Further Reflection: "Star Trek Into Darkness"

SIDE TREK: OF ABRAMS, KIRK, AND “DARKNESS”

by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Deep Roy and J.J. Abrams on the set of "Star Trek Into Darkness"

As some of you readers know, I recently posted a review of “Star Trek Into Darkness” that was forgiving but hardly enthusiastic.  Yet even with my verdict in, there is much work to be done.  While the film doesn’t rank among 2013’s finest offerings, it is still an installment in one of the most important franchises of all time and the latest offering from a filmmaker whose work is becoming increasingly fascinating and prolific.  In short, I propose that for all its flaws, “Into Darkness” successfully advances the “Star Trek” saga into more complicated thematic territory and extends the preoccupations of its director, J.J. Abrams.

          In many ways, the film is building off some of the ideological shakiness in the first film, 2009’s “Star Trek.”  The core conflict of that movie was between Kirk (Chris Pine) and Spock (Zachary Quinto), starship officers in disagreement over how to apprehend Nero, their terrorist nemesis.  Throughout the story Spock advocated avoiding a manhunt while Kirk impulsively lobbied for a preemptive strike—something that would hardly be advisable in the real world.  And yet the film created a situation in which Kirk’s suggestion was the only logical answer, the only way to stop billions of citizens from being pulverized.

          Ultimately, Kirk is my favorite character in Mr. Abrams’ rendition of “Trek.”  But even so I was disturbed by his militaristic stance in the first film, particularly his declaration of, “Either we’re going down…or they are.”  A very cool line, but one that feels leftover from the Bush era.  I had to wonder—was W. the real captain of the starship Enterprise?

          Having seen “Into Darkness,” I know the answer to this question: not anymore.  While the movie presents a Kirk who is just as violent and adversarial as ever (he describes a brawl in which he attempted to beat three people as “a good fight”), it also forces the man to recognize the impracticality of his own personality.  Admittedly, the realization is slow—even when he sets out to avenge his mentor Admiral Pike, he advocates murdering the assassin, which Pike would never approve of.  But seeing his friends aghast at his own brutality, Kirk is forced to look in the mirror like never before. 

          This theme is most clearly advanced in a heated conversation between Kirk and his engineer, Scotty (Simon Pegg).  Kirk has stocked the Enterprise with seventy-two torpedoes to devastate the region where Pike’s murderer, John Harrison, is hiding out.  Scotty, however, has ethical objections to the mission.  “This is clearly a military operation,” he reminds his captain.  “We’re supposed to be explorers.”  At the time, Kirk doesn’t agree but in a speech at the end, he surrenders his warrior’s mantle freely.  His new mission?  “To seek out new life and new civilizations,” he tells us, reciting the words that have been famous throughout the “Star Trek” franchise.  And so the film ends with Kirk and friends setting off on a five-year exploratory journey, one that may remove them from the battlefield so they can reclaim their roles as both adventurers and scientists, as astronauts in stylish primary colors.

          Frankly, I was surprised that the film ended on this note, considering Mr. Abrams’ input.  For better or worse, his work is aggressively fast-paced, something that has been reaffirmed for me while watching his first film, “Mission: Impossible III” (2006).  The movie’s action sequences are nearly endless, blending together into one nonstop rage of battle—if the Vatican isn’t being infiltrated, than a bridge is being bombed.  It makes sense because Mr. Abrams has talked at length about how he has been inspired by the rapid pacing of the original “Star Wars” trilogy, and watching his films you can certainly see the influence.  Initially, it would seem that by ending “Star Trek Into Darkness” on a peace-loving note, the director might be trying to refute the violent speed and intensity of his own style, but the fact remains that Mr. Abrams next project is in fact a new “Star Wars” movie.  One has to wonder if he felt free to bring peace to “Trek” because he knew he could get back to fiery explosions in “Wars.”

          Yet for Mr. Abrams, it is not enough to create an explosion—whatever transpires onscreen has to at least carry a touch of beauty.  Witness the opening scene of “Into Darkness” in which the Enterprise rises from the ocean, splattering fierce sprays of water.  In moments like these, the action becomes powerful and expressive, a visual extension of the characters’ emotional determination.  And there’s also the fact that Mr. Abrams has essentially cleaned up “Star Trek,” making everything from starship uniforms to futuristic apartments look cleaner, shinier, and generally more beautiful.

          Nevertheless, aesthetic pleasure isn’t everything.  While the original “Star Trek” was a masterpiece, every other film Mr. Abrams has directed rates somewhere between passably good and deplorably rotten.  I think that “Into Darkness” could have escaped plunging into this category, but it never acquires the urgency of a great sequel, like “X2” or “Spider-Man 2.”   Those films ended with shocking conclusions that completely upended your conception of their franchises, vaulting you into startlingly emotional territory.  And while “Into Darkness” attempts to achieve something similar by altering the characters’ status quo from warriors to scientific adventurers, there’s an odd coziness to the final scene, in which Kirk and Spock stand on the bridge of the Enterprise, preparing “to boldly go.”  It would be a fine scene if it didn’t feel exactly the finale of the first film, and the repeat with far less emotional urgency and excitement regarding the pursuit of the unknown.  The truth is that as much as I love the world of "Star Trek," I don't want it to be a reiteration of the familiar because each new mission should be just like the first--exhilerating and dramatic, as if it was the beginning of the future all over again.

 

 

Film Review: "Star Trek Into Darkness"

DARKER, COLDER: THE LONG-AWAITED SEQUEL TO "STAR TREK"
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Chris Pine, Zoe Saldana, and Zachary Quinto at war in "Into Darkness"

Can a movie change your life?  Based on my experience with director J.J. Abrams’ “Star Trek” (2009), I would say yes.  Not only was a movie that thrilled and moved me, but it inspired me to delve into the world of “Trek” (which was originally created by the tele-visionary Gene Roddenberry) absorbing countless TV episodes and a total of ten more movies.  I am passionate about a lot of sci-fi/fantasy universes and the humor and humanity of “Star Trek” continues to inspire me like the best of them.

            Nevertheless, I find it hard to feel quite so inspired but Mr. Abrams’ second entry in the saga, “Star Trek Into Darkness.”  While the film has all the same actors and the same visual style as the first, a touch of the magic is missing.  It feels a touch more sinister, a touch less charming, and more rambunctious but not more thrilling.  This is in part due to the fact that Mr. Abrams (working from a screenplay by Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, and Damon Lindelof) is telling a very different story than last time.  The first film told the story of how the rebellious tactical genius James Tiberius Kirk (Chris Pine) pummeled his way to the captain’s chair of the starship Enterprise, forming a bond with his crew (especially Zachary Quinto’s smoothly logical Vulcan Mr. Spock).  Now, in “Into Darkness,” Mr. Kirk finds himself facing two ruthless adversaries—the charmless, warmongering Admiral Marcus (Peter Weller) and John Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch), a super-powered supremacist who longtime “Star Trek” fans will no doubt quickly recognize.

            Perhaps one of the most satisfying parts of the film is the mystery than Harrison represents.  In the beginning of the movie, he cures a man’s ailing daughter to coerce him into committing an act of terrorism.  Harrison’s next move, however, is more befuddling—he flees to Kronos, a bleak world that interstellar accords prohibit Kirk from contacting.  Nevertheless, Marcus orders Kirk to go to Kronos and execute Harrison immediately, an order which the rest of the crew deem immoral.

            I confess I squirmed a bit as a listened to the crew’s debates about the ethics of killing a man before he can stand trial.  I appreciate that Mr. Abrams and company wanted to infuse the movie with a moral conundrum (such conundrums are the lifeblood of “Star Trek”), but this particular one left me feeling queasy.  One of the things that made the 2009 “Trek” so wondrous was that it was grounded in the crazed excitement of a group of young people going on their first adventure into space.  And while the growth of any multi-part story depends on an emotional darkening as the characters mature, the missing sense of wonder in “Into Darkness” takes its toll.  The incoherency of the action is hurtful as well—each mess of explosions drowns out the dialogue and the editing is so rapid that it’s hard to make much sense of the combat as well. 

            In these categories, “Star Trek Into Darkness” falls short of its predecessor.  Yet that is, perhaps, an unfair standard.  For me, the 2009 “Star Trek” is one of the greatest blockbusters of the new millennium, a beautiful and thrilling work that suggests that Mr. Abrams could one day stand proudly alongside Sam Raimi and Bryan Singer as a premiere entertainer in summer cinema.  And indeed, much of this movie is a testament to his skill—it is quite witty (Mr. Quinto is a master of delivering literally deadpan one liners) let the seriousness of the drama is never dampened by the witticisms.  The film invites you to invest yourself emotionally in its eclectic cast and that investment is repaid, particularly during a foot chase through San Francisco that sees Spock emoting like never before.

            All in all, I like “Star Trek Into Darkness” enough to see it again.  That’s how I’ve learned to do things.  Ever since I first saw “Revenge of the Sith” as an eighth grader in 2005, I’ve known that not every movie I anticipate will be a great one.  But I still revisit them, especially if like “Star Trek,” they feature characters I’ve come to care about.  An invitation to re-enter a beloved universe is always irresistible.

            At the end of the day, I have to wonder what to future holds for “Star Trek.”  “Into Darkness” is first and foremost an action film—any attempt at allegory is shelved readily in favor of duplicitous action which finds Kirk and Harrison slugging it out and teaming up for mutual advantage, before resuming their battle of wits and fists.  Yet at the end, Kirk reminds us that his mission as captain of the Enterprise is “to seek out new life and new civilizations.”  Could it be that the captain’s next venture could be such an exploratory, philosophical mission?  Or will it be another coldly explosion epic?  Either way, I will be there, waiting to see where Kirk and Spock travel on their next journey into the unknown.    

Film Retrospective: "The Tree of Life" (2011)

LOVE THROUGH TIME by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

NOTE: In honor of director Terrence Malick's latest film, "To the Wonder," I'm reprinting this, my essay about his previous film.

For the first ten minutes of "The Tree of Life,” you may feel as if you're gently ascending into the atmosphere of movie heaven.  It begins with a disjointed prologue about a couple (Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain) learning that their son R.L. has died.  But in the midst of their grief, cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and director Terrence Malick send the camera soaring across a field of dark ocean waves, into a rumpled, sparse apartment, and up a clear elevator to the skyscraper office of Jack (Sean Penn).  He is the couple’s oldest son and possessed with a determination to show how epic an ordinary life can feel, Mr. Lubezki and Mr. Malick construct a gorgeously glassy reflection of his life.

But this sequence’s true gift is that it tells you everything you need to know about Jack.  He looks majestic in his high-rise playground but as the elevator crawls upward, we’re permitted to gaze into Mr. Penn's weathered face and see that like his parents, Jack too is consumed by an aimless sadness that has ballooned into something heavier.  He's bothered by his family's trauma, but his angst extends beyond the personal—his faith in the rightness of the universe itself has evaporated.  “The world’s going to the dogs,” he tells us.  “People are greedy…it keeps getting worse.”

            You may ask—how does a storyteller solve such a conundrum?  What makes stories satisfying is their ability to offer characters a chance to find unusual satisfaction, or at least atonement.  But what’s to be done when solving your hero’s dilemma requires you to solve the problems of the world itself?  In the case of Mr. Malick (who wrote the film’s original screenplay), the answer is clear—journey to the deepest root of the matter by showing how the Earth itself was created. 

To be sure, this is a bold move—there are simpler ways to explore someone’s relationship to a macrocosm than delving into a poeticized record of the universe.  But Mr. Malick takes us into the cosmos and shows the Sun dawn over the planet for the first time as ice, waves, flowers, and dinosaurs flicker to life in a long deluge of brief, beautiful images.  And amidst the wondrousness, we are reminded that Jack’s doubts cannot be cleansed by a look toward creation—the pre- is just as cruel as the post-human world, and the lives of those dinosaurs are just as easily extinguishable as R.L.’s. 

            From Big Bang and bacterial birth, Mr. Malick leads us straight into the 1950s (the time of Jack’s childhood) and when I first saw the movie, I expected him to use that moment to transition into a more elongated rhythm.  But that never happens.  At 139 minutes, the “The Tree of Life” travels at a poky glide, yet it is deeply restless.  During the long journey of making a movie meant to be released several Christmases ago, Mr. Malick hired numerous editors (including Jay Rabinowitz, the gifted puzzle-maker behind “The Adjustment Bureau” and “The Fountain”) and if they and their director have a weakness, it is an instinct to diminish meaningful moments to iconic fragments.  The early scenes of Jack growing up—baby’s first walk, baby’s first tantrum—are clipped short, draining out eccentricity in favor of choral weightiness.  As a result, you may find yourself watching parts of the movie in a dully detached state, like a customer flipping through a meticulously assembled catalogue purged of movement or life.

            And yet, you would do well to keep flipping.  While “The Tree of Life” refuses to relax, its narrative pieces finally click into place when Jack’s abusive father mysteriously leaves “on a trip.”  At first, Jack revels in his freedom but then, still infected with his father’s mistreatment (and, Mr. Malick suggests, a seed of cruelty that was inside him even when he was a toddler), he goes on a destructive rampage with his friends, smashing windows and sneaking through unlocked doors.  In these scenes, Mr. Lubezki’s camera drops off its hook, staying unsteadily close to Jack and making us aware of the fragility of his position.  This visual and emotional precariousness is queasily frightening yet also enticing—it is the culmination of months of abuse.

And while this Luthor-like drama is staged, lest you forget, the adult Jack is sitting in his office, thinking.  For this was never a film meant to leave us jittering at his back—it is an assuaging remedy, not for one moment or one family, but for all time.  When Jack stares back into the universe of his childhood, he relives each moment of his turn to the dark side, from quietly terrorizing his brother to pausing by a jacked-up car while his father lies underneath.  But he also realizes the truth of his mother’s words (that there’s nothing to life if he doesn’t love everything around him), and more importantly, that even in an unfair world, loving makes a difference.

            Maybe that is why the film begins with a look at the universe and ends with a look at people.  In a sequence that I believe takes place inside Jack’s mind (and not heaven), he rides the elevator from his office, then finds himself on a beach, where he embraces his old family, friends, and neighbors, exactly as he remembers them from his boyhood—people, not planets.  And as he leaves, we see the trees above and hear the soft beep of the elevator as it descends, taking him back.  But really, Jack is emerging from a dream, the way you do whenever a great movie ends.  Parting is hard, but you can’t help but feel satisfied, even as you begin to wake. 

Film Review: "To the Wonder" (2013)

INTO THE BEAUTIFUL by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Olga Kurylenko stars in Mr. Malick’s movie.  Photo ©Magnolia Pictures.

A blur of colors, a woman speaking softly in French…that is how “To the Wonder” begins.  Yet while the film quickly solidifies into a sequence of crisper images, the whole piece is some sort of blur.  There are no details offered about the characters; we don’t even learn their names until the end credits.  In fact, there are only one or two actual conversations in the film and aside from that, the entire work is comprised of hushed voiceovers.  So what, then, is “To the Wonder” interested in?

            In part, ushering you into a world that is stunning beautiful and rhapsodic.  In the beginning, we watch a meeting between a man (Ben Affleck) and a woman (Olga Kurylenko, pictured above), who are falling in love.  Much of this section is set in Paris, yet could anything feel less urban?  We see them running through parks, walking up old, mountain-church steps, and finally frolicking on a wet grey beach.  This scene alone is worth the ticket price.  Dressed in black trenchcoats that make them stand out like statues against the sand, they wobble on this unsteady surface, elevated yet looking as if they might sink.  Often, we see water in the movie and it reminds you of this stunningly beautiful moment.

            And yet, “To the Wonder” is not only about the joy of companionship.  The woman moves to the man’s home (which is in some generic U.S. rural town) and almost immediately unease sets in.  There is uncertainty festering in the woman’s eyes about her decision and a banal discussion about children between her and a neighbor.  Notably, this is the first real conversation of the movie and it is hardly exhilarating.  It is as if the rhythms of everyday life have torn the characters from the realm of the divine.

            The search for poetic divinity has previously preoccupied Terrence Malick, the movie’s writer and director.  His last movie was the 2011 masterwork “The Tree of Life,” which featured a cosmic sequence about the creation of the universe and a climactic scene in which the protagonist communes with the dead on an otherworldly beach.  As a director, he seems to want to capture the way ordinary people live, yet he also seems to search for a larger than life romantic feeling.

            It is clear that the heroine of “To the Wonder” is searching for something similar.  “I know you have trouble with strong feelings,” she says to the man and in this universe, it seems that there is no greater crime.  The scenes that bring joy are the ones in which love is expressed, when the hero and heroine twirl with each other in the grass and laugh and such joy is even expressed in platonic encounters.  One of the best scenes in the movie involves a friend of the woman tossing her bag aside and telling her to be free while she’s “young and beautiful.”

            Beauty, as in “The Tree of Life,” obsesses Mr. Malick here.  He lets the film’s cinematographer, Emmauel Lubezki, feast his camera’s eye on Ms. Kurylenko’s body from nearly every angle (a character played by Rachel McAdams receives similar treatment).  Yet thrown into the mix are some odd encounters in which a priest played by Javier Bardem visits the sick and infirm.  Within such an elegantly crafted film, I found this jarring.  What’s more, I couldn’t help wondering if Mr. Malick was trying to put the marital strife of his hero and heroine in the proper context (by showing that their suffering is nothing compared to that of people whose bodies have been nearly destroyed) but I also felt that he was trying to confront the manner in which I watch his movies.  I don’t know if others feel this way (though I suspect they do) but when I see a Malick movie, I relish it both for its artistic intelligence and beauty, but also because it allows to spend a prolonged period staring at gorgeous actors.  It’s hard not to wonder if Mr. Malick feels simultaneously determined to indulge and confront this desire.

            Either way, “To the Wonder” is a great film, though certainly a painful one.  There is nothing quite so beautiful as the opening sequence in Paris.  Though the movie manages to stay in a dreamlike mode, the scenes of the characters dancing and laughing quickly become mixed with quietly mournful frustration and then, sickening domestic abuse.  “He’s killing me!” the woman shouts as they run out onto their front lawn.  Indeed, it appears that their relationship is killing whatever joy either of them has left in life.

            I have read some reviews which view this falling out as Mr. Malick’s rebuke to couples who fail to maintain a marriage.  Yet this does not seem right.  Though the hero and heroine’s courtroom marriage feels swift and stale (“Do y’all have rings?” the judge asks), the scene in which we watch another couple getting married in a more formal, celebratory ceremony feels equally uneasy.  In the midst of the joyous ceremony on the steps of the church, Mr. Lubezki trains his lens on the face of Mr. Bardem’s priest.  And unlike everyone else, he does not look happy—he looks sad and devoid of feeling, as if even this ritual cannot bring him hope for love.

            Does “To the Wonder” offer hope for a world in which true love can be found?  I don’t know.  As beautiful as the movie is, it leans so heavily on the idea of the collapse of romance that it seems designed to hinder optimism.  And yet it still ends with Ms. Kurylenko running joyfully through a field, before returning to that grey, gorgeous beach.  In the world of the film, love cannot last, but beauty?  Beauty is forever. 

"Star Trek" (2009) Retrospective

When They Were Younger: A Look Back At J.J. Abrams’ “Star Trek”   by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Looking back on my life, I sometimes find it hard to believe that there was a time when I wasn’t obsessed with Vulcans, androids, and every other facet of the “Star Trek” universe.  Yet such a time once existed, until the day in 2009 when me and my sister went to the Moreland Theater to see “Star Trek,” a reboot of the entire series directed by J.J. Abrams.  Watching the film, I could not have imagined that my life was about to change—I was to immersed in the moment.

            It was the opening scene that did it.  “Star Trek” begins with a sequence that seems at first oddly unforthcoming.  We watch a spaceship moving slowly through a passage of spaced seared by golden light that fills the screen, and then we meet the crew on board.  But there’s not really any explanation of what’s going on—we are not told who these people are or what kind of mission they are on.  Quite simply, Mr. Abrams throws us into the middle of the action with minimal fanfare.

            And yet it soon becomes clear that the details don’t matter.  As the ship gets caught in a one-sided battle with a massive, spider-like craft, the focus shifts from special effects to the people on board, specifically Captain George Kirk.  Reconciled to a horrible defeat, Kirk tries to stand firm against the enemy so his crew can evacuate in shuttles, but there’s a price—it means saying goodbye to his wife Winona, who has just given birth to their child.

            Like most viewers, I was aware and that the child being born would grow up to become the hero of the film, James Tiberius Kirk.  Yet no description could have prepared me for the emotion of the experience.  It’s all in the way it’s done.  “I need you to push, now!” a doctor tells Winona as their shuttle rockets silently into open space.  And as she pushes, Winona screams, a screams that echoes out into the stars because by this point, the noise of battle and explosions has been excised from the soundtrack.  The quietness, enriched by Michael Giacchino’s lyrical music, whisks us into an emotional trance of beauty and horror and hope. 

            It was not until later that I realized that this kind of scene was not standard for “Star Trek,” and that most of the series really revolved around complex intellectual discussions held in interstellar boardrooms.  And after watching “Trek” shows like “The Next Generation” and “Deep Space Nine,” I have come to appreciate the talky nature of the series and in many ways, I feel that philosophical chatter is the heart of “Star Trek” (I recently watched an episode in which a discussion about political oppression is kicked off with a character saying, “Try an Earth drink!  It’s called root beer!”   

            And yet I still feel strongly about Mr. Abrams’ vision.  With reckless abandon, he used his movie as an opportunity to hurl us into a sea of great emotions—pain, sadness, love.  With that experience, Mr. Abrams and “Star Trek” itself earned my everlasting loyalty and that is why as I await the forthcoming sequel (“Star Trek Into Darkness,” which opens this Thursday), I am an excited not only about seeing the film, but being plunged into that universe once more. 

Film Review: "Iron Man 3"

BENEATH THE ARMOR: A SUPERHERO'S HEART by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

“We create our own demons.”  So says Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) in the opening scene of “Iron Man 3,” the latest adventure featuring the billionaire superhero of title.  What is funny is that this is clearly the statement of a fearful human being, something Tony hasn’t seemed to be since the first film in the series.  Through “Iron Man 2” and “The Avengers” (in which he teamed up with other heroes from the Marvel Comics universe), Tony was reduced to a fast-talking miscreant, a man whose sole purpose was to toss off mildly unfunny quips and save the world with the aid of overblown special effects.  This makes it all the more surprising that in his latest movie, Tony finally seems to be a frail, touchingly vulnerable human being once more.

            Not that “Iron Man 3” is a good movie—far from it.  The plot, to put it kindly, is at best wacky and numb-skulled and at worse, stupidly inhumane.  It begins with Tony wrestling with post-traumatic stress brought on by the climactic battle of “The Avengers,” a condition whose depiction is remarkably unconvincing.  Whenever Tony gets an anxiety attack, he tenses and crumples to the ground in a flatly-staged shot—far be it from director Shane Black to actually try to evoke Tony’s fragile state in the cinematography.

            Nevertheless, there are some genuine threats.  A visit from the sleazy smirking scientist Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce) to Tony loyal girlfriend Pepper (Gwyneth Paltrow) is cause for concern, though not nearly as much as the threats of a terrorist called “the Mandarin” (Ben Kingsley).  While the Mandarin is rarely seen in the flesh, he claims responsibility for a series of horrific bombings.  In television broadcasts where he is often seen in deserts speaking to children, he threatens further destruction and lectures about America’s immorality.  A particularly menacing monologue involves his discussion of Fortune Cookies, which he labels as being like America—in his words, “Hollow and full of lies.”

            As I watched the Manderin’s televised monologues, I was reminded of the vicious threats issued by villains in the “Dark Knight” trilogy.  Yet ultimately, “Iron Man 3” has no intention of playing into the trap of unoriginality.  It turns out the Mandarin is in fact a drunken actor, paid by Killian to take responsibility for the scientist’s crimes.  In the end, the true villain is not the haggard, bearded man on TV, but his vengeful and immaculately groomed puppeteer.  Killian may refer to the Mandarin as “master” (an odd echo of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s title in “The Master”), but the film leaves no doubt as to who the real master is.

            Watching “Iron Man 3,” I wondered how diehard Iron-fans would feel about this twist.  After all, in the comics, the Mandarin was a real threat and the hero’s greatest menace.  And there’s no doubt that while making the main baddie actually an actor is clever and entertaining (and a bit shocking—it’s disarming to see a terrorist plot revealed to be something so banal), it is a side effect of the series’ overall reliance on rather weak comic tropes.  What made the original “Iron Man” such a terrific movie was that it was equal parts humor in humanity—it knew that neither element could mean much without the other.  One of my favorite scenes from that film was the moment when, just before the big climax, Tony tells Pepper, “I know what I have to do.  And I know that in my heart, it’s right.”  There was something incredibly beautiful about hearing a wise-cracking playboy utter those words.  He knew people might call him sentimental, but he didn’t care.  He knew who he wanted to be. 

            I wish the Tony Stark of “3” could be more like that.  Yet there are moments when it seems that he could be.  In the aftermath of the film’s big battle (which is a senseless slugfest atop an oil tanker), we see Tony rebuilding his life—standing in the wreckage of his home with the wind blowing, healing himself medically, and holding Pepper close with soft, tender look in his eyes that it is both sweet and painful to behold.  It is a little odd that this moment makes such an impression—Pepper plays a fairly small role in the film.  Yet her relationship with Tony has meaning.  They have been together for two movies now, making them the only true couple in superhero film history that his lived together and remained loyal to one another.  They may fight, but their squabbles are hardly worth mentioning, awkward arguments that only threaten to disrupt their happiness, not tear it apart.

            To me, romance lies at the heart of any good superhero film.  But be warmed—“Iron Man 3” is more concerned with superhuman matters.  In plot points that are hardly worth mentioning, Tony confronts fire-breathing maniacs, giant explosions, and Killian’s own vague, convoluted, and uninteresting agenda.  Moreover, Tony no longer registers as a real character—even when he’s bloodied and on the run, he appears preposterously relaxed.  And it doesn’t help that the movie’s craftsmanship often feels weak.  John Toll’s cinematography is oddly one-dimensional and the picture’s editors (Peter S. Elliot and Jeffrey Ford) leave key characters like Pepper off screen for awkwardly long amounts of time.  They are the casualties of a behemoth blockbuster that is clearly compelled to deliver action in greater quantities than any other element.

            And yet, for all that, I think that “Iron Man 3” has something.  It’s best qualities (the big twist and Tony’s love for Pepper) may not make it better than what it is, but they make it more than you expect it to be.  In the end, it left me feeling rather like Tony—shaken, yet oddly light and cleansed.









SUMMER MOVIE PREVIEW!

It’s here!  As of midnight last night, the summer movie season is officially in session.  This might seem crazy (since it is, in fact, not yet actually summer yet) but for some reason Hollywood decided long ago that their summer calendar should encompass the entirety of May, which has become a kickoff month for popcorn extravaganzas.  For some people, this means the beginning of four months inflamed with mindless blockbusters, but I don’t feel that way.  Summer is, truth be told, my favorite movie season of the year.

            Why?  I’ll tell you.  It’s not that the best movies come out in May, June, July, and August—in fact, those months play host to some of the worst.  And yet the anticipation is at its most thrilling during that time.  Those months are packed with franchise films and for me, one of the most giddily exciting experiences in the world is looking forward to a reunion with my favorite characters, whether they be merry Marvel mutants or the bridge crew of a certain Federation starship.  By that count, I’m as psyched about 2013 as I’ve been about any summer, and it is because of these films….

THE BLING RING While there are many directors I love, I have no hesitation in naming Sofia Coppola as my favorite.  As the auteur behind “Lost in Translation” and “Somewhere,” she’s grown into a rarity—a filmmaker who can craft beautifully poetic images while maintaining a slow rhythm that deepens their realism.  So how will she apply that style to a crime movie?  I’m curious, because “The Bling Ring” is about a group of teenagers stealing from celebrities…and getting caught.  If the trailer is any indication, the film promises deliciously nasty social commentary and a hilariously exaggerated performance by Emma Watson.  Release date: June 14.

BLUE JASMINE For the past eight years, Woody Allen has been on a self-deprecating hot streak.  Yet his last film, “To Rome With Love,” displayed a new level of maturity—it was a witty yet rueful ensemble comedy that dealt with fame, aging, and love in a truthful and nimbly entertaining fashion.  With any luck, “Blue Jasmine” will extend that success, with a plot that travels between New York and San Francisco and a starring role for Alec Baldwin, who also starred in “To Rome.”  Release date: July 26.

ONLY GOD FORGIVES It could be sickening.  A tale of a deadly boxing match in Bangkok, “Only God Forgives” is the work of Nicolas Winding Refn, a director who loves to indulge in poetically graphic violence.  Yet Mr. Refn (whose last film was the amazing “Drive”) is also a screen poet, a man who revels in powerful emotions (whether they be love or revenge) and gorgeous shots of luminous, shadowy skyscrapers.  The chance that “Only God Forgives” will offer such beauty once more (along with the opportunity to see Mr. Refn reunited with his “Drive” star, Ryan Gosling, an actor emotes more with his pupils than many can communicate with a single word) is a good enough reason to see it, as far as I’m concerned.  Release date: July 19. 

STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS “Tiberius?  Are you kidding me?  No way, that’s the worst.  Let’s name him after your dad—let’s call him Jim.”  Four years ago, those words were spoken in one of the saddest and most beautiful scenes in cinematic history—the opening of “Star Trek.”  And while the film was focused on the fledgling career of would be space explorer-warrior Jim Kirk (Chris Pine), its inaugural story of how Kirk’s father died in battle was what truly revealed the movie’s powerfully emotional core.  Now, “Trek” director J.J. Abrams has returned with a sequel that reunites the same cast and crew, from Mr. Pine to cinematographer Dan Mindel (which means you can expect even more richly colored and kinetically composed shots).  And with the increased stakes (provided by Benedict Cumberbatch’s exceedingly fashionable antagonist) it may be that this time around, the emotions will run higher still.  Release date: May 17.

THE WOLVERINE Ever since he first punched his way through “X-Men,” Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) has been a compelling character, a warrior whose ruthlessness is undercut by his compassion.  With this film, those qualities will be tested in a new landscape—Japan, in the near future, where Wolverine wrestles with his immortality and finds himself caught in a web of treachery and intrigue.  With the talented James Mangold directing, expect nifty, well-choreographed action, great drama, and a stellar performance from Mr. Jackman (Mr. Mangold directed one of the actor’s greatest performances, in the terrific romantic comedy “Kate and Leopold”).  And if that doesn’t entice you, maybe this will—the film (release date: July 26) should get you in the mood for Wolverine’s next appearance in a movie called…never mind.  I think I’ll wait to write about that one until next year’s summer movie preview. J