The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949)
The last of Disney's package films is also probably the best, showcasing two stories that oddly work well together, translating classic American tales into Disney fiction. The first, detailing the exploits of Mr. Toad, is a fun adventure in which Mr. Toad is a menace behind whatever vehicle he is operating. This lands him in huge legal trouble with the townspeople, but soon Toad's friends Mole, Rat and Badger are out to prove that Toad was set-up.
Disney's take on Sleepy Hollow is also surprisingly dark, adhering to the major beats of the original tale. In fact, its most notable because Ichabod himself comes across as somewhat of a jerk, seeking the hand of Katrina von Tassel and upsetting Brom Bones. While Bones reminds one of Gaston, you actually kind of feel sorry for the guy as Ichabod upsets him at every turn.
Where the movie really shines, though, is in the chilling ending where the headless horsemen comes a-calling. True, Disney doesn't establish the threat into the moments right before Ichabod rides home with a song, but the fact that Ichabod doesn't survive the Disney version turns this rendition into a memorable ending that stayed with me all throughout my childhood. This is certainly the best version of the tale, definitely better then Tim Buton's take 50 years later.
Cinderella (1950)
After eight years Disney finally returned full feature animated stories with Cinderella, a tale everyone is familiar with, and maybe remembers too fondly. It's not a bad picture, and contains some wonderful characters including the Wicked Stepmother, her cat Lucifer, and the mice who are the supporting players. But it continues to suffer from the Disney syndrome of bland leads, including a Prince Charming that somehow makes less of an impact then the Snow White's Prince.
There are also some decent songs, including the Work Song, Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo and A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. And the mice Gus and Jacques provide loving support, including the tense finale where they attempt to carry a huge key up an enormous flight of steps so that Cinderella can try on the slipper.
You all know the story, but even at 74 minutes the film feels placid. Nothing much happens for the duration, and there is a lot of filler in there to pad it out to length. Still, you can't deny the impact its had as a classic and one of the more well-remembered Disney films.
Alice in Wonderland (1951)
A box office failure for Disney, Alice in Wonderland holds up as a strange, abstract animated retelling of Lewis Carroll's seminal work. Combining both books, we follow young Alice (Kathryn Beaumont) as she follows the White Rabbit (Bill Thompson) down the Rabbit Hole and into Wonderland, where she meets a garden variety of crazy characters. Of course it all ends with the convenient "it's all a dream" technique, but much of what precedes is dazzling.
One thing you notice when watching multiple Disney films in a row are the recurring voice actors. I never noticed that Smee and the White Rabbit sounded the same, or that Sterling Holloway's myriad of characters all came from the same voice (they include Mr. Stork from Dumbo (1941), Cheshire Cat, Winnie the Pooh, Kaa the Snake, and Roquefort from The Aristocats (1970)). As a child, these voices completely disappear into the characters they are playing, but as an adult, you suddenly realize you're hearing the same voice actor in a different role.
Alice in Wonderland found second life and a cult following, become the number one requested 16 mm rental for university and private screenings. It's a shame this film didn't connect with audiences in 1951, but maybe this film was too ahead of its time then. Now, it is a model for abstract, visual storytelling. And we can all forget Tim Burton's drab sequel.
Peter Pan (1953)
I am so familiar with the story of Peter Pan that it feels almost pointless to write anything about it. Yes, we all know its the tale of a boy who refuses to grow up, and the wonderful adventures he takes Wendy Darling and her brothers on. Captain Hook and Smee are great villains, the Crocodile and his ticking clock make for one hilarious character.
One major difference between the Peter Pan musicals (and book, I assume) and this film is that Wendy, Michael and John all know who Peter Pan is. Wendy's stories are of Peter's exploits agains Captain Hook, and Peter himself listens with quiet zeal. In the original story, Wendy merely tells great stories, and Peter is a just a boy who loves listening to them. Makes Disney's Peter a bit pompous, actually.
One thorn in the Peter Pan story, and one that is front and center here, is the portrayal of the Native Americans, or Indians, in their most gloriously stereotypical fashion. Its where all youngsters learn "How" as a Native American greeting, and where many of those stereotypes will become embedded. Possibly the best and worst thing about Peter Pan is "What Makes the Red Man Red?" which is sung in honor of the Lost Boys and Indians joining up. It does contain some fantastic lyrics though:
When did he first say, "Ugh!"
When did he first say, "Ugh!"
In the Injun book it say
When the first brave married squaw
He gave out with a big ugh
When he saw his Mother-in-Law
Captain Hook and Smee are realized as fully threatening and hilarious villains. Most children are terrified of Captain Hook, but as one ages, his hijinks inspire more laughter. He still carries an edge of menace that is essential to the character, especially when he tries to bomb Peter instead of poisoning him.
With its own slew of memorable songs, Disney's version of Peter Pan works well, though its racist tendencies can make one a little uncomfortable. It comes with the territory, though, as thats embedded in the original book and subsequent plays and musicals. It's a fantasy world where these archetypes do exist.
Lady and the Tramp (1955)
This is without a doubt one of the most beautiful Disney films ever made, Disney's first use of CinemaScope Widescreen. I don't know why, but the 2.55:1 aspect ratio, or similar ones, look the most cinematic and the most epic. And while this is definitely is not the most epic Disney film, it allows the animators to fill the screen with lush backgrounds and tiny details.
The story itself is pretty simple. A husband and wife get a cocker spaniel, and treat the dog like their own child, until they have their own child and the dog is ignored for the new family member. When the man and woman go on a trip, they leave the dog, Lady, in the charge of their Aunt Sarah, who could care less for Lady and locks her up outside. Lady meets a streetwise scoundrel named Tramp, and a love flourishes between them which eventually leads to one of the great Disney scenes, where a plate of spaghetti and Bella Notte fill the night.
Once again an ethnic stereotype emerges in the form of the Siamese Cats, who have a strange song about being Siamese, or literally from Siam (now Thailand). I don't know exactly who it offends, but its weird enough to ponder its inclusion in the film. It doesn't help that the cats act as villains.
Revisiting all these old Disney films has demonstrated that some hold up better then others, but they are all entertaining because with adult eyes you see things you never saw before, understand others in a new light, and receive a huge nostalgia kick from the rest.
Part 4 will cover:
Sleeping Beauty (1959)
101 Dalmatians (1961)
The Sword in the Stone (1963)
The Jungle Book (1967)
The Aristocats (1970)
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Skyfall (2012)
50 years. It's almost astounding that Bond has made it this long, when Sean Connery first uttered those immortal words, "Bond. James Bond." That the series has now survived the bankruptcy of MGM is a testament to its lasting power. It's a part of our world culture now, as Bond stands as a representation of our ideal selves. Suave, sophisticated, Bond is the man we'd all like to be.
Until 1995's GoldenEye, Bond had never really been held to the fire regarding his ruthless killing streak. Bond has always killed in cold blood, but now we've arrived at a Bond who feels the consequences of his actions. He doesn't always come out of a firefight unscathed, and the deaths of those around him effect him even more.
Casino Royale (2006) laid the groundwork in what was a refreshing reboot of the Bond franchise, bringing a meaner, leaner Bond into the mix. But that was squandered in the problematic Quantum of Solace (2008) which forgot Bond's true roots, and instead imitated the Bourne films. After MGM declared bankruptcy, there was the threat that Bond might not return.
But now he's back, and Skyfall, the 23rd entry in the long running franchise, finally delivers on the promise established six years ago. Helmed by Sam Mendes, who proved he had a knack for action with 2002's Road to Perdition, this Bond delivers with several action sequences and one of the series best villains, who is less interested in global domination (which we've seen so many times) but instead carrying out a personal vendetta against MI6. It brings the fight to Bond in a way we've never seen in the series before, and M, played by the always astounding Judi Dench, is given the largest role we've seen for the character. She's essentially a co-star, not a supporting one.
The film, to my chagrin, does not open with the classic gun barrel, something Quantum of Solace surely should have done. Not to spoil to much but my worries that we might never see famous white dots again was put to rest at the end. What we do get are spectacular locations, including an opening chase scene that takes bond from a Jeep to motorcycle to the roof a train. It ranks up there with the best of them, and I was exhilarated during the entire event. It ends with a poor judgment call on M's part that leads to Bonds apparent death, but since we haven't seen the opening titles we know Bond will somehow survive.
The result is a Bond who, after 3 months away, returns when MI6 is bombed, and must return to the field of duty despite his less then prepared state. Many franchises have tried this before, most notably Pierce Brosnan's last foray as Bond Die Another Day (2002), which saw Bond held and tortured for a year. The hit TV show 24 also saw its hero Jack Bauer tortured for 18 months before returning the the fold. In both instances, though, they wave off the torture and perform some physically amazing stunts. And while Bond does do some spectacular things, there is a sense that he is wounded, that he's not always up the task. His poor aim spells death for one unfortunate character, where he might have saved her.
Even the final fight, which takes place in most unexpected location, is completely different from every Bond finale we've seen before. The stakes are higher, and the world is less threatened by the ensuing battle and its outcome. Bond fights for himself and other key players, and not for the safety of the world at large. It still manages to deliver on several fronts, as a satisfying action sequence and pulse-pounding thrill ride.
All of this is photographed by Roger Deakins, the Coen Bros.' go-to cinematographer, who brings a new look to Bond that fits the series well, Several fights are staged in darkened areas, as silhouettes against bright backdrops. The fact that this man has never won an Oscar is astonishing.
Bond is back. And hopefully the good will established in this film won't be squandered in the 24th entry. I should also mention the spectacular cast surrounding it all, including Ralph Fiennes, Javier Bardem as the villain, Ben Wishaw as the new Q, and Albert Finney.
Until 1995's GoldenEye, Bond had never really been held to the fire regarding his ruthless killing streak. Bond has always killed in cold blood, but now we've arrived at a Bond who feels the consequences of his actions. He doesn't always come out of a firefight unscathed, and the deaths of those around him effect him even more.
Casino Royale (2006) laid the groundwork in what was a refreshing reboot of the Bond franchise, bringing a meaner, leaner Bond into the mix. But that was squandered in the problematic Quantum of Solace (2008) which forgot Bond's true roots, and instead imitated the Bourne films. After MGM declared bankruptcy, there was the threat that Bond might not return.
But now he's back, and Skyfall, the 23rd entry in the long running franchise, finally delivers on the promise established six years ago. Helmed by Sam Mendes, who proved he had a knack for action with 2002's Road to Perdition, this Bond delivers with several action sequences and one of the series best villains, who is less interested in global domination (which we've seen so many times) but instead carrying out a personal vendetta against MI6. It brings the fight to Bond in a way we've never seen in the series before, and M, played by the always astounding Judi Dench, is given the largest role we've seen for the character. She's essentially a co-star, not a supporting one.
The film, to my chagrin, does not open with the classic gun barrel, something Quantum of Solace surely should have done. Not to spoil to much but my worries that we might never see famous white dots again was put to rest at the end. What we do get are spectacular locations, including an opening chase scene that takes bond from a Jeep to motorcycle to the roof a train. It ranks up there with the best of them, and I was exhilarated during the entire event. It ends with a poor judgment call on M's part that leads to Bonds apparent death, but since we haven't seen the opening titles we know Bond will somehow survive.
The result is a Bond who, after 3 months away, returns when MI6 is bombed, and must return to the field of duty despite his less then prepared state. Many franchises have tried this before, most notably Pierce Brosnan's last foray as Bond Die Another Day (2002), which saw Bond held and tortured for a year. The hit TV show 24 also saw its hero Jack Bauer tortured for 18 months before returning the the fold. In both instances, though, they wave off the torture and perform some physically amazing stunts. And while Bond does do some spectacular things, there is a sense that he is wounded, that he's not always up the task. His poor aim spells death for one unfortunate character, where he might have saved her.
Even the final fight, which takes place in most unexpected location, is completely different from every Bond finale we've seen before. The stakes are higher, and the world is less threatened by the ensuing battle and its outcome. Bond fights for himself and other key players, and not for the safety of the world at large. It still manages to deliver on several fronts, as a satisfying action sequence and pulse-pounding thrill ride.
All of this is photographed by Roger Deakins, the Coen Bros.' go-to cinematographer, who brings a new look to Bond that fits the series well, Several fights are staged in darkened areas, as silhouettes against bright backdrops. The fact that this man has never won an Oscar is astonishing.
Bond is back. And hopefully the good will established in this film won't be squandered in the 24th entry. I should also mention the spectacular cast surrounding it all, including Ralph Fiennes, Javier Bardem as the villain, Ben Wishaw as the new Q, and Albert Finney.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Book of Mormon
How to review the Book of Mormon? No doubt it has become a huge Broadway success and will likely run for many, many years, as it consistently sells out show after show after show. And now the show is touring the country, and is setting up shop in Chicago and London, which is the true measure of how long it will last.
I could sit here and talk about the show's plot at length, dissect its religious bashing and caricature of the Mormon beliefs. But what I really want to discuss is the humor. For Broadway, this has got to be the most crass, the most lowbrow, the most hilarious ever seen. I've never been to a show where the audience has been laughing for almost the entire duration of the show (except in those few, rare, tender moments) and the humor has been so vile.
Its actually a miracle this show has done so well. If you've seen South Park or the movie version, or Team America or any other work produced by Trey Parker and Matt Stone (save BASEketball, which they had no hand in making) you know they pull no punches and will go wherever they please. Book of Mormon's main jokes revolve around female circumcision, baby rape, and maggots in scrotums. It's base. And it's brilliant.
The show gets away with so much because it surrounds all this humor in upbeat and memorable musical numbers, mostly staged by the Mormons. Their sunny optimism and outlook keep the show up, and keep the spirit from becoming so mean, which can be a fault with Parker and Stone's other ventures. True there is the wonderful song Hasa Diga Eebowai, which I won't translate for fear of spoiling the punchline, but most of the numbers are more clever in their crudeness.
I make it no secret I am a huge admirer of Parker and Stone; their South Park is one of the best television shows ever made, a biting and base satire of the world. One episode can be a simple, crude story of the boys getting into crazy shenanigans, and the next they can be tearing down celebrities and pointing out the farce that is the American Dream. Book of Mormon is more pointed in its satire, but one should realize that it doesn't completely denounce religion altogether. (spoilers) During the show, one Mormon fashions a new version of the holy text to apply to the Africans they are trying to convert, by addressing the issues of AIDs, rape, and circumcision, which the Book doesn't directly address. The Africans (Ugandans, more accurately) don't believe the stories but take them as metaphors, stating, "You really think Joseph Smith fucked a frog?" (end spoilers)
Its amazing where we've come in the spectrum of Broadway musicals. I'm sure there are other, cruder musicals out there, but this one succeeded. This one took home 9 Tony awards, is selling out everywhere, and is as crude as shows come. Parker and Stone, along with Avenue Q composer Robert Lopez, have made a miracle of a show. Its vile, its base, its crude...and its the funniest show you'll ever see.
I could sit here and talk about the show's plot at length, dissect its religious bashing and caricature of the Mormon beliefs. But what I really want to discuss is the humor. For Broadway, this has got to be the most crass, the most lowbrow, the most hilarious ever seen. I've never been to a show where the audience has been laughing for almost the entire duration of the show (except in those few, rare, tender moments) and the humor has been so vile.
Its actually a miracle this show has done so well. If you've seen South Park or the movie version, or Team America or any other work produced by Trey Parker and Matt Stone (save BASEketball, which they had no hand in making) you know they pull no punches and will go wherever they please. Book of Mormon's main jokes revolve around female circumcision, baby rape, and maggots in scrotums. It's base. And it's brilliant.
The show gets away with so much because it surrounds all this humor in upbeat and memorable musical numbers, mostly staged by the Mormons. Their sunny optimism and outlook keep the show up, and keep the spirit from becoming so mean, which can be a fault with Parker and Stone's other ventures. True there is the wonderful song Hasa Diga Eebowai, which I won't translate for fear of spoiling the punchline, but most of the numbers are more clever in their crudeness.
I make it no secret I am a huge admirer of Parker and Stone; their South Park is one of the best television shows ever made, a biting and base satire of the world. One episode can be a simple, crude story of the boys getting into crazy shenanigans, and the next they can be tearing down celebrities and pointing out the farce that is the American Dream. Book of Mormon is more pointed in its satire, but one should realize that it doesn't completely denounce religion altogether. (spoilers) During the show, one Mormon fashions a new version of the holy text to apply to the Africans they are trying to convert, by addressing the issues of AIDs, rape, and circumcision, which the Book doesn't directly address. The Africans (Ugandans, more accurately) don't believe the stories but take them as metaphors, stating, "You really think Joseph Smith fucked a frog?" (end spoilers)
Its amazing where we've come in the spectrum of Broadway musicals. I'm sure there are other, cruder musicals out there, but this one succeeded. This one took home 9 Tony awards, is selling out everywhere, and is as crude as shows come. Parker and Stone, along with Avenue Q composer Robert Lopez, have made a miracle of a show. Its vile, its base, its crude...and its the funniest show you'll ever see.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Wonderful World of Disney: Part 2
I've fallen behind in reviews and jumped ahead in the film repertoire, so I'm reaching back to a few months ago to review these films.
Disney's run of spectacular films was sadly ended by the U.S.'s entry into WWII, causing most of the animation staff to be drafted up into the war effort. Those ineligible stayed, and so what follows in the Disney stable are several films cobbled together from ideas that were forming in the past. Essentially they are anthology films, not unlike Fantasia (1940) though none reach the genius level of that film.
The first two can be paired together, Saludos Amigos (1942) and The Three Caballeros (1944). Both films take a particular interest in South American culture, with Amigos jumping around to various locations and animating stories based on the environment. The shorts are framed around home movie footage of Disney animators flying and visiting their various destinations, which makes it almost a pseudo-documentary. It's also the shortest Disney feature to date, at 42 minutes, and some will probably complain about its official status, but there you go.
The shorts themselves range from decent to bleh, with the highlight being a cute little airplane named Pedro who makes a treacherous mail delivery past a demon mountain of some sort. Goofy shows up as a Gaucho, educating children on the Latino version of the cowboy; Donald Duck has adventures in Lake Titicaca; and the animators invent a new character, Jose Carioca, that green parrot who teaches Donald about the night life of Rio de Janeiro. He's not the most charismatic character, in spite of the animator's best efforts, and there is a reason he is unknown outside of die-hard Disney fan circles.
Caballeros is a longer iteration of Amigos, and is more of the same. It runs at 71 minutes, but even that runtime sags and begins to stretch the limitations of one's patience. Donald receives three gifts from friends down south which proceed to educate him on Central and South America. The best short involves a penguin fed up by the Arctic, and his attempts to make it north to more tropical and friendly environments. It's narrated by Sterling Holloway, and if you don't recognize that name, just wait. He's going to be popping up a lot more in the reviews to come. Jose Carioca returns for more Samba, and there is a long, strange live action-animation blend where Donald and Carioca interact with a samba dancer and her crew. The film is really a mess, meanders on too long, and leaves very little impact. It has its moments, and Donald is always fun to see, but there comes a point in the viewing where you get bored and want it to end already.
And now we enter the run of "package" films. These films are full of ideas that the studio was working on, and were either too long to be considered shorts but too short to be considered features. Make Mine Music (1946) is a collective of several Disney shorts, though the one most will remember is Peter & the Wolf. It uses the famous score written by Sergei Prokofiev, which features different instruments representing the different players in the scenario. Sterling Holloway once again narrates, but I find his voice over distracting and unnecessary. The Disney animators convey the story so perfectly through the emotions and expressions of the characters, and I feel like Disney didn't trust the children to understand what was going on without everything being spelled out.
The best short is the Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met, featuring the operatic Nelson Eddy who supplies every voice and vocal range of the short. The Whale at the Met is always a notoriously depressing short, as Willy the Whale attracts attention from all over, his only dream to sing at the Metropolitan in New York. Someone reasons that the whale must have swallowed an opera singer, and sets out to kill the whale. It's all hilariously tragic, and one of Disney's better shorts.
Make Mine Music is also notorious for the omitted short Martins vs. the Coys, which is too bad because its also pretty good. Removed because of "comic gunplay," this short (which you can find on YouTube) features two rival families who start shooting at each other, until only one guy and one girl from opposing sides is left. They naturally fall in love, while their ancestors watch from heaven. Its curious that Disney has decided this short to be inappropriate, yet are forced to stick with their more insensitive portrayals of ethnicities throughout their filmography. When you watch it, is it really that different from Elmer Fudd hunting Bugs Bunny?
Fun & Fancy Free (1947) features two shorts and a very odd live-action middle portion. The first is Bongo, about a circus bear who escapes to the wild and finds true love, though he fails to understand that bears smack each other to show they love each other (one of Disney's more hilarious songs). Many will remember the second short, Mickey and the Beanstalk, of course a retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk. But randomly, in the middle, Jiminy Cricket shows up and goes over to some ventriloquist's house, where a little girl is being entertained by the various cheeky puppets. Its such an off-beat and almost creepy section that ruins the charm of the two shorts. Basically, Bongo and Beanstalk are best viewed on their own.
And finally there is Melody Time (1948), again a big compilation of shorts, and the best one. Featured are Johnny Appleseed, which really needs no explanation. He's just such a determined little fella' with his pot hat and appleseeds. The other is Pecos Bill, sung by Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneer, a story about a boy raised by wolves in the old west, and who grows up to become the manliest man there is. His horse gets jealous when he falls for a girl, however, and zany situations ensue. Other shorts fill in the gaps, including Little Toot, about a tugboat that fucks everyone's shit up, and the return of Jose Carioca for one more attempt at being popular. His Samba once again does not impress.
Of course, the majority of the films here were released Post-War, as Disney and his team were preparing to release their first full narrative story in 8 years, Cinderella (1950). For anyone interested in what the Silly Symphonies were like, the majority of these shorts give you a pretty solid foundation. Sure none of them leave a lasting impact, and upon reflection these are the films that will probably fall at the bottom of most lists just based on unrecognizability. But there is still a charm to these tales, and in one way or another, you probably know most of them already.
Disney's run of spectacular films was sadly ended by the U.S.'s entry into WWII, causing most of the animation staff to be drafted up into the war effort. Those ineligible stayed, and so what follows in the Disney stable are several films cobbled together from ideas that were forming in the past. Essentially they are anthology films, not unlike Fantasia (1940) though none reach the genius level of that film.
The first two can be paired together, Saludos Amigos (1942) and The Three Caballeros (1944). Both films take a particular interest in South American culture, with Amigos jumping around to various locations and animating stories based on the environment. The shorts are framed around home movie footage of Disney animators flying and visiting their various destinations, which makes it almost a pseudo-documentary. It's also the shortest Disney feature to date, at 42 minutes, and some will probably complain about its official status, but there you go.
The shorts themselves range from decent to bleh, with the highlight being a cute little airplane named Pedro who makes a treacherous mail delivery past a demon mountain of some sort. Goofy shows up as a Gaucho, educating children on the Latino version of the cowboy; Donald Duck has adventures in Lake Titicaca; and the animators invent a new character, Jose Carioca, that green parrot who teaches Donald about the night life of Rio de Janeiro. He's not the most charismatic character, in spite of the animator's best efforts, and there is a reason he is unknown outside of die-hard Disney fan circles.
Caballeros is a longer iteration of Amigos, and is more of the same. It runs at 71 minutes, but even that runtime sags and begins to stretch the limitations of one's patience. Donald receives three gifts from friends down south which proceed to educate him on Central and South America. The best short involves a penguin fed up by the Arctic, and his attempts to make it north to more tropical and friendly environments. It's narrated by Sterling Holloway, and if you don't recognize that name, just wait. He's going to be popping up a lot more in the reviews to come. Jose Carioca returns for more Samba, and there is a long, strange live action-animation blend where Donald and Carioca interact with a samba dancer and her crew. The film is really a mess, meanders on too long, and leaves very little impact. It has its moments, and Donald is always fun to see, but there comes a point in the viewing where you get bored and want it to end already.
And now we enter the run of "package" films. These films are full of ideas that the studio was working on, and were either too long to be considered shorts but too short to be considered features. Make Mine Music (1946) is a collective of several Disney shorts, though the one most will remember is Peter & the Wolf. It uses the famous score written by Sergei Prokofiev, which features different instruments representing the different players in the scenario. Sterling Holloway once again narrates, but I find his voice over distracting and unnecessary. The Disney animators convey the story so perfectly through the emotions and expressions of the characters, and I feel like Disney didn't trust the children to understand what was going on without everything being spelled out.
The best short is the Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met, featuring the operatic Nelson Eddy who supplies every voice and vocal range of the short. The Whale at the Met is always a notoriously depressing short, as Willy the Whale attracts attention from all over, his only dream to sing at the Metropolitan in New York. Someone reasons that the whale must have swallowed an opera singer, and sets out to kill the whale. It's all hilariously tragic, and one of Disney's better shorts.
Make Mine Music is also notorious for the omitted short Martins vs. the Coys, which is too bad because its also pretty good. Removed because of "comic gunplay," this short (which you can find on YouTube) features two rival families who start shooting at each other, until only one guy and one girl from opposing sides is left. They naturally fall in love, while their ancestors watch from heaven. Its curious that Disney has decided this short to be inappropriate, yet are forced to stick with their more insensitive portrayals of ethnicities throughout their filmography. When you watch it, is it really that different from Elmer Fudd hunting Bugs Bunny?
Fun & Fancy Free (1947) features two shorts and a very odd live-action middle portion. The first is Bongo, about a circus bear who escapes to the wild and finds true love, though he fails to understand that bears smack each other to show they love each other (one of Disney's more hilarious songs). Many will remember the second short, Mickey and the Beanstalk, of course a retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk. But randomly, in the middle, Jiminy Cricket shows up and goes over to some ventriloquist's house, where a little girl is being entertained by the various cheeky puppets. Its such an off-beat and almost creepy section that ruins the charm of the two shorts. Basically, Bongo and Beanstalk are best viewed on their own.
And finally there is Melody Time (1948), again a big compilation of shorts, and the best one. Featured are Johnny Appleseed, which really needs no explanation. He's just such a determined little fella' with his pot hat and appleseeds. The other is Pecos Bill, sung by Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneer, a story about a boy raised by wolves in the old west, and who grows up to become the manliest man there is. His horse gets jealous when he falls for a girl, however, and zany situations ensue. Other shorts fill in the gaps, including Little Toot, about a tugboat that fucks everyone's shit up, and the return of Jose Carioca for one more attempt at being popular. His Samba once again does not impress.
Of course, the majority of the films here were released Post-War, as Disney and his team were preparing to release their first full narrative story in 8 years, Cinderella (1950). For anyone interested in what the Silly Symphonies were like, the majority of these shorts give you a pretty solid foundation. Sure none of them leave a lasting impact, and upon reflection these are the films that will probably fall at the bottom of most lists just based on unrecognizability. But there is still a charm to these tales, and in one way or another, you probably know most of them already.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Prometheus (2012)
This review is spoilerific
It's time to call out Damon Lindelof. The man who is half responsible for ruining the TV show Lost (if you think the show sucks, revisit the first two seasons; they hold up, despite what you know of the coming seasons) here nearly ruins the entire Alien franchise with an origin story that is very poorly handled.
I guess equal blame should be shouldered onto director Ridley Scott, who makes his return to sci-fi after a 30 year absence (poor Blade Runner must have scared him away from the genre). Scott's visual style is fully intact, and he produces a film that's very pretty to look at.
But why I am so disappointed with this film? I intentionally avoided all marketing for this film so I could see it with fresh eyes. The plot was closely guarded, and I decided to respect Scott's wishes by not seeking out any info on this film before I saw it. I was hoping to be surprised, swept away in a new, worthy addition to the Alien universe.
The film opens strongly, with a strange humanoid creature standing perched atop a cliff. A spaceship takes off, and it drinks a strange black goo that kills it. The idea presented that, whatever planet this is (earth, one assumes) this creature just gave life, and our origins come from it.
Fast forward to the end of the 21st century, as a crew sets out to that damnable moon where so much trouble occurred in Alien and Aliens. There is an extensive crew who aren't briefed on their mission until they are awoken from a two-year cybersleep. Me, I want to know what I'm signing up for before I dedicate 4 years of my life.
The main characters are Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace, the original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), one of the scientists who still has faith for some reason; David (Michael Fassbender, always supremely awesome) the android in this film; Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron), the representative for the Weyland corporation; and Janek (Idris Elba), the captain of the ship, Prometheus. There's also other people.
Anyways, they somehow interpret the same pattern of planets in a bunch of ancient drawings to mean the creators of life came from these planets. So with this sound theory, Weyland throws a trillion dollars at them to explore the farthest reaches of the universe.
So far the film had me intrigued. But once the crew arrives at the moon (LV whatever), I had the sinking feeling we were in for something familiar. And the movie quickly turns into a retread of Alien, with the scientists exploring the surface, exploring inside, and eventually crazy creatures attack and all hell breaks loose.
And this is why the film disappoints me. It sets out with grand ambitions about the nature of human existence, and while I never expected the film to answer one of life's greatest mysteries, I was hoping for a more in depth conversation with our creators. In the climax the characters finally come face-to-face with one of these creators, the humanoid creature from the opening (they are referred to as Engineers). The creature is awoken, and without much hesitation, continues with what was an apparent plot to destroy the human race.
This is such a run of the mill, predictable, boring course of events. Of course the movie instead might have featured an equally horrible scene where the Engineer tells everyone how horrible the human race has become, and that our extermination is essential because we have forgotten how to love or blah blah blah, and then proceeded with killing us. If you can't come up with a good reason, I guess its better left unsaid.
But the film isn't all bad. The planet is beautifully realized, and there are some genuinely tense scenes, including a nail biting cesarian section that takes the cake as probably the best sequence in the whole film. Ridley Scott can still deliver tension, and I admire the man for that. It's just unfortunate the movie doesn't add up to much. It's fine to let your audience fill in the blanks, but when the audience has to fill in all the blanks, you didn't do your job.
But that brings me back to Damon Lindelof. He is one half of the remaining show runner team for Lost, and one can make the argument that too many questions were posed in that show to get a satisfying answer too. But Lindelof, I have news for you: there are questions that can't be answered, and then there's shitty writing. Don't introduce a substance like the black goo if you're not going to tell us what it is, because that's about as lazy as the giant plug at the center of the island. And I'm not letting Ridley off the hook either. Mr. Scott, you have lost your touch. Next time, fire your screenwriters and have a story that makes fucking sense.
It's time to call out Damon Lindelof. The man who is half responsible for ruining the TV show Lost (if you think the show sucks, revisit the first two seasons; they hold up, despite what you know of the coming seasons) here nearly ruins the entire Alien franchise with an origin story that is very poorly handled.
I guess equal blame should be shouldered onto director Ridley Scott, who makes his return to sci-fi after a 30 year absence (poor Blade Runner must have scared him away from the genre). Scott's visual style is fully intact, and he produces a film that's very pretty to look at.
But why I am so disappointed with this film? I intentionally avoided all marketing for this film so I could see it with fresh eyes. The plot was closely guarded, and I decided to respect Scott's wishes by not seeking out any info on this film before I saw it. I was hoping to be surprised, swept away in a new, worthy addition to the Alien universe.
The film opens strongly, with a strange humanoid creature standing perched atop a cliff. A spaceship takes off, and it drinks a strange black goo that kills it. The idea presented that, whatever planet this is (earth, one assumes) this creature just gave life, and our origins come from it.
Fast forward to the end of the 21st century, as a crew sets out to that damnable moon where so much trouble occurred in Alien and Aliens. There is an extensive crew who aren't briefed on their mission until they are awoken from a two-year cybersleep. Me, I want to know what I'm signing up for before I dedicate 4 years of my life.
The main characters are Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace, the original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), one of the scientists who still has faith for some reason; David (Michael Fassbender, always supremely awesome) the android in this film; Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron), the representative for the Weyland corporation; and Janek (Idris Elba), the captain of the ship, Prometheus. There's also other people.
Anyways, they somehow interpret the same pattern of planets in a bunch of ancient drawings to mean the creators of life came from these planets. So with this sound theory, Weyland throws a trillion dollars at them to explore the farthest reaches of the universe.
So far the film had me intrigued. But once the crew arrives at the moon (LV whatever), I had the sinking feeling we were in for something familiar. And the movie quickly turns into a retread of Alien, with the scientists exploring the surface, exploring inside, and eventually crazy creatures attack and all hell breaks loose.
And this is why the film disappoints me. It sets out with grand ambitions about the nature of human existence, and while I never expected the film to answer one of life's greatest mysteries, I was hoping for a more in depth conversation with our creators. In the climax the characters finally come face-to-face with one of these creators, the humanoid creature from the opening (they are referred to as Engineers). The creature is awoken, and without much hesitation, continues with what was an apparent plot to destroy the human race.
This is such a run of the mill, predictable, boring course of events. Of course the movie instead might have featured an equally horrible scene where the Engineer tells everyone how horrible the human race has become, and that our extermination is essential because we have forgotten how to love or blah blah blah, and then proceeded with killing us. If you can't come up with a good reason, I guess its better left unsaid.
But the film isn't all bad. The planet is beautifully realized, and there are some genuinely tense scenes, including a nail biting cesarian section that takes the cake as probably the best sequence in the whole film. Ridley Scott can still deliver tension, and I admire the man for that. It's just unfortunate the movie doesn't add up to much. It's fine to let your audience fill in the blanks, but when the audience has to fill in all the blanks, you didn't do your job.
But that brings me back to Damon Lindelof. He is one half of the remaining show runner team for Lost, and one can make the argument that too many questions were posed in that show to get a satisfying answer too. But Lindelof, I have news for you: there are questions that can't be answered, and then there's shitty writing. Don't introduce a substance like the black goo if you're not going to tell us what it is, because that's about as lazy as the giant plug at the center of the island. And I'm not letting Ridley off the hook either. Mr. Scott, you have lost your touch. Next time, fire your screenwriters and have a story that makes fucking sense.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
The Wonderful World of Disney: Part 1 (Pinocchio, Fantasia, Dumbo, Bambi)
Rather then try and review each Disney film individually, I've decided to lump them together in five movie chunks (four in this case, since I gave Snow White an individual review). It gives me the opportunity to compare and contrast the various films, and analyze their place in the Disney oeuvre.
Walt had some ups and downs with the next two films, Pinocchio (1940) and Fantasia (1940); while they are arguably the two greatest films Disney has ever made, they were not big financial successes for the fledgling company, especially Fantasia which was envisioned as a roadshow piece and never really picked up.
But my what fantastic pieces of cinema these two films are. Pinocchio of course set the Disney standard so high that I feel its seldom been met by the company itself. Of course it introduces Jiminy Cricket, who would become a sort of mascot for Disney until Tinker Bell popped up over a decade later; and it featured what is now Disney's theme song: When You Wish Upon a Star. It makes you believe, if only for a moment, in magic again, that anything and everything is possible if you just believe.
But what I think really makes Pinocchio stand out is that none of its main characters are perfect. Pinocchio is always getting into trouble, despite his best intentions, being led astray by Honest John and Gideon and multiple turns. And Jiminy, assigned to be Pinocchio's conscience, is terrible at his job; he's late on the first day, and whenever Pinocchio is led astray Jiminy tries meekly to get him back, and then decides Pinocchio can go screw himself. And not everyone receives a happy ending; the boys who turn into donkeys on Pleasure Island are never heard from again, their fates probably horrifying. Its details like that which keep this movie from aging.
Fantasia by all stretches is the most adult Disney film. It runs over two hours (the longest Disney film) and most kids are bored once the film gets past the Dinosaurs. I myself only truly first saw this film about 8 years ago, and immediately recognized it as a classic. This is Walt's most experimental film, opening with Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, first utilizing the shadows of the musicians, then moving into an animated interpretation of what you might see if you closed your eyes during the concert.
Fantasia is the film that ostensibly invented the music video, although it is much more artful here then the candy colored marketing strategy music videos would become. Only two pieces have actual, cohesive through lines, the most famous being the Sorcerer's Apprentice which truly made Mickey Mouse a star, and The Rite of Spring, which tells the story of the big bang, evolution, and dinosaurs. The other pieces, which include ballerina hippos, greek mythology, and the devil holding a celebration on Halloween, all follow various characters but have no definable plots, and I love that. Instead of trying to force each song to follow a plot like Fantasia 2000 (1999) would, the numbers here are allowed to follow their natural, if illogical courses.
And though I mentioned youngsters probably couldn't make it through this film, I still think they could get a lot of enjoyment out of it. There are still great scenes here, full of sadness and truth at times, and joy and happiness at others. Of course everyone remembers Mickey Mouse and those pesky brooms, but its the other, less remembered sequences that really make this film stand out. If there's one major flaw with the whole thing, its Deems Taylor's unnecessary explanations before each piece. His intro at the beginning is a nice way of laying out the program, but then he keeps popping up and wasting my time telling me everything I'm about to see. It almost ruins the experience.
Alas, Fantasia nearly bankrupted Disney, so for his next features, the company decided to make the tightest, most focused film they possibly could. And the result is another classic, Dumbo (1941) the story of a baby elephant with oversized ears. The film runs barely over an hour and is a fantastic lesson in economical storytelling. Opening with storks delivering babies to the circus animals (the sanitary way of explaining to your child where they came from), the film introduces us to Jumbo, who seems to get passed over despite her wish for a child (one could make inappropriate miscarriage jokes here).
Eventually the stork catches up, but the baby elephant is born with oversized ears that makes him the laughing stock of the all the hussies that share Jumbo's train car. Despite her wish to name him Jumbo, Jr. (her only line, if I remember correctly), the other ladies rather cruelly name him Dumbo. Of course his oversized ears lead to his eventual ability to fly, which shows those ladies what for. And along the way he makes a friend in Timothy J. Mouse, a lesser Jiminy Cricket.
Dumbo features two great scenes, one being his heart wrenching reunion with his mother in her cage (imprisoned after beating a boy who mocks Dumbo) while she sings Baby Mine, and the other being the famous Pink Elephants on Parade sequence. The latter is a fantastic experimental short that probably goes on too long, but I'm not complaining. There is some great imagery in that sequence, mainly those amorphous Pink Elephants.
Of course now review of Dumbo is complete without touching on those pesky crows which have somewhat tarnished the film's image. These characters are accused of being racist portrayals, but I honestly think thats just people overhyping the situation. They teach Dumbo how to fly, after all, and they have their own cool style. But that aside, Dumbo is a fantastic little example on how to tell a good story economically. And Dumbo saved Disney from bankruptcy.
And now Bambi (1942), which you can't talk about unless you mention the poor fawn's mother dying. It probably ranks as one of cinema's most shocking and memorable moments because unless you've seen it before or know whats happening, its fairly shocking. Bambi's mother is taken from him violently, and the reason to kids is unclear. If you wonder where PETA came from, blame Disney for humanizing animals so much.
Bambi's much lighter in the plot territory, and served more as an experiment for the Disney artists in studying animal movement and replicating it in animation. There is of course Thumper, another worthy addition to the Disney character stable, and Flower, who I guess has some gender identity issues. And Bambi, who curiously investigates the world around him.
Bambi is one of Disney's only coming-of-age stories, as Bambi goes from a young fawn to a grown up buck, experiencing life's challenges along the way. Disney is all for selling the American Dream, but this film does not shy away from life's darker aspects, as Bambi must constantly evade the offscreen presence of man. Bambi learns about the world, falls in love, and must fight to preserve that love. Disney of course has no problems killing parents, but The Lion King (1994) kills off Mufasa through the wickedness of Scar, and we take comfort in knowing Simba will get his revenge (it is interesting to note that Disney's coming-of-age stories feature prominent parental deaths). But when Bambi's mother dies, there is no way of avenging her; what happened happened, and there's nothing Bambi can do to bring her back or take on the menacing presence. I think that's a much darker and braver move on Disney's part, and what makes Bambi stand out.
Bambi was released right after the U.S. had entered into WWII, and Walt would lose most of his animation staff to the war effort. It would be 8 years before Cinderella (1950) was released, officially returning Disney to the realm of feature stories. But in these first five films, Disney made five very unique films: Snow White launched an empire, and is a musical, magical film; Pinocchio delved into more interesting and developed characters, and gave real consequences to their actions; Fantasia reveled in experimenting with how far you could take animation; Dumbo recalls to Disney's Silly Symphonies without sacrificing gravitas; and Bambi conveys life through a little deer. These are all fantastic films, and while Disney would go on to make great ones, they would never match this run.
Walt had some ups and downs with the next two films, Pinocchio (1940) and Fantasia (1940); while they are arguably the two greatest films Disney has ever made, they were not big financial successes for the fledgling company, especially Fantasia which was envisioned as a roadshow piece and never really picked up.
But my what fantastic pieces of cinema these two films are. Pinocchio of course set the Disney standard so high that I feel its seldom been met by the company itself. Of course it introduces Jiminy Cricket, who would become a sort of mascot for Disney until Tinker Bell popped up over a decade later; and it featured what is now Disney's theme song: When You Wish Upon a Star. It makes you believe, if only for a moment, in magic again, that anything and everything is possible if you just believe.
But what I think really makes Pinocchio stand out is that none of its main characters are perfect. Pinocchio is always getting into trouble, despite his best intentions, being led astray by Honest John and Gideon and multiple turns. And Jiminy, assigned to be Pinocchio's conscience, is terrible at his job; he's late on the first day, and whenever Pinocchio is led astray Jiminy tries meekly to get him back, and then decides Pinocchio can go screw himself. And not everyone receives a happy ending; the boys who turn into donkeys on Pleasure Island are never heard from again, their fates probably horrifying. Its details like that which keep this movie from aging.
Fantasia by all stretches is the most adult Disney film. It runs over two hours (the longest Disney film) and most kids are bored once the film gets past the Dinosaurs. I myself only truly first saw this film about 8 years ago, and immediately recognized it as a classic. This is Walt's most experimental film, opening with Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, first utilizing the shadows of the musicians, then moving into an animated interpretation of what you might see if you closed your eyes during the concert.
Fantasia is the film that ostensibly invented the music video, although it is much more artful here then the candy colored marketing strategy music videos would become. Only two pieces have actual, cohesive through lines, the most famous being the Sorcerer's Apprentice which truly made Mickey Mouse a star, and The Rite of Spring, which tells the story of the big bang, evolution, and dinosaurs. The other pieces, which include ballerina hippos, greek mythology, and the devil holding a celebration on Halloween, all follow various characters but have no definable plots, and I love that. Instead of trying to force each song to follow a plot like Fantasia 2000 (1999) would, the numbers here are allowed to follow their natural, if illogical courses.
And though I mentioned youngsters probably couldn't make it through this film, I still think they could get a lot of enjoyment out of it. There are still great scenes here, full of sadness and truth at times, and joy and happiness at others. Of course everyone remembers Mickey Mouse and those pesky brooms, but its the other, less remembered sequences that really make this film stand out. If there's one major flaw with the whole thing, its Deems Taylor's unnecessary explanations before each piece. His intro at the beginning is a nice way of laying out the program, but then he keeps popping up and wasting my time telling me everything I'm about to see. It almost ruins the experience.
Alas, Fantasia nearly bankrupted Disney, so for his next features, the company decided to make the tightest, most focused film they possibly could. And the result is another classic, Dumbo (1941) the story of a baby elephant with oversized ears. The film runs barely over an hour and is a fantastic lesson in economical storytelling. Opening with storks delivering babies to the circus animals (the sanitary way of explaining to your child where they came from), the film introduces us to Jumbo, who seems to get passed over despite her wish for a child (one could make inappropriate miscarriage jokes here).
Eventually the stork catches up, but the baby elephant is born with oversized ears that makes him the laughing stock of the all the hussies that share Jumbo's train car. Despite her wish to name him Jumbo, Jr. (her only line, if I remember correctly), the other ladies rather cruelly name him Dumbo. Of course his oversized ears lead to his eventual ability to fly, which shows those ladies what for. And along the way he makes a friend in Timothy J. Mouse, a lesser Jiminy Cricket.
Dumbo features two great scenes, one being his heart wrenching reunion with his mother in her cage (imprisoned after beating a boy who mocks Dumbo) while she sings Baby Mine, and the other being the famous Pink Elephants on Parade sequence. The latter is a fantastic experimental short that probably goes on too long, but I'm not complaining. There is some great imagery in that sequence, mainly those amorphous Pink Elephants.
Of course now review of Dumbo is complete without touching on those pesky crows which have somewhat tarnished the film's image. These characters are accused of being racist portrayals, but I honestly think thats just people overhyping the situation. They teach Dumbo how to fly, after all, and they have their own cool style. But that aside, Dumbo is a fantastic little example on how to tell a good story economically. And Dumbo saved Disney from bankruptcy.
And now Bambi (1942), which you can't talk about unless you mention the poor fawn's mother dying. It probably ranks as one of cinema's most shocking and memorable moments because unless you've seen it before or know whats happening, its fairly shocking. Bambi's mother is taken from him violently, and the reason to kids is unclear. If you wonder where PETA came from, blame Disney for humanizing animals so much.
Bambi's much lighter in the plot territory, and served more as an experiment for the Disney artists in studying animal movement and replicating it in animation. There is of course Thumper, another worthy addition to the Disney character stable, and Flower, who I guess has some gender identity issues. And Bambi, who curiously investigates the world around him.
Bambi is one of Disney's only coming-of-age stories, as Bambi goes from a young fawn to a grown up buck, experiencing life's challenges along the way. Disney is all for selling the American Dream, but this film does not shy away from life's darker aspects, as Bambi must constantly evade the offscreen presence of man. Bambi learns about the world, falls in love, and must fight to preserve that love. Disney of course has no problems killing parents, but The Lion King (1994) kills off Mufasa through the wickedness of Scar, and we take comfort in knowing Simba will get his revenge (it is interesting to note that Disney's coming-of-age stories feature prominent parental deaths). But when Bambi's mother dies, there is no way of avenging her; what happened happened, and there's nothing Bambi can do to bring her back or take on the menacing presence. I think that's a much darker and braver move on Disney's part, and what makes Bambi stand out.
Bambi was released right after the U.S. had entered into WWII, and Walt would lose most of his animation staff to the war effort. It would be 8 years before Cinderella (1950) was released, officially returning Disney to the realm of feature stories. But in these first five films, Disney made five very unique films: Snow White launched an empire, and is a musical, magical film; Pinocchio delved into more interesting and developed characters, and gave real consequences to their actions; Fantasia reveled in experimenting with how far you could take animation; Dumbo recalls to Disney's Silly Symphonies without sacrificing gravitas; and Bambi conveys life through a little deer. These are all fantastic films, and while Disney would go on to make great ones, they would never match this run.
Monday, May 7, 2012
The Cabin in the Woods (2011)
I'm going to start this review right now by saying there is really no way to talk about this film without spoiling it. So what I'll say to the curious is go see it. The movie starts out as a standard horror flick with five teens heading into the woods alone, and evolves in ways you would never have anticipated. There, now go see it. Even non-horror fans will get a kick out of it. So, spoilers ahead. You've been warned.
Ok, so now into the Cabin in the Woods, the new (relative term, really) film co-written and produced by Joss Whedon (who's Avengers just smashed the weekend box office with $200 million) and co-written and directed by Drew Goddard (who penned Cloverfield). I say relatively new because this film was supposed to be released two years ago, but MGM's bankruptcy forced the movie to be shelved until now. But finally, its out.
The movie starts out as two parallel stories. One involves the five teenagers, which include the whore (Anna Hutchinson), the Virgin (Kristen Connolly), the stoner (Fran Kanz), the jock (Chris Hemsworth), and the sweet slightly nerdy guy (Jesse Williams), heading out to someone's cousin's cabin in the woods for a weekend away from school. On the way they stop at a threatening gas station, where a creepy redneck is quite unfriendly. You've in all likelihood seen this movie before.
The second involves Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford as two white-collar workers whose business seems at first to be ambiguous, but soon you realize they are more connected to the teenagers then previously believed. In fact, they are leading this teenagers right into the very horror film we're expecting to see.
Its this twist that provides the film with a new, fun aspect. Sure, the characters are murdered one by one, but watching Jenkins and Whitford banter while this is all going on, placing bets on which monster they will unleash and the like, is what keeps this movie afloat through its middle half. Normally this would be enough for a horror film, but Whedon and Goddard take it one step further and actually have two remaining characters unearth this conspiracy. And then what happens is almost too hard to describe.
The movie is not without its flaws. There is some genuine tension in the horror film that gets interrupted by our puppet masters; there are convenient plot devices used to get an easy laugh (a gas makes one character change his mind from a stick together plan to a split up plan); and in the end, there's a big, red purge button that unleashes all the horror monsters you've imagined onto the people running the show.
Early on, the five characters descend into the basement of the Cabin and discover a whole series of crazy trinkets, which when handled a certain way, will unleash a particular monster. It is unfortunate that, in an homage to Evil Dead, a latin phrase is read from a book unleashing a Zombie Red Neck Family. Apparently a Merman is on the menu, and I would have preferred the film maybe not taking us on a retread of Friday the 13th.
At the same time, the patient ones are rewarded by a cornucopia of monsters being unleashed in the end, and Whedon and Goddard set out to make every horror film ever made. Its a mass frenzy of beautiful chaos that you don't quite believe while you're seeing.
I should also mention the reason this is all happening: an angry god demands the suffering and sacrifice of five young people every year, or else it will rise up and end humanity. And so the movie poses a serious ethical question: what happens to these kids is horrible, but at the same time, its what has to happen for humanity to be saved.
The movie also touches lightly on our carnal need for blood. We are, at our core, a violent species that used to send Gladiators into the arena to die for our amusement. Now technology can satisfy that urge in less destructive ways, whether it be through video games or horror movies. But what inherent pleasure is there in seeing young people gutted and murdered horribly? I admit to Evil Dead being my favorite of this type of film, but whats the point? How can we be so entertained by something so awful?
Cabin in the Woods is an enormously refreshing take on horror, a blend of Truman Show and Scream taken about as far as you can go. Yes, the movie isn't perfect. But I can forgive the imperfections of a film that kept me guessing as to how much the limits would be pushed. About as far as you can imagine.
Ok, so now into the Cabin in the Woods, the new (relative term, really) film co-written and produced by Joss Whedon (who's Avengers just smashed the weekend box office with $200 million) and co-written and directed by Drew Goddard (who penned Cloverfield). I say relatively new because this film was supposed to be released two years ago, but MGM's bankruptcy forced the movie to be shelved until now. But finally, its out.
The movie starts out as two parallel stories. One involves the five teenagers, which include the whore (Anna Hutchinson), the Virgin (Kristen Connolly), the stoner (Fran Kanz), the jock (Chris Hemsworth), and the sweet slightly nerdy guy (Jesse Williams), heading out to someone's cousin's cabin in the woods for a weekend away from school. On the way they stop at a threatening gas station, where a creepy redneck is quite unfriendly. You've in all likelihood seen this movie before.
The second involves Richard Jenkins and Bradley Whitford as two white-collar workers whose business seems at first to be ambiguous, but soon you realize they are more connected to the teenagers then previously believed. In fact, they are leading this teenagers right into the very horror film we're expecting to see.
Its this twist that provides the film with a new, fun aspect. Sure, the characters are murdered one by one, but watching Jenkins and Whitford banter while this is all going on, placing bets on which monster they will unleash and the like, is what keeps this movie afloat through its middle half. Normally this would be enough for a horror film, but Whedon and Goddard take it one step further and actually have two remaining characters unearth this conspiracy. And then what happens is almost too hard to describe.
The movie is not without its flaws. There is some genuine tension in the horror film that gets interrupted by our puppet masters; there are convenient plot devices used to get an easy laugh (a gas makes one character change his mind from a stick together plan to a split up plan); and in the end, there's a big, red purge button that unleashes all the horror monsters you've imagined onto the people running the show.
Early on, the five characters descend into the basement of the Cabin and discover a whole series of crazy trinkets, which when handled a certain way, will unleash a particular monster. It is unfortunate that, in an homage to Evil Dead, a latin phrase is read from a book unleashing a Zombie Red Neck Family. Apparently a Merman is on the menu, and I would have preferred the film maybe not taking us on a retread of Friday the 13th.
At the same time, the patient ones are rewarded by a cornucopia of monsters being unleashed in the end, and Whedon and Goddard set out to make every horror film ever made. Its a mass frenzy of beautiful chaos that you don't quite believe while you're seeing.
I should also mention the reason this is all happening: an angry god demands the suffering and sacrifice of five young people every year, or else it will rise up and end humanity. And so the movie poses a serious ethical question: what happens to these kids is horrible, but at the same time, its what has to happen for humanity to be saved.
The movie also touches lightly on our carnal need for blood. We are, at our core, a violent species that used to send Gladiators into the arena to die for our amusement. Now technology can satisfy that urge in less destructive ways, whether it be through video games or horror movies. But what inherent pleasure is there in seeing young people gutted and murdered horribly? I admit to Evil Dead being my favorite of this type of film, but whats the point? How can we be so entertained by something so awful?
Cabin in the Woods is an enormously refreshing take on horror, a blend of Truman Show and Scream taken about as far as you can go. Yes, the movie isn't perfect. But I can forgive the imperfections of a film that kept me guessing as to how much the limits would be pushed. About as far as you can imagine.
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