Note: I watched both versions on Netflix - a black-and-white print with narration and the colour print with a soundtrack by Air. This review will cover both.
So here I am at what is undoubtedly Georges Méliès' most famous and enduring film, even if its status as his "best" is open to debate. It's not difficult to see why - while the films have gradually been increasing in complexity and length, this is a clear step-up from anything previously released. The story follows a group of astronomers led by Professor Barbenfouillis as they prepare for and execute a voyage to the moon. Upon arrival, they begin to explore and discover a native race, the Selenites, a number of whom are killed by the Professor. They are captured, escape and beat a hasty retreat to their craft. Once safely back on Earth, they receive a warm welcome and a parade. The unfortunate Selenite that managed to grab onto the craft is rendered captive on display.
It's nothing groundbreaking, story-wise, nor should it be. It's all about the spectacle of the trip, and every section of the film has something utterly distinctive about it. There's a tremendous sense of wonder throughout, of discovery, and notwithstanding the fact that the party of astronomers represent a murderous invading force it's exhilarating to accompany them.
There are so many iconic images throughout, and the sets are beautifully designed and painted. For such short films, occasionally a Méliès short can seem overstuffed, relying on chaos and mayhem to entertain but there's an economy of story and a clear flow from beginning to end.
The two versions have something to recommend each. The black-and-white version is slightly shorter but a touch clearer and there's much more of a sense of what's going on. Unfortunately, it's burdened with some tiresome narration. The colour version is interesting and looks much more fantastical for obvious reasons - the moon in particular. The Air soundtrack is neither here nor there; I didn't feel like it added much to the overall experience but that might change on repeat viewings.
You don't need me to tell you that this is one of the most important films in history, and for reasons that are countless, but I'll reiterate it anyway. It's fantastic.
Starts very well, the way they handle the death of Boseman is very tastefully done (so many well executed emotional beats) and I like the new conflict that they set up, which is a little more grey and intelligent than the usual blockbuster, like the first movie. The new villain is an interesting character, and I quite liked the creativity that went into the design of his powers and world, but for the love of god, never show me those goofy wing boots again. From the second act onwards, the movie starts to get bogged down by the Marvel machine, i.e. the movie slips out of Coogler’s hands. It’s unfortunately forced to function as a backdoor pilot for Disney + shows and used to drive the corporate machine forward, instead of focussing on the development of its own premise and character arcs. The way it rushes through the arcs of Okoye, Shuri and Namor leaves a lot to be desired. Meanwhile, cutting/writing out Riri, Martin Freeman and Julia Louis Dreyfus would improve the overall cohesion and pacing a lot. What doesn’t help either is that the action and visual effects get increasingly worse and worse as the movie goes on, to the point where we again have an ugly third act on our hands, which includes some of the most hideous looking costumes the MCU has ever put out. Moreover, the soundtrack is kinda bland this time around. It’s not like Kendrick et al. were putting out their best material for the first film, but the music here is just so vanilla and forgettable. Finally, I’m not enitrely sure what the script is trying to communicate on a deeper level, besides being a general statement in favour of diplomacy. If it’s meant to be just that, I don’t think this is anywhere as bold as the first movie. Not that it needs that in order to be good, but it’s another layer stripped away from what made the first movie special. What saves the film ultimately is a lot of its craft: the directing, worldbuilding, acting, score, cinematography, costume and set design (underwater world looked great, much better than Aquaman IMO) are all very well handled and stand out in the blockbuster field. It has those strong foundations in place that make it hard to produce a flat out bad Black Panther film, but man does this movie also show that Marvel is its own worst enemy at this point.
5.5/10
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Ok lets break this down:
Major spoilers ahead.
Peele's new film is a clever, cerebral look at modern day US....A. I thought it was very good. It is such a layered film. I wasn't really a fan of Get Out, I thought that film was hugely overrated. But 'Us' is on another level.
There is alot going on in this movie in the background. So much foreshadowing and symbolism. So many nods to the socio-political landscape of America. The apocalyptic scenario we all face if we don't wake up. (11:11 is the rapture in the bible). Even the score in the baseball match is 11 - 11.
Right from the off we are given some easter eggs. There are are several characters wearing Black Flag t-shirts. Look up Black Flag records, what do you get:
https://i.imgur.com/8g518y3.jpg
With Scissors being the main motif for violence. As they're a symmetrical tool used to break things apart.
There is also a nod to 'The Lost Boys' in the opening scene as it's set in the mid 1980s on Santa Cruz boardwalk and we're told they're shooting another film there.
https://i.imgur.com/TDXxXQ1.png
Lupita Nyong'o's character wins a Thriller t-shirt early on. Then we see her doppleganger presented in this way, more than a passing resemblance:
https://i.imgur.com/yO6oleU.png
https://i.imgur.com/drHrXFs.jpg
The main theme is one of how society has been torn apart in recent times. This manifests itself in the way people that you think are normal, showing behavioural traits / opinion / beliefs you would never expect them to show / hold. Some people describe this as "the rise of the right" and "empowerment". They suddenly have a voice. This is shown in the movie by the tethered suddenly having a voice (literally as Red can now speak). They rise up and challenge.
It's no coincidence then, that the main moment of the movie happens when the central figure looks into a mirror. We need to take look at ourselves sooner rather than later.
The ending (humans linked in a barrier) also has large connotations with 'a wall', we all probably know what Peele was alluding to there.
https://i.imgur.com/mvkCyaV.jpg
There is also a very strong link to those tethered underground being the underclass. Eating raw meat. Underground. Peele may be alluding to the poverty gap widening.
There are also a load of nods to popular culture. I loved the beach scene reminiscing Jaws. I loved the car on the road reminiscing the Shining opening sequence, plus the twin girls paying homage to that movie.
https://i.imgur.com/vBN8bFG.png
The VHS tapes on the shelf at the beginning are a nod to popular culture (the Goonies etc) . And if you think about it - there is also a character in the Goonies that is tethered and can barely speak. I wouldn't be surprised if this is another of Peele's tenuous but clever links.
https://i.imgur.com/Tjy46bY.png
The music is also used brilliantly, especially towards the end with a stripped down version of 'I got 5 on it 'adding to the tension. A comedic NWA moment hints at Peele saying that popular culture and consumerism is for the privelaged and has effects on us a sit seeps into the public consciousness.
There's also a hint at Peel's Hitchcockian influence with the birds on the beach.
https://i.imgur.com/MdsmIWJ.jpg
I just enjoyed the intelligence of this film. The thought process gone into it. I wish all horror films were this cerebral.
Us tries to make us look at our shadows and reflect on who we are and whether we have best intentions or are complicit in something that will undo us. Whether we let the tethered prevail as they rise is the question left unanswered by Peele. Hopefully not.
Great film.
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.
[7.6/10] If I had my druthers, I’d go into every movie cold as cold can be. No trailers. No synopsis. Nothing but a reliable recommendation that what I was about to see will be good. If I can manage it, I prefer to be surprised by a film, to let its wonders and splendors unfold without any preconceived notions or expectations.
I could hardly have gone in less cold for The Disaster Artist.
I’ve watched The Room at least once a year since I first saw it in 2010. I’ve shared it with friends and (reluctantly) family. I’ve gone to midnight screenings where plastic spoons are thrown and audience members shout ripostes and inside jokes back at the screen. I’ve heard Greg Sestero himself provide live, running commentary on his most infamous on-screen appearance. I’ve seen predictably awkward interviews with Tommy Wiseau and struggled through his disjointed jumble of a sitcom. I’ve read the book, by Sestero and Tom Bissel, that The Disaster Artist is based on. And I’ve quoted and ruminated and formed deep, committed opinions about Wiseau’s unlikely, unintentional masterpiece and everything that’s spun out from it.
Which is to say that mine is an inherently unfair opinion when it comes to The Disaster Artist. Because rather than taking the film as I find it, I cannot help but compare it to what I know of the story it’s interpreting, the ways that it reflects and condenses both the book and film it’s based on and around, and my own expectations for how that story should be told. It’s the sort of thing you can try to compartmentalize and set aside, but it seeps in, if for no other reason than that it affects how the movie feels to me, however much I might like to take it in as though I were wholly unwashed.
Apart from my personal hang-ups, The Disaster Artist is a fun story of a young man and his oddball friend finding the world’s most bizarre-but-earnest way to ever “make it” in Hollywood. It is a thoroughly funny flick, one made by individuals who clearly have plenty of affection for the source of their fun, and seem to have as much sincere joy in recreating it as they do any derisive schadenfreude from pointing out how inept a film The Room is. There’s a lot of love in The Disaster Artist -- for The Room, for Wiseau and Sestero, and for the idealism and determination it takes to make a movie, any movie, that can earn such a reaction from its audience.
But there’s not a lot of complexity or darkness. That’s fine in a vacuum. Lord knows there’s plenty of grim and gritty takes on a myriad of lighter properties out there. But it strips one of the most interesting features of the book -- its revelation that Tommy Wiseau was not just the deluded but harmless object of fun that fans of The Room had (somewhat patronizingly) constructed him as, but could instead be scary, or repugnant, or genuinely horrible to the people in his orbit.
The Disaster Artist grazes this idea, showing Tommy to be unreasonable and think-skinned at times, but it mainly wants you to root for him, to succeed in this strange quest and, to be frustrated with him at times, but ultimately to hope that things work out with his improbable hopes. There’s nothing wrong with that. Like most characters translated from real life to the silver screen, the Tommy Wiseau of The Disaster Artist lacks many of the rougher edges of his flesh and blood counterpart, more of a naive and fearless dreamer, albeit an inept one, than the difficult figure he cuts in real life.
Despite the quirks and kinks that are sanded down for the cinematic translation, James Franco is Tommy Wiseau in the film. The Disaster Artist may leave out uncomfortable details of Wiseau’s life and personality, but Franco captures every bit of his mannerisms and demeanor without resorting to caricature and makes it all look effortless. He disappears into the role, one that could easily have been a series of tics and exaggerated impressions, which instead makes this larger-than-life, almost unbelievable individual feel like a real human being, regardless of his eccentricities. It’s the biggest achievement in The Disaster Artist, and one that speaks to Franco’s commitment to the character and the real man underlying him, who is so faithfully translated in his presence and bearing, if not in every detail of who he is both on and off the set.
The same is true for Franco (who also directed the film) with regard to the The Room itself. The Disaster Artist faithfully recreates scene-after-scene from the ignominious original with clear reverence for the source material. The movie parcels out these remade sequences judiciously, making them enjoyable but not tedious for longtime fans, and true enough to pique the interest of first-timers who may not realize how accurate the recreations are. There is an attention to detail on display, demonstrating how Franco & Co. did their homework.
Thankfully most of the comedy comes from the characters, or original takes on situations described in the book, rather than mere efforts to prompt the audience to point and laugh at reenactments from The Room. Seth Rogen in particular steals the show with his sarcastic comments as the film-within-a-film’s on set director. The Disaster Artist is anchored around The Room, but its creators have the good sense not to just cannibalize the curio they’re aping.
Instead, Franco and his team use The Room and the story of its creation, to deliver an Ed Wood-esque lesson in the beauty of making something you believe in, that can affect people and be the culmination of your dream and your hard work, even if what you produce doesn’t meet traditional standards of quality or garner the reaction you imagined. The Disaster Artist seeks out the beauty in the singular-if-inept qualities of The Room, in the misguided but idealistic Tommy Wiseau, and in the rocky but rewarding friendship between him and Greg Sestero. That is certainly laudable.
It just doesn’t line up well with reality. That’s not necessarily a problem, or at least it shouldn’t be. That’s the beauty of storytelling and adaptation, it can plumb the depths of real life and mine it for nuggets of truth and purity from the inevitably more complicated affairs of real people, and transform them into something digestible and heartening.
But there’s an irony to that process in The Disaster Artist because The Room wasn't just supposed to be Tommy Wiseau’s magnum opus. It was meant to be his star-making debut and self-feting. Johnny of The Room is clearly Tommy’s idealized version of himself: generous, surrounded by friends, and meant to be seen as underappreciated for his magnanimous nature by anyone and everyone in his life. The Room is meant to reveal Tommy Wiseau as an artist and a talent, but it’s also a personal calling card, one where the thin veneer between Tommy and Johnny unveils a man who not only thinks of himself in terms of these delusions of grandeur, but believes this film would instill those same delusions in other.
And yet, as all great art does, The Room ended up revealing the real parts of its creator, and they were not as attractive or commendable as Wiseau tried to present them on the screen. The Room does evince a sense of idealism, yes, but also a clear sense of vanity, of perceived martyrdom, of inescapable misogyny. Wiseau tries to present an idealized version of himself, and ends up showing his true self, problematic warts and all.
The irony is that in creating a dramatized “behind the scenes” version of the “real” Tommy Wiseau, it’s The Disaster Artist that presents an idealized version of him. The Tommy of this film is too lacking in perspective to realize how unlikely his dreams are to be realized, but persists nevertheless. He can be difficult at times, but primarily because he values his project and his vision. And he can be a bit overly possessive, but it’s always framed out of a sense of hurt, of believing in a friendship he doesn’t know how to properly reciprocate.
The film meant to show us the true Tommy Wiseau instead gives us Wiseau’s best self, while the man’s own attempt at hagiography puts his worst impulses on display. That too is the glory of film, where one man can be the subject of two films, each presenting very different versions of who he is, and both can be true after a fashion. The Disaster Artist may not present the Tommy Wiseau I’ve come to know through his work and words and choices before and after The Room, but it uses what he represents, more than what he is, to lionize the medium itself and the fools who would dare fraternize with it, when it recreates him and his work on the silver screen, and in that way, does more justice to Wiseau than even the man himself could.
Certainly, Night Watch is not a completely original tale and it follows on from many great good versus evil stories over the years. Where it ploughs its own furrow is setting the story in modern day Moscow, albeit from 2004, and playing the film entirely straight. There is nothing here that you would not see in a crime-caper, spy or war story yet it is a about fantastic forces – shape shifters, vampires and the like. It is easy to go along with, in fact considering the amount of plot holes and ludicrous storylines more ‘realistic’ and ‘grounded’ films often have in them the story, motivations and situations somehow seem more believable.
The images and cinematography are as important to the director and story as the actors and script and due to this some clunky moments and bit-part scenery chewing is diluted. The knowing style of the movie will annoy a certain type of viewer and I understand that but if you are fan of bang-bang-bang cut shots and fast moving ‘kinetic’ type shooting. This was style used in music videos and horror films that has since been generally discarded. Be warned it is hectic and some parts of the film will be lost to you at some stage – I think this is conscious decision by the makers and concentration is needed at all times – even then you may not ‘get it all’
Some part of the story and characters are never explained fully and this can be frustrating but in my opinion spoon feeding storylines and plots is a bad thing, it stagnates the imagination.
If you don’t like sub-titles or jump-shot cuts than probably this Is not the film for you. The location of Moscow, clearly using the variety of buildings and locations, communist and pre-communist, is a positive boon for the makers and refreshing for many westerners. The take on light and dark, good and evil, I also found different, certainly more ‘knowing’ and adult with the line between them blurred and not quite as distinct as we like to think.
The acting from the main characters is solid and believable if a little melodramatic at times, is this a Russian-style I’m not sure? It was nice to see a film where people looked normal and did not have glow-in-dark perfectly symmetrical teeth although those days are now gone.
This was standard good versus evil storyline with new twists and a different take and more watchable than utter tosh like Underworld and its seventy-five sequels, there is no glamour here, no heroes, just dirty, difficult work to be completed by both sides with no clear winners or losers. More like real life than many real life, realistic, adult-orientated stories with similar themes.
As a side note I do know there is a version of this film by an American distribution company that had the subtitles special made for the film so they were almost part of, or in the style, of the scene they appear in – it was not on this Blu Ray.
