Movie Review: "The Hunger Games" (Gary Ross, 2012)

DYSTOPIAN HUNGER: THE ORIGINAL ADVENTURES OF KATNISS
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

 Above: Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss Everdeen

 

Just like "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2" and "John Carter," "The Hunger Games" is a movie whose discourse focuses chiefly on its successful marketing campaign and box office performance ($155 million out of the gate), rather than the nature of the actual story. This has become an unfortunate fate for both good and bad films--there is nothing more irritating than listening to critics and moviegoers jabber about the "phenomenal" success of the "Harry Potter" films when the filmmaking craft behind them presents such an interesting discussion topic.

But "The Hunger Games" is a different creature--a tornado of hype whooshing around an utterly unremarkable film. The movie has already been showered with critical accolades, but I rather suspect that it would not be so loved if the success of the book by Suzanne Collins had made everyone so eager to like the film.

That is not to say the film is without integrity--its conceit creates some opportunities for moral ambiguity, even if they are not fully exploited. It's a dystopian story, about a world where kids are forced to fight each other to the death on television each year. Typically, the contestants are chosen at random by Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) disrupts the procedure by volunteering to save her sister Primrose from competing.

If you are adept at sitting through boring seminars, you may stand a chance of staying awake for the next part of the story. As Katniss is taken to the capitol to compete, we are given an excruciatingly detailed account of the decadent society that forces children to compete. No step of preparation for the games is spared--opening parades, training, and grooming are all fully explored. Occassionally, the procedure is disrupted when an authoritarian villain (played by Stanley Tucci or Elizabeth Banks) flashes a voluminous pink dress or a grey pompadour is your face.

These garish details reveal the movie's first failing. There's not doubt that they contribute to the candy-coated ickiness of the film's dystopia, but they also make the villains seem like cartoon characters. They're a far cry from the frightening business-suited baddies from the X-Men and Jason Bourne films.

A few of the competing kids are more compelling. Ms. Lawrence plays Katniss as a bland sleepwalker (though director Gary Ross and editors Christopher S. Capp, Stephen Mirrione, and Juliette Welfling can take credit for that as well), but Katniss' friend and fellow competitor Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) is a more compelling figure. The disbelieving and fearful expression on Mr. Hutcherson's face when he's chosen to compete is unforgettable, as is his understanding of a simple fact: he's too scared and vulnerable to win.

But there's more to the character. Several times during the games, he appears to turn against Katniss, apparently to fool her enemies into letting her live. But Mr. Ross has enough since to leave some doubt about Peeta's true goal--what if he really does want to win? Does he half consider letting even his friend die.

There are other moments of complex emotion in the film. Preparation for the games involves a number of parades and TV appearances. Mr. Tucci's TV announcer presents the games as a glorious sports event. This is effectively cringe-inducing, yet there are moments when Katniss and Peeta buy into the dramatic momentum of the games themselves. The willingness of people to embrace the games as popcorn entertainment is horrifying and yet believable.

After all, it is a good show. 24 kids and 23 must die--the possibilities for betrayal and tortured romance are undeniably apealing, in spite of the awfulness. Thrilling and chilling sound effects (like the rhythmic boom of a cannon whenever a kid is killed) by Lon Bender (an academy award-nominee for his brilliant work on "Drive") heighten an punctuate the drama.

But they can't puncture the monotony. "The Hunger Games" is 30 minutes too long--it would take a more imaginative director (like a Christopher Nolan or a Bryan Singer) to grant all its details the motion and poetry required to sustain the film's momentum. The final half of the movie is one long tale of Katniss racing through the forest, defeating her competitors through a series of dully happy accidents.

It all leads to a dissatisfying and intriguing climax. What's fascinating is that Katniss and Peeta's goals never go beyond winning the games--they have no thought of justice or betterment of the world (in an early scene, Katniss doubts whether anything can stop the games from existing).

But if the choice this sour editing note shows some introspective integrity on the part of the filmmakers, it also makes the film seem a little hollow. All that death in one movie--it feels like it should mean something more.

The Best Movies of Fall 2013

AUTUMN’S FINEST: LOOKING BACK ON A SATISFACTORY SEASON
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

 Above: a celebratory moment for the cast and crew of "Gravity"

 

Fall is a funny film time.  Just as the “movie summer” defies the calendar by beginning in Spring, the “movie Fall” illogically delivers its last salvo long before Winter arrives.  As such, the Fall film season never really feels like a complete, stand-alone period.  And yet it is still considered to be separate from the rest of the awards season, making it essentially a teaser—a time when studios get their Oscar bait on the market early to avoid being crushed on the bloody box office battlefield of December.

            Floating amidst this chaos is the uncomfortable truth that “great filmmaking” and “Oscar-worthy” are entirely different concepts.  But these past months have still seen some wonderful movies debut, many of which possessed a shuddering intensity that put a year’s worth of summer spectacles to shame.  And indeed, there’s the rub—while this past summer saw a number of great filmmakers fall flat on their faces (really, what angsty madness inspired Sofia Coppola to make “The Bling Ring”?), Fall has been all about spirit-boosting success.  Not only did the season see established directors exceeding expectations, but it also included the arrival of some surprising gems that burst seemingly out of nowhere (or at least the festival circuit). 

Each week brought new ideas and excitement and so I present, with increased buoyancy, my favorite films of Fall 2013. 

4. ALL IS LOST (J.C. Chandor) Between “Captain Phillips” and “Gravity,” survival stories have been the season’s surest recipe for critical and commercial success.  Of that genre, “All is Lost” has yielded slightly more modest blitz, but that’s the price of being a bolder film.  And so, working from his original screenplay, director J.C. Chandor crafts a grueling but fascinating tale of an aging yachtsman (Robert Redford) who finds himself trapped in the Indian Ocean after a storm leaves him with nothing left but a tiny yellow raft full of survival supplies.    

Considering that the movie’s lone protagonist barely speaks, you might expect the film to fight for your attention.  But it doesn’t need to.  Watching Mr. Redford’s wrinkled, stoic everyman proves irresistible, whether he’s dangling off the side of the boat to repair storm damage or just donning a pair of orange rain pants.  His journey is a bleak one but it never loses you, even as you begin to feel that all hope truly is lost.

3.  SHORT TERM 12 (Destin Daniel Cretton) In September, reviews for this bruising drama were so ecstatic that it seemed like an inevitable Oscar contender, despite its lack of star power.  Since then, the movie’s visibility has diminished and I’m not surprised—while I loved it, I have no intention of seeing it again.  Why?  Simply put, it’s painful.  The protagonist is Grace (Brie Larson), a young woman who works at a home for kids whose troubles range from abusive parents to suicidal tendencies—horrifying realities that are only compounded by the fact of Grace’s own traumatic childhood.  Somehow, the movie finds hope in the mess, ending with an ecstatic, slow motion charge across an expansive field.  And while it’s not enough to lure you back, it is enough to make the trip both eye-opening and cathartic. 

2. “GRAVITY” (Alfonso Cuarón) Of all the attributes that make Sandra Bullock one of the most dependable and prolific actresses in America, her ability to transcend both story and character is perhaps her most valuable gift.  To that end, she’s starred in a gaggle of likably ridiculous films (“The Proposal,” for instance), but without ever treating them as throwaway gigs-for-profit.  But in “Gravity,” Ms. Bullock has a role that’s as satisfyingly nuanced as she is—Ryan Stone, an astronaut stranded in Earth’s orbit after her space shuttle’s shattered by debris.  From panic to submission to defiance to exuberance (I’ve already waxed cine-poetic about the scene in which she impersonates a wolf), Ms. Bullock takes Ryan on a nerves-haunting journey that defies the film’s straightforward premise.  It’s a remarkable performance in what is one of the most visually cohesive and graceful films of the year.

1. ENDER’S GAME (Gavin Hood) There are many things I ought to write about “Ender’s Game.”  I should mention Steve Jablonsky’s darkly heavy score, which infuses the proceedings with both wonder and dread; Asa Butterfield’s performance as Ender, which makes the character a masterwork of both cool conniving and tender conviction; and above all, the movie’s devastating final scenes when its anti-war ethos strike you with brutally sharp focus.  But I’ll save it.  I’ll be writing much more about “Ender’s Game” as the year closes, and I don’t want to spoil it by saying all there is to say here.  So for now, I’ll let this one film speak for itself, because it is an instance where two hours of acting, editing, and digital cinematography really are worth a thousand words.

Essay: The Popularity of Supervillains

LOOKING TO LOKI: WHY VILLAINS ARE THE NEW GEEK HEROES

by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

 Above: Tom Hiddleston as Loki

 

“5 Reasons Geeks Love Loki.”  Recently, that title caught my eye while I was sitting at Barnes and Noble, flipping through SciFiNow Magazine.  This article (which was written by James Hoare) caught my interest because first of all, I love Loki.  The pale, dark-haired plotter who has haunted the heroes of films like “Thor” and “The Avengers” has always been compelling in his deviousness, thanks to the well-modulated performance of British actor Tom Hiddleston. 

            But there was another reason Mr. Hoare’s theory caught my eye.  The outcast Loki, he argued, is essentially a geek while his nemesis, the heroic and handsome Thor, is a cosmic jock.  To Mr. Hoare’s mind, this explained why Loki is such a popular figure amongst the film “geek” crowd, despite his status as a world-wrecking villain.

            I can’t say that this exact idea has occurred to me before.  But for a while now, I’ve been noticing that when I watch a contemporary blockbuster, my sympathies do often stray from the noble hero to his morally bankrupt opponent.  Is it because villains are getting geekier while heroes seem to be more and more a part of the establishment?  In a word, yes.  Yet to truly understand the meaning of this phenomenon, some questions need to be answered.

 

“What is a geek?”

According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a geek is “a carnival performer whose act usually consists of biting the head off a live chicken or snake.”  To say the least, this definition has changed over time.  Now, “geek” typically refers to someone with a passionate knowledge of anything, whether it’s science or history.  In the case of fantasy movies and characters like Loki, it’s pop culture.

            The word geek has also shed some of its formerly negative connotations.  Once, it was the moniker of awkward outcasts and losers; now, it’s become a badge of pride.  It’s certainly telling that the great actor Simon Pegg titled his memoir Nerd Do Well and used the book to proudly show off his obsessive knowledge of “Star Wars.”  He’s a product of a culture that considers such passion to be at once nerdy and cool.

 

“Who are the geek heroes?”

One of the great uncomfortable truths of our moment is that while geeks love blockbuster movies, those movies aren’t always made for them.  For instance, the recent film “Star Trek Into Darkness” has been meant with ravenous resentment by “Trek” franchise fans; at a recent convention, they voted it as the worst entry in the series.  And yet the movie made more than $400 million worldwide.  In the end, it didn’t really matter that a few geeks were alienated; plenty of non-geek moviegoers were still buying tickets.

            And yet, blockbusters are often a reflection of geek passion.  In the 2000s, a small but prominent movement of geek heroes arose, earning both critical and popular acclaim.  Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man was without a doubt the leader of the gang, but delightful geeks-turned-warriors like Reed Richard in “Fantastic Four” and a revised Spock in “Star Trek” enjoyed the spotlight as well. 

            It bears noting that the importance of these characters is immense.  As someone who considers them self a geek, I know that some loneliness comes with the territory.  Geek-friendly movies like “Iron Man” might be more popular than ever, but I still have a hard time finding other people who share my love of nerdy topics such as Kitty Pryde and the Dominion War.  Sometimes, I feel isolated by my passion, and with isolation inevitably comes resentment.  Merge that with the natural anguish of life (unrequited love, academic frustration, et cetera), and you have a recipe for a pre-mid-life crisis.  And I suspect that ironically, I’m not alone in this respect. 

            Of course, these are all first world problems.  But that doesn’t mean they don’t need to be solved, which is why cinematic geek heroes have been and continue to be a crucial part of my life.  They’ve reminded me not to give into resentment, to thrive on the fuel of selflessness and positivity.  Consider the plight of Spider-Man and Spock.  Both are men who suffer hardships and as a result, find themselves hungering for vengeance.  Yet they don’t choose bitterness and violence—they choose to devote their lives to bettering the world and building happier relationships with their friends.  They prove that being different doesn’t have to lead to despair; that in fact, in can be quite the opposite.  To paraphrase “Trek” hero Odo (a consummate geek icon), “Being an outsider is not so bad.  It can give you a fresh perspective.”   

 

“Who are the geek villains?”

Still for some, a “fresh perspective” is really just a death sentence.  In recent years, a number of “geeky” villains have emerged—characters whose isolation builds to bitterness, transforming them into enemies of the state and occasionally, the entire universe.  Loki fits this mold and I like Mr. Hoare’s suggestion that the character, with his ghostly complexion and greasy black hair, looks like a guy who’s been playing video games in his basement for hours on end. 

            But there’s a problem here.  Loki is not really a geek in the way that Spider-Man is.  Spider-Man’s problem (in the films, at least) was that his wide-eyed sincerity made him subject to mockery; he was ridiculed most likely because of his timidity and tenderness.  That’s not the case with Loki, however.  Raised in the magnificent kingdom of Asgard, he was mentored by his father, King Odin, only to learn that he was in fact the offspring of a monstrous Frost Giant.  This made him an outsider, but it certainly never hampered his confidence; he still had the balls to impose himself as dictator of Earth. 

            Which is why I have to argue that true geek villains rarely appear—Loki may stand apart from society, but it’s because of his heritage and despotic hunger, rather than an obsession with “Daredevil” comics.  Yet Loki, like many antagonists, does feel the frustration of being an outcast in the same way that many geeks like myself do.  Therefore, I would argue that a relative counterpart to the geek hero is the outsider villain—the nemesis whose uniqueness turns him against humanity.  And it’s a type that’s becoming more and more rampant, a mold that fits everyone from Talia Al’Ghul (the orphaned avenger in “The Dark Knight Rises”) to Magneto (the holocaust-survivor-turned-terrorist from the “X-Men” series).

            I love many of these characters.  I think that Loki, Talia, and Magneto are all chillingly impressive in their confident cruelty and while their actions might be despicable, their anguish is relatable.  But there’s a problem here.  What these narratives of outsiders who turn evil suggest is that the more a person suffers, the greater their capacity for violence and cruelty.  It’s a rather depressing prospect, especially when you consider that each of these villains, like Loki, is usually conquered by a hero who is neither geek nor outsider.  The vulnerable, wounded nemesis is defeated by the all-too secure hero and we all live happily ever after.

            I hope I’m not the only one who finds this idea problematic.  It may ring true, but movies aren’t just there to reflect reality—they’re meant to improve it.  What I get from the “Spider-Man” trilogy, for instance, is that even someone who’s suffered as much as Peter Parker can grow beyond the bitterness that suffering provokes, dedicating his life to the greater good.  By contrast, what I get from “Thor” is that the outsider is always doomed to become horribly corrupt, condemned by fate and the conventions of Hollywood narratives.

 

“In another life….”

So, we’re in rather a bleak situation, pop-culturally speaking.  Which brings us back to the original question—why do geeks love Loki?  For starters, I think part of it is that his portrayer is undeniably cool.  Tom Hiddleston is a wonderful actor and in a rumble to see who’s the better dark-haired, white-faced baddie, he could definitely trounce even the perpetually delightful Benedict Cumberbatch.  But the real truth is that as far as geek/outsider characters go, Loki wins by default.  Quite simply, there are no truly compelling geek heroes left.  Even Peter Parker has been neutered by Andrew Garfield’s performance in the recent “The Amazing Spider-Man,” which, while charming, turned the once nerdy character into a suave, Tony Stark-esque rogue.

            I don’t expect that to change.  Ever since critics (unjustly) savaged “Spider-Man 3” and boisterously heralded “The Bourne Ultimatum” back in summer 2007, the blockbuster-pop culture landscape has been bleaker.  Oh sure, the brutality of “The Dark Knight” in 2008 was ultimately succeeded by the color and humor of “The Avengers” in 2012, but “The Avengers” is neither drama nor comedy—it’s a cynical, sarcastic mixture of both, afraid to fully commit to either darkness or light.           

            But that’s another story.  And until it’s fully told, geekdom will have to accept Loki and cinema’s villainous cadre as their temporary patron saints.  Considering the potent complexity of those characters, maybe it’s not such a bad deal after all, even if it means we have to look ever deeper into the shadows for inspiration.

Movie Review: "Thor: The Dark World" (Alan Taylor, 2013)

GLOOMY GREETINGS FROM ASGARD: “THOR” TAKES A DARK TURN

by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

 

 

Left: Chris Hemsworth (of "Star Trek" and "The Avengers") returns as Thor

 

 

 There was a moment in “Thor” (2011) when the titular red-caped god of thunder (Chris Hemsworth) jauntily strode through a crowd of cheering admirers, before kneeling removing a shiny helmet to reveal his gleaming smile and lush blonde hair.  In that instant, he looked so happily confident that you practically expected his teeth to sparkle (it’s a wonder that lens flares didn’t erupt).  But in its cheesiness, the image was both funny and even touching.  Arrogance may have been written all over Thor’s handsome face but so was sweet, unquenchable joy. 

            It’s a shame that there’s little such joy in “Thor: The Dark World,” the superhero’s third adventure.  It’s a casualty of the film’s higher stakes—this time around, the “dark elf” Malekith (Christopher Eccleston) has been awakened and has his heart set on vanquishing Thor’s home kingdom of Asgard and, most unfortunately, the entire universe.  In the ensuing mayhem characters perish, bleak wastelands are visited, and jokes are few and far between.  Of course, the grimness that pervades the film is typical of sequels, but so is the picture’s impregnable stupidity.  Even in a year that’s already seen its share of dismal blockbusters (most notably “Elysium” and “Man of Steel”), “The Dark World” stands out as being particularly purposeless and dull.

            Part of the problem is that while the original film’s cast remains intact, the behind the scenes talent has changed.  Here, TV director Alan Taylor replaces the first film’s Kenneth Branagh, creating a visual scheme that seems at once larger and less wondrous.  What’s more, the action scenes are equally lacking in finesse—a ceaseless skirmish of computer-generated spaceships is so dull that you’d probably fall asleep if the film were just a little quieter.  And indeed, it’s almost quiet enough.  While Mr. Hemsworth imbued the first “Thor” with swashbuckling charm, he seems at loose ends here, his spirits dampened by the new movie’s dark tone.  Even Anthony Hopkins (who appears as Thor’s father Odin) is so weary and recessive that you wonder why his character was included in the film at all.

            Yet there’s a bright spot in this dreary ensemble.  Reprising his role as the trickster god Loki, Tom Hiddleston imbues the movie with satisfyingly icy contempt.  “Apparently, there will be a line,” he quips derisively when not one but three of Thor’s comrades threaten to kill him.  Moments like these are delicious, but Mr. Hiddleston’s real talent is for finding crevices of ambiguity in the midst of Loki’s sinister scheming.  Early on, he throws a chair-smashing fit, trashing the prison cell where Odin has locked him away.  But are we witnessing a sincere emotional outburst or a carefully calculated reaction?  It’s hard to be sure, but it seems certain that the meticulous Mr. Hiddleston knows full well. 

And he’s not the only one who makes some magic in this barren film.  Lucky for us, Thor makes a couple trips to Earth, where he encounters some goofy, very human characters played by Kat Dennings, Natalie Portman, and Stellan Skarsgard.  Though they’re not onscreen often, their concern with little things like work and love are far more worthy of your attention than Thor’s one-note devotion to Asgard’s safety.

            Which brings us to the question of the moment—will evil threaten Thor and company again?  Absolutely.  Even if the movie didn’t have a giddy twist ending (one of its more delicious elements), another installment of this financially successful franchise would be a foregone conclusion.  When it arrives, I plan on buying a ticket—after all, “The Dark World” has just enough hints of things to come to make the future look fairly bright.  But it’s hard to feel too optimistic, especially after enduring a movie that’s colorful and convoluted, but mostly just a drag.

Movie Review: "Ender's Game" (Gavin Hood, 2013)

WAR PLAY: GAVIN HOOD ADAPTS "ENDER'S GAME"
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Left: Asa Butterfield plays the title role in Mr. Hood's film





As I walked out of the Cinemagic Theater after seeing “Ender’s Game,” a sci-fi extravaganza based on a novel by Orson Scott Card, I wondered—how would someone who had read the book feel about the film’s shattering conclusion?  Would they still be emotionally overwhelmed by the story’s tragic turn of events?  Or would they numbly endure it, sighing with familiarity?  As a non-“Ender” reader, I couldn’t begin to guess.  But I can say that the movie left me at once exhilarated, stunned, and mostly, just plain horrified.  It’s that powerful.

            Even in its early scenes, the film’s images are finished with painfully potent menace.  The story kicks off in the future, where an army of children are being schooled to defend Earth from a race of silent, bug-like aliens known as “the Formics.”  But the only one of kids who’s truly up to the task is Ender Wiggin (Asa Butterfield), a pale, wide-eyed student who is invited to join an elite battle school by his superior, Colonel Graff (Harrison Ford).  Graff makes the offer during a visit to Ender’s home and then asks if he can speak to the boy alone—a request that Ender’s father vehemently refuses.  But Graff isn’t worried.  “You can’t exactly stop me,” he declares roughly.

            And so “Ender’s Game” takes us to a massive gray space station where Ender and his classmates are trained in the art of intergalactic warfare.  It’s a place far removed from the companionable battlefields of “Star Trek” and “Star Wars”—the kids may get to wear sleek helmets while firing laser guns in zero gravity, but they’re governed by Graff and company with a ruthlessness that turns them against one another.  Each kid has bought into the dream of surpassing their colleagues by becoming the perfect soldier, as Ender soon discovers when he incurs the wrath of a young officer named Bonzo (Moises Arias).  Being no stranger to intimidation, Ender wards off Bonzo’s aggression via careful strategy; at times, he even helps Bonzo improve his standing amongst his troops.  But when Bonzo attacks Ender in the shower, Ender responds with brutal force.  After burning his attacker with a jet of scalding water, Ender seizes him, roaring, “I could break your arm!”  In their ranks, war has already begun. 

            A good portion of the movie is focused on this and other examples of brutal bullying—the movie’s director, Gavin Hood (who also wrote the screenplay), makes a point of showing us how rampant cruelty can consume competitive and controlled kids.  But it turns out that Mr. Hood has something bigger in mind.  The violent encounter with Bonzo scars Ender mentally, but it turns out to be just a teaser, a smaller scale version of trials yet to come.  Graff has no intention of letting his favorite soldier remain a student—he wants Ender to lead an invasion of the Formics’ planet, an end-all strike “to prevent all future attacks.”  So, sooner than you’d hope, our hero is whisked to the frontlines and closer toward the brink of war. 

            During these scenes, “Ender’s Game” appears to lose some of its bite.  The meat of the story is the combative relationships between Ender and his fellow child soldiers, and the way they suffer in what is basically a futuristic police state.  But when Ender begins his final training to fight off the Formics, he works with a perfectly functional team of charming wisecrackers and a cute girl named Petra (Hailee Steinfeld).  Which is fine until they’re forced to endure relentless, computerized battle simulations that feel like brilliantly programmed video games, but video games nonetheless.  Unlike the rest of the film, there’s a hollowness to these scenes, even though cinematographer Donald M. McAlpine captures the action in an exhilaratingly dark whirl.  What, one has to wonder, can the movie offer at this point?

            It’s difficult to answer that question without revealing the conclusion of the story.  But suffice to say that in the end, “Ender’s Game” is revealed to be an anti-war film in the most brutal and powerful sense—an action movie with a genuine declaration of peace.  Of course, ideology means nothing without conviction, but that’s where Mr. Hood’s direction comes in.  Working with editor Zach Staenberg, he gives the movie a raw, operatically sincere emotional quality mixed with brutal darkness.  You can see it early on when Ender is comforted by his sister Valentine (Abigail Breslin), in a tender moment that’s violently interrupted by their brother Peter, who coerces Ender into wearing a sad-looking rubber alien mask and then proceeds to nearly crush his neck.  Here, as in Mr. Hood’s last film (the underrated “X-Men Origins: Wolverine”), we get both sweet vulnerability and monstrous cruelty, jammed frighteningly close together.  The result is that “Ender’s Game” feels dangerously and emotionally alive, allowing its cease-fire ideology to finally hit you like a punch in the gut. 

            It is that same punch that allows Ender to comprehend the film’s core belief—that violence and cruelty are never acceptable, even in war.  That may sound like an overly familiar message, but it takes on a new meaning when placed in the context of a galactic battle in which the possibility of the species wide extermination of both the humans and the Formics looms horribly.  And though the movie offers hope for peace, it also forces us to fully confront the awful reality of such a mission being placed not only in the hands of a kid, but in the hands of anyone. 

            Of course, Ender is not just anyone.  Mr. Butterfield’s performance allows us to see him as a tender, easily hurt boy whose viciousness is unleashed when he’s prodded too forcefully.  He’s certainly far from innocent; Graff may manipulate Ender in ways a child could never conceive, but Ender has a knack for manipulation too, especially when it comes to tossing off winning platitudes to insure his teammates’ loyalty.  “If anyone has a better idea than mine, I want to hear it,” he tells the kids under his command, but does he really mean it?  Or is he simply trying to win their loyalty with carefully constructed humility? 

Either way, the tactic repeatedly works and as the movie ramps up to its stellar finish, Ender morphs into a tense, confident, even gloating warrior.  As he directs a fleet of starships, spreading his arms wide in grand, sweeping gestures, he’s like a conductor, drawing a mighty crescendo from an orchestra of death and thankfully, Mr. Hood allows us to enjoy the spectacle of this brilliant boy in action.  He understands that even a dark blockbuster like this one should be driven in part by the pleasures of adventure and the combined sweep of both thrilling action and complex ideas.   

And yet Mr. Hood still manages to shows us the true price of being responsible for lives lost in war.  He opens the film with a quote from Ender, in which the boy explains that to defeat his enemy, he has to know them—but that once he knows them, he inevitably loves them.  More than anything, this thought cuts clearly to the heart of the movie and its belief that while war is indeed a drug, the love Ender feels for his enemies is a far sweeter tonic.  The young solider may not be the picture of unshakable nobility, but he’s never more human than when he’s staring into deep black, dying Formic eyes, finally understanding his own words and what it truly means to care for someone who is on the proverbial “other side.”

Sadly, Ender’s realization of this love’s importance comes late in the film, although it could certainly develop if the series continues.  But if “Ender’s Game” winds up being the last of Ender’s cinematic adventures, it certainly leaves you with plenty to think about.  In the final scene, Ender rests confidently on a spaceship, ready to atone for his mistakes.  But as viewers, we are given an even greater chance—a chance to not make those mistakes in the first place, to create a future far happier and more loving than the one that gave birth to Ender Wiggin. 

Movie Review: "All Is Lost" (J.C. Chandor, 2013)

BOATMAN’S BATTLE: “ALL IS LOST” IS A TALE OF SURVIVAL AT SEA
by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

 

 

Left: Robert Redford is the star of (and only actor featured in) Mr. Chandor's film

 

 

 

The opening of “All is Lost” is simple—after a brief voiceover, a red shipping container strikes a small yacht, gouging a giant hull in the stylish white boat.  Its lone captain, (Robert Redford), referred to in the credits as “Our Man,” is forced to take action.  Quickly, he walks onto the shipping container, prying it loose using an anchor.  Then, as he sails through the Indian Ocean, gluing and patching his vessel as best he can.

            Don’t even try hoping that Our Man’s troubles end there.  No sooner has he fixed the boat than he spots a storm on the horizon.  Sooner, rain is assaulting our hero and even when it’s not, writer/director J.C. Chandor and cinematographer Frank G. Demarco keep the camera unsteady and loose, as if it too were bobbing violently in the water.  And water seems to follow Our Man wherever he goes.  It sloshes across the floor of the boat (forcing him to sleep in a hammock) and quickly begins seeping into the yellow inflatable raft where he’s forced to retreat.  Nowhere is safe.

            Needless to say, “All is Lost” is not a safe movie in itself.  It’s not pleasant to see an entire narrative played out in unsteady, tiny boats—by the end, I felt not seasick, but certainly disjointed.  More to the point, the film’s moments of hope are few.  Our Man might be highly resourceful (he’s able to calculate his position using navigation tools, marking out his journey with blue Xs on a map), but things keep getting worse for him.  By the time he’s forced to watch not one but two boats fail to spot him, there may be some groans mixed in with your tears.

            And yet, I would still have to say that “All is Lost” is a worthwhile voyage.  It may be grueling at times, but it has the unique distinction of breaking down survival to a moment by moment, step by step process.  Everything Our Man does—from climbing to the top of his boat’s mast to frying some vegetables, even in the midst of the crisis—grabs your attention.  Being on a boat with one man for two hours should feel lonely, but it doesn’t really.  Thanks to Mr. Chandor, Mr. Redford, and the crew, there’s enough detail to fill an ocean.