Movie Review: "Kingsman: The Secret Service" (Matthew Vaughn, 2015)

THE CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN by Mo Shaunette

Recently, it occurred to me that comic book writer Mark Millar, director Matthew Vaughn, and screenwriter Jane Goldman may be one of the most dynamic teams in cinema today.  Mr. Millar’s comics pop with inventive post-modern ideas and an inkling towards black comedy, despite being sometimes bogged down by his desire to instill shock and awe by pushing the boundaries of good taste (read up on issue #3 of his series “Nemesis” for a prime example); Mr. Vaughn is more than capable of elevating Mr. Millar’s books by ironing out their wrinkles and adding his own eye for spectacle; and Ms. Goldman’s writing adds a healthy dose of wit and cleverness to make the whole affair shine.

The trio’s previous collaboration, “Kick-Ass,” was a terrific example their synchronicity, being both cleverly written and brutally violent—while also infused with a sophomoric streak that turned off to some audiences.  Their follow-up, “Kingsman: The Secret Service,” has less of its predecessor’s deliberate immaturity, but ironically ends up being less memorable since it never commits to a single cohesive tone.  Still, “Kingsman” is a wildly entertaining action romp and, better yet, a giddy love-letter to sixties spy movies.

The hero of the piece is Gary “Eggsy” Unwin (Taron Egerton).  Once, he was an exceptional military candidate; now, he’s a broke, unemployed hoodlum living with his family in London.  After landing in jail, Eggsy calls in his one and only favor from Harry Hart (Colin Firth) who, as it turns out, is a member of the Kingsmen, a clandestine order of gentlemen spies.

Years prior, Eggsy’s late father saved Harry’s life; now, Harry returns the favor by enrolling Eggsy in the Kingsmen training program, where our hero’s blue collar origins cause him to clash with his silver spoon classmates.  As Eggsy’s training transpires, Harry and the Kingsmen begin investigating tech mogul Richmond Valentine (Samuel L. Jackson) and his connection to the kidnapping of numerous world leaders and celebrities (it’s that kind of spy movie).

The cast certainly relishes these shenanigans in spades.  Mr. Firth has a ball playing Harry (who’s the kind of over-the-hill ass-kicker normally portrayed by Liam Neeson or Bruce Willis) while Mr. Jackson chews the scenery as Valentine, a lisping Bond villain with Steve Jobs’ resources and Jay Z’s wardrobe.  And attention must be paid to Mr. Egerton, who sells both Eggsy’s young punk shtick and third-act transformation into a fully-formed gentleman (even as he holds his own alongside reliable character actors like Michael Caine and Mark Strong).

Meanwhile, Matthew Vaughn (whose movies include “Stardust” and “X-Men: First Class”) continues to be one of the most reliable action directors out there.  The fighting in “Kingsman” is a fast-paced and beautifully-choreographed blend of gunplay, hand-to-hand combat, and a seemingly limitless arsenal of covert weapons.  The zenith of it all?  Harry battling his way through a Southern hate group in a church while the guitar solo from “Free Bird” spurs him forward.

The moments where “Kingsman” blends this brand of stylish violence with broad, subversive comedy shine.  But unfortunately, such scenes are few and far between.  The movie jumps back and forth between cool sophistication and lowbrow jokes, which work perfectly well individually, but rarely mesh in a satisfying way.  The result is a movie that reaches for the stars and without quite making it.

Still, “Kingsman” is definitely worth your time.  Slick, fun, and funny, it’s both a blast from the past and a modern classic.  Go check it out.

Bennett Campbell Ferguson: "And My Favorite Film Of 2014 Is...."

WHY I LOVE “INTERSTELLAR” by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Last year, Jaden Smith (son of Will and Jada Pinkett) went to a screening of Christopher Nolan’s sci-fi blockbuster “Interstellar.”  Except he didn’t just go—he arrived dressed in a spacesuit (presumably an homage to the movie’s heroic astronauts).  And then, in the midst of the film, he cried out a tribute to its venerated director: “That’s my man, Nolan!”

            Thank you, Jaden.  If there was ever an action to symbolize what we, the Nolan geeks of the world feel for our hero, it was that.  Not that I need the competition; far from it.  I may not own a spacesuit, but I did go to the Hollywood Theater’s advance screening of “Interstellar” dressed in my own uniform—a light blue dress shirt and black slacks, my tribute to the ensemble worn by Mr. Nolan ever since his early days as a filmmaker.

            In an era where superheroes bask in near-religious worship and no one forgets their first “Doctor Who” doctor, I don’t feel self conscious owning up to my geekiness.  But that doesn’t answer the question—why?  Why do Christopher Nolan and his movies inspire such passion?  Is it because he’s a great filmmaker?  (He is.)  Is it because he’s an appealing celebrity?  (He’s that too.)  Or is it some combination of the two, some maelstrom of inspiration and fanaticism that we’ve all been captured by?

            My answer is none of the above.  Because the true reason why Christopher Nolan is subject to so much ardor speaks to what we crave as moviegoers—a certain kind of movie.  And it’s a kind of movie that I, with a keyboard in lieu of a rocket ship, will now explore.

            In the late 1900s, Mr. Nolan made his directorial debut with “Following,” a stark, sleek, black and white thriller.  It was about a dopey writer named Bill (Jeremy Theobald) taken under the wing of a dashing burglar (Alex Haw).  The result of their sinister meet cute?  A string of break-ins and philosophical conversations about the nature of intrusion and violation.

            At first sight, “Following,” with its wordy screenplay and nastily ambiguous ending, must have seemed like strictly art house art.  But cast Mr. Nolan’s cinematic debut in the shadow of his box office-busting “Dark Knight” trilogy and you can see that he was always a blockbuster entertainer at his core.  After all, “Following” was the story of a young man struggling to swim above the waves of his failings, trying to instill some meaning in his life; what is that if not the narrative of all great blockbusters, from “Star Wars” (the story of Luke Skywalker coming of age) to “Spider-Man” (the story of Peter Parker striving to uphold his superheroic responsibilities)? 

In other words, for all of those movies, proving your manhood (or failing to prove it) meant facing some sort of physical and emotional struggle.  Yet the struggles in Mr. Nolan’s multiplex epics are particularly potent.  Remember that moment in “Inception” when Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) tried to wrench himself out from between two concrete walls?  While corporate thugs loaded their guns behind him?  The scene was smoothly adrenaline-charged, not only because of the threat of death, but because on a grand scale, it symbolized Cobb’s desperation to be free, to return to the family he’d been forced to abandon.

In that vein, “Interstellar” is also a struggling-hero movie—except this time, the quest becomes entangled with the survival of our planet.  The movie starts in a future where food has dried up along with human ambition (“You don’t believe we went to the moon?” one character poignantly asks a dogmatic teacher).  Yet at a hidden location, the remnants of NASA are struggling to embark on a mission to new planets—planets that could be home to humans after Earth has wheezed its last store of supplies.

You have to love Mr. Nolan’s flair for drama.  He would never just have NASA send some astronauts into the unknown; he had to have them go in defiance of a depressed, disbelieving society.  Hope against hope, hope in the face of failure, hope in spite of everything lost—that is the credo of his movie.

That hope enhances the power of the story’s struggle.  The film’s hero is Cooper (Matthew McConaughey), the pilot of a pin-wheeling spaceship called the Endurance.  Aided by his compatriots (played by Anne Hathaway, David Gyasi, and Bill Irwin), Cooper steers the Endurance through a dizzying wormhole and down to two different cold, wet planets.  And each time, yet again, there is a struggle, whether it’s against a mountainous wave, the pull of gravity, or even time (which, due to relativity, passes faster on Earth than it does for our heroes, making their mission all the more desperate).

Still, “Interstellar” is not just an outer space adventure—it is a sadness-soaked movie, more disturbing even than Mr. Nolan’s “The Dark Knight Rises” (which was rife with beatings and neck-breakings).  I figured that out early on when Cooper has to say goodbye to his daughter Murph (MacKenzie Foy) before beginning his mission.  “I’m coming back!” Cooper insists, before climbing into his truck and driving into the dusty distance.  He doesn’t see Murph running, trying to catch up to him, crying out, even as she’s drowned out by Hans Zimmer’s score, as it sears your ears painfully.

Unbearable.  Yet I now realize that that moment is perfect.  The struggle of “Interstellar” only matters because of the anguish.  Because why would it be important for Cooper to return home if he didn’t have to make amends, if he didn’t have to be sure that the last time he saw his daughter wasn’t when she was in her room, sobbing?  After all, to quote James Cameron, “The greatest of loves can only be measured against the greatest of adversities, and the greatest sacrifices thus defined.”

“Interstellar” is a brisk, smoothly constructed movie (it’s almost three hours long; it feels like it’s half that).  Yet it’s still hard to make it through all of its outpourings of grief and rage.  And that’s why Mr. Nolan’s creation is so wonderful—it tests you.  “Don’t recoil from the ferocity of this occasion—rise to it,” the movie seems to say, and it’s unbelievably satisfying to do just that.

For me, there weren’t a lot of other movies in 2014 that beckoned so forcefully.  Yes, I was enraptured by the tender sibling drama in “The Skeleton Twins,” the call-to-action in “Selma,” and the ferocious satire in Richard Ayoade’s “The Double” (which plugged into the zeitgeist of corporate politics, technological omnipotence, and twenty-first century morality).  But aside from those films, “Interstellar” was the only movie of 2014 that really, genuinely moved me.

And that’s fine.  In an era where we have over a century of movies to pour over, a year where you only connect with a handful of new ones isn’t such a terrible thing.  And besides, the thrill of seeing my faith in Mr. Nolan reaffirmed this past year was all-conquering.  Jaden Smith may have said it first but, at least to those of us who care about Mr. Nolan’s movies, he’s our man. 

But I don’t want to get too wrapped up in a Nolan career retrospective.  Because even if it weren’t enmeshed in the tapestry of its creator’s oeuvre, “Interstellar” would be beautiful.  It’s the way the emotions hit you—especially in the final scene, when a now hundred-something Murph (Ellen Burstyn) is visited by her father who, caught in the spell of slow time, is still the same age as Matthew McConaughey.

It begins as Cooper enters a hospital room.  A crowd of people surrounds a bed, hiding it from view and once again, Mr. Zimmer’s music surges forth.  But this time, it’s a hopeful crescendo, one that rises and breaks off as Cooper approaches the bed.  And then, the music quiets as a smiling Murph reaches for him.

The following conversation is odd.  Father and daughter exchange a joke; reflect on all they’ve experienced; and prepare to say goodbye for the last time, as Murph asks her father to take on yet another adventure.  But there’s one moment in that scene that I love the most, the sweetest moment of “Interstellar,” one of the sweetest moments of any film.  Murph tells Cooper that many people didn’t think he was coming back, but that she knew that he would.  And the reason she gives made me feel sad, alive, sad, happy, alive:

“Because my dad promised me.”

2015 Oscar Dossier

THE BEST, AND WHAT THEY MEAN by Maxwell Meyers

The Academy Awards are this weekend, which means a lot of things.  To start, it means we’ll be watching a bloated telecast; a host (Neil Patrick Harris) who is hopefully striving be better than Seth McFarlane; sixteen disappointed actors and actresses who must return to home or work without the weight of gold in their pocket; and of course, one movie winning the big award of the night—best picture.  And while the Academy’s choice won't necessarily define the year in film, it will definitely say something about the time we live in. 

So what will be this year’s lasting message and impression?  There is no denying that 2014’s nominated films are all excellent in their own right; I truly believe they are some of the highest-quality film offerings of the year.  But what does each one say?  What is their message?  Who should win?  Who will win?

You can read on to glean the answers.  It just so happens I spent this last weekend watching every best picture nominee in a marathon, and I am here to dissect them, to give you insight on each nominee and how to win your betting pool this coming weekend.

Nominee #1: “Birdman”

Total nominations: 9

            “Birdman” is a satire, a satire that takes shots at anyone and everyone, from actors, to celebrities, to critics, to kids, to all the things that comprise a work of art.  It’s a movie that has had people talking for months, waxing poetic praise about the acting prowess of Michael Keaton (who stars as a washed-up superhero actor) and director Alejandro G. Iñarrítu (who chose to shoot the entire film in a series of unusually long shots).

But what does “Birdman” signify?  For me, it’s all about its characters, who each play an important role by personifying an aspect of "Hollywood."  From the method actor who whose obsession with accuracy is nigh fanatical to the failed superstar seeking to redeem his legacy to the critic sneering at them both, the movie shows you life today in the industry from numerous vantage points (while also nodding to our culture’s obsession with YouTube views and tweets).

Nominee #2: “Selma”

Total Nominations: 2

            “Selma” is a biopic—probably one of the most emotional biopics that has ever been made.  Yet more importantly, it is the right movie at the right time.  It tells tales of African Americans in the 1960s, faced with police brutality based on skin color—a conflict that mirrors the racism that still infects America today.  Simply put, “Selma” is a movie that shows how far we come, while reminding us that that may not be far enough.

Nominee #3: “The Theory of Everything”

Total Nominations: 5

            “The Theory of Everything” is another biopic and also a love story (about Stephen Hawking’s romance with his first wife, Jane).  Yet just like much of Dr. Hawking’s work, it is about time, about how where we start isn't where we will ultimately be (and more importantly, that we should never let time dictate our destiny).

Nominee # 4: “The Grand Budapest Hotel”

Total Nominations: 9

            Sometimes, deciphering the true message of a Wes Anderson film can be a challenge. But I believe that I have decoded the true theme of “The Grand Budapest Hotel”—impermanence.  You see, this wild tale occurs in a hotel that is slowly dying, reminding us that all things, in time, fade away.  Yet there is a hopeful gleam in Mr. Anderson’s requiem, as he shows the story of the Grand Budapest Hotel being passed from its occupants to a writer to a girl in cemetery.

Nothing is forgotten.

Nominee #5: “Whiplash”

Total Nominations: 5

            Whiplash is...complicated.  Miles Teller stars as Andrew, a student drummer who strives to be “one of the greats”—a desire so basic that everyone can relate.  But then there’s his mentor, Fletcher (played by J.K. Simmons), who tears Andrew down with profane, brutal force.  So although our hero strives to be better, he does so likely out of fear.

Thus, “Whiplash” confronts you with an unsettling question—what are you willing to do to be one of the greats?

Nominee #6: “American Sniper”

Total Nominations: 6

            A true story and a war story, “American Sniper” chronicles the life of real-life sniper Chris Kyle, who felt duty-bound to protect his country and his family by fighting in the Iraq war.  Yet really, the movie is about sacrifice—the sacrifice Kyle made by relinquishing family time in favor of fighting time, and the mental suffering he faced as a result.  Spurred by this anguish, “American Sniper” follows Kyle right up to his last day alive, reminding us that we pay a price for everything we do—especially good deeds.

Nominee #7: “The Imitation Game”

Total Nominations: 8

            Who lives?  Who dies?  Do I keep the secret of the spy in our midst?  Do I tell the woman who I am to marry I’m gay?  Real-life WWII hero Alan Turing (Benedict Cumberbatch) must face all of those questions in “The Imitation Game,” a movie about the tough choices and compromises that all those in wartime face.  The crux of the matter is that Alan has to do what is best for his country, even though it may not be best for him.

Nominee #8: “Boyhood”

Total Nominations: 6

            “Boyhood” is a twelve-year window into the life of Mason (Ellar Coltrane), a young boy growing up in Texas.  In some ways, Mason’s childhood is uneventful—he goes to school, gets drunk, gets kissed, and even figures out what he wants to be when he grows up.  Yet what makes “Boyhood” extraordinary is its realism—the simplicity of style that almost makes it feel like a documentary.  When you watch these humans grow up, you are kind of forced to remember those same twelve years of your own life, from the songs you heard to the emotions you felt, aging in the early years of the new century.

Verdict: Who should win?

            In a perfect just world the best picture winner would be “Selma.”  As president Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) says in the movie, "At times, history and fate meet at a single time in a single place to shape a turning point in man's unending search for freedom." In that vein, the beauty of “Selma” is that while it is about a man who lived decades ago, it remains powerfully relevant.  Sadly, it may well be overlooked, and people might find themselves looking back years later and only then realizing how important the movie is.   

Who will win?

            “Boyhood.”  There is no other movie like it.  There will never be another movie like it; no other film will ever capture average human lives on such an extraordinary scale.  When I watch this film, I remember right where I was when that sixth “Harry Potter” book was released, when I wasn’t sick to death of Gotye's "Somebody I Used to Know.”  This movie is a time capsule cleverly disguised as a movie.  And since it was filmed over so many years, none of the dialogue feels forced or ironic—just natural.  It’s a truly one of a kind work, and no one should feel any shame losing to it. 

Movie Review: "Foxcatcher" (Bennett Miller, 2014)

POWER PLAY by Mo Shaunette

The most terrifying thing about Bennett Miller’s “Foxcatcher” is that it’s based on a truly story.  In 1996, Jon Eleuthere du Pont—heir to the vast du Pont family fortune and head coach of the Team Foxcatcher training facility—shot and killed one of his coaches.  Du Pont was later found to be suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, but was still convicted of third-degree murder and sent to jail.  The fallout?  Two different true crime books and Mr. Miller’s dramatization—a slow-paced, atmospheric, frightening, and extremely well-made movie.

            “Foxcatcher” begins in 1987 with the introduction of twenty seven year-old wrestler Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum).  He’s a man who’s peaked to soon; since winning an Olympic gold, Mark has been reduced to living alone in a dank apartment, making low-paying personal appearances, and training fruitlessly with his brother and fellow gold medalist Dave (Mark Ruffalo).  

However, everything changes when Mark takes a meeting with Jon du Pont (Steve Carrell), who wants to transform his family’s estate into a training ground for amateur wrestlers (with the Schultz brothers as his first recruits).  With nothing to lose, Mark embraces the offer and soon becomes enraptured up by the ego, posturing, and duplicity of du Pont—even as his “mentor” pushes him ever closer to the breaking point.

            Aside from being a compelling drama, “Foxcatcher” is a showcase for its mains.  Channing Tatum is simply amazing as Mark Schultz.  The film revels in long, silent stretches of Mark simply living in and observing the world (both the dreariness of his own life and the pomp and circumstance of the du Pont home).  And through these moments, Mr. Tatum quietly and effectively conveys Mark’s emotions, nailing both the film’s more somber beats and the later, fearsomely-charged moments where Mark buckles under the pressure of being du Pont’s golden boy.

            Of course, the real star of this unsettling show is the subtle menace of Jon du Pont, made spellbinding by Steve Carell.  In chief, the movie presents du Pont via wordless inaction rather than dialogue (we’re not meant to know what’s going on his head).  Yet Mr. Carell’s blank-faced expression, combined with the make-up and prosthetics from Bill Corso, make du Pont into an unassuming creep who is at once engaging and nastily ominous.

            As “Foxcatcher” unfolds, it peels back the layers of du Pont’s disturbed psyche, revealing how he’s become twisted by the privilege of his immense wealth; the self-importance spurred on by his family’s legacy; and the mistrust that comes from being surrounded by yes-men, fair-weather friends, and hanger-ons.  I can’t say that it’s pleasurable enter into his world or that the movie’s particularly enjoyable either; after all, it alternates between the slow and atmospheric and the tense and frightening.  

Yet “Foxcatcher” is a beautifully-produced film, anchored by terrific lead performances and superior direction from Bennett Miller.  If you’re hungry for a taut thriller enlivened by phenomenal acting, then you should see this movie, disturbing as it may be.

Editorial: The Power of Spider-Fatigue

“WELCOME BACK, SPIDER” by Mo Shaunette

So Spider-Man is coming to the MCU.  After years of competition in defiance of the hopes of fanboys across the globe, Sony Pictures and Marvel Studios have reached an agreement that will allow the web-slinger to appear alongside Iron Man, Captain America, and the rest of the Avengers crew on the big screen.  What’s my reaction as both a regular moviegoer and a comic book fan?

            “Yeah, okay.”

            Honestly, I thought I’d be more excited.

            I think I’m just burnt out on Spider-Man, y’know?  Since 2002, we’ve had five Spider-Man features, three animated series, ten boxed-console video games, and a theatrical musical—not to mention the Spider-Man comics themselves, which have included some of the most controversial storylines in Marvel’s history and the introduction of a new wall-crawler, Miles Morales.  

I’m happy that Spider-Man has become so accessible to the public; I’m happy that such a complex, enduring character is not only recognized and loved, but remains relevant fifty-two years after his creation.  But I just can’t muster up enough excitement at the prospect of a major Hollywood picture featuring Spidey taking his place alongside Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

            Maybe that’s because every piece of media connected to Spider-Man as of late has been, at best, sub-par.  The “Ultimate Spider-Man” animated series aims at a much younger demographic than other superhero shows, and as for Marc Webb’s “Amazing Spider-Man” movies…well, let’s not get into those right now.  None of us have the time or energy to deal with the failings of that franchise.

Maybe it’s because I’m disappointed that some Marvel’s newer, fresher movies have been bumped back to make room for Spider-Man’s welcome.  Maybe I’m worried that Marvel’s going to rush out a crappy movie to establish Spidey so he can appear fully formed in 2016’s “Captain America: Civil War.”  Maybe I’m irked because now that lesser-known but compelling characters like Captain Marvel, Black Panther, and the Inhumans are getting their own features, seeing another Spider-Man romp just doesn’t feel as special.

            Whatever the reason, I’m just not looking forward to the whole affair; the thought of more Spider-Man movies just wearies me.  I don’t want to watch the whole process of seeing Peter Parker cast again, of waiting for a trailer, of hearing arguments about this new version stacked against the work of Sam Raimi or Marc Webb, of seeing the damn origin again (seriously, how many times do we need see that radioactive spider bite, or hear Uncle Ben say “power” and “responsibility” in the same sentence before he gets shot?).  Honestly, if Marvel announced they were doing a “Moon Knight” feature or a “Howard the Duck” TV series, I’d be far more enthused about that than anything Spidey related.

            This is probably just me suffering from superhero fatigue, and Marvel Studios letting Spider-Man into the fold is probably the best direction for the character.  But I’m just tired of Peter Parker and his amazing friends right now.  

‘Nuff said.

Movie Review: "The Imitation Game" (Morten Tyldum, 2014)

THE MECHANICS OF ALAN TURING by Mo Shaunette

Above: Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing. Photo ©StudioCanal and The Weinstein Company

While being interrogated by Detective Nock (Rory Kinnear) in Morten Tyldum’s movie “The Imitation Game,” Professor Alan Turing (Benedict Cumberbatch) is asked if machines think.  His response?  That the question itself is stupid.  Obviously, Professor Turing explains, machines don’t think as human beings do…but then again, how exactly do humans think?  No two brains operate the exact same way, Turing insists; mitigating factors such as likes, dislikes, aptitudes, and weaknesses mean that there isn’t really a “normal” way of thinking.

            This philosophy is what drives Turing and the narrative sweep of “The Imitation Game.”  For the uninitiated, Alan Turing was a mathematics professor at Oxford who was recruited by the British government during World War II to lead a team of code breakers to translate Germany’s Enigma cypher.  Their work and the invention of the Turing machine (a precursor to the computer) helped end the war years earlier than expected.  But then, a decade later, Turing was found out to be a homosexual, which was then illegal in Britain at the time.  He pled guilty to gross indecency and underwent a court-ordered chemical castration before his death in 1954 (which was ruled as a suicide).

            “The Imitation Game” covers three portions of Turing’s life: his days at school (with the young Turing played by Alex Lawther), where he developed an interest in cyphers and fell in love with his best friend (Jack Bannon); his years at the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park, where he and the Hut 8 group matched wits with Enigma and he befriended fellow code breaker Joan Clarke (Keira Knightley); and Turing’s final years in Manchester, when the local police began investigating and eventually arrested him.  All of these sequences paint a picture of who Alan Turing was: brilliant, pragmatic, and ultimately assured of who he was and that what he did was for the greater good.

            Mr. Cumberbatch has the meaty role of Turing and plays him as a man high on the autism spectrum—disconnected from people, dedicated to his work, frequently unemotional, and fiercely passionate about his beliefs (the film argues that Turing’s efforts to understand human interaction played into his talent as a code breaker).  It’s not exactly a flashy role, but Mr. Cumberbatch plays Turing with aplomb, pulling off a subtle performance with a high-pitched voice and a slight stutter.  For her part, Ms. Knightley supplements the film with warmth and friendliness, playing Joan Clarke as fiercely intelligent woman who possesses (and indeed, needs) the people skills that Turing lacks.

            Still, in the end the focus of “The Imitation Game” is Turing’s difficulty working with the other cryptanalysts, his dedication to creating the mechanical bombe (dubbed “Christopher” in the film, after Turing’s first love), his struggle to keep his sexuality a secret, and his compliance with the morally questionable actions that MI6 took to win the war.  And above all, the film purports that Turing was just a man who thought differently than everyone else—something that both helped him further the war effort and caused him to be condemned afterwards.

Eileen Tom on the Movies of 2014

2014: A YEAR IN REVIEW by Eileen Tom

Above: Megan Fox in the infamous "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," produced by Michael Bay

 

To me, 2014 was an odd year for movies.  So while I was asked to create a top ten list for this past year, as I sit here typing on my laptop at the local Starbucks in my beret, I’m still staring at a largely blank white page.  

I’m really just kidding—I’m actually sitting at home in my pajamas and sweater sipping on non-caffeinated tea, because I’m just not as awesome as those people in Starbucks.  What I’m not kidding about are the movies released in 2014.

For me (and probably most other movie-goers), a great film is something that stays with you.  It’s something that you are able to quote months later—you can remember how it made you feel, how it absorbed you so much that you eventually forgot everything else you did the day you watched it.  And it’s a kind of movie that, right now, seems to be in short supply

            I’m not saying that there weren’t amazing films produced in 2014.  It’s just that they have all blended in my mind.  Most of the major releases of 2014 relied heavily on C.G. effects, which, in my opinion meant that their writers didn’t try as hard to engage their audience.  Instead they (wrongly) assumed that everyone would be simply awed by explosions (DANG YOU MICHAEL BAY) and shiny spaceships.

This is part of the reason why diversity in films has fallen off.  Most of the new movies I saw in 2014 were about men in tights (not complaining), so I spent most of the year going to the local movie rental and renting films like “Cabaret” (Fosse, 1970) and “The Godfather” (Coppola, 1970)—old-fashioned movies that did not rely on computer-generated effects to create a story and a cinematic environment.

            Does this mean modern cinema is worthless?  Not necessarily.  Yes, we’ve seen films such as “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” (Liebesman, 2014) spit special effects-heavy venom on our childhood memories.  But now that the spectacle of computer graphics has become more common, it’s being used to actually engage audiences in stories, in films like the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy—which, like “The Godfather,” are movies that people will still be renting a couple decades down the line.

Movie Review: "Inherent Vice" (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2014)

NEVER IN BLOOM by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Joaquin Phoenix as a 1970s detective in Mr. Anderson's new movie

 

It’s 1970 and we’re in the home of Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), private eye.  The couch is red; the shadows are deep; and Doc himself is lying down, his bulky dark hair bulging around his head.  He’s a man in a haze—stoned, and roused only when his ex-girlfriend Shasta (Katherine Waterston) wanders in, asking for help.

            What if Shasta’s request had been made in a movie directed by Nicolas Winding Refn?  Or Sam Raimi?  Chances are, the result would have been a colorful, heartfelt adventure, with Doc stemming the tide of his loneliness through his quest to save the woman who was once (maybe) his true love. 

As it is, “Inherent Vice” is the work of Paul Thomas Anderson who, with “The Master,” revealed a penchant for elusive truths and unspoken feelings.  Hardly a crime.  But while “The Master” found anguish in its murky discourse on religion and post-WWII America, “Inherent Vice” fights off any instinct to say or mean anything.  That makes it bold, but it also makes it sludgy, weary, and, dare I say it, boring.

            Not that Mr. Phoenix is.  There are few performers who show his ease in front of the camera, and ease is precisely what is needed for the part of Doc.  Stepping into the man’s grungy shoes, Mr. Phoenix swaggers about loosely, his head hanging back and his face gently contorted by a toothily amused smile.  It’s a joke.  Doc is tangled up in some genuinely menacing business (involving government conspiracies and a heroin cartel), but he smokes marijuana so furiously that he ends up sauntering through each life-threatening crisis with a relaxed, anything-goes lilt of his chin.

            There are still moments when Doc comes alive.  He truly adores Shasta; he pretends not to miss their stint as exclusive lovers, but Mr. Phoenix telegraphs Doc’s longing lightly and clearly.  Doc is also curiously invested in the predicament of one Coy Harlingen (Owen Wilson).  Recently, Coy left his wife (Jena Malone) and his baby girl to work for the government; now he wants to come home.  Sacrificing money and most certainly his own safety, Doc tries to help Coy find a way.

            The need Doc feels to bring the Harlingen family back together seeps some honest tenderness into “Inherent Vice.”  Yet Mr. Anderson (who adapted the movie from Thomas Pynchon’s novel of the same name) never leans heavily on it.  Instead, he mires us in scenes of spiraling chatter—all of it deliberately obtuse.  Even the film’s key mystery resists our understanding.  At first, it seems to center around the vanishing of both Shasta and a real estate mogul played by Eric Roberts.  But that plot gets wrapped up in a tangle of nonsensical details involving drug deals, a phony insane asylum, a phony massage parlor, and a boat not-so-subtly called The Golden Fang.

            Confusion can be a pleasurable part of moviegoing, and “Inherent Vice” is a buoyantly enjoyable pop caper.  But the movie is not just convoluted—it’s apathetic.  The story isn’t meant to be truly compelling (I get the feeling we’re supposed to feel as deliriously adrift as Doc does) but after a while, the lack of tension saps the movie’s vivacity and charm.  “Que sera sera,” Doc mockingly sneers when Shasta tells him, “Cést la vie.”  Yet that’s exactly what the movie seems to be saying—life’s a mess, get on with it.

            Que sera indeed.