Movie Review: "Beasts of No Nation" (Cary Joji Fukunaga, 2015)

LIFE DURING WARTIME by Mo Shaunette

Above: Abraham Attah stars in Mr. Fukunaga’s new movie.  Photo ©Bleecker Street

In an interview on the Nerdist Podcast, director Robert Rodriguez once said that while making “Spy Kids,” he had to convince studio heads that the movie should have a Hispanic main cast.  And how did he win that argument?  By pointing out that the more specific a movie is, the more universal it becomes—that specific, relatable touchstones can help bridge the cultural gap.  As Mr. Rodriguez put it, “You don’t have to be British to appreciate James Bond.”

Writer/director Cary Joji Fukunaga asks us to cross that same bridge in his new feature “Beasts of No Nation,” albeit while venturing into much harsher territory.  The film opens with a scene of children playing in a field in an unnamed village glimpsed through the frame of an old TV set.  The camera then pans towards two boys standing by the frame, watching the kids play.  The message is clear: we, the audience, aren’t going to be watching this story unfold from a distance, through the lens of a television; we’re going to be forced to watch it with our boots on the ground, alongside the main characters, for better or for worse.

One of the watchers by that TV is Agu (Abraham Attah), an adolescent boy living in an unnamed West African village that exists in a buffer zone between an oppressive military and a rebellion army.  It isn’t long before Agu’s home becomes a war zone, forcing him to flee into the jungle, where he comes across a platoon of rebel soldiers led by the Commandant (Idris Elba).  The Commandant drafts Agu into the so-called Native Defense Force and leads him on a bloody campaign through the country, during which Agu’s innocence is shattered by the atrocities committed against him and committed by him.

In a story as heavy as this, you need actors who are capable of mixing horror with humanity.  Luckily, the cast brings it in spades.  Abraham Attah is fantastic as Agu, bringing pathos and commitment to the character’s every persona—the innocent child, the scared little boy, the dutiful soldier, the wearied killer, and the narrator, who asks God’s forgiveness for all his sins between battles.  Similarly, Idris Elba brings swagger and charisma to the Commandant, a man so fully committed to war that he is only ever referred to by his rank.  The Commandant lives to be a soldier, to lead his troops into battle, and when we learn that the war is soon to end, we see that he’s a man who can’t go back to whatever life he had before.

It’s important to note the level of restraint shown by “Beasts.”  Yes, Mr. Fukunaga never pulls his punches; violence, indoctrination, drug addiction, and rape (much of which is committed by and to children) are present throughout the film.  However, Mr. Fukunaga never feels the need to be explicit or sensational about these horrors.  The camera rarely focuses on gore and mutilation, instead letting the performances of the actors and the score by Dan Romer underline the horrors of the Native Defense Force’s campaign.  The film is brutal without taking pleasure in the brutality, and that’s to be commended.

Mr. Fukunaga also served as cinematographer for the feature, and he’s still as sharp and clever as he was when he was directing the first season of HBO’s “True Detective.”  He has a talent for long takes that travel through war zones, but also a keen eye for composition and montage.  In one scene, the Commandant makes a speech to his soldiers before leading them into battle, while behind, a propaganda mural for the opposition depicts rows of uniformed army men above the phrase “Leadership for the People.”  This makes it clear that the Commandant is no different than the military men he decries as evil oppressors.  In this war, there is no “right side” or “wrong side”—there is only the violence that is tearing a country apart and destroying the lives of its citizens.

“Beasts of No Nations” is a rough film to watch; even though it moves quickly through its 137 minutes, it leaves you feeling weary and glad to be on the other side.  However, there is hope to be found at the end—the possibility that life during peacetime is within reach for Agu.  His story is a powerful experience, one that begs to be watched.  Definitely go see this one.

Movie Review: "Spectre" (Sam Mendes, 2015)

BOND REDEEMED by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Daniel Craig and Léa Seydoux star in the latest James Bond movie.  Photo ©Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures and Columbia Pictures

Late in the James Bond movie “Casino Royale,” Bond (Daniel Craig) sat on a sun-coated beach, almost liberated from his life of lying and spying.  But it was not to be.  Soon, he was emotionally gutted by his paramour, Vesper Lynd (Eva Green).  And without the anchor of selfless love, Mr. Craig’s 007 drifted into a coldly heroic sea of violence, fighting for Queen and country with only flimsy aspirations of nobility.

            That was back in 2006.  Ever since, Bond has vaulted across the globe, armed with gadgets, guns, girls, and barely a trace of goodness.  Yet “Spectre,” the said-to-be conclusion of the Craig-Bond cycle, vigorously fans the fire of its hero’s humanity, thrusting him into a life-affirming battle that dares him (and us) to tear into a nagging question: what if Ian Fleming’s “beautiful killing machine” were deprogrammed?   

            The architect of that query is director Sam Mendes, who flourishes his gift for screen poetry in the film’s opening shot—a near-ceaseless take of Mr. Craig strutting through a Day of the Dead parade in Mexico City.  The image is a prelude to a fistfight in a helicopter and a small shot a silver ring branded with an octopus—the symbol of SPECTRE, a nefarious secret society in Bond’s crosshairs. 

            SPECTRE, like most movie-villain cabals, schemes in the shadows of a lush lair (early in the movie, its members sit around a gleaming office table, like studio executives plotting world domination).  The organization’s reach is vast, so much so that it encompasses old Bond adversaries—the blood-weeping Le Chifre (Mads Mikkelsen); the grotesque grinner Silva (Javier Bardem); and the chilly Mr. White (Jesper Christensen), who returns in “Spectre,” reduced to a bearded husk staring dead-eyed at television screens.

            Mr. Christensen’s screen time here is brief.  Yet his grizzled skin and frail body are a premonition of the decrepitude that awaits Bond, should he continue to beat and kill with impunity.  And that threat claws at our hero in “Spectre”—Bond may still look like a spade commissioned by the Sharper Image (he’s still Mr. Craig), but the weight of experience hangs over him.  You feel it, in the midst of both Mr. Craig’s subdued delivery and the climax of the movie, during which Bond races past booby-trapped rooms lined with photos of his dead enemies and friends, hanging on battered walls like strung-out pieces of his psyche.

            As the end of “Spectre” nears, those shattered pieces fuse together as Bond begins to heal—and finds someone who just might love him enough to follow him along the road to recovery.  It’s a sublime twist that echoes the words Sam Smith sings in the film’s opening song: “For you, I have to risk it all.”  That line matters, because it is friendships that make this 007 not Bond, but James.

Movie Review: "Crimson Peak" (Guillermo del Toro, 2015)

HALLOWEEN’S PERFECT DATE MOVIE by Maxwell Meyers

Guillermo del Toro is an artist.  I know what you’re thinking: “Well duh.  Aren’t all directors artists?”  I will give you this: most of them are.  But what sets del Toro apart is the passion that he puts into every project.  Whether he is doing a film about the Spanish revolution, a comic book adaptation, or a sci-fi epic of robots and monsters, his zeal for moviemaking remains.  And that passion exudes from both the floor and the ceiling in his latest endeavor: “Crimson Peak.”

In “Crimson Peak,” Mr. del Toro tells the tale of Edith Cushing (the lovely Mia Wasikowska), who one day meets the mysterious and enigmatic stranger Sir Thomas Sharpe (who is played expertly by Tom Hiddleston).  When Edith’s father dies suddenly, she marries Thomas and is whisked away to his massive dilapidated property, which the locals call Crimson Peak, due to the red clay that seeps out of the surrounding soil when it snows.  The house, which is also home to Thomas’ sister Lucille (a spectacular Jessica Chastain) holds a dark secret that Edith sets out to discover.

            “Crimson Peak” isn’t your typical ghost movie; it’s more akin to a period drama (if more period dramas took place in a haunted house and featured copious amounts of murder).  It’s also visually arresting.  Say whatever you want about Mr. del Toro as a director, but he has a very specific visual style that is transfused through the spectacular filter of his eye.  From crimson clay mines to a roof that has caved in so that outside elements pool in a foyer, every image that Mr. del Toro creates is lush, beautiful, and horrific (not to mention that the whole affair is elevated by the trio of Wasikowska, Hiddleston, and Chastain). 

            I would have gladly watched “Crimson Peak” for another hour.  Why?  Because the movie is like everything else that Mr. del Toro creates—a story with something more going on below the surface.  The fact that sometimes the living can be far more terrifying than the dead that haunts the walls of Crimson Peak the house and “Crimson Peak” the movie, making it all the more powerful. 

I’m giving “Crimson Peak” a solid A, and come awards time, I hope to see some nods in the costuming and production design categories.  If you are in the market for a spooky Gothic romance, Mr. del Toro’s movie is the ticket.