyone in this town is some distant relation, and the difference between what that's supposed to mean and what it does.
That strength is matched by the film's lead. Jennifer Lawrence may have gone on to win Oscars and headline blockbusters, with many striking performances, but I'm not sure she's ever topped this one. The strength and resolve in Ree Dolly, as she pushes her way through the Byzantine spate of resistance and blind eyes that threatens to leave her family penniless and homeless, with her vulnerability on display in more private, intimate moments, creates an incredible portrait of a young woman in an impossible position. Lawrence masters the layer of the character: her boldness tinged with uncertainty on display as she stands up to the men and women who attempt to stymie her, her doubt and fear as she pleads with her shell-shocked mother for help, her anxiety and pragmatism as she tries to teach her young brother and sister to be self-sufficient.
It's that pragmatism, the quality that takes a young woman with clearly enough smarts to make her own way in this world, that spurs the film to its climax. There's a parallelism to it. When Ree is teaching her brother how to prepare a squirrel, she tells him to remove its guts, and he resists. She tells him that he has to do it anyway, that he has to get used to stuff like this. That thought comes back to bite Ree as she's forced to reach into the water and pull out her own father's bloated corpse while her antagonists and accomplices take off his hands with a chainsaw to provide proof of his death. She too resists, but swallows her disgust and horror and does what needs to be done. It's a testament to that desperation once again, to the idea that painful things have to happen, that the innocent have to be broken, at least a little, in order for them to survive in a world with such ugliness.
There's an undercurrent to this story about someone trying to break out of a system that aims to hold people like her in place. When she walks into the local high school she looks longingly at what goes on there. She tries to enlist in the military to see the world and get out. She is, however, tied to this place, by the need to take care of a mother and siblings who cannot, and in the case of the former, maybe never will, be able to take care of themselves. She is needed, and that means putting the rest of a promising life on hold, in a community that feigns support (with pride and reputation being prized), but which is deeply suspicious and uncaring when their livelihoods or positions are threatened.
The one ally who crosses this line is Teardrop, who is a part of this same system but breaks ranks to assist his niece in her honorable quest. John Hawkes gives the performance of a lifetime. A far cry from the clean cut Sol Star of Deadwood, Hawkes is the apotheosis of the thoroughly-worn creatures of walking regret who populate the film. His sunken eyes mask a long-buried warmth and connection to the world, that begin to reemerge in the face of Ree's struggle.
That struggle, in its way, is a very simply story. A young woman tries to find her dad in order to save her family. But the layers the film adds onto that basic premise -- the conspiracies of silence and of gossip that loom in the background, the filial and fraternal issues that permeate the story, the understated, frightening nature of the possibilities from poking the wrong hornet's nest in this town -- make into something affecting and universal. Winter's Bone is a film about one resourceful, pitiable young woman's efforts to complete her Herculean labors, but it's also about the community she labors within, and the place, bereft of hope or opportunity, that spawned it. That place, and its fallow environs, show the depths to which this land has sunk, but also, through Ree's indomitable spirit, Teardrop's renewed connection to his family that suggests the support that might set her free, and the windfall that acts as her father's final gift, there's the hint that what has lain fallow may be reborn, that there is hope in the midst of this unmitigated bleakness, and that those old, destructive patterns can be broken, if only a little.
[7.3/10] One of the things I like about kids movies these days is that they tend to be pretty clear about what the characters want and how that drives the story. I’m sure there’s some selection bias there, with plenty of kid-focused dreck that doesn't make it onto my radar. But one of the benefits of aiming at the kid audience is that films almost have to be clearer about motivation and its connection to story or you risk losing attention and understanding. Sometimes, that leads to overly telegraphed plot points or predictable story arcs, but in others, it adds a sense of clarity and character to children’s entertainment that wide swaths of adult-focused films lack.
Ralph Breaks the Internet is the (nigh-literal) poster child for that idea. In a series of enjoyable opening clips, the film establishes that candy-coated racer Vanellope is tired of the predictability of life in the arcade, and is thirsting for the new, different, and unknown. Ralph, on the other hand, things the steady life of work, root beer, and especially hanging out with his best friend is paradise, is everything he could ever want. So when Vanellope yearns for something more, he’s helpful and supportive, but doesn't really get it and wonders why his friendship isn’t enough to sate her.
Naturally, things go haywire from there. Some track-based improvisation leads to a broken gaming wheel in the real world, sending Ralph and Vanellope into the internet in an effort to find a replacement. They meet new characters and face new challenges and explore the ever-expanding, bustling realm of the world wide web. But every choice the movie, and more importantly the characters, make is driven by their friendship, and those two conflicting impulses and concerns that Ralph Breaks the Internet sets up in its first ten minutes.
What’s interesting is that despite being set there, and theoretically expanding the reach of this franchise, the film isn’t really about the internet. Sure, there’s plenty of glancing observations about silly things going viral or the toxicity of comment sections. But for the most part, the web is just an energetic backdrop for a story about two friends who care deeply about one another but need different things in order to feel fulfilled. The tale Ralph Breaks the Internet tells fits that within its cyberspace setting, but the Internet is merely the object of Vanellope’s impulse to experience a wider, woolier world, and Ralph’s reluctance in the shadow of its dizzying diversity, rather than the true subject of the film.
That’s not to say that Ralph Breaks the Internet fails to make the most of that setting. While fans of Tron or even the inevitably revived ReBoot are familiar with the inner workings of cyberspace being depicted as some sort of bustling city, this movie kicks that idea up a notch. The web as a sprawling metropolis, with website skyscrapers and user milling around as little avatars, is a fun, high energy backdrop for all the misadventures of our heroes. Spammers and pop-ups are treated like carnival barkers, sites themselves are fun houses or factories, and viruses and the “dark web” are the seedy underbelly of the bustling burg. The tropes are familiar, but the execution is a visual feast, creatively done.
Thankfully, the gratuitous corporate synergy comes in small, concentrated doses rather than overwhelming the story and setup this film is trying to impart. There’s cameos from Marvel and Star Wars characters and conspicuous House of Mouse-style mash-ups of different worlds and properties. And yes, as the trailer promised, there is an all-star team-up of Disney princesses, who chat with Vanellope and lend a bit of aid when the moment calls for it, with a new ode from Alan Menken to boot. There’s meta gags galore and a few winks at the standard princess tropes, but it’s all punchy and funny enough that it’s always pleasing and rarely veers to the level of indulgence.
The problems with the movie instead lie in how it rushes and sitcom-ifies the conflict between Vanellope and Ralph. There’s legitimate tension to be had in how Vanellope is drawn to Shank, the leader of a hardscrabble racing squad in a Grand Theft Auto-meets-Twisted Metal game called “Slaughter Race” that’s captured Vanellope’s imagination, and how insecure Ralph feels over that. But Ralph Breaks the Internet dramatizes that with a cliché “one character speaks frankly without knowing that another character is listening in” setup, and underlines in with a device that literally reproduces Ralph’s “insecurity” in destructive fashion.
At the same time, the movie bends over backwards to prevent either party from seeing the bad guy. That’s not a bad tack in principle. Both Ralph and Vanellope are genuinely well-meaning but are capable of hurting each other due to their divergent wants from life. But the movie needs conflict and action, and so retreats from having Ralph doing anything genuinely bad or ill-intentioned, instead incessantly underscoring the fact that he doesn't mean any harm when his actions come close to doing real harm to his best friend. That takes the juice out of the confrontation between confidantes the film wants to draw out, and weakens the overall conflict.
The inevitable third act action sequence exists in an odd space between inventive and rote. The final challenge involves an Oogie-Boogie esque threat who’s creatively animated in every frame, but who’s too blunt as a personification of Ralph’s worries and whose defeat drifts into hand-holding as to the message of the film and a solid snootful of fan service to boot. The film thrives and delights when it features Ralph and Vanellope capering through cyberspace, but falter when it has to bring the burgeoning friction between them to a head.
Still, the film’s message is a laudable one, which settles on accepting that the people you care about can want other things in life to make them feel fulfilled, without diminishing the closeness of your friendship. At times, its efforts to convey that message verge on the contrived or the overblown. But at its core, Ralph Breaks the Internet commits to the idea of what its two main characters want, and amid the wonder and pitfalls of the world wide web, plays that idea out in a way that vindicates who they are and what drives them. The film boasts fun online observations and vaguely self-satisfied but self-effacing Disney jibes, while ultimately coming down on the side of a character-focused story.
It can’t top Ralph and Vanellope’s first outing, and stumbles a bit as those character clashes are forced to turn into the mandatory uptempo thrillride all tentpole movies have to have these days, but Ralph Breaks the Internet whose who they are and what they want, comedicaly and dramatically, which keeps the movie enjoyable and on track, even amid the online flurry the film steeps itself in.
6.6/10. You’ve seen Hidden Figures before. Maybe you haven’t seen this exact movie -- about how three unduly unheralded African American women helped NASA in the early 1960s -- but if, like me, you dutifully watch many, if not most, of the Oscar-nominated films each year, then within ten minutes, you’ll already know this movie by heart.
It features a gutsy but unorthodox protagonist trying to make a dent in a system that marginalizes and ignores her. It’s a period piece, with enough obvious dialogue, signs, and cameos from well-known historical figures to let you know exactly when the story is taking place with plenty of opportunity for the viewer to say, “My, how far we’ve come.” It has supporting characters facing challenges that mirror the protagonist’s, shining more light on the ways in which the order of the day affected those who were quietly fighting to maintain their place in it, and maybe even change it. And it has the untold story/historical injustice angle that’s supposed to imbue it with an extra bit of triumph and tragedy, all unleashed with a heavy dose of Hollywood mythmaking.
The difference, and the thing that distinguishes Hidden Figures from the likes of The Imitation Game, Dallas Buyers Club, and other recent Oscar nominees that play in the same space is that it uses the power of that formula in support of a woman of color. At a time when the world of film is still lingering in the shadow of the #OscarsSoWhite controversy, it’s encouraging that Taraji P. Henson can be cast as the star of a movie that follows the Academy Award film blueprint and succeed at the box office in the process. It’s just a shame that the film’s artistic merit doesn’t match its social merit.
Don’t get me wrong; Hidden Figures is a well-made film. It chugs along at a good clip -- telling the story of one brilliant mathematician’s contributions to NASA at a time when someone of her race and gender had to work twice as hard to make it half as far -- in a tight, if predictable manner. It sprinkles in the subplots about her compatriots nicely, allowing them to work well as breaks from the main narrative that still feed into it. The acting on display is solid-to-good all around. It’s impeccably shot, framed, and edited, with colors that leap off the screen and composition that emphasizes the loneliness, bustle, or intimacy of a given setting. And it can boast a jam-worthy soundtrack that fits the movie’s big moments, but which would be worth listening to apart even outside the theater.
But good lord is it full of every hoary trope from every awards season film you’ve ever seen. The film runs through a litany of standard, predictable beats, telegraphing each one along the way. The good guys overcome the heavily-underlined obstacles in their way. They stand up to thinly-drawn, ineffectual antagonists. They offering cutting, cheesy one-liners after finding their footing.
The film provides an opportunity for Henson to give a Big Damn Speech, and for Kevin Costner to give a Big Damn Speech, and for Janelle Monáe to give a Big Damn Speech (which is, surprisingly, the best written and performed of the three). There is a one-dimensional love interest (Mahershala Ali, whose talents are squandered here) whose only true defining characteristic is that he likes the protagonist. And in the end, there are the expected measured but clear victories, culminating in a big historical event and a “where are they now” text-on-screen closing.
Even the canny little moments of repetition and subversion -- the protagonist being handed a piece of chalk, symbolizing opportunity, by her supervisor the same way she as a child in the classroom; or one of her white colleagues having to hustle across the NASA campus to find her rather than the other way around -- feel like a page torn out of the usual awards-bait playbook. The only times when the film transcends this are when it puts its three leads -- Henson, Monáe, and Octavia Spencer (who manages to make a lot out of a little here) -- together. It’s in these moments that they seem like real human beings finding solace in one another and navigating an environment where the deck is stacked against them, rather than mascots for another rote bout of silver screen “triumph over adversity” heartstring-pulling.
Hidden Figures does the good work of telling the world about the trailblazing achievements of Katherine G. Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson, but it does a disservice to these women’s stories to reduce them to the usual prestige pablum, and it doesn’t have to be this way.
It’s laudable that Hollywood is using its hagiographic abilities on women of color who deserve to be widely known, but even the Awards season fare of the recent past shows that it can do better. The superlative Selma looked like a bog-standard Great Man biopic, and instead treated its historical giant of a central figure with a humanizing gaze that made Martin Luther King Jr., his movement, and his struggle feel more real than all the usual tinseltown gloss and lionizing tone could. The Best Picture-winning Twelve Years a Slave suffers from a small bit of the same white savior syndrome that afflicted the execrable The Help, but it was raw and uncompromising, putting the ugliness of the prejudices faced by its protagonist on display in a way that didn’t reduce them to petty hurdles our heroes would inevitably hop over. These vital stories can be told without sacrificing artistry or giving into the cliches of typical Oscar fare.
But maybe that’s the best thing to say about Hidden Figures. Every awards season is going to feature a certain quotient of this type of film. Every year sees a new crop of competently-made, not particularly inspired movies that deal with Important Things, typically from The Long Long Ago. If this is inevitable, if the awards circuit is continually going to honor films that hit these same notes over and over again, then the least we can do is use this generic form in service of people whose stories deserve to be told, and who are all too often, as the movie’s title portends, left on the cutting room floor.
This isn't a bad movie, but I also don't think it's particularly great either. The performances all around were good, save for maybe Kirsten Dunst who seemed to be trying a little too hard to be unlikable as a supervisor. The story was intriguing enough to make it all the way to the end of the movie, but I really feel like this story deserved a lot better, especially regarding the importance of these three women in our history.
The editing felt really off at several points, cutting to other shots far too frequently when it didn't need to. The music used also felt extremely out of place, especially for a period piece like this. Pharrell Williams shouldn't have been involved with this, with special regards to the song Runnin' which not only was overused but also completely unnecessary in trying to force a comedic tone when it didn't need to. They should've used more music from the time period the movie was set in.
I don't feel like I wasted my time watching this, but I wish there was more care put into this. I seriously don't get why it had so much Oscar attention, especially when compared to the nominees it was right next to.
[6.3/10] I walked away from Ready Player One the movie feeling the same way I did about Ready Player One the book -- that this a stellar premise wasted on a mediocre-at-best story. The idea of a worldwide, all-consuming online gaming sphere, like World of Warcraft or Second Life taken to the extreme, is fertile ground for social commentary and storytelling. Even with middling execution, you can’t get away from the power of themes about identity online, the effects of screen time, what it means to know and connect with someone, and cultural tastes in lieu of personality. You also can’t get away from the thrills of a digital world where anything is possible with the right imagination.
But Ready Player One manages to stumble over these ideas time and time again, when it’s not smacking the audience in the face with them. At base, the movie is fine as a disposable adventure, one to put on while folding laundry and glance up at when something exciting is happening. But its action is flashy yet forgettable, and it seems to think it’s making grand statements about life and friendship when it only offers the most trite, bargain basement observations about humanity and how we relate to and interact with one another.
Some of those flaws come from the source material. The hackneyed “evil corporate guys want to turn our free online playhouse into an ad-scattered cash machine” conflict is right there in the manual. The thinly sketched-characters who are more quirk and wish-fulfillment than fully-realized human beings is a fault on the page as well as on the screen. And the rudimentary, teenage boy view of awesome that colors every choice and development in the story is true of the novel as well. Original author Ernest Cline worked on the screenplay here too, and unfortunately, it shows.
But the film manages to correct a few things from the novel. While there’s still problems of insta-love and barreling through plot points, the script from Cline and superhero screenplay scribe Zak Penn changes the structure of the story for the better. In-person meetings happen earlier. There’s role reversals for certain captures and rescues which makes Parzival less of an all-consuming protagonist. And despite an exhaustingly lengthy and overstuffed third act, many of the quests and story beats are streamlined or reimagined to both make them more suitable for the medium and cut out some of the fat.
Still, even with Spielberg behind the camera, Ready Player One can’t avoid feeling like a missed opportunity. It’s a boatload of characters who are either rote or underdeveloped, of clichés and truisms played as novel and profound, and of nominally thrilling action that ends up feeling static an hour into the film. Spielberg knows how to hold the tension in a scene, and every payoff has a setup, which boosts some of the film’s weaker moments. But between villainous corporate hacks and generic good guy kids, there’s just nothing to latch onto here.
Thankfully, the movie manages to sidestep at least some of the novel’s reference-heavy bent (or relegate it to the background) and fanboy fetishism. And yet, at the end of the day, it’s probably the thing I unexpectedly wanted more of. While the book was overly awash in pop cultural shout outs that clogged the story, the movie only feels alive and different when it’s borrowing the power of seeing The Iron Giant in flight again, or transporting our heroes into a classic horror movie. The latter sequence is the highlight of the film, embracing the crossover fun that the premise promises, but using it to advance the story and the characters. Strip away cameos from Freddy Krueger and Van Halen tunes, and all you have is a standard issue adventure story without much to distinguish it.
Despite the structural changes made by Cline and Penn, Ready Player One still feels overstuffed, rushed, and contrived in several places. The movie wants the viewers to see the “High Five” (its team of heroes) as special and uniquely devoted to the cause of dethroning the evil empire. It shows them understanding the clues and life of their benefactor who set out the film’s great quest in a way that their rigid corporate antagonists don’t. But the solutions to his problems often seem overly simple or too obvious not to have been discovered before by the thousand monkeys at a thousand laptops trying to do so. Heroes succeed and villains stumble more because the plot needs them to than because of any genuine insight or hubris.
There’s also the film’s aesthetic, which is a bit cold and antiseptic, but which can at least be excused for being set in a virtual fantasyland. There’s a certain amount of prequel-itis here with the digital overload, but that’s arguably a bug, not a feature, even if none of the character or world designs are especially memorable. One expects better in a Spielberg joint, but there’s at least some high-intensity thrills to be had, even if they end up feeling fairly empty in the final tally.
That’s my biggest problem with Ready Player One. At the end of the day, it just feels empty. The romantic tension between its two leads is stock and tired. The friendship between Parzival and Aech is underfed, and our heroes’ success in the main adventure seems preordained rather than earned, without enough twists to make the inevitable interesting.
At times, Spielberg & Co. seem to know how deeply silly this whole enterprise is and wink at the audience, occasionally verging into satire in the vein of Starship Trooper. It’s these occasions where the film is its most enjoyable. But in others, it seems painfully sincere about a story, character, and theme that have all the gravity and substance of saltwater taffy. The film’s message of valuing friendship and real world interactions beyond the glow of online escapism is laudable enough, but shallow and dissonant when plastered into the movie’s cinematic theme park ride. Ready Player One is empty calories, and not even especially tasty ones, that are delivered with the message that the viewer should go on a diet. It’s not outright bad by any stretch of the imagination, but you can’t help but wonder how the great ideas bubbling around in this mishmashed bag of Halloween candy could be put to better use.
I can't believe there are no comments on this film. I had plans as soon as I saw the ad for this film to see it. That's like 6 or 7 months. It never came to australia until the korean film festival then it was cancelled due to a system fault (lmao). If you went to the lengths I did to try and see this film youd know it was ultimate irony.
Luckily I managed to be able to see this soon after the festival ended. This movie is about a girl with autism who has witnessed a crime committed in the house across the road the actress is the same one who plays the youngest reaper in Along With The Gods and this has really showcased her ability as an actress and I am so touched she took on this role despite how Korea may treat people with disabilities. I honestly feel this was such a good film with a really empathetic view towards people with autism.
As it goes, Sunho, Miran's defence lawyer initially befriends Jiwoo in order to understand her disability and to use it as leverage in his defence. This blindsided Jiwoos family and shatters their trust of him. Throughout this part of the film we see the writers really tried to incorporate traits common of people with autism. Jiwoo repeats things she hears, she self harms under stress and she doesnt recognise body language very well despite her mum trying to teach her. She also has a packet of sweets in which she only eats the blue ones. She's also really naive.
There are quite a few storylines in this film but I felt like the most unnecessary one was that Sunho is 45 and single living with his physically weakened father. He is constantly being badgered by his father to date one of his old classmates from university who is also a lawyer. It doesn't add much to the story except being a minor motivator for him to be more genuine and to recognise good and bad people.
The point where you think the film would be resolved is where it actually keeps going. Sunho wins the case but realises that he made a grave mistake when he hears Miran say something that Jiwoo constantly repeats. He decides to go to court again but instead of as the defence he proves that Jiwoo was right and the murder was committed by Miran. He regains the trust of her family and helps Jiwoo make friends. He's even there on her birthday after she transfers to a special school.
My favourite scene honestly was when he gave her a bottle full of her favourite sweets.
"How do you like your new school?"
"It's alright. Just a little strange."
"Why?"
"I don't have to pretend to be normal anymore."
9/10
Based on a novel of the same name, the premise of The Princess Diaries is certainly intriguing enough. A coming-of-age Cinderella story with a twist -- Cinderella is not the damsel in distress. She's comfortable in her own awkward shy teenager shell.
The film has all the ingredients of a successful film. And the film was wildly successful. It has a dream team of cast where everyone is as perfectly cast as they can be, starting with Julie Andrews as the queen and Anne Hathaway in her breakthrough debut as Mia. Directed by the veteran of Cinderella films Garry Marshall (Pretty Woman), the film was a low risk bet for Walt Disney.
For the intended audience (young and preteen girls), the film hits all the right notes. Mia's transformation scene is easily the highlight of the film, and it is very effective and well shot.
Yet, the film just didn't work for me. The movie is just all too familiar and predictable. The scene where Mia discovers her heritage carries surprisingly very little revelation and reactions. And the climax just didn't arouse warm reaction it intended to generate. Worse of all, there are just too many cliched and cringe inducing scenes.
All in all, the film is worth casual family viewing. But for me, the strong cast and competent direction couldn't overcome weak screenplay.
Just as slow as the original, but I'd argue it's a better film overall.
There isn't much between the two films, I admit. However, I found 'The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement' more enjoyable than 'The Princess Diaries'. The plot is probably just as interesting, but there's less cringe in this one and the villains are a big improvement.
Anne Hathaway (Mia) is very good once more, while Julie Andrews (Clarisse) does solid things again. John Rhys-Davies (Mabrey) and Chris Pine (Nicholas) are top additions, great casting on the latter by the way given it's Pine's feature film debut.
I also said in my review of the 2001 film that I don't like fictional places in live-action, non-fantasy productions. That's still the case here, but I didn't actually mind it all that much to be honest. "Genovia" is way more believable here, thanks to us actually getting to see it for real - as opposed to it just being referenced.
As noted, there are still a few cringey moments and it does run too long. There are some sweets parts, though. It's also kinda weird that, technically, Mia and Nicholas are related; a number of generations back sure, but still...
A sequel that (minorly) improves on its predecessor, that's always a positive in my book.
The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement is a 2004 American family comedy film starring Julie Andrews and Anne Hathaway. This film is also the sequel to 2001’s The Princess Diaries. In this film, Queen Clarisse (Andrews) is abdicating the throne, and Mia Thermopolis (Hathaway) learns that she needs to marry within a month in order to be Queen of Genovia. At Mia’s 21st birthday party, she meets the dashing Lord Nicholas Devereaux (played by Chris Pine in his film debut).
I’ve actually never watched the first film, but pop culture has filled me on the context of the characters, setting, etc. That being said, I was interested in watching this Disney classic, regardless of the order!
I thought that the acting, especially by Hathaway and Pine, were well done. Hathaway still portrays Mia as the down-to-earth, rambunctious girl I’ve come to perceive her as, and Pine is a charming and bantering young lord who often bickers with Mia throughout the film. And of course, Julie Andrews is superb as Queen Clarisse, as she is the definition of grace, class, and beauty.
The plot was honestly predictable, but c’mon... it’s a Disney film. It was still enjoyable to watch! And the music gave it a nostalgic touch (at least for me, watching it in 2021), making it a great feel-good movie.
With the plot being predictable, I wouldn’t rewatch the film.
[8.8/10] There’s a funny thing about these updated, transmogrified Shakespeare adaptations like 10 Things I Hate About You. If you didn’t know better, you could call the plots convoluted. There is a complicated web of relationships and deceptions, to the point that you practically need a diagram to explain it properly.
In short, Michael helps his friend Cameron woo Bianca by convincing Joey to pay Patrick to date Kat, because Bianca, per her father Mr. Stratford, cannot date until Kat does. With me? Well then, it turns out that Kat dated Joey, and after Bianca picks Cameron over Joey, Joey picks Bianca’s friend Chastity, while Michael pursues Kat’s friend Mandella, as Kat and Patrick’s tempestuous relationship takes root.
It’s a little dizzying, and yet the complex string of friends and enemies and relationships that tow the line between put-ons and genuine affection track nigh-perfectly into the high school setting. Despite the dense qualities of that big ball of string’s worth of plot threads, the complicated social structures and intersecting circles of high school make for the perfect way to realizes The Bard’s comedies in the modern day.
But 10 things is more than just a transmogrified version of The Taming of the Shrew. It also a charming tale that captures the heart and hazards of adolescence at the same time it exaggerates them for comic effect. What’s most impressive about the film is how it has its cake and eats it too on that front. There are goofy beats and subplots that only happen in teen movies, like unexpected party scenes and famous bands showing up to play contemporary (hopefully) chart-topping hits for the soundtrack.
But amid that broader material, there is a real examination of what it is to play up or down to expectation, a theme present in the work that inspired 10 Things, but which is given new life in the guise of the teenagers who are at that point in the fraught process of growing up where they’re deciding who and what they want to be, in love and in life. The gross wager that turns into real love is a hoary trope (see also: fellow 1990s borrower She’s All That) but by rooting the romance at the core of the film in two people who embrace a thorny image and find the hidden depths behind the prickers in one another, the film does justice to its source material and resonates with a target audience trying to figure out which parts of who they are malleable, which parts are non-negotiable, and which parts are fit to be broadcast to the rest of the world (or at least, the relevant social circles)>
It is also just damn charming. The film is full of quotable lines and crackerjack exchanges between characters. The cutting aside is wielded well and often, and side characters like teachers (including the great Allison Janney) and parents (Larry Miller, who nails both comedy and emotion as Mr. Stratford) provide a backdrop of colorful characters for the main story to flourish in. The writing stands out in 10 Things not just for the amusing lines which liven some otherwise familiar teen material, but for the way it allows the film to, in true Shakespeare form, shift tones into more serious material when it needs to.
The same goes for the characters. Kat shoots off the best zingers in the movie, and with her rebellious attitude and literary bent, it would be easy to turn her into a one-dimensional avatar rather than a character. Instead, the film roots her perspective and demeanor in an experience with Joey that gives form to her concerns of Bianca following in her footsteps, and gives just enough context to her mom leaving to make the crisis of conscience and turning point understandable.
By the same token, Bianca could easily be a generic popular girl, and in fairness, at certain points of the film, she is. But she too has a simple but meaningful arc of playing to expectations only to realize that she doesn’t necessarily like what that gets her, and it allows the two sisters to grow in their understanding of one another in strong scenes that deepen their relationship.
The objects of their affection receive a bit of shading as well. The reveal that Patrick, who puts on a gruff exterior and bears the reputation derived from many humorous urban legends about him, is not as wild as he seems is, perhaps, a predictable one. But he gains strength from the way that he and Kat see bits of themselves in one another, Cameron is a bit flatter, learning a trite if endearingly-put lesson about not accepting the notion that he doesn’t deserve what he wants, but there’s enough there to give ballast to the enjoyable-if-disposable teen romp elements.
Even Mr. Stratford, who is arguably the most outsized major character in the film, gets a bit of shading. While he spits out awkward-sounding nineties slang and is comically overprotective and paranoid of his daughters getting pregnant, the film balances that with a subtext to his insecurities about Kat leaving for Sarah Lawrence. There is a Daria-like quality to the film’s ability to poke fun at the parent-child relationship, but also find the sweetness and sincerity in it.
That’s what makes 10 Things more than the sum of its byzantine bets and love triangles. Some twists are convenient, some gestures a little too big to work anywhere but on the silver screen, and some bits of forgiveness come a little too easy. Still, the film keeps its plot, humor, and drama working in sync, where one scene can make you chuckle, the next will let you get to know a character a little better, and the one after will tug at your heartstrings, just a little bit.
The oh-so-nineties soundtrack immediately places in the film at a specific moment in time, but it speaks to the relatable qualities of that quest to figure out both who you are, and who’ll accept you for who you are, that feel like life and death for all seventeen-year-olds. 10 Things is a touchstone for those who grew up with it, both for the quips and clever asides that let the film crackle, and for the notion of young men and women, cutting through pretension and presentation, and finding something true beneath it, in themselves and in the people they love.
Though stylish like all the previous entries, this one simply felt like it had been directed by someone who had played a bit too many sessions of online shooters or really enjoyed the 'new mission / new setting' feel of the Hitman series. The fact that Keanu's word count in this movie is probably lower than 200 further cements this feeling.
There is almost no content of worth. The movie achieves something previously unimaginable by this series by making the fights feel like repetitive cookie cutter clutter and thus extremely boring to sit through. We get it, John is a superhuman assassin who's GunFoo is better than most. We do not need the same fights 7-8 times to hammer that home. With the body count growing to match that of a warzone, and not a single scratch on John, where are the stakes? Why should the audience care?
Then there are the spectators.
During some of these fights there are masses of spectators, just normal folks either dancing at a club or driving around Arc de Triomphe, that do not even blink as John is peppered with machine gun fire and men with axes come after him. As the bodies pile on, these spectators just continue their NPC activities like they are in a badly coded 90's video game.
It should be obvious to anyone that the series is running out of ideas when it needed to up the ante so much with the firefights that John's most used item is not the guns he wields, but the bullet proof suite he wears.
For most of the fights we see him cover his head with his jacket as he returns fire in generic setting after generic setting.
At the entirely too manieth such fight, roughly 2 hours into this 3 hour bore fest, I walked out.
Barbenheimer: Part 1 of 2
This is the kind of film I really don’t want to criticize, because we don’t get nearly enough other stuff like it. However, mr. Nolan has been in need of an intervention for a while now, and unfortunately all of the issues that have been plaguing his films since The Dark Knight Rises show up to some degree here. Visually it might just be his best film, and there’s some tremendous acting in here, particularly by Murphy and RDJ. However, it makes the common biopic mistake of treating its subject matter like a Wikipedia entry, thereby not focussing enough on character and perspective. As a whole, the film feels more like a long extended montage, I don’t think there are many scenes that go on for longer than 60 seconds. There’s a strong ‘and then this happened, and then this happened’ feel to it, which definitely keeps up the pace, but it refuses to stop and let an emotion or idea simmer for a while. There are moments where you get a look into Oppenheimer’s mind, but because the film wants to cover too much ground, it’s (like everything else) reduced to quick snippets. It’s the kind of approach that’d work for a 6 hour long miniseries where you can spend more time with the characters, not for a 3 hour film. I can already tell that I won’t retain much from this, in fact a lot of it is starting to blur together in my mind. There are also issues with some of the dialogue and exposition, such as moments where characters who are experts in their field talk in a way that feels dumbed down for the audience, or just straight up inauthentic. Einstein is given a couple of cheesy lines, college professors and students interact in a way that would never happen, Oppenheimer gives a lecture in what’s (according to the movie) supposed to be Dutch when it’s really German; you have to be way more careful with that when you’re making a serious drama. Finally, there are once again major issues with the sound mixing. I actually really loved the score, but occasionally it’s blaring at such a volume where it drowns out important dialogue in the mix. I’m lucky enough to have subtitles, but Nolan desperately needs to get his ears checked, or maybe he should’ve asked some advice from Benny Safdie since he’s pretty great with experimental sound mixing. My overall feelings are almost identical to the ones I had regarding Tenet; Nolan needs to rethink his approach to writing, editing and mixing. This film as a whole doesn’t work, but there are still more than a few admirable qualities to it.
Edit: I rewatched this at home to see whether my feeling would change. I still stand by what I wrote in July, though the sound mix seems to have been improved for the home media release. It sounds more balanced and I didn’t miss one line of dialogue this time around. I’m slightly raising my score because of that, but besides that I still think it’s unfocused, overedited, awkwardly staged and scripted etc.
5.5/10
[Edit] THIS MOVIE IS 3 HOURS LONG???? THREE HOURS???? Dear god one hour felt like an ETERNITY in the theater.
Unfortunately walked out because I got overstimulated cause it was a lot louder than expected, and also really fucking boring.
Visually stunning movie. Absolutely gorgeous. The effects done in camera, the cinematography, the acting, everything is just so much fun to look at. Christopher Nolan knows how to make a damn good looking movie. Hats off to the team that made this thing.
But writing wise... damn, it underperformed.
Other commenters mentioned that this feels like a Wikipedia entry or a montage of 60 second clips, and damn they are right. The writing just did. not. hit. It was hard to follow any of Oppenheimer's personal life and to actually feel anything for him or any of the people in his life. I don't expect a movie to hold my hand. But I do expect pace to be managed well and to have a bit of breathing room to be able to process stuff. This did not give you the time to do it lmao.
Also the characters just... didn't interact in an engaging way. Less than 20 minutes into the movie I was already checking my watch to see how much more of this I had to sit through! I didn't know half of the characters' names, or half of their relationships to each other, or why they were even relevant. Like the best example of this is Oppy and Einstein's interactions. They have beef, but it's hard to understand why? There's like... two interactions before the one hour mark that total less than a minute of on-screen time together. Einstein gets a few words in there and it's just very very unclear why they hate each other, or how they met, or what any of their background is. It's confusing!
Also let's talk about Oppenheimer's motivations. As a literal communist, I should empathize with Oppy and understand where he's coming from. But I don't! Because he's a fucking idiot! When he's talking with other leftists, he mentions "Isn't ownership theft?" and the person in the communist party is like "It's property, actually" and he's like "Well sorry I read all three volumes of Capital in original German" and he's like... just a dick??? But also no fucking leftist who is going around having read all three volumes of Capital talks about that shit! That's just dumb! And the entirety of his leftist politics are portrayed in a way that make him look like an egotistical maniac with dumb politics! One minute he's starting a union and pro-labor, another minute he's dropping all of that in order to be a dog of the US government! There's obviously an enormous jump happening there. Like something very, very clearly and very, very majorly changed for Oppenheimer there, and the film spends a grand total of 30 seconds in a single scene having him transition from brilliant labor activist to US government dog.
Also there are time jumps! Lots of them! The choice to jump back and forth between the McCarthyist interrogations of Oppenheimer and the past do. not. make. sense. They are hard to follow, extraordinarily boring, and absolutely ruin any sort of pacing the movie might have! There are several points in this movie where Oppenheimer starts to be fleshed out a bit more as a character or starts to be given more space for us to see what he's really like. And then it's randomly cut off and flashed forward to these utterly irrelevant black-and-white interviews. Oppenheimer has a leftist past! Of course he does! The movie literally shows us that! And instead of just telling things in a regular narrative way, the movie splits things up confusingly for absolutely no good fucking reason, and ends up showing us and telling us the same information twice! That is shit writing! If you cut all of these scenes you would be missing nothing from the movie, and you'd have more time to actually tell us about the characters, instead of them feeling like one-dimensional caricatures.
I don't know any of Oppenheimer's history, and I left this not understanding any more of it! I left after an hour because it felt like two and a half because it was just this firehose of information. And Nolan didn't present it in a way that actually made a story! He just shat this all out on the screen (and it's a beautiful shit, don't get me wrong!!), and expected the audience to love it! His characters are one-dimensional, they aren't given the space, the motivations, or the background really for us to understand where they're coming from or why they do what they do. And that ends up with this being a visually stunning but really fucking boring movie that I just walked out of because I couldn't take it anymore lol.
I cannot stand seeing visually gorgeous movies produced by people who clearly have god-level talent that seem to have a complete and utter inability to get the basics of movie-making, story, correct! I have ADHD. For a lot of people, sitting through a boring movie is just boring. For me, it is exhausting. It is excruciating. I can't fidget in a movie theater, I can't move, I can't pause the movie and come back later when I'm feeling more focused. And so if a movie is boring, I just leave! And it is so fucking annoying to miss out on a chance to see a movie that is, outside of its story, fucking beautiful because its director and writer couldn't do the extremely basic job of making a movie that holds people's interest and communicates things in even a slightly clear way. God what a waste.
