As my wife and I walked out of the theater after seeing Clone Wars, we were behind several young boys. They were in the midst of a massive lightsaber battle, fully intent on declaring themselves the victor and the others the champions of the dark side. The battle made its way along the hall, until the parents made sure it didn’t make its way to the middle of the concessions. Of course, we both were cracking up through this experience. The curmudgeons have been in full force with this latest Star Wars effort, but the kids didn’t seem to notice.
Clone Wars offers an interesting, if odd, position in the Star Wars universe. At one level, you could say it doesn’t count as a movie, since at some level it’s simply a compendium of the pilot episodes of a coming TV show, albeit with a single story line. It takes us to the 5-year period between Episodes 2 and 3 (that’s Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith for the amateurs), when the Clone Wars is raging throughout the galaxy. This is the heyday of the partnership of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, when Anakin emerges as an uber-talented Jedi and earns his reputation as “the best star-pilot in the galaxy,” even while the darkness that ultimately consumes him peeks out now and then. It is the last great breath of the Jedi, whose multi-millennial defense of the galaxy culminates in their command of the clone army. It is the culmination of the decades-long machinations of Emperor Palpatine, who is in the midst of orchestrating the most complicated political seizure in the history of politics.
In other words, this is a fascinating time in the story, and a season that’s ripe for some rich storytelling. Fanboys across the globe have been thrilled to follow the development of this show, and with the fan’s expectations in mind, Clone Wars succeeds on a lot of fronts. Whereas Episode 2 gave us a few fleeting glimpses of the opening salvo of the Clone Wars, here we get an extended battle sequence that keeps its pace going long past the point where a traditional film would have had to cut it off. It’s a setting that plays to so many of the strengths of Star Wars’ prequel era, and avoids so many of its weaknesses.
Imagine a prequel movie with no Hayden Christiansen (Anakin in the prequel trilogy), with only the barest glimpse of the romance that was the source of so much of the trilogy’s wooden dialogue. In his place, his “sound-alike” actor, as with the bulk of the cast, does a fine job of echoing the original actor while still investing some real personality in the role. We get a few nods to the films with returns from several actors, but the quality of voice acting from the unknowns gives some real hope for the coming series.
For this round, the opening act of the film finds Skywalker and Kenobi leading Clones in a heated defense against an overpowering Droid army. In the midst of this attack, they receive a visit from Ahsoka Tano, a Padawan learner (Jedi-in-training) who comes to begin training under her master. While Kenobi had requested and was expecting a new Padawan, it turns out that she was assigned to Anakin by Yoda. This relationship provides an interesting a new outlet to see Anakin’s character emerge. They develop a sharp repartee, but slowly we start to see Anakin assume the role of Jedi and willingly teach her.
While this battle is going on, both the Jedi and the Separatists, led by Count Dooku, find themselves competing for the affections of Jabba the Hutt, the Hutt leader who controls vital trade lanes that would prove valuable to both sides. In the course of their collective efforts to woo the Hutts, Jabba’s child is kidnapped, and both commit to finding the child. Without digging into the plot, suffice it to say that the story becomes a leap-frog effort to outmaneuver the other, as Anakin and Dooku race to the finish line, all the while with Palpatine lingering in the shadows, working towards an end that none of the others can fully see.
The TV show is positioning itself to appeal to long-time fans and to young audiences, and with that latter in mind, my hope is that it fulfills its potential in exploring the slow fall of Anakin Skywalker. From what we see in the film, it gets Anakin right in a lot of ways. We have to deal with a character that is enormously talented, and whose flaws, while apparent, don’t overwhelm the fact that some of wisest and most insightful people in the galaxy found themselves trusting him with immense responsibility. We get glimpses of his greatness and his likability, both of which are necessary to see fully to experience the tragedy that is the rise of Darth Vader.
There are probably too many laser blasts and lightsabers flying around this film to spend too much time exploring deep themes, but as I delighted in the experience of this film, I concluded that this was exactly the point. The strength of Star Wars, a strength that has fanboys like me still coming back to it 30 years later, is in the sheer experience of joy that we are drawn to in the midst of a rich and rewarding mythology of the nature of evil and the power of good. Certainly the kids in front of me in that hallway seemed to capture the magic. But even in the midst of that fun battle, it is a sobering reality that the tragic rise of the evil Sith Lord came out of a life that seemed to thrive most in the midst of a great battle against evil. This is that battle.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wall-E: A Review
Wall-E is about as ambitious a project I’ve seen from a major animation studio in recent memory. Animation isn’t cheap, and Wall-E’s published $185 million budget (plus the exorbitant marketing costs) mean that Pixar needs a lot of ticket sales to turn a profit on this effort. Because of this, the temptation in animation is to play as broadly as possible, pandering to a young humor with a few references for the parents to appreciate.
Instead, Wall-E gives us... silence. Well, not silence so much as just the absence of dialogue. About 45 minutes worth of no dialogue. That means that they gamble on the power of the robot to engage the audience, to bring us into the story, to make us understand what’s happening and why, and to make us root for the hero without saying a thing for the first half of the film. As far as mainstream summer fare goes, that’s pretty ambitious.
Fortunately, it works. Wall-E is a janitor robot (actually a Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class). Left behind on a junked up world, his job is to keep things clean. It’s obviously been a long while since he’s seen anyone, and somewhere along the line he’s developed something of a personality. Despite the seeming inanity of his existence, Wall-E is fascinated by the world around him, searching among the junk for items of wonder that he can add to his collection. He has a collection of old romantic movies, and finds pleasure in the old dance numbers. The film takes its time drawing us into this charmer’s little world, who has somehow find a way to experience joy and pleasure even in his lonely existence.
But then one day Wall-E’s world changes. A new robot lands on earth. As he marvels at EVE, following her around and trying to strike up a friendship (and avoid being blown up by her), we’re slowly introduced to her mission. EVE is on a search for life, looking for evidence that earth, long abandoned by humans, is now ready for their return. She finds evidence of life, and sets off to return to the humans to report on her success.
Wall-E tags along, and so we are introduced to the rest of reality. In abandoning the planet, humans have settled into the ultimate leisurely existence, having lived for generations on a kind of space cruise ship. Few can walk anymore, as they have given themselves over to an entirely lethargic existence. All have long since given up on any hope of returning to earth, and they now seem at ease in this new existence.
As the adventure heightens, Wall-E devotes himself to EVE, showing a determination that slowly wins her over. Meanwhile, some humans slowly wake to the opportunity that EVE has discovered, and find themselves fighting to return to earth, facing opposition that rises at every turn.
The film has an interesting parabolic quality, with this lurking warning lingering about creation care and the cost of earthly neglect. But more interesting is the experience of humans who have learned to disengage from reality because of their obsession with gadgets. Of course, I’m watching the film as some lunkhead nearby tries to blind the rest of the audience with the light of their cell phone, checking their text messages throughout the film. It’s a connection they would probably miss.
On the one hand, we get Wall-E, who experiences wonder and joy at creation (even the gadgets), and finds his experience of the things in his life bringing out greater delight, even drawing him more to other people (well, other robots, in the form of EVE). On the other hand, we have the humans, who enjoy every convenience and comfort, but struggle to find anything joyful in their existence.
It was this beat of the film that was most engaging for me, and most interesting. As a self-confessed gadget guy, I own the warning the film offers, that I want my fascination with the stuff of life to bring out my sense of wonder, not quench it. I think our sense of wonder is a divine gift, and is meant to draw us to divine things. The pleasure that we can experience here is meant to draw us to the source of ultimate pleasure. Wall-E is a grand celebration of the gift of wonder, a gift that we can easily lose in a culture of entertainment and excess. If the message of Wall-E is to engage life grandly and discover the wonders within, then I celebrate with them.
Instead, Wall-E gives us... silence. Well, not silence so much as just the absence of dialogue. About 45 minutes worth of no dialogue. That means that they gamble on the power of the robot to engage the audience, to bring us into the story, to make us understand what’s happening and why, and to make us root for the hero without saying a thing for the first half of the film. As far as mainstream summer fare goes, that’s pretty ambitious.
Fortunately, it works. Wall-E is a janitor robot (actually a Waste Allocation Load Lifter Earth-Class). Left behind on a junked up world, his job is to keep things clean. It’s obviously been a long while since he’s seen anyone, and somewhere along the line he’s developed something of a personality. Despite the seeming inanity of his existence, Wall-E is fascinated by the world around him, searching among the junk for items of wonder that he can add to his collection. He has a collection of old romantic movies, and finds pleasure in the old dance numbers. The film takes its time drawing us into this charmer’s little world, who has somehow find a way to experience joy and pleasure even in his lonely existence.
But then one day Wall-E’s world changes. A new robot lands on earth. As he marvels at EVE, following her around and trying to strike up a friendship (and avoid being blown up by her), we’re slowly introduced to her mission. EVE is on a search for life, looking for evidence that earth, long abandoned by humans, is now ready for their return. She finds evidence of life, and sets off to return to the humans to report on her success.
Wall-E tags along, and so we are introduced to the rest of reality. In abandoning the planet, humans have settled into the ultimate leisurely existence, having lived for generations on a kind of space cruise ship. Few can walk anymore, as they have given themselves over to an entirely lethargic existence. All have long since given up on any hope of returning to earth, and they now seem at ease in this new existence.
As the adventure heightens, Wall-E devotes himself to EVE, showing a determination that slowly wins her over. Meanwhile, some humans slowly wake to the opportunity that EVE has discovered, and find themselves fighting to return to earth, facing opposition that rises at every turn.
The film has an interesting parabolic quality, with this lurking warning lingering about creation care and the cost of earthly neglect. But more interesting is the experience of humans who have learned to disengage from reality because of their obsession with gadgets. Of course, I’m watching the film as some lunkhead nearby tries to blind the rest of the audience with the light of their cell phone, checking their text messages throughout the film. It’s a connection they would probably miss.
On the one hand, we get Wall-E, who experiences wonder and joy at creation (even the gadgets), and finds his experience of the things in his life bringing out greater delight, even drawing him more to other people (well, other robots, in the form of EVE). On the other hand, we have the humans, who enjoy every convenience and comfort, but struggle to find anything joyful in their existence.
It was this beat of the film that was most engaging for me, and most interesting. As a self-confessed gadget guy, I own the warning the film offers, that I want my fascination with the stuff of life to bring out my sense of wonder, not quench it. I think our sense of wonder is a divine gift, and is meant to draw us to divine things. The pleasure that we can experience here is meant to draw us to the source of ultimate pleasure. Wall-E is a grand celebration of the gift of wonder, a gift that we can easily lose in a culture of entertainment and excess. If the message of Wall-E is to engage life grandly and discover the wonders within, then I celebrate with them.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Wanted: A Review
There are times in movies when the desire to wrestle with interesting ideas must compete with the (often deeper) desire to look cool. Wanted is just such a film. For the first two acts, it seems to be doing little more than combining the work of two better films. By the end, it actually wrestles with something in a unique way, and almost has a great finish.
First, it’s tribute to other films. In the opening sequences, we are introduced to Wesley Gibson (played by the consistently impressive James McAvoy). Wesley is a mid-level accountant in a faceless corporation. He hates his boss, an oppressive petty woman, and hates his job. He hates his girlfriend, who is sleeping with his best friend (he hates him too). In all, this life that he hates has left him a muted man, going through the motions knowing that the next day promises nothing better than what today has given. His life has become a celebration of banality.
This is ground that Fight Club explored better than about any film, and in these moments I was struck by how little the reflection on these issues has really changed in ten years. The sense that modern life is an emasculating force in our lives is still very present, and this observation seems as timely now as Fight Club did then.
But Wanted doesn’t stop there, and moves from Fight Club to The Matrix. The film’s opening moments (at times directly quoting The Matrix), get explained as we learn that Wesley’s father, who abandoned him when he was young, is part of a secret society of assassins, who have operated for over 1000 years. His father, and Wesley, have a gift in the form of an ability that few possess, an ability that enables them to be skilled assassins. This organization calls Wesley to take his father’s place, to train so that he can accept his first mission: hunt down his father’s killer.
This hero’s call, laced with a framework from Joseph Cambell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, will look familiar to viewers of The Matrix, Star Wars, and other fantasy narratives. There’s very little new here, except for some cool special effects and fun action. For a large portion of the film, it doesn’t appear as if Wanted is going to do anything more either. And that wouldn’t be that bad. After all, they were fun movies, and if we don’t get much more out of a summer action flick than a reminder of better films, I doubt many will complain.
But the film suddenly becomes much more interesting as the group reveals how they choose their targets. The organization discovered in the early years a secret contained in the weaving of fabric, that small blemishes could be read and interpreted to name the targets for assassination. Thus, they live to serve “Fate,” which uses them to reorder reality around its mysterious purposes.
As Wesley learns his skills and carries out his assassinations, he slowly learns to embrace his place, though not without some skepticism. How do you assassinate someone who hasn’t done anything yet, only because Fate has determined that they will do greater harm in the future? This doubt reaches its pinnacle when, after a number of critical plot points I won’t reveal here, Wesley and other members are faced with a difficult choice. Do they follow their orders and trust Fate, or do they trust in their own choice as better than the mysteries of fate?
Fate vs. free will. Now we’re talking! Of course, discussions around fatalism and free will are nothing new to film. But what is interesting for Wanted is that the choice they seem to make is that trusting to Fate is a better, even a more freeing choice than exercising an unrestricted free will. While the question they pose is nothing new to film, the answer they arrive at is somewhat novel.
Having said that, it’s worth noting how different their dichotomy of fatalism and free will is from robust Christian theology. As much as large swaths of the Christian world today embrace the language of free will as indisputable theology, I don’t think most of them mean what they mean in a film like this, nor should a notion of Fate as seen here be familiar to Christians who live in a theistic universe. Their understanding of Fate is locked in mystery, whose purposes are always kept fully secret, and who gives nothing but orders for followers to obey. Such is not the God of the Bible. His otherness means mystery abounds, but His revelation speaks to a moral order to the universe, who calls people into action but drives home again and again the motivation for doing so. We trust not to an impersonal Fate, but to a personal Father.
Similarly, regardless of debates and diversity within Christian tradition, popular notions of free will should prove unfamiliar to us. After all, we don’t live an unbound existence, but instead spend our lives in tension between two types of bonded existence: bonded to sin, or bonded to Christ. One of the key BIblical revelations is that a life bonded to Christ is the true life of freedom.
As I said, the film winds up touching on profoundly interesting ideas, and almost makes a good point. But in the end, the need to be cool wins out, and what we’re left with is a kind of “theology light.” Still, Wanted offers a pretty interesting journey with a unique detour that certainly offers a unique point of view for popular film, and that alone makes it worth the journey.
First, it’s tribute to other films. In the opening sequences, we are introduced to Wesley Gibson (played by the consistently impressive James McAvoy). Wesley is a mid-level accountant in a faceless corporation. He hates his boss, an oppressive petty woman, and hates his job. He hates his girlfriend, who is sleeping with his best friend (he hates him too). In all, this life that he hates has left him a muted man, going through the motions knowing that the next day promises nothing better than what today has given. His life has become a celebration of banality.
This is ground that Fight Club explored better than about any film, and in these moments I was struck by how little the reflection on these issues has really changed in ten years. The sense that modern life is an emasculating force in our lives is still very present, and this observation seems as timely now as Fight Club did then.
But Wanted doesn’t stop there, and moves from Fight Club to The Matrix. The film’s opening moments (at times directly quoting The Matrix), get explained as we learn that Wesley’s father, who abandoned him when he was young, is part of a secret society of assassins, who have operated for over 1000 years. His father, and Wesley, have a gift in the form of an ability that few possess, an ability that enables them to be skilled assassins. This organization calls Wesley to take his father’s place, to train so that he can accept his first mission: hunt down his father’s killer.
This hero’s call, laced with a framework from Joseph Cambell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, will look familiar to viewers of The Matrix, Star Wars, and other fantasy narratives. There’s very little new here, except for some cool special effects and fun action. For a large portion of the film, it doesn’t appear as if Wanted is going to do anything more either. And that wouldn’t be that bad. After all, they were fun movies, and if we don’t get much more out of a summer action flick than a reminder of better films, I doubt many will complain.
But the film suddenly becomes much more interesting as the group reveals how they choose their targets. The organization discovered in the early years a secret contained in the weaving of fabric, that small blemishes could be read and interpreted to name the targets for assassination. Thus, they live to serve “Fate,” which uses them to reorder reality around its mysterious purposes.
As Wesley learns his skills and carries out his assassinations, he slowly learns to embrace his place, though not without some skepticism. How do you assassinate someone who hasn’t done anything yet, only because Fate has determined that they will do greater harm in the future? This doubt reaches its pinnacle when, after a number of critical plot points I won’t reveal here, Wesley and other members are faced with a difficult choice. Do they follow their orders and trust Fate, or do they trust in their own choice as better than the mysteries of fate?
Fate vs. free will. Now we’re talking! Of course, discussions around fatalism and free will are nothing new to film. But what is interesting for Wanted is that the choice they seem to make is that trusting to Fate is a better, even a more freeing choice than exercising an unrestricted free will. While the question they pose is nothing new to film, the answer they arrive at is somewhat novel.
Having said that, it’s worth noting how different their dichotomy of fatalism and free will is from robust Christian theology. As much as large swaths of the Christian world today embrace the language of free will as indisputable theology, I don’t think most of them mean what they mean in a film like this, nor should a notion of Fate as seen here be familiar to Christians who live in a theistic universe. Their understanding of Fate is locked in mystery, whose purposes are always kept fully secret, and who gives nothing but orders for followers to obey. Such is not the God of the Bible. His otherness means mystery abounds, but His revelation speaks to a moral order to the universe, who calls people into action but drives home again and again the motivation for doing so. We trust not to an impersonal Fate, but to a personal Father.
Similarly, regardless of debates and diversity within Christian tradition, popular notions of free will should prove unfamiliar to us. After all, we don’t live an unbound existence, but instead spend our lives in tension between two types of bonded existence: bonded to sin, or bonded to Christ. One of the key BIblical revelations is that a life bonded to Christ is the true life of freedom.
As I said, the film winds up touching on profoundly interesting ideas, and almost makes a good point. But in the end, the need to be cool wins out, and what we’re left with is a kind of “theology light.” Still, Wanted offers a pretty interesting journey with a unique detour that certainly offers a unique point of view for popular film, and that alone makes it worth the journey.
Monday, June 30, 2008
The Incredible Hulk: A Review
The Incredible Hulk is one of the odder “reboots” in recent films. Five years after The Hulk, the comic book cash cow shows no sign of slowing down for the summer blockbuster machine, and Marvel has drawn from that well better than anyone. It makes sense to have the Hulk, one of the most recognizable of the Marvel universe characters, in play during this boon season. And the impression of the 2003 film depends greatly on who you talk to. At the time, Ang Lee had convinced the US of his action chops as a director with the remarkable Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (the more controversial Brokeback Mountain was still to come). His approach to the film was fascinating, seeking to convey visually the look and feel of a comic book through the use of panels. While the visual experience was to my mind largely successful, the story left many tepid. In lieu of a broad summer action film, Lee sought to layer the film with a deeper theme of father relationships as a way of exploring Hulk’s origin.
Along comes The Incredible Hulk. Lee is replaced with Louis Leterrier, unknown to any except fans of The Transporter 2 (both of them). Eric Bana is replaced by Ed Norton (a worthy upgrade), and Jennifer Connelly is replaced with Liv Tyler (a small downgrade). The film joins Bruce Banner in South America, where the last film left him, so while they don’t deny that the last film took place, they disconnect you from it enough that they don’t invite tight comparisons.
The Hulk is a tough character to pull off, especially within the rules of the summer movies. It’s hard to describe him as a hero, the beast full of rage with an uncontrollable bent on destruction. The first film captured that, dealing more with Banner’s creation of the monster and his failed attempts to control it. This film picks up on that last theme, as we find Banner fighting to live an anonymous life, thus below the radar of the US military that is hunting him down, fighting to control the rage that unleashed the monster, and searching as much as he can for some kind of cure. These are complicated goals, and despite his acumen at managing his life, it’s clear from the beginning that it’s doomed to fail.
And it does. The military finds out about him through a little mistake, and General Ross, now with William Hurt for Sam Elliott, unleashes his military machine to find him. The ensuing panic convinces Banner that it is time to head back to the US, and to pursue in earnest a cure that he has been chasing with the help of a New York scientist.
To get there, he winds up bringing Betty back into the picture. The love of his life, she seems to have moved on, but quickly abandons that life when she gets to spend time with him. As they spend time together, it quickly becomes fully apparent to her just how much of a beast he’s trying to deal with.
It’s at this point that the film starts to turn, and I think for the first time in these two films starts to position this character for a longer life in film. The way they have spun his origin, the Hulk is a product of Banner’s arrogance in his scientific pursuit, and his pent-up anger. It is a monster, and Banner’s passion is to cure himself. Through Betty, he starts to realize that the monster is in fact a part of him, and that while a cure may be preferred, the challenge that may be more realistically before him is to harness this beast and use him for good.
I’m not enough of a Hulk historian to speak to these dimensions in the comic book, but it strikes me that this concept, constructing Hulk as a kind of tragic anti-hero, makes for some interesting storytelling. To the extent that he emerges in coming films as a hero, it offers an interesting dimension to these stories, as his heroics must always be tempered by a viable ability to be consumed by the rage that creates his heroism.
The Marvel characters explore many similar themes. Many of these heroes emerge from accidents that came from arrogant science or through the overreaching of power. While Spiderman reminded us that “With great power comes great responsibility,” for characters like Hulk, that power emerges from their own failings as people. It strikes me as an odd thing that the multi-billion dollar comic book movie industry keeps coming back to the theme of humility, but it does in its own way. These films see passions become obsessions, government desire for order turn to government desire for control, and unresolved anger become a kind of madness. In all, there is a positing that heroism emerges in the midst of flaws, and as much through harnessing of those flaws than in defeating them.
The Incredible Hulk is a good, if not great movie, that is a victim of bad timing by being released around the far superior Iron Man (and hopefully, far superior Dark Knight). Still, despite Ed Norton’s apparent objections to the final cut (I'd love to see his version), they have positioned the character to find its way into the larger Marvel film universe, including an apparently forthcoming Avengers movie. I’m glad their keeping him around, if for not other reason than to see how honestly they maintain these tensions in the midst of this character’s emerging heroism.
Along comes The Incredible Hulk. Lee is replaced with Louis Leterrier, unknown to any except fans of The Transporter 2 (both of them). Eric Bana is replaced by Ed Norton (a worthy upgrade), and Jennifer Connelly is replaced with Liv Tyler (a small downgrade). The film joins Bruce Banner in South America, where the last film left him, so while they don’t deny that the last film took place, they disconnect you from it enough that they don’t invite tight comparisons.
The Hulk is a tough character to pull off, especially within the rules of the summer movies. It’s hard to describe him as a hero, the beast full of rage with an uncontrollable bent on destruction. The first film captured that, dealing more with Banner’s creation of the monster and his failed attempts to control it. This film picks up on that last theme, as we find Banner fighting to live an anonymous life, thus below the radar of the US military that is hunting him down, fighting to control the rage that unleashed the monster, and searching as much as he can for some kind of cure. These are complicated goals, and despite his acumen at managing his life, it’s clear from the beginning that it’s doomed to fail.
And it does. The military finds out about him through a little mistake, and General Ross, now with William Hurt for Sam Elliott, unleashes his military machine to find him. The ensuing panic convinces Banner that it is time to head back to the US, and to pursue in earnest a cure that he has been chasing with the help of a New York scientist.
To get there, he winds up bringing Betty back into the picture. The love of his life, she seems to have moved on, but quickly abandons that life when she gets to spend time with him. As they spend time together, it quickly becomes fully apparent to her just how much of a beast he’s trying to deal with.
It’s at this point that the film starts to turn, and I think for the first time in these two films starts to position this character for a longer life in film. The way they have spun his origin, the Hulk is a product of Banner’s arrogance in his scientific pursuit, and his pent-up anger. It is a monster, and Banner’s passion is to cure himself. Through Betty, he starts to realize that the monster is in fact a part of him, and that while a cure may be preferred, the challenge that may be more realistically before him is to harness this beast and use him for good.
I’m not enough of a Hulk historian to speak to these dimensions in the comic book, but it strikes me that this concept, constructing Hulk as a kind of tragic anti-hero, makes for some interesting storytelling. To the extent that he emerges in coming films as a hero, it offers an interesting dimension to these stories, as his heroics must always be tempered by a viable ability to be consumed by the rage that creates his heroism.
The Marvel characters explore many similar themes. Many of these heroes emerge from accidents that came from arrogant science or through the overreaching of power. While Spiderman reminded us that “With great power comes great responsibility,” for characters like Hulk, that power emerges from their own failings as people. It strikes me as an odd thing that the multi-billion dollar comic book movie industry keeps coming back to the theme of humility, but it does in its own way. These films see passions become obsessions, government desire for order turn to government desire for control, and unresolved anger become a kind of madness. In all, there is a positing that heroism emerges in the midst of flaws, and as much through harnessing of those flaws than in defeating them.
The Incredible Hulk is a good, if not great movie, that is a victim of bad timing by being released around the far superior Iron Man (and hopefully, far superior Dark Knight). Still, despite Ed Norton’s apparent objections to the final cut (I'd love to see his version), they have positioned the character to find its way into the larger Marvel film universe, including an apparently forthcoming Avengers movie. I’m glad their keeping him around, if for not other reason than to see how honestly they maintain these tensions in the midst of this character’s emerging heroism.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: A Review
Raiders of the Lost Ark may serve as one of the greatest, meaningless films ever. I mean, sure, I could try to pontificate about some of the deeper meaning of the film, about its view of heroism and humility before the mysteries of the world, but it wouldn’t take me long to get past where I think the creative voices wanted us to go. Raiders wanted to give a nod to the experience of the Saturday matinee, the serials that caught the eye of George Lucas and so many other children in their day. It was about the spirit of adventure and wonder more than anything else, and was meant to keep us glued to the seats and coming back for more. In the course of doing this, of course, it propelled Harrison Ford on to superstar status, giving him two signature characters (couldn’t escape without a Star Wars reference, could we?) that in many ways defined masculinity for a culture.
While the two sequels almost by necessity couldn’t reach Raiders’ level, they nonetheless kept the mystique alive. But how do you return to this mythology after two decades? Filmmaking has definitely changed. Special effects are now computer-driven. Lucas demonstrated through three films that he lost some knack for dialogue, Spielberg got serious and respectable, and Ford either gave up on acting or at least on finding good scripts. Can these three come together and make it work again?
Well, opinions are divided, but for me, they largely succeed. These guys ask us to make a big leap for this one, and some don’t seem to be able to make it. No longer are we giving a nod to the serials of the ’30’s and ’40’s, full of Nazis and jungle adventures in exotic locations. Instead, they shift their attention to the Saturday matinee of the 1950’s. The Nazis are replaced by communists, and the real mysteries are alien in nature. Hence, we open in Roswell, New Mexico, and pursue an object that is not of this world.
Indiana Jones with aliens and poodle skirts? I admit, it took me a bit to make the leap, but once I did, the film delivers a satisfying nod to its past. The character has aged as much as the actor, and after we are immediately reminded of his action chops (a great choice for an opening act), we catch up with his life. He’s lost his friend Marcus, he’s lost his father, and we find the swagger diminished somewhat, as he seems to be mostly sad at the loss around him in his life. Still, his sadness doesn’t keep him from getting caught up in this adventure. He meets Mutt Williams (rotten name, there), a greaser kid with attitude, who asks Indy to help him find his mother.
The details of the search are secondary to the energy of the chase. I expect many will need a couple of viewings to actually figure out what he’s after and why. But we know with certainty that everybody is after this thing, and everybody in Indiana’s life, including Indy himself, are threatened because of it. Their adventure takes us from New Mexico, to the streets of a university town, to the jungles of South America (yes, we get to go back to the jungle). In the course of the adventure, he reconnects with Marion, a great nod to Raiders. While the chemistry of their relationships is pretty muted in comparison, it was still great to see the connection drawn.
The character of Indiana Jones was never a clean-cut hero. He was a non-committal womanizer, whose passion for adventure got him into trouble as much as it kept him out of it. This time, the film revisits the power of family, echoing themes explored in The Last Crusade. Moving away from the rugged cowboy from the first film, he finds himself drawing people around him, and wanting it. For all the rugged individualism that the character of Indiana Jones represents in our culture, his later films, including this one, are more a celebration of friendship, family, and the power of connection.
Still, at the heart of Indiana Jones is the adventure. Even as he ages, and the gruffness of his character reflects his age, he is still a character that has seen the wonders of this world and still both marvels and respects them. It’s Spielberg’s strength, a strength that made him a rich man long before he got respect. Whether it is the jungle adventurer, or a little alien friend, or the clone dinosaurs, he invites to the theater to marvel. That this sense of wonder is embodied by a 60-year old with more loss than gain in life is simply a reminder that, for all of the marketing power of teenagers in the film market, this desire, even need, for wonder is ultimately ageless.
Glad to have you back, Indy. It’s been too long.
While the two sequels almost by necessity couldn’t reach Raiders’ level, they nonetheless kept the mystique alive. But how do you return to this mythology after two decades? Filmmaking has definitely changed. Special effects are now computer-driven. Lucas demonstrated through three films that he lost some knack for dialogue, Spielberg got serious and respectable, and Ford either gave up on acting or at least on finding good scripts. Can these three come together and make it work again?
Well, opinions are divided, but for me, they largely succeed. These guys ask us to make a big leap for this one, and some don’t seem to be able to make it. No longer are we giving a nod to the serials of the ’30’s and ’40’s, full of Nazis and jungle adventures in exotic locations. Instead, they shift their attention to the Saturday matinee of the 1950’s. The Nazis are replaced by communists, and the real mysteries are alien in nature. Hence, we open in Roswell, New Mexico, and pursue an object that is not of this world.
Indiana Jones with aliens and poodle skirts? I admit, it took me a bit to make the leap, but once I did, the film delivers a satisfying nod to its past. The character has aged as much as the actor, and after we are immediately reminded of his action chops (a great choice for an opening act), we catch up with his life. He’s lost his friend Marcus, he’s lost his father, and we find the swagger diminished somewhat, as he seems to be mostly sad at the loss around him in his life. Still, his sadness doesn’t keep him from getting caught up in this adventure. He meets Mutt Williams (rotten name, there), a greaser kid with attitude, who asks Indy to help him find his mother.
The details of the search are secondary to the energy of the chase. I expect many will need a couple of viewings to actually figure out what he’s after and why. But we know with certainty that everybody is after this thing, and everybody in Indiana’s life, including Indy himself, are threatened because of it. Their adventure takes us from New Mexico, to the streets of a university town, to the jungles of South America (yes, we get to go back to the jungle). In the course of the adventure, he reconnects with Marion, a great nod to Raiders. While the chemistry of their relationships is pretty muted in comparison, it was still great to see the connection drawn.
The character of Indiana Jones was never a clean-cut hero. He was a non-committal womanizer, whose passion for adventure got him into trouble as much as it kept him out of it. This time, the film revisits the power of family, echoing themes explored in The Last Crusade. Moving away from the rugged cowboy from the first film, he finds himself drawing people around him, and wanting it. For all the rugged individualism that the character of Indiana Jones represents in our culture, his later films, including this one, are more a celebration of friendship, family, and the power of connection.
Still, at the heart of Indiana Jones is the adventure. Even as he ages, and the gruffness of his character reflects his age, he is still a character that has seen the wonders of this world and still both marvels and respects them. It’s Spielberg’s strength, a strength that made him a rich man long before he got respect. Whether it is the jungle adventurer, or a little alien friend, or the clone dinosaurs, he invites to the theater to marvel. That this sense of wonder is embodied by a 60-year old with more loss than gain in life is simply a reminder that, for all of the marketing power of teenagers in the film market, this desire, even need, for wonder is ultimately ageless.
Glad to have you back, Indy. It’s been too long.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Prince Caspian: A Review
I suppose that the Narnia film series, however long it winds up being, will always be saddled with its associations with Lord of the Rings. The source material comes from two close friends who in their own way were both significant Christian writers in the mid-20th century. The two book series are both still much loved and have found wider audiences than their religious roots. The impetus for the Narnia series was certainly driven in part by the breathtaking success of LOTR, and even the film location in New Zealand and the use of Peter Jackson’s WETA Workshop as the special effects house for Narnia create associations that the series will probably never shake.
With all that in mind, it is extremely difficult for me to watch Narnia without thinking of LOTR, and unfortunately, Prince Caspian isn’t helping that cause. The opening moments of the film have us rejoin the 4 Pevensie children a year after the events of LWW (apologies for all the acronyms, I feel like I’m navigating government bureaucracies!). This is post-war London, and so life seems to be beginning again, but all of them, Peter especially, seem restless to head back to Narnia. They get their wish as their whisked away, but as they explore their adopted homeland, they realize that this is not the same land they left. Indeed, 1300 years have passed since they returned to the wardrobe. Narnia has long been conquered by an invading people, the Telmarines. They are involved in their royal fight, as Prince Caspian, the heir apparent to the throne, finds himself hunted by his uncle, who tolerated his existence until the birth of his son. Fleeing from this power grab, Caspian stumbles upon Narnians, and eventually meets the Pevensies, who were summoned by his blowing of Susan’s horn.
The movie makes significant departures from the book, perhaps the largest being an additional battle inserted into the middle. Peter and Caspian seem to compete for authority, but join together in an effort to take down Caspian’s uncle. The battle fails, and many Narnians fall. While this move seems to frustrate a number of fans, it’s these kinds of scenes, the large scale CGI battles, that play to the director Adamson’s strengths, as well as to his seeming interests. These battles are fun summer spectacles, and this one is no different. To his credit, Adamson does find a way to make the Caspian battles look and feel different from each other and from LWW. Some will say that he is expanding the vision of what a PG-rated action movie can be. I’d argue that he gets his rating because it’s a Disney movie more than because he’s earned it.
The actors who play the four kids have grown well, and while their acting was mainly serviceable in the first film, they actually become a strength this time around. That being said, Adamson often gives them little to work with, and his choices in how he is developing these characters is somewhat suspect. Arguably, these kids have a lifetime of experience in Narnia where they had time to become masters as swordsmen and bowmen, but they are still kids, and having these kids play the role of fighting heroes often comes across a bit awkward.
As I said, the LOTR parallels abound, and it is in these two areas, the battle sequences and the place of the heroes, that Caspian suffers from these parallels. Moments in these battles seemed ripped straight from Jackson’s storyboards (there’s Minas Tirith, and there’s Helms Deep, etc.). While homage and quotation are certainly appropriate in film, here it seems to stem from a lack of creativity. Similarly, when Susan becomes the expert archer, it looks like a lesser version of Legolas, and she simply can’t hold up to that kind of comparison. Taken together, my concern is that the creative team is inviting the comparison between the two franchises, and they will almost always come up short in the comparison.
My largest criticism, though, is in the weakening role of Aslan. In terms of the larger series, he is obviously the key figure, and his role in the lives of the children and the Narnians, even when he is off-screen, is key. Here, he has taken a backseat, and while his appearance doesn’t obliterate his message from the source material, it is muted. Some of the more interesting themes, including the loss of faith over time and the recovery of faith in the midst of hardship, only get scant mention here.
While I enjoyed the film, I find myself hesitant when I think of what it might have been. In a sense, this film is the price of success. To land the big budget for this series, they have to make sure they can fill the seats. To fill the seats, in typical Hollywood creativity they try to make the thing look like something else that filled the seats. The price for this is the particular unique voice that Lewis’ books offer to young children and to the many adults that love the series. There is a warmth to these books that seems lost in the spectacle of these movies. So while Caspian remains enjoyable summer fare at the movies, the series is unfortunately positioning itself as the weaker cousin of a better franchise.
With all that in mind, it is extremely difficult for me to watch Narnia without thinking of LOTR, and unfortunately, Prince Caspian isn’t helping that cause. The opening moments of the film have us rejoin the 4 Pevensie children a year after the events of LWW (apologies for all the acronyms, I feel like I’m navigating government bureaucracies!). This is post-war London, and so life seems to be beginning again, but all of them, Peter especially, seem restless to head back to Narnia. They get their wish as their whisked away, but as they explore their adopted homeland, they realize that this is not the same land they left. Indeed, 1300 years have passed since they returned to the wardrobe. Narnia has long been conquered by an invading people, the Telmarines. They are involved in their royal fight, as Prince Caspian, the heir apparent to the throne, finds himself hunted by his uncle, who tolerated his existence until the birth of his son. Fleeing from this power grab, Caspian stumbles upon Narnians, and eventually meets the Pevensies, who were summoned by his blowing of Susan’s horn.
The movie makes significant departures from the book, perhaps the largest being an additional battle inserted into the middle. Peter and Caspian seem to compete for authority, but join together in an effort to take down Caspian’s uncle. The battle fails, and many Narnians fall. While this move seems to frustrate a number of fans, it’s these kinds of scenes, the large scale CGI battles, that play to the director Adamson’s strengths, as well as to his seeming interests. These battles are fun summer spectacles, and this one is no different. To his credit, Adamson does find a way to make the Caspian battles look and feel different from each other and from LWW. Some will say that he is expanding the vision of what a PG-rated action movie can be. I’d argue that he gets his rating because it’s a Disney movie more than because he’s earned it.
The actors who play the four kids have grown well, and while their acting was mainly serviceable in the first film, they actually become a strength this time around. That being said, Adamson often gives them little to work with, and his choices in how he is developing these characters is somewhat suspect. Arguably, these kids have a lifetime of experience in Narnia where they had time to become masters as swordsmen and bowmen, but they are still kids, and having these kids play the role of fighting heroes often comes across a bit awkward.
As I said, the LOTR parallels abound, and it is in these two areas, the battle sequences and the place of the heroes, that Caspian suffers from these parallels. Moments in these battles seemed ripped straight from Jackson’s storyboards (there’s Minas Tirith, and there’s Helms Deep, etc.). While homage and quotation are certainly appropriate in film, here it seems to stem from a lack of creativity. Similarly, when Susan becomes the expert archer, it looks like a lesser version of Legolas, and she simply can’t hold up to that kind of comparison. Taken together, my concern is that the creative team is inviting the comparison between the two franchises, and they will almost always come up short in the comparison.
My largest criticism, though, is in the weakening role of Aslan. In terms of the larger series, he is obviously the key figure, and his role in the lives of the children and the Narnians, even when he is off-screen, is key. Here, he has taken a backseat, and while his appearance doesn’t obliterate his message from the source material, it is muted. Some of the more interesting themes, including the loss of faith over time and the recovery of faith in the midst of hardship, only get scant mention here.
While I enjoyed the film, I find myself hesitant when I think of what it might have been. In a sense, this film is the price of success. To land the big budget for this series, they have to make sure they can fill the seats. To fill the seats, in typical Hollywood creativity they try to make the thing look like something else that filled the seats. The price for this is the particular unique voice that Lewis’ books offer to young children and to the many adults that love the series. There is a warmth to these books that seems lost in the spectacle of these movies. So while Caspian remains enjoyable summer fare at the movies, the series is unfortunately positioning itself as the weaker cousin of a better franchise.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Review
Jean-Dominique Bauby would have been the envy of many. In his early 40’s, he was the chief editor of the fashion magazine Elle, living the high life in Paris. His kids lived with their mother in the country, and he embodied the “fast cars and fast women” lifestyle in the city with a vengeance. The world was indeed his oyster.
Then came December 8, 1995. At the age of 42, he experienced a massive stroke that left him completely paralyzed, what the professionals call “locked-in syndrome. “ Left only with the use of his eyes, he was quickly further restricted when his right eye had to be sewn shut. Now, he was confined to a hospital bed, dependent on full-time care for his every need, with the use of only one eye. All of this, while his mind was completely intact.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly begins as Bauby opens his eyes for the first time, waking up from a 3-week coma. He learns what happens to him, and we learn of the great dissonance as we hear his thoughts but realize he cannot communicate them. Literally trapped by his body, his therapist comes to his rescue as she teaches him how to communicate through blinking. It is a slow cumbersome process, but is the only way he is able to communicate.
Before his accident, Bauby had negotiated a book contract. As he learns his communication style, his therapist contacts his publisher and announces the surprise that he intends to keep his contract. Over the course of the next 18 months, he works with an assistant to write his book. As he puts it, “I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory.”
The history of this story is profound enough that it would seem the film could add very little. But the great success of this as a film is the way it invites us to experience Bauby’s world, the thought life that was his means of keeping his sanity in the midst of this extraordinary challenge. The director makes wise us of his camera, spending the bulk of the film looking at the world through Bauby’s eyes. We are invited to experience his entrapment. Through this great struggle the former playboy has to wrestle with the meaning of his existence, his misplaced values, and the sense of regret over the ways in which he failed in life. At one point, he reflects that his life has been a series of missed opportunities, and only now in this trapped existence can he see how he might have lived.
One Christian reviewer I respect put this film on his “10 Most Redemptive Films of 2007”, and indeed there is much here to chew on from a spiritual perspective. In the Christian world, much is being written about the need to see the reality of the “Kingdom of God” in the present world, a calling to Christians to engage in social action, and in transformative activity at every level of culture. The challenge to have a “realized eschatology” is a Biblical one, but the history of the Christian church is to fall into two extremes. The first is an “underrealized eschatology,” where Christians show no concern for the problems of this world, and withdraw to wait for their reward “in the sweet by and by.” The other is an “overrealized eschatology” where Christians so look for the reality of the kingdom of God in the present that they equate the gospel of Christ itself with social and political activity and with “good works.” Both extremes distort the Christian message in fundamental ways. Both are extremes that Christians in general and evangelicals in particular have shown affinities to run to.
The Diving Bell is an exceptional reminder of the tension that Christians must live in. On the one hand, we witness people engage Bauby as a human being with real value, and work to allow him to express himself. Through this redemptive work, he does more of a service for humanity than any would have thought possible in his condition. It is a celebration of the value of life that speaks with power to the “quality of life” discussions that go on in medical circles.
At the same time, we see in this film the limits of our redemptive work in this life. Bauby’s imagination, his “butterfly”, helps him keep his sanity, and gives him a sense of purpose. But it is a “butterfly” that allows him to escape his “diving bell,” his body that has failed him so deeply. Even as people expose him to their own faiths, his agnosticism fails to keep him from searching for deeper meanings. He wants something more, and as he is left with only his imagination and his memory, he recognizes that it is not enough. His body has failed. This world has failed to deliver the deepest needs of his soul.
The film leaves us with a certain ambivalence because this challenge remained unresolved in Bauby’s life. Even as we seek to recognize the redemptive reality of God’s kingdom in this world, The Diving Bell is a powerful reminder that the gospel points to something deeper still. At its best, the ways in which God’s kingdom is seen in this world are but a pale reflection of the world that is to come, where the limitations that we feel, and which this film vividly calls us to experience, will be gone, and “real life” can be truly experienced. Even as Christians yearn to see the gospel made manifest now, we should never leave behind the deeper yearning for the “far country,” the true home that we are heading to.
Then came December 8, 1995. At the age of 42, he experienced a massive stroke that left him completely paralyzed, what the professionals call “locked-in syndrome. “ Left only with the use of his eyes, he was quickly further restricted when his right eye had to be sewn shut. Now, he was confined to a hospital bed, dependent on full-time care for his every need, with the use of only one eye. All of this, while his mind was completely intact.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly begins as Bauby opens his eyes for the first time, waking up from a 3-week coma. He learns what happens to him, and we learn of the great dissonance as we hear his thoughts but realize he cannot communicate them. Literally trapped by his body, his therapist comes to his rescue as she teaches him how to communicate through blinking. It is a slow cumbersome process, but is the only way he is able to communicate.
Before his accident, Bauby had negotiated a book contract. As he learns his communication style, his therapist contacts his publisher and announces the surprise that he intends to keep his contract. Over the course of the next 18 months, he works with an assistant to write his book. As he puts it, “I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory.”
The history of this story is profound enough that it would seem the film could add very little. But the great success of this as a film is the way it invites us to experience Bauby’s world, the thought life that was his means of keeping his sanity in the midst of this extraordinary challenge. The director makes wise us of his camera, spending the bulk of the film looking at the world through Bauby’s eyes. We are invited to experience his entrapment. Through this great struggle the former playboy has to wrestle with the meaning of his existence, his misplaced values, and the sense of regret over the ways in which he failed in life. At one point, he reflects that his life has been a series of missed opportunities, and only now in this trapped existence can he see how he might have lived.
One Christian reviewer I respect put this film on his “10 Most Redemptive Films of 2007”, and indeed there is much here to chew on from a spiritual perspective. In the Christian world, much is being written about the need to see the reality of the “Kingdom of God” in the present world, a calling to Christians to engage in social action, and in transformative activity at every level of culture. The challenge to have a “realized eschatology” is a Biblical one, but the history of the Christian church is to fall into two extremes. The first is an “underrealized eschatology,” where Christians show no concern for the problems of this world, and withdraw to wait for their reward “in the sweet by and by.” The other is an “overrealized eschatology” where Christians so look for the reality of the kingdom of God in the present that they equate the gospel of Christ itself with social and political activity and with “good works.” Both extremes distort the Christian message in fundamental ways. Both are extremes that Christians in general and evangelicals in particular have shown affinities to run to.
The Diving Bell is an exceptional reminder of the tension that Christians must live in. On the one hand, we witness people engage Bauby as a human being with real value, and work to allow him to express himself. Through this redemptive work, he does more of a service for humanity than any would have thought possible in his condition. It is a celebration of the value of life that speaks with power to the “quality of life” discussions that go on in medical circles.
At the same time, we see in this film the limits of our redemptive work in this life. Bauby’s imagination, his “butterfly”, helps him keep his sanity, and gives him a sense of purpose. But it is a “butterfly” that allows him to escape his “diving bell,” his body that has failed him so deeply. Even as people expose him to their own faiths, his agnosticism fails to keep him from searching for deeper meanings. He wants something more, and as he is left with only his imagination and his memory, he recognizes that it is not enough. His body has failed. This world has failed to deliver the deepest needs of his soul.
The film leaves us with a certain ambivalence because this challenge remained unresolved in Bauby’s life. Even as we seek to recognize the redemptive reality of God’s kingdom in this world, The Diving Bell is a powerful reminder that the gospel points to something deeper still. At its best, the ways in which God’s kingdom is seen in this world are but a pale reflection of the world that is to come, where the limitations that we feel, and which this film vividly calls us to experience, will be gone, and “real life” can be truly experienced. Even as Christians yearn to see the gospel made manifest now, we should never leave behind the deeper yearning for the “far country,” the true home that we are heading to.
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