Movie Review: "Transformers: Age of Extinction" (Michael Bay, 2014)

RATING: ** (TWO STARS) by Patrick Belin

Above: a very large robot

This movie is commercial trash—so much so that I loathe to even call it a “movie.”  “Overly long toy advertisement that I (like a schmuck) paid to see” would have been a more appropriate designation.

            Directed by Michael Bay (the “filmmaker” behind every movie in the “Transformers” franchise), “Age of Extinction” introduces us to Cade Yeager (Mark Wahlberg), a would-be inventor who stumbles upon one of the movie’s titular alien robots.  But unsurprisingly, Cade has little time to enjoy his find, as he quickly becomes caught in the midst of the franchise’s seemingly endless war of Transformers.

Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you anything about the movie’s plot.  At the very least, I expect these types of movies, (i.e. big and brainless summer blockbusters) to tell accessible stores with well-defined, unambiguous characters with obvious purpose.  Yet “Age of Extinction” is so incoherent that I’m still not sure who the film’s villain was.   

Even worse, it appears as though no one told Mr. Bay that this wasn’t actually going to be a movie, but rather a bloated commercial aimed at the Chinese market.  Just when it seems as if we’ve seen the film’s final excessive explosion, the director abruptly diverts the narrative to Hong Kong for even more random explosions and slow-motion action set-pieces.  The worst part?  That this sequence looks suspiciously like a glamorous, tourist-baiting ad, rather than a genuine overextension of the story. 

In other words, bravo, Mr. Bay—you are now officially the poster child for Hollywood sell-outs.  In fact, I walked out of the theater imagining him saying to me, “Ha ha, you idiot!  It’s your own fault for paying for this!”

So—why would I pay to see this?  There are a couple of reasons.  Partly, it was because I found 2011’s “Transformers: Dark of the Moon” to be quite entertaining; partly it was because I grew up with the Transformers.  But if this franchise represents the direction that Hollywood is moving in, then, for future reference, I cannot help but feel much more skeptical with what the next summer movie season has in store.

In closing, I’ll admit that I do appreciate the dark, noirish sci-fi feel that the producers have attempted to instill in the film.  But due to the pressures of the commercial business reality, the film’s notorious director appears to have just barely taken this edict to heart, and instead settled on a failed mission.

Seen Saturday, June 28^TH at Cinetopia Vancouver Mall 23, in GXL format.

Movie Review: "Dawn of the Planet of the Apes" (Matt Reeves, 2014)

HUMANIZED APES, GOING BANNANAS by Mo Shaunette

Above: Caesar (Andy Serkis) leads the revolution in Mr. Reeves' "Dawn"

Anyone else find it weird that “Planet of the Apes” has become an icon of science-fiction cinema?  Because the original movie didn’t have much staying power.  Yes, it’s a good film, but it lacks the qualities that made other sci-fi movies staples of the genre—the progressive ideology of “Star Trek,” the reckless fun of “Star Wars,” the cerebral experimentation of “2001: A Space Odyssey,” or the immediate cultural relevance of “The Day the Earth Stood Still.”

Twice, the franchise been rebooted, starting with 2001’s “Planet of the Apes” (a.k.a. “Mark Wahlberg Talks to Animals: The Movie”) (a.k.a. “Marky Mark and the Monkey Bunch”), a drab, bloated misfire that spent more time riding the coattails of its predecessor than creating something new.  The second attempt, however, was more successful.  2011’s prequel “Rise of the Planet of the Apes” grounded the origin of chimp revolutionary Caesar in the 21st Century and was actually really good—the film was both smart enough to take its material seriously and clever enough to have fun with it.  It was also fueled by a riveting lead performance from Andy Serkis as Caesar.  Don’t believe what the press for “Rise” said; despite James Franco getting star billing, the movie was owned by Mr. Serkis, who asserted his dominance as the Maestro of Mo-Cap.

The latest installment in the franchise, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes,” realizes this and leaves most of the film in Caesar’s animated hands.  Ten years after the events of “Rise,” Caesar and his tribe of intelligent apes are living in a stable society in the San Francisco Redwoods.  By this point, most of humanity has been wiped out by a rampant retrovirus, but a few survivors living in the city are hoping to make use of a run-down hydroelectric dam in Caesar’s territory.  Caesar allows them to fix it up, but mistrust is present on both sides, making it clear that it’ll only take the right spark to ignite a genocidal war.

What’s surprising about “Dawn” is how much pathos it rings out of the ape characters and their interactions.  The good folks at Weta Digital still make some of the most convincing CGI in the business and the actors, spearheaded by Mr. Serkis, give fantastic performances that (ironically) humanize the apes (you almost forget that you’re watching the emotional turmoil of lines of code made to look like chimpanzees).

That’s not to say that the human characters are left out—they’re brought movingly to life by actors like Jason Clarke, Gary Oldman, Keri Russell, and Kodi Smit-McPhee.  And it certainly helps that the film’s script (by Mark Bomback, Rick Jaffa, and Amanda Silver) takes pains to emphasize the symmetries between the apes and the humans.  Yes, such attempts feel heavy-handed at times, but they still make the story and characters more engaging.

Like its predecessor, the script for “Dawn” is surprisingly smart for a movie about an armed simian uprising.  “Rise” was about a revolution spurred by the over-ambition and irresponsibility of man; “Dawn” is about how firebrands like Caesar are more complex and nuanced than history might give them credit for being (with the ape leader’s struggle to forge peace with humanity and placate his restless people at the center of the film).

This is making the movie sound really dry, isn’t it?  Hurm…did I mention the apes with machine guns?  Because there’s a whole lot of that too.  Indeed, film’s inevitable war is one of actions over words, with human vs. ape gunfights (I just really typed that sentence, didn’t I?) making up a good portion of the movie’s second half.

Surprisingly, I couldn’t get onboard with these scenes as much as you might expect.  Much as I love science-fiction works that embrace the ridiculousness of their own conceits, I found myself watching a chimpanzee riding a horse through a wall of flames while dual-wielding machine guns and thinking, “This is a bit silly, isn’t it?”  If you can groove to such moments, more power to you.  But I was more engaged by the climactic battle of blunt instruments and raw strength in “Rise.”

Thus, in the end, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” doesn’t come together as strongly as its predecessor.  But it’s still a fine movie anchored by stunning effects, terrific acting, and (enjoyably) ludicrous action.  If you’re in the market for an engaging, smart, and fun blockbuster, I highly recommend it.

Movie Review: "Snowpiercer" (Bong Joon-ho, 2014)

ROLLING OFF THE RAILS OF A CRAZY TRAIN by Mo Shaunette

Above: Chris Evans rides a post-apocalyptic train in Mr. Bong's film

Despite sometimes taking place in different times and indeed different places entirely, science fiction works are often preoccupied with the here and now, with writers using fantastical settings or technologies to explore relevant issues of the day.  Right now, the genre seems to be focused on class disparity—movies like Neill Blomkamp’s “Elysium,” books like Suzanne Collins’s “The Hunger Games,” and comics like Greg Rucka and Michael Lark’s “Lazarus” have all taken a look at the growing schism between the haves and have-nots using the prism of “the future” and all that that entails.

The latest addition to this artistic movement is “Snowpiercer,” an adaptation of the French graphic novel “Le Transperceneige” and the first English-language film from Korean writer/director Bong Joon-ho.  Like its sci-fi forerunners, it’s a film that features some thought-provoking ideas (though I get the sense that it’ll be remembered more for its visceral action and direction).

            “Snowpiercer” begins after an attempt to stop global warming backfires and plummets the Earth into a new ice age, rendering nearly all life on the planet extinct. The only survivors are those aboard titular Snowpiercer, a train circling the globe on a perpetual engine.  There, life is strictly divided between the decadent first class in the front of the train and the destitute stowaways in the tail, with the former able to use, abuse, and discard the latter as they see fit.  However, tail inhabitants Curtis (Chris Evans), Edgar (Jamie Bell), and Gilliam (John Hurt) kick start a revolution, desperate to overtake the head of the Snowpiercer and make post-apocalyptic life worth living.

            Often times, “Snowpiercer” feels like a video game, specifically one of the installments in the “Bioshock” franchise.  Rather than focusing on story or character, the film spends its time exploring the implications of living in a place built on an extreme philosophy—the survival of humanity at all cost.  Thus, the characters exist largely as vessels for and witnesses to the film’s ideas…at least when they’re not participating in the movie’s jarring action scenes.

See, Curtis and company’s rebellion requires fighting the train’s police and civilian militia.  And since bullets are a scarcity aboard the Snowpiercer, most of the battles involve brutal combat with knives, hatchets, and whatever blunt instruments the characters can find.  It’s amongst this carnage that Mr. Bong’s technical prowess shines—he allows the fighting to become more refined as the rebels move forward through the train cars, going from shaky-cam shots and zoom-ins to steady, controlled images of brutality that is no less vicious than what has come before.

            It doesn’t hurt that the cast is solid all-around, even though the script doesn't give them much to do.  Mr. Evans pulls off a salt-of-the-earth, blue collar affectation for most of the movie (until the third act, when he breaks down and explains the horrible realities of life in the caboose and doesn’t miss a step going); and Song Kang-ho is memorable as an enigmatic security expert helping the resistance (as is Go Ah-sung as his wide-eyed, clairvoyant daughter).  However, the show is nearly stolen by Tilda Swinton as the villainous Minister Mason, who chews the scenery through false teeth and spits venom at the lower class with an ugly Scottish accent.

            It’s a bizarre performance, to say the least.  Yet what’s strangest about “Snowpiercer” is how oddly paced it is.  The first third of the film is loaded with action—the revolution starts early, leaving little room for characterization.  And while this quick commencement of hostilities is attention-getting and engaging, it means that when allies start dying for the cause, there’s much less impact than one might hope.  And even though the movie’s middle segment thankfully slows to take a breath as the rebels see how the other half lives for the first time (capped by a perversely gleeful visit to a front-of-the-train grade school), the damage is already done.  By the time we reach act three and the true need of the uprising is made clear, the film has become too imbalanced to be affecting.

            At the end of it all, I’d still give “Snowpiercer” a recommendation—perhaps not for the story or the characters, but definitely for the action, the production design, and the direction.  It may not change anyone’s life, but it’s a fun, engaging piece of science-fiction that may even have something to say about what truly makes us human in the most extreme of circumstances.

Movie Review: "Begin Again" (John Carney, 2014)

OUT OF TUNE by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo star in the latest film from the director of "Once"

There is a moment in “Begin Again” when the talented songwriter Greta (Keira Knightley) berates her fame-hungry former lover Dave (Adam Levine), disdainfully calling him a practitioner of “stadium pop.”  Why, she wonders, does he care about what other people think?  Why can’t he just create something authentic?

            It’s a good question, and I wish that the film’s writer-director, John Carney, had answered it.  But though Mr. Carney is a master of the modern musical (as evidenced by his 2007 romance “Once”), “Begin Again” strikes notes as painfully false as the ones Dave sings in high, whiny voice.  It’s not just that the movie is mechanical and forced (many respectable movies are that and still charming); it’s that it’s hollow, irritating, and ingratiating—an art house product that’s slicker and faker than many bombastic blockbusters.

            Also, “Begin Again” is strikingly unenjoyable.  After Greta first sings (magnificently, onstage in a halo of purple light), we meet Dan (Mark Ruffalo), an annoying music producer looking for a comeback.  To Dan, Greta—tender, sweet, and smart—looks like a chance for redemption.  So even though he’s already inebriated, he invites her to talk career prospects and down a beer with him (after “Obvious Child,” “Begin Again” is the second 2014 movie to display a creepily blasé attitude towards alcoholism).

            Alas, not everyone sees in Greta what Dan does.  But he persists and together, they record an album on the streets of New York, rushing from roof top and train station, making music wherever they can.  It’s a rejuvenating enterprise, one that soothes Greta’s broken heart (when the film begins, Dave has dumped her for a glamorous executive) and even gives Dan a chance to reconnect with his estranged daughter Violet (Hailee Steinfeld), who inspires everyone with her awkward and ingenious guitar riffs.

            I know what you’re thinking—how could anyone not be charmed by such a sweet story?  After all, “Begin Again” has all the ingredients of a crowd-pleaser, from a good-hearted bad boy in Dan to a tough, broken-hearted gal in Greta.  But for me, emotional entertainment demands more than good ingredients; it requires a filmmaker with the skill to mix them together with eloquence, thoughtfulness, and just enough naturalism. 

Considering the authenticity of “Once” (that film’s dialogue was so relaxed and human that it felt improvised), it’s amazing that nothing about “Begin Again” feels genuine.  Just listen when Dan proposes the “streets of New York” album concept to Greta.  It’s meant to be a “eureka!” moment, but Dan’s “aha” sounds stunningly wooden—so much that you feel as if he’s suggesting the idea only to set the plot in motion.

            And there are other problems looming.  Dan and Greta are both, we are told, wounded souls.  Yet there’s no truth in their anguish.  Never for an instant does either character display an ounce of real feeling; instead, they just blather articulately about their problems (“You don’t know anything about me!” Dan bawls), as only characters in a disingenuous Hollywood romance can.

            That said, “Begin Again” is not a traditional romance.  The chemistry between Dan and Greta is obvious, but they’re both a mess; neither is in a position to begin a new relationship.  Thus, we get a wrenching moment at the end of the movie when they hug, feeling deeply for each other but knowing that, now that their record is complete, they’ll have to part ways.

            I felt something during that scene.  I know what it’s like to feel drawn to someone yet know you can’t be with them; it’s tender and it’s agonizing.  And for all its faults, “Begin Again” finds some meaning in its story of unconsummated musicians in love.  As in “Once,” making music together is their reward; that may not be enough, but that’s why their experiences together are so transcendent.

            But one moving moment does not a moving film make.  And for a movie about the art of making soulful music, “Begin Again” feels astoundingly artificial.  As actors, Mr. Ruffalo and Ms. Knightley are peerless; as actors playing musicians, they seem oddly awkward and flat.  That’s why it’s comparatively exhilarating whenever Dave comes onscreen.  Yes, he’s insufferably obnoxious (his unctuous personality makes even his grotesque beard seem charming), but at least he’s played by Adam Levine, an actual member of an actual band (Maroon 5).

            That, I think, was what made “Once” so wonderful.  It didn’t star actors; it starred Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, two musicians who inhabited their characters with earthly grace.  In a way, they were portraying versions of themselves, whereas in “Begin Again,” Mr. Ruffalo and Ms. Knightley simply play at being musicians, grasping for a tuneful truth that remains ever out of reach.

"How to Train Your Dragon 2" (Dean DeBlois, 2014)

HOW TO MAKE YOUR SEQUEL by Mo Shaunette

Above: Hiccup and Toothless, together again

Looking back on it, 2010’s “How to Train Your Dragon” feels like part of a concentrated effort by DreamWorks Animation to rebrand itself.  Prior, the studio was largely known as the company that mimicked Pixar, made obnoxious and dated pop culture references, and whose trademark franchise was an extended middle finger to the House of Mouse.

So, it came as a genuine surprise when DreamWorks made something that was…well, genuine.  In fact, “How to Train Your Dragon” was a legitimately great film filled with richly-drawn characters, strong heart and emotion, and stunning designs that made it one of the best animated movies of the modern age.  Which brings us to “How to Train Your Dragon 2,” a sequel that doesn’t quite live up to the original, but is still a fun and adventurous ride.

The new “Dragon” takes place five years after the events of the first film, with the island of Berk now fully embracing dragon/human cohabitation.  There, the heroic Hiccup (voiced by Jay Baruchel), once a misfit inventor surrounded by burly Viking warriors, has become a high-flying daredevil, sporting equipment that makes him seem like a 10th Century Batman.

Hiccup would rather explore the uncharted areas surrounding Berk than be groomed to inherit the mantle of chief from his father Stoick (Gerard Butler).  However, his exploration puts him in the crosshairs of the dragon trapper Eret (Kit Harrington) and his boss, warlord Drago Bludvist (Djimon Honsou).  Fortunately, Hiccup finds an unexpected ally in his mother, Valda (Cate Blanchet), who has become a sort of dragon whisperer since her presumed demise twenty years prior.

Pretty much all of the things that made the first movie great reappear here.  The voice cast?  Strong all around, despite the game of accent roulette that’s going on (the kids here have American accents, the older generation are all Scottish, Eret is British and Drago is…something.  I couldn’t pin it.  It’s a hodgepodge all around). The animation?  Flawless; the scenes of flight and combat are epic, while the dragon designs are unique and varied.  The story?  Surprisingly mature.  Much like in the first movie, the main source of emotional conflict in the sequel is the divide between the modern-thinking Hiccup and his stuck-in-his-ways father.  Fortunately, the movie has the smarts to not paint either of them as entirely wrong in their disagreement over how best to adapt to this dragon-populated world.

Ultimately, “How to Train Your Dragon 2” is rather smart by the standards of most movies, and especially by those of children’s fare.  Yet its villain falls flat.  In Movie 1, the enemy was one tyrannical queen bee of a dragon, a wild animal largely exempt from needing development or motivation; in Movie 2, we have Eret, who’s mostly just a henchman, and Drago, who isn’t terribly interesting.  Yes, his design is interesting, Mr. Honsou goes for broke in his vocal performance, and there’s something to be said for Drago acting as the dark reflection of Hiccup.  But he’s still just an uninteresting, single-minded conqueror.

Finally, the movie loses a lot of steam in its second half when Hiccup’s emotional conflict has to share the spotlight with an entire dragon war.  But I’m still giving “How to Train Your Dragon 2” a solid thumbs up.  It’s not as consistently compelling as its predecessor, but it’s still a strong sequel that builds and expands the series’ universe and makes for a memorable, fun movie.

Movie Review: "22 Jump Street" (Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, 2014)

BACK TO SCHOOL AGAIN by Mo Shaunette

Above: Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum return in "22 Jump Street"

I feel like nobody really saw 2012’s “21 Jump Street” coming.  It could have easily been a half-assed, crude buddy-cop venture commissioned because its name was familiar; instead, it turned out to be a clever, funny take on both cop and high school movies, bolstered by strong script, good directors, and a great, unlikely pair of lead actors.  Hell, it’s the movie that convinced me Channing Tatum WAS an actor, as I had not yet seen him act in films up to that point—just say words and do things while someone pointed a camera at him.

When “21 Jump Street” became a box-office hit, a sequel seemed inevitable.  And the results are, surprisingly, as good as the first one.  “22 Jump Street” lives up to the promise of its predecessor, with cops Jenko (Mr. Tatum) and Schmidt (Jonah Hill) investigating a synthetic drug being developed at a local college campus.  In a not-terribly-subtle lean against the fourth wall, their superiors (Ice Cube, Nick Offerman) assure them that they’re there “to do the same thing they did the first time, just with a bigger budget.”  However, the case does turn out to be different in its own subtle ways, partially due to Schmidt’s growing dependency on his friend and Jenko's desire to pull away, which threatens to drive a wedge between the two friends.

Since “22 Jump Street” is the work of the talented directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (whose recent film, “The Lego Movie,” I also reviewed for this site), it’s no surprise that it entertains.  And in addition, Mr. Hill and Mr. Tatum still have a strong chemistry, and it’s fun seeing Ice Cube chew the scenery as their short-tempered boss (there’s also some juicy cameos from the likes of Patton Oswalt, Queen Latifah, and Marc Evan Jackson).  Most of the new players (like Wyatt Russell as a meat-headed jock and Amber Stevens as a clever art student) aren’t given much to do, but their main job is to bounce off our two leads—something they accomplish with aplomb.

If there’s any downside to the film, it’s that not all of the comedy lands; in particular, the self-aware “this is a sequel” jokes grow tiresome.  However, this is turned around in an extended credits gag that is honestly the highlight of the movie. Overall, “22 Jump Street” is a blast—if you liked the first one, you should definitely go check this movie out.

Movie Review: "Titanic" (James Cameron, 1997)

NOT FORGOTTEN by Bennett Campbell Ferguson

Above: Leo and Kate, fighting for survival.  Photo ©Paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox.

Last Spring Break, I stayed at a beach house with my family.  There, we pawed through our rented residence’s movie selections, uncovering an awful lot of Kevin Costner and, weirdly, a number of Best Picture winners.  Finally, we agreed to take on “Titanic” and almost immediately, the living room was awash with snickering.  The movie’s dialogue provoked laughter; the cinematography invited sneers; and there were even protestations of boredom.

            And yet…I knew I was falling in love.  It is a rare and beautiful thing to be instantly absorbed by a movie the first time you watch it.  Yet that’s how it was for me with “Titanic.”  Sitting there, on that unfamiliar couch, I ended up in a state of rapture, of brutal awe, of cinematic love.  Yes, the movie over powered me and I felt battered, but I was all the better for it.

            I’ll admit that I wasn’t instantly won over.  “Titanic” begins in the present day, with fictional salvager Brock Lovett (Bill Paxton) exploring the wreckage of the ill-fated vessel immortally known as Titanic.  He’s looking for a blue diamond (who knew such a thing existed?) that will make him richer and, most likely, even more obnoxious than he already is. But the gem proves elusive until Brock he meets Rose Calvert (Gloria Stuart), a one-hundred year-old woman who claims to have survived the Titanic wreck and to have been the owner of the diamond.

            I wouldn’t blame anyone for yawning while watching these scenes unfold.  Never one to curb screen time, the film’s director, James Cameron (“Avatar”), lavishes his attention on this opening sequence, which is essentially a mere framing device.  Yet soon, his logic becomes clear.  As Rose sits down to tell Brock and his crew her version of the sinking of the Titanic, Russell Carpenter’s camera pans toward the wreckage of the ship…and then we fade into the past where the vessel stands whole, clean, new, and ready for its maiden voyage.

            It’s a magnificent sight, though Mr. Cameron is as interested in the passengers as he is in the ship itself.  Thus, in a gleaming take, we see a younger Rose (Kate Winslet) stepping out of her car, dressed in a white dress that is as spectacular as any of the movie’s sleek digital effects.  And soon after, we meet the man she’s destined to fall in love with on Titanic’s journey to America: Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio).

            The second blush of “Titanic” is about this courtship.  Rose, engaged to a man she despises (Billy Zane) and forced by her family into a world of suffocating civility, tries to leap over the edge of the ship.  But Jack, neatly establishing himself as an almost too-perfect hero, pulls her to safety and soon, the two are gadding about the beautiful vessel, chatting about their lives, and making a fair amount of mischief.

            In another film, this romance might have seemed pedestrian.  After all, there’s nothing particularly compelling about Rose and Jack as characters; we’ve seen plenty of good-hearted guys woo feisty gals in the history of American cinema.  Yet Ms. Winslet and Mr. DiCaprio sell the story; her archness and his ferocious nasal twang zing with energy and Mr. Cameron adds a zesty sweep to their every move.  In one scene, Rose and Jack dance together at a drunken party on the ship’s lower decks; determined not to miss a moment of motion, the camera tips down towards Jack’s feet as they nimbly tap and twist across the deck.

            Beyond that, there’s something incredibly vital about this love story.  Jack, a man of pure instinct, pursues Rose at every turn, flagrantly and gleefully disregarding the fact that her high social stature makes a union between them borderline impossible.  And he ultimately wins her undying devotion, resulting in a scene that has become cinematic legend (and lives up to every ounce to the hype). 

It begins late in the evening, when Jack invites Rose to stand with him on the very edge of the ship’s front railing.  “Close your eyes,” he tells her as he helps her step upwards.  Then, she looks outward and sees the ocean, stretched out far beneath them.  “I’m flying, Jack!” she cries.  Ms. Winslet sounds a little silly that line, yet seeing these two lovers suspended high above sunset-drenched waters, you feel as if Mr. Cameron has given you wings as well.

            Often, the beauty of such moments makes me wish that “Titanic” had a happy ending.  But it doesn’t; it couldn’t, really.  Jack and Rose may be fictional characters, but Mr. Cameron (who also wrote the film) inserts them into very real history.  So soon, the ship has crashed into an iceberg; lifeboats (far too few of them) are being lowered into freezing waters; and Jack and Rose are plunging into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, struggling to survive.

            In all honesty, I’m ethically uncertain about Mr. Cameron turning this historical tragedy into a histrionic blockbuster spectacle.  As A.O. Scott wisely pointed out, moviegoers share an instinct to find pleasure in what they see.  And as horrendous as it is watching the passengers of the Titanic die onscreen, it is unbelievably exciting as well.  As torrents of water crash through the ship’s halls, shattering everything in their path, James Horner’s magnificent score surges forth, granting you a burst of adrenaline.  Pleasure?  Yes indeed.

            But why quibble?  I remain happy that “Titanic” exists.  Movies, with their ability to mix music, performance, and photography, can capture tragic love better than almost any other medium.  So it is with Jack and Rose.  “You jump, I jump,” Jack tells her when they first meet.  It’s a sweet declaration of loyalty and it means everything to Jack and Rose, especially when their world literally collapses around them.

            Soon, of course, it all fades.  After all that passion and tragedy, we return to the present, to Brock Lovett and his crew.  For them, the destruction of the Titanic is history.  Yet even sitting and listening, they feel it for a moment, hearing the older Rose tell the story of the boy she once loved and the ship she once loved on.  And Brock and crew are moved by what they hear, as we are; perhaps, they too long to be swept up into a world of majesty and romance, however short-lived it may be.