12 Years a Slave (2013)

Retrospectively examining the last five years in film, the presence of racially charged stories that have emerged has been strong. Among them, namely The Help, Lincoln, Django Unchained, and just this year, The Butler and Fruitvale Station, have each left their mark on the dialogue of race-related topics in unique form. Slavery and civil rights is a subject that has been depicted thoroughly in media, but the topic inevitably calls for more illustrations. Coming in at the tail end of this recent spurt of race films is 12 Years a Slave, directed by Steve McQueen (“Shame”). Deriving from an 1853 autobiography written by the main character, 12 Years demands attention through its shockingly revealing details of slave culture, acutely deliberate framing, and astounding performances by a mix of veteran and newcomer actors.

Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor, “Children of Men”) is a free black man living in New York as a violinist. Northup is deceived and kidnapped by a group of white men and sold into slavery, where he endures unspeakable hardships amid the Antebellum Era. In the context of the recent unveiling of Django Unchained, there is a subtly reminiscent emotion aroused by 12 Years a Slave. The desire for Northup to find his revenge is near to our hope for Django to exact justice upon his wrongdoers. However, the commonalities end there. Where Django employed gushing comic book violence, 12 Years’ brutality is just as unyielding in its presentation, but plays out with honesty. In Tarantino’s world, the viewer always feels a level of detachment from reality, but in McQueen’s reality of slavery, on the cotton fields of a Louisiana plantation, every drop of blood and bead of sweat is an effort to do one thing – tell the truth.

 The methods through which McQueen forces his audience to confront this truth are of the aptitude of only premiere directors. When the most horrific incidents are on screen, McQueen refuses to cut away, sometimes letting them resonate for minutes. In one example, Northup hangs from a tree just low enough so that his toes, pressing desperately in the wet mud, can keep him suspended. Children play and slaves toil in the background while Northup struggles for his life. They don’t dare help him, even look at him. The image smolders endlessly through a series of long shots, burning themselves into the screen and into your mind. Expressing the deeply institutional power structures of slavery in one fell swoop is a tremendous feat that emerges more than once in 12 Years.

In between all of the delicately exquisite camera placements and visually jarring scenes of suffering, the attempt to keep pace with Northup’s personal narrative is challenging. Foreign to the life of a slave prior to his kidnapping, Northup has reaped for years the benefits of freedom, and this makes him an outlier among the others on the plantation. Unaware of any alternative way of life, the slaves around him embrace their helplessness and emanate mechanical obedience. For Northup, as the years blur together and the whiplashes thicken his scars, this is a test of sanity. To remain resolute in his resilience, despite the acceptance of his misfortunes, makes Northup’s development tantamount to the rest of the film’s strong points.  Played with steady elegant beauty, Chiwetel Ejiofor has created a character that will endure timelessly in cinema.

The emotive influence 12 Years wields would not have been as effective without such performances. Along with Ejiofor, Michael Fassbender (“Prometheus”) arrives midway with nearly overshadowing work as Edwin Epps, the alcoholic plantation owner without a conscience. Executed with the salivating menace of a crazed Rottweiler, Fassbender is terrifyingly superb as he seeks to break all hints of optimism within the slaves. Also of brave achievement is Lupita Nyong’o in her role of Patsey, Epps’ most docile slave. The subject of some of the most sickening scenes of the film, Nyong’o is essential to affecting the continuous uncomfortable aura of the film. Careful not to waste a second, 12 Years devotes each second to exerting the most powerful and true storytelling. When the Oscars roll around next spring, I fully expect 12 Years to be as golden-tinseled as any movie of 2013.

Grade: 10

The Way, Way Back (2013)

No secrets are withheld at the upstart of The Way, Way Back. From the opening frame, the title takes on literal form, as we see the film’s protagonist seated glumly in the third row of a station wagon, a symbol of his ostracized state. Duncan (Liam James) is a severely timid 14-year-old with a “life sucks” angst about him. His anxiety is only heightened by the fact that he is about to spend the entire summer at the beach house of his mother’s boyfriend, instead of visiting his father in San Diego.

This excursion comes at a pivotal point in the relationship between Duncan’s mother Pam (Toni Collette) and her boyfriend Trent (Steve Carell). On the brink of becoming one family, this trip will test the ability of the couple to work under one roof. Working against Trent is the uncomfortable tension between he and Duncan, impressively instilled by writer-director team Nat Faxon and Jim Rash.

Duncan’s stress peaks as he buckles under the pressure of Trent’s scolding. But when Duncan finds respite in his aimless travels on a puny pink bike, he stumbles upon Water Wizz waterpark. Here he meets, Owen, the waterpark manager played with pleasant wit and precise timing by Sam Rockwell. Sensing Duncan’s distress, Owen takes him under his wing and hires him as a gofer at the park. The mentorship that Owen conducts is illustrated with charm.

From left: Roddy (Nat Faxon), Owen (Sam Rockwell), Duncan (Liam James)

The involvement of the waterpark is where the film finds its true momentum. A myriad of comedic acts emerge from the skits played out on the pool deck. Among many of the colorful Water Wizz employees is Caitlin, played with comedic excellence by Maya Rudolph. The endearing chemistry between Rudolph and Rockwell is just one example of the intriguing character interactions that The Way, Way Back has on display.

Worthy of special mentioning is the performance by Steve Carell. In a role hugely deviating from his past work, Carell has shed the skin of his usual characters, like the lovable sad sacks of Crazy Stupid Love and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Here, he is equally as convincing, yet wearing the façade of a slimy jerk. The urge to hope for his character’s downfall is one foreign to all moviegoers.

Although the gradual development of Duncan is constructed with mature precision, at times the story’s themes falter into bland and cheap territory. Connections are drawn without great care between Duncan and Owen, hinting the moments with a lifeless feel. The coming-of-age dynamic at work reads predictably, subduing the potential of the film’s messages to be absorbed.

Nonetheless, there is a subtle strength exuded from the many subplots in The Way, Way Back. Duncan’s maturity is a catalyst for the morphing relationship with his mother. Aware of his mother’s distrust for Trent, Duncan shows shades of a man through his will to stand up for those close to him. The irony of this film churns pleasantly at the finale. Ultimately, the Water Wizz staff, adult misfits in the eyes of society, is the source of Duncan’s direction. 

Grade: Flat 6

Gravity (2013)

For some, the natural allure of moviegoing is the escapist prospect of being transported into another reality. This stimulating sensation is most enjoyable when it results from entering a truly unknown place, one that inverts our individual perceptions of existence. Especially in the last decades, with visual effects from movies like Avatar or Inception, the creation of an eerily authentic world is now a familiar phenomenon. This year, director Alfonso Cuarón has raised the bar.

Rare has a film captured a more sophisticated and awe-inspiring visual presentation than the aesthetics on display in Gravity. Dubbed an “astro-thriller” by the media, Gravity’s story unfolds entirely outside the realm of our atmosphere, spare 1 or 2 minutes. As space shuttle Explorer sits suspended in the vacuum of space, Matt Kowalski (George Clooney), a witty veteran spacewalker on his last mission before retirement, hums around the shuttle, propelled by his jet pack. Kowalski is heading a mission to make repairs on the shuttle, overseeing the work of Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), a medical engineer on her rookie mission. Stone is uneasy from the beginning, foreboding the ensuing drama. Initiated from a self-destructed Russian satellite, a cloud of debris hurtling through space towards the Explorer sets the narrative in motion.

Ironically, it is the terrific chaos caused by the debris’ destructive power that makes for the most beautiful segments of Gravity. Unlike the explosions from your typical Hollywood blockbuster, carnage from shuttle decimations proceeds soundlessly. The silence peppered throughout Gravity is uncomfortably broken only by the heaving breaths of Stone, one of film’s many stress-inducing mechanisms. Cuarón expertly interjects this mute terror amid moments devoted to the vast openness of space, making the peril of Stone and Kowalski appear meaningless in the scope of the universe.

The sheer visual feat of Gravity does not stand alone. Inside Cuarón’s production lies a compelling narrative driven by Stone. Early on it becomes known that Stone, having lost a daughter, and Kowalski, a divorcee, endure inner turmoil. With their vulnerability exposed, philosophical tone seeps through screen as the camera tracks the duo with glides and twirls. As the astronauts peer down on Earth, their isolation and revelation of their minuscule value claws at their will to survive. In the culmination, the tale becomes just as much about the personal transformation of Stone as it is about Cuarón’s visual prowess. The balance achieved between the two is an accomplishment that makes Gravity all the more majestic.

Gravity arrives during an age when streaming movies and TV shows, whether illegally or not, is making a noticeable dent in the box office success of films. Certainly, waiting to view the latest Adam Sandler rom-com until it hits Netflix is a worthy way to spend your time. Nonetheless, in the case of Gravity, where intergalactic satellite collisions recklessly spew in your face through 3D goggles, the necessity for a silver screen is there. If your thirst for sci-fi thrillers must be quenched, visit Cuarón’s Gravity and submit yourself to a truly cinematic experience.

Grade: Light 8

Snap Reviews

Snap Reviews: World War Z, This Is the End, The Avengers, & Spring Breakers.

World War Z (2013)

     Serving its purpose as a summer tentpole for Paramount, Z came through in terms of providing a thrilling escapist production. Although, some, including myself, were anticipating a much more sophisticated storyline from Z than what became of this film. I expected and hoped for a zombie film that separated itself from past clichés of the zombie genre. Instead, Z clings, at times desperately, to the conventional scare tactics and portrayal of an apocalypse. Large portions of the film end up standing nearly unrelated to the rest of the film. The whole ordeal that takes place in the rainy South Korean airbase is acutely self-aware and purposeless. Riding bikes in the middle of the night as rain pours to escape a stampede of zombies seems like the last thing any intelligent military commander would command of his troops. Furthermore, there is no inner turmoil or conflict occurring within Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) or between any characters. The romanticism between Gerry and Karen Lane (Mireille Enos) can only be sympathetic for so long without anything else at play.  That's what makes Shaun of the Dead (albeit a film of a different nature) or I Am Legend better pictures; there are many stories within the bigger concept at work. For Z, the idea is all it has to offer.

Grade: Hard 4

This Is the End (2013)

     It has already been established that Seth Rogen knows how to write. This Is the End is his greatest work since he struck gold with Superbad. An absolute genius foundation is set in place by having celebrities all playing themselves, providing an automatic source of intrigue for the audience. Storyline aside, as the characters banter back and forth and reveal hidden traits, you find yourself wondering, "Is that what Jonah Hill (or Franco, or Rogen, or McBride) is really like!?" Of course, it's not, but the personality twists and Jay Baruchel's conflict with the rest of the crew still comes off as insight into Hollywood culture. This sort of dynamic alone is a comedic instrument that has never been employed on such a large scale, and it crushes all doubts. Well-placed cameos, allusions (Freaks and Geeks, 127 Hours, The Green Hornet, etc.), and McBride's mid-film introduction instills a persistent energy in the story. Franco and McBride steal the show.

Grade: Hard 7

The Avengers (2012)

     This film came and went, leaving me completely unscathed. As much as I wanted to let The Avengers wash over me and force me to take the bait, I felt nothing. Too long for its own good, the film spends too much time giving expositions of the technological implications of the "tesseract" and trying to sustain a tension amongst the crew, that in the end, never amounts to any significance. The clashing personas of Captain American and Iron Man is a fleeting attempt to develop a side story with no payoff. More screen time should have been devoted to personal anecdotes of the Avengers. Until the final act, even the visual effects and fight scenes where underwhelming. 

Grad: Flat 3

Spring Breakers (2012)

     Harmony Korine is a voice that needs to be heard more often. With all the promising buzz surrounding his budding career as a twenty-year-old, I'm sure some feel relieved to see him direct and write another feature (watch Gummo at your own risk). Until the arrival of Alien (James Franco), the overload of montage sequences, prior and during the girls' arrival to their destination was a little superfluous. Nonetheless, a consistent aesthetic tone of the movie, shot in great fashion by DP Benoît Debie, matched well the dark downward spiral of the girls' circumstances. When Alien does show up, the movie takes off. Franco kills this role, and I applaud him, for without his star status and acting chops, this movie would not have received the attention, although small, that it did. I was disappointed to see Candy's (Selena Gomez) abrupt departure from the trip. Up to that point, she was wrestling a provocative moral dilemma, balancing her long ingrained devotion to Christianity with the sinful nature of the spring break culture. The movie carries on just fine, but I think Korine may have missed the opportunity to further capitalize on the commentary he was constructing. Yet, strongly felt tone and message, with heavy significane to contemporary party culture, still makes Breakers a film capable of lasting. Furthermore, the Disney-duo of Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens was completely satisfactory. Who would have thought?

Grade: Light 7

End of Watch (2012)

With all of the lushly exquisite terrain and affluent neighborhoods that fill southern California, the concept of criminal activity ravishing the area may go wayside when conjuring mental images of this corner of the United States. End of Watch is determined to reinvigorate your imagination, even if it is done with a hyperbolic touch. The film tracks the Los Angeles police duo of Brian Taylor (Jake Gyllenhaal, Zodiac) and Mike Zavala (Michael Peña, World Trade Center) as they struggle to subdue the rising threat of crime in an already lethal section of the ghetto. Writer-director David Ayer has crafted a thrilling story that only raises the stakes as it runs. Pervasive are the moments disguised to allow viewer recovery, but instead exploit the vulnerable moment and slap on another heavy turn. The scarce breathing room withstanding, Watch, a representation of very real issues, delivers in a spectacle, playing out like a Miami Vice highlights reel.

The team of officers are fresh off a successful shootout, killing two men following a wild car chase through the backstreets of a destitute landscape. The recognition for their work only flares the previously present arrogance raging in the veins the two officers. Taylor, currently in the midst of completing law school, has acquired a handheld camera, intending to record the future happenings of he and Zavala's patrol as part of an assignment for his film class. The handheld documentary style is used intermittently with the general photography of Roman Vasyanov (The East), but more interesting is the use of other handheld devices by multiple characters in the film. It is a connection between cop and criminal.

 
Their fame within the department is ephemeral as the two are reassigned to a different district. Quickly revealing itself as a much more problematic area, Taylor and Zavala face a couple unsettling cases. Conflict within the neighborhood is amplified by a drive-by shooting executed by members of the Hispanic "Curbside Gang." Marking the commencement of a turf war between the Hispanics and the blacks of the district, the film seems to be centering the ethnic battle as the driving conflict. However, the film makes an inexplicable desertion of this narrative, plowing onward under alternative guidance. Instead, the story takes focus with the Curbside Gang and it's don, Mr. Big Evil (It's because his "evil is big").

Having noticed heavy traffic leading to a from Evil's house, Taylor steps outside his realm of duty to  play private investigator. He and Zavala begin to become more suspicious of the residence when they recover cash being transported away from the house. They storm the house to make a horrifying discovery: upwards of thirty people are being held captive in a human trafficking business. Mr. Big Evil is not just a local threat, but with his ties to Mexican cartels, he is a force to be reckoned with in the southwestern United States. Even worse, Taylor and Zavala have now presented themselves to be a persistent annoyance to the operations of the cartels, tagging themselves a target on their back.

Mr. Big Evil's coterie brews a plan to rid themselves of the pestering cops. As the madness unfolds, the militants of the Curbside Gang look more like phantasmal creatures plucked from the virtual reality of Grand Theft Auto and less like a shrewdly wicked conglomerate. The borderline suicidal manner in which this crew operates doesn't suit the furtive pattern established by the villains in the rest of the film. Using the handheld cameras furthers an impractical sense. Yes, Taylor and Zavala bring hell upon themselves with their intrepid hunger for action, but the chronic documentary style comes off as purposeless and superfluous in adding to their immaturity. No final product ever comes of Taylor's "film project" that is frequently mentioned.

Despite all of this, copious screen time is devoted to the powerful relationship between Taylor and Zavala. Gyllenhaal and Peña display an exceptional chemistry through endearing back-and-forth prodding about their respective love lives. It is the result of sitting elbow-to-elbow in a car for 10 hours a day, the production of enduring fatal possibilities daily. The bond tightens and the emotional investments swell with the Taylor's marriage to Janet (Anna Kendrick, Up in the Air). Mr. Big Evil's threat now surpasses the potential to break a friendship; marriages and families could be torn asunder.

Ultimately, Watch is much more than it's visual dazzle. There exists a narrative that, at times, overshadows the shock of criminal activity. There are times in cinema when it is commendable for a film to overstep boundaries. After all, a film that fails to overachieve excites more than one that succeeds to underachieve. Watch comes off as one of these films aspiring to overachieve. It's audacity is far from destructive, but works as an abrasive touch.

Grade: Light 6


     

 Blue Valentine (2010)

Contemporary cinema is a juggernaut producer of romance films tracing a couples' elevation of compassion to a seemingly immortal love. This commonplace depiction of love certainly evokes a grandiose falsity: love is easy and love invincibly endures. When the last frame vanishes from the screen, the dominating denouement is of course one teeming with superficial catharsis. With Blue Valentine, it's as if Derek Cianfrance, the film's co-writer and director, felt that the phrase "gag me" had floated through his thoughts one too many times. Just as Dean (Ryan Gosling), the husband of the film's centerpiece marriage, ruefully admits, "Maybe I've seen too many movies, you know, love at first sight?" Among the ubiquity of portrayals of conquering affection, Cianfrance's Valentine audaciously confronts the pernicious obstacles of relationships that other films apprehensively hurdle and dodge.

When we first meet Dean and Cindy (Michelle Williams), they are married couple parenting a bubbly daughter Franky (Faith Wladyka). The film's first 15 minutes are surely reminiscent of many parents' typical morning, as Dean and Cindy soldier on to their separate jobs, painting and nursing. Nevertheless, as drama strikes the family with the death of their beloved dog, we begin to realize that Dean and Cindy's marriage is in mid crumble.

The film advances in a non-linear fashion, jumping back and forth from the early formations of the relationship to current time. The juxtaposition of Dean and Cindy's blooming interest for one another against their distinctly deteriorated state proficiently elaborates what Cianfrance intends to address. In one moment, as Cindy skips playfully to Dean's ukulele performance, it is confounding to imagine how this darling unity could possibly be anything else. The time flipping is charged with such a hyper contrast of building ardor and corroding tension that Valentine drags the viewer along a whirl of undulating emotion. Part of Cianfrance's genius is pitting the slowly culminating eruption alongside an equally forceful bonding.

Let there be no debate, Gosling and Williams astound. Seldom do two characters band to form a relationship that conjures nearly simultaneous heartrending and refreshing sensations with the effectiveness exhibited in Valentine. Williams lassos viewers with her inhabitation of the severe character arc, bridging the slightly younger sanguine persona and the hopeless mother version of Cindy. Gosling has seldom entranced as well as during the hospital scene, the climactic portion of the film. Arriving drunk to Cindy's place of work, Dean has come with no purpose in mind, only to diffuse an enormity of pent frustration. While the tension unfurls in real time, one is desperately tempted to keel over in sickness at Dean's paining as he is stripped down to nothingness at the hand of Cindy's vicious words.

Indeed, Valentine tackles head on agonizing truths about the vulnerability of love and the mortality of feelings, but the film holds an interesting structure. The flashbacks collectively represent a time span of multiple months, but the scenes in current time sum to just over a single day. Years of time sit in between the two narratives. This formula makes for a truly enlightening cinematic experience, for without it, the film would simply be a story of meaningless patchwork. The film's gaping hole is fitting; Valentine does not intend to dole out all the answers. If it did, the film would take a seat tantamount to a myriad of others in the romance genre. The history of Dean and Cindy is one of sophisticated love, one that unassumingly reaches into the dark, unknowing of what is to come. 

Grade: Flat 9

     I would like to devote a post to explaining the title change of the site. Previously dubbed "The Red Review," the site is now entitled "Reel to Reel." The new title is based on the mechanics of a film projection system. In a film projector, the reel of film shoots out from the supply reel, passes through the gate where the frames are flashed onto the screen, and then collected once again by the take-up reel. The process is continued until all of the film from the supply reel has been accumulated in the take-up reel. So, technically, a film is viewed during the time it takes for the film to pass from "reel to reel." Pretty enlightening, huh?

     Lastly, as you may have noticed in my first review, I assigned the grade of a "Flat 8" to The Long Goodbye. The grading system I will use to accompany my reviews will be a 1 to 10 scale, with 1 being the most pitiful, meaningless, and putrid piece of filth and 10 being a film that humbles me to the point that I am confounded I ever thought I knew anything about movies (I actually don't). Oh, and for the sake of even further specificity, I will tac on either "light," "flat," or "strong" before the numerical evaluation.

Reviews to come: Fish Tank (2009), Blue Valentine (2010)

The Long Goodbye (1973)

     Upon being initially acquainted with Phillip Marlowe during the opening minutes of The Long Goodbye, one finds a man seemingly rid of obligation. A man who's chief priority is a late-night run for cat food and brownie mix for the band of pothead bimbos next door wouldn't appear to have any building concerns. Yet, in a matter of minutes, Marlowe is tossed amid a whirlwind of uncertainty. Meshed with an amalgamation of vibrant characters and gentle pacing, the mounting of the unknown helps bind The Long Goodbye to effectively provide a beautifully intriguing picture.

     As a freelancing private investigator, Marlowe must set his instinctive suspicions aside when his buddy, Terry Lennox, shows up at his doorstep desperately asking for a favor: one ride across the border to Tijuana. Marlowe smells trouble, but acquiesces, prompting interrogations from federal detectives, an ephemeral stint in the clink, and the confirmation of the Sylvia Lennox's murder. Effortlessly inhabiting the protagonist, Elliot Gould cogently exhibits the relentlessly suave sarcasm held by Marlowe, even in the grittier moments of the film.

Phillip Marlowe (right) shares a drink with Roger Wade in The Long Goodbye.

     Following his release from prison, Marlowe becomes caught in a net of conflict with an assignment to track down Roger Wade (Sterling Hayden), the alcoholic husband of Eileen Wade (Nina van Pallandt). Only adding to the subtle chaos is Marty Augustine, the gangster boss of Terry Lennox who is aggressively demanding the $350,000 Lennox failed to leave behind before he crossed the border.

     As the tension and ambivalence surrounding the murder of Sylvia Lennox accumulate, the audience is trapped alongside Marlowe in a cage of yearning curiosity. After all, Marlowe makes his living by questioning everything, so it comes as no surprise to see Marlowe set out to discover the truth of the Lennox case. Shot mainly on locations scattered throughout Los Angeles, director Robert Altman and his team exquisitely capture some beautiful neo-noir aesthetics. Despite the tranquility of Marlowe's disposition, Altman has no trouble expertly conjuring anxiety-ridden moments. In one instance, Marlowe is being questioned by federal agents in his apartment as topless hippies gyrate hypnotically in the background. In another, Marlowe is prying at Eileen Wade for answers as Roger Wade drunkenly stumbles to his drowning death in the background, all the while audio of waves pounding the sand are intermixed with jarring barks from a dog.

     The Long Goodbye totals to be an unabashed depiction of troubled relationships gone awry. The story takes the most honest perspective, that of an innocent onlooker. As Marlowe finds himself more entangled in the Wade/Lennox marital debris, the viewer gains a deeper sense of empathy for the witty chain-smoker. Marlowe, a man who remains true and honest to a friend, a customer, and a blackmailer, is only asking for the same in return. In the end, he prefers his supply of cat food to be his number one concern.

Grade: Flat 8

Side Note: Considering Paul Thomas Anderson's next film will be a cinematic adaptation of Thomas Pynchon's novel, Inherent Vice, I think it noteworthy to voice the possibility that this upcoming film is, in my mind, Anderson paying homage to The Long Goodbye. Having read the novel and knowing Anderson has noted Altman to be a central influence, one can see a multitude of parallels between Doc Sportello and Phillip Marlowe, with the investigative sprees that drive the plot, and even with the neo-noir genre of the stories. I could be overemphasizing the similarity, but I don't doubt Anderson will be confirming the relationships of the two films when Inherent Vice hits the scene.