The Northman and The Witch

For Some reason, I got it into head that The Northman was rated PG-13.  Based on that belief, I assumed that this would be a rather tame coming-of-age tale of a young Viking boy who would be king.  I had seen the trailer, and knew that Ethan Hawke played the Young Viking's father, and that somehow Willem Dafoe and Björk were involved so I thought it'll probably be an OK movie.  Oh yeah, and there was a moment in the trailer when the young Viking caught a spear that had been thrown at a member of his party, and then he immediately threw it back, striking and killing the aggressor; I think that was the moment that solidified my desire to see the film.  Rarely are singular sequences shot so convincingly, in such a way as to convey the atmosphere of the film, traits of the character, and a thrilling sense of action, all at the same time.  I should probably be more embarrassed to admit this, but as the film grew progressively more brutal, and as the Vikings did more and more things that Vikings are known for (including an all-out, drug-induced Berserker raid), I kept on saying to myself, "that's pretty violent for a PG-13 movie".  There were three scenes in particular that pushed the boundary of a PG-13 rating in my mind, but in each case I thought about other films with similar scenes.  For example, early in the film, one of the people close to the young Viking is ambushed, in a sequence that is reminiscent of Boromir's death scene in The Fellowship of the Ring.  In some ways I believe that the emotional intensity of scene far outweighs any a graphic depictions of violence.  If I care about the characters onscreen, I will be affected more than if I'm uninterested in the characters.  Long story short, The Northman was actually an R-rated Viking movie, and I clearly am desensitized to violence since I really couldn't tell much sooner than I did.  That being said, is it even possible to make a great Viking movie that isn't R-rated?

Robert Eggers, who directed The Northman, previously directed The Witch, which is another R-rated movie, that may or a may not be about a witch.  I was going to make the argument that The Witch is primarily a psychological thriller, as opposed to The Northman which was more of an action/adventure film.  But as I started to formulate this position, I was reminded of the second act in The Northman, which takes place in the village of the young Viking's sworn enemy.  The events that unfold while in the midst of those who have enslaved him are the most revealing, because it is during this time that he must truly examine his own mind.  Similarly, The Witch isn't so much about a witch, rather it explores what it means to be accused of being a witch.  Clearly this is meant as a fable, and the moral of the story is that we can become our worst selves when we let others define who we are.  What elevated both of these films above the basic subject matter, was Eggers' adherence to the principle that a good storyteller must have a strong sense of why a certain subject is interesting,  and he is willing to explore those themes, regardless of where they descend.

Nope and Knock at the Cabin

Film(s) to be reviewed:  Nope and Knock at the Cabin

Purpose for watching the film(s):  

I was intrigued by the premise laid out in the trailer for each of these films, and considering past performance from each director, I was optimistic that the full-length movies would deliver on the promised thrills and surprises. 

My reaction to the film(s)

Jordan Peeles Nope is an audacious enterprise, a film that builds tension in the tradition of Hitchcock and M. Night Shyamalan; it gives us characters to care about, and puts them in a very unsettling situation.  It seems like The Twilight Zone, and The X-Files might also be an inspiration for this film, since Peele focuses heavily on the set-up, but also delivers a crazy pay-off that answers some questions, but by no means are they all answered.  Delving deeper into my X-Files comparison, Nope feels like it could be a one-off episode; we are introduced to a family of cowboys who have been witnessing some inexplicable phenomena.  The cowboys are interesting, the phenomena is interesting, the explanation is somewhat trippy, and the conclusion seems fitting and well earned.  I wouldn't rank this film, in quite the same category of Hitchcock's best, and it's not as good as Shyamalan (when he's on his game), but it was quite entertaining, and really, what more can you ask for?

In typical Shyamalan fashion, Knock at the Cabin has a simple premise, which could be explained in one sentence:  Four mysterious strangers are sent to deliver the message from Sofie's Choice to a gay couple and their adopted daughter.  Each of Shyamalan's previous films, including his best, The Village, could be condensed to a similarly simple synopsys. What makes many of Shyamalan's earlier films great, is where he took those ideas. The Village wasn't about its twist, it was about self-sacrificing love. The Sixth Sense was about facing one's fears by helping others…  I started a list of what each of Shyamalan's best films were really about, but we can discuss those later.  Unfortunately, Knock at the Cabin feels like a retread of Shyamalan's earlier, better works. Sure, there's a message here, but it's the one that you can guess easily from my description of the plot.  I realize that Shyamalan must feel significant pressure to always be out-Shyamalaning himself, and perhaps the best thing to do is just make a movie that doesn't have any surprises, and doesn't aspire to do anything remotely interesting.  Alright, now that he's got that out of his system, here's to hoping that his next film will return to what he does well.

Closing thoughts about the film(s):

So here’s the problem, M. Night Shyamalan established a benchmark with The Sixth Sense, and he was able to make a series of films that improved on that pattern.  Now we measure not only Shyamalan against that standard, but anyone who tries to enter the genre.   In today's face-off, Jordan Peele's Nope out-Shyamalans Shyamalan's Knock at the Cabin.

Women Talking and Glengarry Glen Ross

When I say that Sarah Polley's film Women Talking reminded me of Glengarry Glen Ross, it is meant as a compliment.  I realize that this seems to be a strange comparison, since the films' subject matter is quite different, but as the great Roger Ebert was apt to say, "It's not what a movie is about, it's how it is about it".  As is correctly advertised in the title, Women Talking consists primarily of women talking, and David Mamet's screenplay for Glengarry Glen Ross consists almost exclusively of men talking.  In the first film, a small group of women meet in a barn in the middle of their village, to decide whether to depart in a mass exodus, or stay and and fight the abusive men of their community.  Each woman has come to the meeting with her own agenda, and preconceptions of what decision should be made, and it is only through a vigorous dialogue that minds are changed, and a consensus is reached.  This premise, when done well can be extremely compelling, i.e. 12 Angry Men, but a film can only be as strong as the arguments that it presents.  I take that back, more correctly, a film is as strong as it convinces you that the arguments are.  What I mean by that is that even the most ridiculous arguments when presented skillfully can result in a great film, i.e. Braveheart.  Think about it, in that film we're presented with what at best is an amalgamation of historical characters, and definitely is more myth than truth, yet it's presented so beautifully that we get pulled in, and accept what we see as something even better than reality.  Women Talking is no Braveheart.  The following statement may seem harsh, but I am afraid that it captures the underlying problem that I have with Women Talking:  There is an extended sequence in which the council of women develop a pros and cons list, basically "should I stay, or should I go?".  I can imagine such a list being used during the early drafts of the screenplay, but the way that it is presented in the final film feels like a shortcut, and detracts from the story that is being told.  

It is difficult to separate the screenplay for Glengarry Glen Ross from the actors that portray its characters, because the dialogue feels like it was written for them, and each actor is so perfectly cast that you can almost imagine that they came up with their own words.  That Kevin Spacey and Alec Baldwin have turned out to be the people that we now know, makes their performances as reprehensible human beings all the more disturbing.  I would be remiss if I didn't mention Jack Lemmon's performance, in which he embodied the quintessential tragic salesman, so much so that every loser portrayed on film since 1992 (the year that Glengarry Glen Ross was released) owes something to Lemmon.  And then there's Ed Harris, Alan Arkin, and Al Pacino, each so clearly defined that one evening spent with them is more than enough to feel like we know everything about them, yet so nuanced that we have to imagine that the next evening would be a film worth watching too.  Like Women Talking, the men of Glengarry Glen Ross spend the entire film discussing their respective predicaments, but instead of searching for common ground, these men use words as weapons, like a no-holds-barred knife fight, where only the man left standing at the end can claim victory.  When I first saw this film, about 25 years ago, I remember thinking that it was a strange choice to make a movie about real estate salesmen; it's only now that I come to realize that the characters are employed as real estate salesmen, but that's not at all what the film is about.  The reason certain lines of dialogue have resonated for so long in our culture isn't just because they're catchy, but also because the screenwriter, Mamet is revealing something that's universal in our society.  The line that Alec Baldwin's character delivers, "coffee's for closers" isn't just relevant to salesmen, it speaks to the attitude that resonates with all Capitalists; there are those who feel like they deserve the coffee, and there are others who know that you have to earn coffee.

The Whale

Film(s) to be reviewed:  The Whale

Purpose for watching the film(s):  

Acquiescing to the buzz - giving in to that persistent voice in the back of my mind saying, “Peter, they’re still playing Avatar: The Way of Water on 5 screens of every 10-screen multiplex, and the remaining screens are playing the latest horror flick, or Minions movie.  If you don’t drive to Orlando and see this movie at the one theater that’s showing it within a 100-mile radius, you won’t get another chance!”

My reaction to the film(s):

I’m going to write the following statement as though I am a writer for the New York Times, a publication that would allow me to present an opinion that someone has (or may have), and run with that idea as though it were a widely held concern:  In the film The Whale, Brendan Fraser is committing the worst kind of cultural appropriation by wearing prosthetics to play a person that could just have easily been played by an actor who wouldn’t need prosthetics.  The casting of Fraser in this role is as egregious as Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Barbra Streisand in Yentl, or LeBron James in Space Jam 2.  If you take the concept of cultural appropriation to its logical conclusion, there would be a 1:1 ratio of roles to human beings, with absolutely no room for fictional characters or depictions of historical figures (unless it’s a Weekend At Bernie’s situation).  That anyone, ever has a problem with an actor playing someone other than himself (or herself, as the case may be) is ridiculous.  On that note, I thought that Brendan Fraser did an excellent job finding the balance between pathetic and sympathetic.  From a certain perspective, Fraser didn’t need the prosthetics, as his character’s physical condition didn’t define who he was, it simply exacerbated his misery.  Perhaps that fact alone should silence the critic that I conjured up at the beginning of this review; everyone is capable of sinking into the depths of despair, and it is unfair to assume that only people who fit a certain profile could experience particular feelings. 

Closing thoughts about the film(s):

Ever since my first Darren Aronofsky film, π (Pi), I have been a little scared each time I see another of his films, I’m never quite sure what he’s going to do next.  Whether it’s using a common household item to relieve cranial pressure (as in the aforementioned π), or the crazy amount of abuse that the wrestler subjected himself to in The Wrestler, it’s good that he keeps the audience on its collective toes.  Sometimes movies are too predictable.

Purple Rain

 Film(s) to be reviewed:  Purple Rain

Purpose for watching the film(s):  

Jess bought me an “STP” t-shirt about 22 years ago, and it’s starting to get a little threadbare, so for Christmas 2021 I asked for some more t-shirts.  Jess bought me a Baby Yoda t-shirt, and a Purple Rain t-shirt.  Then, in December of 2022, I just so happened to be wearing my Purple Rain t-shirt when I went to see Avatar: The Way of Water, and as the usher was ripping my ticket he said, “People always made fun of me because I didn’t see Purple Rain until I was in my 30s”.  I looked down, somewhat embarrassed, and said, “I still haven’t seen Purple Rain”.  It was as I shuffled dejectedly to my seat that I resolved to see Purple Rain that very night… 

My reaction to the film(s):

Usually I avoid describing details of a film’s plot, to me that’s like spoiling the story.  When I ask someone else about a movie that I haven’t seen yet, I only want to know what their impression of the film was.  From their description of how they emotionally reacted to the film, and based on what I know about the person, I develop my own conclusions as to whether I think that I will like the movie or not.  In the case of Purple Rain, its plot epitomizes everything about the movie, and it would be impossible to describe my reaction to the movie without discussing its plot.  As I begin to describe the plot, you’ll have to imagine how my serious look of contemplation transitions to a sly smile as I write the following words:  In the tradition of Bogart and Brando, the late artist, formerly (and currently) known as Prince portrays a reluctant hero, who must face his greatest challenge… himself.  Realizing that there may be some critics that would question whether Prince, a relative newcomer at the time to feature films, would be convincing in a leading role, it was decided that Morris Day (of Morris Day & The Time) should play the protagonist.  Now I can’t say that Morris Day was as good a villain as Joaquin Phoenix was in Gladiator, but then that would be an unfair comparison, since it’s kind of hard to act like a bad ass when you’re being upstaged by a man in high heels and wearing a purple sequin jumpsuit.  If you’re thinking to yourself, “wow, it didn’t take Peter very long to deviate from describing the plot of the movie”, then you’re wrong - except for describing the scene where Prince drives a woman out to the middle of nowhere on his motorcycle, then tricks her into stripping off all of her clothes, then drives away abandoning her naked and alone (because he thought it was funny), and the scene where Prince confronts his father for being abusive to his mother (with no sense of irony regarding the previously mentioned scene), I have now described the entire plot.  But what makes it a great movie, is that it’s Prince, and there’s Prince music, and did I mention that Prince is riding a motorcycle?

Closing thoughts about the film(s):

Do you ever get that feeling when you’re watching a movie that another piece of the cultural puzzle has been fitted into place, and you’re one step closer to being cool?  Now I finally get all those Morris Day & The Time references in Kevin Smith movies. I’m not sure that makes me any cooler, but the next time someone asks me about my Purple Rain t-shirt, I can say, “yeah, I’ve seen that movie too”.

Avatar: The Way of Water

I tried asking ChatGTP to write a review "in the style of Peter Crum", but apparently the nuances of my prose are beyond the capacity of the OpenAI's  current algorithm.  Since I have over 20 movie reviews in different stages of draft right now, I am planning to take a more streamlined, and consistent approach to my reviews (at least until I get caught-up).  I expect that an incidental side effect of my switch to a formulaic review style will be that future iterations of AI will have a better chance of taking over my movie reviews when I am no longer able, or no longer wish to write them myself.

Film(s) to be reviewed:  Avatar: The Way of Water

Purpose for watching the film(s):  

What is the purpose for looking up into the sky when your child says "look, there's a rainbow!"?  The purpose seems obvious, but the more you think about it, the more you will realize that the answer can be quite complex.  Similarly, my purpose for watching Avatar: The Way of Water is multifaceted:  James Cameron is a visionary filmmaker, who has fundamentally advanced the technical elements of filmmaking over the past 40 years.  Films such as Aliens, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, and Titanic stand as benchmarks, that define their respective genres to this day.  The original Avatar in 2009 revolutionized the industry in a way that surpassed all of Cameron's previous efforts, erasing the lines between live action and animation, which effectively removes all constraints from filmmaking, leaving only imagination as the limit to what can be captured on film.  Not going to see Avatar: The Way of Water would be like spraying bear repellent in your own eyes when your child says "look, there's a rainbow!"... That would be really dumb.

My reaction to the film(s):

Every frame of this film is amazing.  Of course the same can be said for the film Ratatouille, which is far superior in just about every way, unless of course you are looking to find self-loathing in your moviegoing experience.  Early in the film I found myself trying to determine where the real elements ended and the animation began, but this was an exercise in futility.  Before long, I was able to let go, and just enjoy the experience, and I was able to accept that everything that I was seeing was just as real as everything else.  Of course this is the kind of illusion that filmmakers have been striving for since the advent of the medium; whether it's been stunts, editing, camera angles, or special effects, these technical elements have been used to show us something that otherwise would be impossible.  Well, maybe not always impossible, but at least impractical.  The previously mentioned self-loathing that Avatar: The Way of Water subjects us to isn't as bad this time around as it was in the original Avatar.  The first film in the series was basically Dances With Wolves in space, which isn't a bad idea all things considered, but it really would have benefited from some call-backs, i.e. they could have had some blue buffalo, and the main character could have learned the word "tatanka".  The sequel spreads the blame around a bit more; now there's reasons to feel guilty about being a white person, a blue person, a white person raised by blue people but still having a place in your heart for your white father, being a scientist, not knowing how to swim, making fun of people who don't know how to swim, etc.  Clearly I believe that the Avatar series could do without Cameron's ideological slant, but I will admit that it adds a distinct perspective to what otherwise might be a flat narrative.  Not that I'm comparing the Avatar movies to Apocalypse Now, but when I'm watching Coppola's masterpiece, I don't get hung-up on his ideology because it's so interwoven into the fabric of the film.  Unfortunately, Avatar: The Way of Water does feel preachy, which detracts from the overall experience; not enough to keep me from looking forward to the upcoming third film, but enough that it detracted from the viewing experience.

Closing thoughts about the film(s):

Please note that I used the phrase "self-loathing" in this review prior to revisiting my review of the original Avatar, in which I also used that description.  If the next version of ChatGTP can't figure me out, I don't know what else I can do to help it.