Arrival

Arrival is a deliberately paced science fiction film that effectively uses chronological disorientation to enrich its story.  The real danger in making a movie that deals with aliens is that almost assuredly the aliens will disappoint.  If we’re honest with ourselves, the only aliens we really like are the ones who look exactly like us, i.e. Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, and Chewbacca.  We find all other aliens either scary or irritating.  Therefore every great film that contains aliens (excluding Star Wars) must be about something other than aliens.

It doesn’t take long to realize that the aliens in Arrival are not its focus; rather the film is centered on a linguist played by Amy Adams.  The storyline involving a race to interpret the alien’s true intentions before the rest of the world starts World War III is the films weakest point, allowing clichés from the genre too much time.  Yet interwoven into the standard plot is a more interesting thread of self-sacrifice.  The question is asked, if you knew how painful the consequences would be, would make the same decision?   The choice that Adam’s character is faced with is unambiguous; either she can pursue happiness, or she can save the world.  Let me suggest that another layer is alluded to; not only does Adam’s character have to make this terrible choice, but she’ll also be eternally subject to experience the effects of her decision.  This concept was explored in a lesser movie earlier last year; Doctor Strange had a really long battle in which the title character locked the antagonist into a seemingly never-ending loop.  Because nobody wants to leave a superhero movie without a conclusion, Doctor Strange devised a clever technicality to end the never-ending loop.  Arrival doesn’t give it’s protagonist a loophole; the difficult decision she must make is final.

Arrival also deals with the concept that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but I’m out of time for today’s review.

Hacksaw Ridge

I imagine that people who don't like movies are unable (or unwilling) to detach themselves from reality long enough to appreciate a movie for what it is.  Even the most realistic movie is still just a movie, even a documentary isn't actually happening (it already happened).  I think that I have levels of detachment, depending on the movie there is a sliding scale of what I'm willing to accept in the pursuit of entertainment or enlightenment.  La La Land gets a wide berth, while Manchester by the Sea receives greater scrutiny.  On that note, it is difficult for me to give Hacksaw Ridge a favorable review; while it contained a great story and challenged my preconceptions, its set-up kept jerking me back into reality.
 
The first half of the movie felt more like Captain America than a dramatic WWII film.  Instead of fleshed-out characters, the central cast were simply caricatures, with Vince Vaughn and Hugo Weaving setting entirely the wrong tone.  Both of these actors are great given the right roles, unfortunately this movie was seriously miscast, and the first half poorly directed.  I have struggled with being overly critical of this movie (as you'll see in the next paragraph), but it almost feels like the first half of this movie was made simply as an afterthought.  Backstories in comic book movies can be entertaining.  The first half of a war film shouldn't feel this cliché.

The second half of the movie was effective and thought-provoking.  Director Mel Gibson has often used violence gratuitously, sometimes with great impact.  The violence and gore in Hacksaw Ridge is shown in stark contrast to the self-sacrificing determination of the movie's hero.  The one person who is unwilling to shed any blood is covered with the most.  The person ridiculed and misunderstood is most willing to give everything he has for others.  Even if you find yourself disagreeing with him on principle, you would be calloused indeed if you don't appreciate his commitment.  Therein is the greatest strength of this film, it presents a seemingly enigmatic contradiction, and solves it.  This may have been one of the most interesting war films ever made, if it only it had a better first half.

Manchester by the Sea

Manchester by the Sea is a deeper, and more honest observational study than its spiritual prequel, Good Will Hunting.  Both films center around a man who has concluded that he has potential, he has the capability to achieve a good life, but knows that he doesn't deserve it.  Casey Affleck gives a depressingly tragic performance, portraying a man who feels obligated to punish himself.  His friends and family plead with him to stop, attempting to relay how his behavior is harming those closest to him.  Yet his conviction is so deep, and his commitment to complete, that rational arguments hold no sway.  Will Hunting had a gift that was recognized by the right people at the right time.  Will is encouraged and challenged in ways that turn him from his path of self-destruction.  Affleck's character in Manchester by the Sea isn't rescued from his downward spiral.  I would suggest that the difference here, is that his heart has been hardened.  There is a moment in Good Will Hunting, between the title character and his counselor (played by Robin Williams) where Will Hunting's heart is softened.  Manchester by the Sea doesn't contain such a scene, and with that the chance of hope and joy vanishes.

Nocturnal Animals

Have you ever been sitting there in the theater, the screen fades to black, and you think to yourself "this would be the perfect place to end the movie"?  If the first closing title appears, you've just seen a great film.  I'm not referring to your run-of-the-mill Hollywood fare with a predictable ending; I'm talking about those rare films that could go on to tie-up loose ends or explain every last detail, but instead choose not to insult the viewer's intelligence.  Nocturnal Animals has a perfect ending.

I'm going to break from my typical approach, which shies away from revealing too much about plot; so consider yourself warned.  Nocturnal Animals slowly reveals itself to be an allegory told in parallel with real-life events.  The main character doesn't recognize her role until the very last moment of the film.  There were times at which the chronology of the film was difficult to follow, the lines between time and reality were blurred.  The director, Tom Ford uses this storytelling technique to explain the motivations of his characters, interweaving the connection between allegory and real-life.  There's a lesson to be learned here:  Quite often we aren't the characters in the story that we want to be.

Now if the movie picks up again after it fades to black, and continues for another 45 minutes, you're watching Return of the King.

The Jungle Book

Back in August of 2016 I wrote the following:
"The Jungle Book is one of the best movies I've seen in a long time.  Director Jon Favreau has successfully created a modern retelling of this classic story."
I'm not sure where I was going with this.  Discuss amongst yourselves.

Split

I guess it was inevitable that eventually M. Night Shyamalan would choose to utilize absolutely-no-twist-at-all as a twist in one of his films, and believe me, I was surprised.  Split is the greatest argument so far for not watching trailers; if you've seen one, you've seen the other.  The crafting of this film was excellent, Shyamalan's storytelling, the editing, and James McAvoy's acting were all top-notch.  Unfortunately, that was all evident in the trailer, along with the entire storyline, cast of characters, and for any experienced moviegoer, the obvious ending was clear.  That's how I knew that the ending would be significantly different; but I was wrong.

Perhaps this is Shyamalan's commentary on pop culture, and fanboys with too much time on our hands.  He gave us exactly what the trailer promised, and nothing more.  Maybe I'll learn my lesson and never watch a trailer again.

Once good thing has already come out of watching Split; it prompted me to revisit one of Shyamalan's other films, one that I had only seen once 17 years ago.  It's better than I remembered.

La La Land

After a 5-month hiatus, La La Land is bringing me back.

I'm going to start with a minor complaint, then I promise to tell you all the things I really liked about this movie.  The people who love movies the most have inadvertently ruined the them.  Star Wars is no longer a space fantasy, it has become Saving Private Ryan in space.  Batman has more in common with The Godfather than his comic book origins.  And La La Land feels more like a tragic Woody Allen film, than the musical that it could have been.  It's not that the filmmakers are more cynical than a generation ago, rather the critics and film snobs have become harsher.  La La Land could have been our Singin' In The Rain; unfortunately it's too cool for that.  I understand the irony here, if the characters spontaneously burst into song too often, or dream sequences had a few too many neon lights, I'd probably be making fun of the movie right now.  La La Land hit all the right notes; it's just a shame that so many people are just as jaded as me.

I liked the scenery.  I liked the costumes.  I liked the character development; while it was quite cliché, the characters were so likable that it worked.  I like the music; while not to the level of Singin' In The Rain, is that really a fair comparison?  I liked the ending; it works for the romantic and the cynic, not an easy task.  I like that this movie is getting so much buzz; after so many difficult-to-watch movies, I like being reminded of why I love movies.