Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022)

Tags

Action, Animation, Comedy, Dreamworks, Family, Fantasy

Why waste your youth on worry?
Why brood on doubt and death?
When in your prime,
You have the time
To not count every breath.

It’s normal to be stupid,
Or so the stupid say.
The less you heed,
The less you need
To care about each day.

But age, regret, or wisdom
Eventually take hold
To some degree.
Stupidity
Dies out before it’s old.

It’s up to each what value
Upon their life is placed.
But when the fun
And games are done,
Don’t let it be a waste.
_____________________________

MPA rating: PG

I would not have expected one of my favorite films from last year to be a sequel separated from its franchise by eleven years, from a studio I thought I had stopped caring about. In 2022, DreamWorks Animation delivered two of their strongest films in recent years, first with The Bad Guys and then with the long-neglected sequel Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. Both clearly took inspiration from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse in their dynamic, painterly animation style merging 2D and 3D, but Puss in Boots also managed to integrate it with the existing style of Shrek, to masterly effect. You may have heard others singing this film’s praises in recent months, and yep, I’m one of them.

The first Puss in Boots film was a fun standalone adventure, a spin-off of the Shrek universe focusing on Antonio Banderas’ fan-favorite character Puss in Boots, the dashing outlaw/legend of the fairy tale world. Whereas that was an origin story, The Last Wish focuses on the latter days of Puss’s illustrious career, after he’s frittered away eight of his nine lives and has grown complacent laughing in the face of death. When a mysterious wolf proves to be too much for him, the feline swordsman feels he has no choice but to retire. Yet the promise of a wish sends him rushing to find a fallen star, alongside his old flame Kitty Softpaws (Salma Hayek Pinault), an incessantly friendly dog (Harvey Guillén), and a collection of more cutthroat wish-seekers.

Puss in Boots can seem like the kind of character better suited for a sidekick role, his self-aggrandizing personality most appealing in small doses. Yet The Last Wish uses that to its advantage in making the preservation of that façade Puss’s driving goal while simultaneously poking holes in it through the other characters. Kitty is the only returning character from the prior film, and she represents what Puss has given up for the sake of his ego. And Guillén’s nameless mutt, nicknamed Perrito, is the kind of character that promises to be annoying yet is infectiously nice enough to win anyone over, even his begrudging feline comrades who aren’t used to unbridled sincerity.

The villains are a special highlight, an entertaining mix of characters and motivations, from Big Jack Horner (John Mulaney) as the straight evil mastermind to Goldilocks (Florence Pugh) and the Three Bears (Ray Winstone, Olivia Colman, and Samson Kayo) as a Cockney crime family with more sympathetic edges. And then there’s the Wolf (Wagner Moura), one of the best animated antagonists in recent memory, who has such an effectively chilling presence that it’s no wonder the ever fearless Puss in Boots quakes at his stark whistle. All these characters clashing periodically on the way to a shared goal may seem overly frenetic at times, but their distinct motives and the way they bounce off each other make for a highly enjoyable quest, kept unpredictable by genius creative touches like a map that changes the terrain depending on who holds it open.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is a triumphant return for the long-dormant Shrek universe. It excels in that rare balance of light entertainment for kids and subtler serious themes for adults, such as the looming specter of mortality or the easily missed value of a found family. Banderas steps into the role with panache, like he never left it; Mulaney sounds like he’s having a blast hamming it up as a power-hungry villain; and Guillén brings a perfect adorability to Perrito, who is the true heart of the film. And the beautifully rendered action is top notch, using the Spider-Verse similarities to its own stylistic advantage rather than just being a copycat.

I distinctly remember watching Shrek 2 as a kid because my mom surprised me with a visit to the movies after school, and it just happened to be a great one. Somehow, I got the feeling that some kid today is going to look back on Puss in Boots: The Last Wish with the same fondness. As much as Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio deserved its accolades, I really wish that it hadn’t overshadowed DreamWorks’ best film in years. But, as this movie testifies, there are more important things than wishes anyway.

Best line (showing great comedic interactions):
(Goldilocks) “I thought you were on a spiritual retreat.”
(Kitty Softpaws) “Namaste.”
(Goldilocks) “And you’re supposed to be dead!”
(Puss) “I got better.”

Rank: List-Worthy

© 2023 S.G. Liput
784 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #12: Children of Men (2006)

Tags

Action, Drama, Sci-fi, Thriller

While most of us were waiting for a whimper or a bang,
The world we knew withdrew instead of ending.
We thought that we would certainly bounce back or boomerang,
And still we watch and wait, uncomprehending.

No more are teens or children even deemed a demographic,
For all are grown with none to take their place.
No crying babies anymore, no more school zone traffic,
And no descendants for a dying race.

It’s funny how the future’s so dependent on the youth
Who’ll live it out and screw it up anew.
Without them, it’s the present that becomes the only truth,
No benefit of retrospect for you.
_____________________________

MPA rating: R (for violence, language, and a childbirth scene)

At long last, we are here at the end of last year’s Blindspots! It’s been like pulling teeth for some reason getting to these overdue reviews, but hopefully I can pick up the pace with new material for the year. Luckily, I ended this 2022 series with a winner. Based on the P.D. James novel, Children of Men is the scariest kind of dystopia, one that feels all too possible within its speculative what-if scenario. Even aspects that may have seemed less immediate in 2006 have taken on an uncomfortable prescience now, from the chaos of illegal immigration to government-sanctioned self-euthanasia.

Instead of some distant nuclear war or technological breakthrough, this world’s disaster is the slow and quiet death of infertility. Since 2009, women can no longer get pregnant, and now in 2027, children are a thing of the past, with hope being further corroded by England’s brutally suppressed influx of refugees. Bureaucrat Theo Faron (Clive Owen) sees little he can do in the face of the crisis until he is drawn into the effort of his activist ex-wife (Julianne Moore) to get a somehow pregnant refugee named Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey) to safety.

Director Alfonso Cuaron outdid himself in making Children of Men a gripping and visceral experience. I was bordering on bored during the first twenty minutes, as the extreme despair of Theo’s London is presented, a world fumbling through a tunnel with no light at the end. Yet once the main quest of the plot is established, ferrying Kee out of England to a mysterious organization called the Human Project, it becomes a breathless chase as Theo and his allies must outmaneuver insurgents and government obstacles. Even the less bombastic moments have a suspenseful edge to them, like a “car chase” in which a stalling car rolls downhill with runners in close pursuit. (That actually sounds strangely comical written down, but it’s thrilling in context.) While it was nice seeing the likes of Chiwetel Ejiofor and Michael Caine, the performances don’t stand out as much as the technical excellence around them, but they build on the plot’s subtext as a modern Nativity story, with Owen’s everyman helping Ashitey’s Marian figure through dangers on all sides.

As I’ve mentioned many times before, I’m a sucker for long scenes with no (or hidden) cuts, which happen to be Cuaron’s specialty. I was familiar with a scene in which a car is assailed by an armed mob, which required an impressive camera rig to swing around the inside of a car with five people in it, but even more impressive was an over-six-minute shot in which Theo weaves through an urban warzone, into and out of a building under heavy fire. It’s hard for anything to top the feature length of 1917, but the sheer audacity of staging and shooting such a sequence has my immense respect and admiration.

Of course, I would have preferred it without the cursing and two brief scenes of nudity, but Children of Men deserves its critical acclaim. I’m honestly surprised that it wasn’t deemed worthy of Oscar nominations for Best Picture or Best Director (it did get a nod for Cinematography and Adapted Screenplay), but it’s not the first time the Academy snubbed a deserving film. I read that the film’s ending was intentionally left open-ended to allow for hope or despair depending on the viewer, and I’m rather glad that I found it hopeful, if bittersweet. It’s not always easy finding that light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s there.

Best line: (Michael Caine’s Jasper) “Everything is a mythical, cosmic battle between faith and chance.”

Rank:  List Runner-Up (close to List-Worthy)

© 2023 S.G. Liput
784 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #11: Grand Canyon (1991)

Tags

Drama

For every moment of suffering,
For every moment of joy,
For every up or down you face,
Another’s felt it in your place.
Another’s felt that same heartache,
That grateful twinge, that give and take,
And you can trust you’re not alone
In every feeling you can’t shake.

Perhaps they’re a hemisphere distant,
Perhaps they are right down the street,
Perhaps you’ve met and couldn’t tell
How similar the parallel
Between the feelings that you share,
The craving dream, the silent prayer.
Perhaps you both look nothing alike,
But what you share is always there.
_________________________

MPA rating: R (mainly for language and brief nudity)

One of fellow blogger MovieRob’s favorite films (thanks for the recommendation), Grand Canyon is the kind of film I usually like, a wide-reaching glimpse into the lives of diverse people and how their individual stories intersect. This sort of ensemble picture can have varying levels of prestige, from the holiday charm of Love Actually to the sober drama of Yi Yi, but it can also go wildly wrong if too many of the stories themselves are uninteresting or off-putting, as with last year’s disappointing Blindspot Short Cuts. Thankfully, Grand Canyon is on the positive side of that spectrum, though there’s a distinct feeling that it’s trying too hard to hammer home its themes.

Advertised as a spiritual successor to writer-director Lawrence Kasdan’s The Big Chill (one of my VC’s favorite movies), the film’s main dynamic is sparked when lawyer Mack (Kevin Kline) narrowly escapes being mugged thanks to the cool-headed tow truck driver Simon (Danny Glover), after which Mack goes out of his way to befriend Simon and help him and his family. Alongside this plot are parallel threads about Mack’s wife (Mary McDonnell) wanting to adopt an abandoned baby she finds and his movie producer friend Davis (Steve Martin) second-guessing the violent content of his films after he is injured in a shooting. Add in the likes of Alfre Woodard, Mary-Louise Parker, and Jeremy Sisto, and you have an outstanding ensemble cast on hand.

On a purely narrative level, Grand Canyon deals with how people react to unexpected changes in their life – a near-death experience, a mid-life crisis, a change in scenery, the blossoming or ending of a love affair. In these aspects, the film excels in its realistic portrayal of different responses. Mack’s scare causes him to reach out and look further in the strata of Los Angeles society than he has before, even if he can’t shake some cluelessness of how his actions affect others. On the other hand, Davis’s change in perspective is short-lived, merely informing his decision to keep up his old habits. The film doesn’t end up giving complete closure to all these disparate threads (the storylines of Parker’s adulterous secretary and Simon’s gang-influenced nephew are dropped without a final resolution), but it is only a snapshot of these turning points, one that captures their dreams and anxieties in a world just as chaotic as it is thirty-two years later.

One can tell the effort that went into Kasdan’s Oscar-nominated screenplay, which is replete with insightful discussions about control and meaning and miracles and existence. And while these are laudable topics, I couldn’t help but think that normal people don’t talk about these universal concepts as casually as they do in this movie. While I appreciated the existential concerns raised (albeit without any religious dimension), the eloquence of it also kept reminding me that this is a script being delivered, quite well of course but not convincingly enough to completely connect with these characters. That could be my own personal gripe that wouldn’t bother other viewers, but it keeps Grand Canyon from being a new favorite ensemble flick. Still, as thoughtful all-star dramas go, it’s a well-made and perceptive piece that uses its particular time and place to ask timeless questions.

Best line: (Davis, to Mack) “That’s part of your problem, you know, you haven’t seen enough movies. All of life’s riddles are answered in the movies.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2023 S.G. Liput
784 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #10: The Frighteners (1996)

Tags

Comedy, Fantasy, Horror, Thriller

If ghosts are really dead and well
And haunting us instead of hell
Or heaven, then it’s fair to ponder
What they’re up to when they wander.

Could it be their lifeless heads
Are in our bathrooms, in our beds,
Next to us when we’re alone
To judge us and what’s on our phone?

Could it be they find their fun
In terrifying everyone?
Just float a chair or whisper “boo,”
And while you scream, they laugh at you.

Or maybe they just do their schtick
Because the dead resent the quick
And all the things they can’t enjoy
And so endeavor to annoy?

Or maybe phantoms leave a trail
Of fear to flout the coffin nail,
To prove to us as well as them
That they exist by their mayhem.

It must be hard to be a ghoul.
To be invisible is cruel.
So next time you are all alone,
Turn to the ghost you might have known
And dare to share a friendly word,
Perhaps their first since being interred.
And if they don’t scare you away,
Just know you might have made their day.
_______________________

MPA rating:  R (for violence, mostly PG-13-level except for one scene)

Yep, I’m still here catching up on my 2022 Blindspots, but I have officially seen them all! So now it’s just getting the reviews out. Though I had intended it for last Halloween, next up is a little horror film with some unlikely bedfellows in director Peter Jackson before he hit the big time with Lord of the Rings and Michael J. Fox in his last starring role, shortly before announcing his Parkinson’s diagnosis. Between Jackson’s penchant for horror comedy (much toned down here) and Fox’s natural charisma, the two proved to be a good mix, finding both humor and pathos in a tale of a con artist who can see dead people and must battle a murderous phantom only he can see.

Fox plays Frank Bannister, a self-proclaimed banisher of ghosts, who gets help in faking the hauntings in a small American town (actually Jackson’s native New Zealand) from his spectral collaborators (Chi McBride, Jim Fyfe, and John Astin). He alone can see ghosts ever since a near-death experience, and after a run-in with a boorish jock (Peter Dobson) and his kinder wife (Trini Alvarado), Frank endeavors to stop a series of sudden random deaths that seem to be caused by the Grim Reaper.

After he’d earned a name through several strictly Kiwi projects of varying taste, The Frighteners was Jackson’s first Hollywood movie, and its mishmash of genres adds to it feeling like a turning-point film, the work of someone still perfecting their talent for mainstream audiences. Despite the twisty plot and colorful performances, it seemed to me that the real intended star was the special effects provided by Weta Digital (now Weta FX) to bring the ghosts to life, particularly the villain whose shape is often seen moving underneath solid surfaces like walls. By today’s standards, those all-CGI moments now have an inescapably dated and unreal look to them, but I can imagine they were a wonder in the mid-1990s.

While Fox’s natural likeability overshadows that of his character, he nails the dramatic moments and the interactions with characters that are not actually there, since all the ghost scenes were shot twice, with and without the ghosts present. As for the antagonists, while the shadowy reaper is a formidable threat, Jeffrey Combs is a scene-stealer as Miles Dammers, the intense FBI agent trying to tie Frank to the killings. Combs was clearly channeling a neurotic Jim Carrey and is a primary source of the film’s humor, which can be hit-and-miss.

Most of the film’s mixed reviews seem to consider it “tonally uneven,” which is true, never going for full-on belly laughs or deep-seated horror. The ending especially forgoes any of the light-hearted campiness in order to make events feel as hopeless as possible for the heroes while also overdoing explanatory flashbacks. Other issues include the rather shallow romance and the fact that the harrowing opening scene doesn’t make much sense in retrospect.

I don’t mean to sound overly negative; I very much enjoyed The Frighteners and actually watched it twice. It’s not high art nor an outright dud, so it’s hard to figure out in which bucket of appreciation to place it. But it’s an entertaining amalgam of influences that deserves its cult following, and I’m grateful that it served as a stepping stone for Jackson and Weta toward The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Besides, you can’t go wrong ending a movie with “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper.”

Best line: (Frank) “You are SUCH an a**hole.”
(Dammers, unhinged) “Yes, I am. I’m an a**hole… with an Uzi.”

Rank:  List Runner-Up

© 2023 S.G. Liput
784 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #9: The Apu Trilogy (1955, 1956, 1959)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Romance

I grew up in a jungle,
Where the canopies were dense,
Where I could play the warrior
To whom imagined foes defer,
Where time was slow yet fleeting,
A parade of precedents.

I moved then to a jungle,
Not of leaves but weathered stone.
I learned the world was wide and far
And much more fun than parents are.
And every story led me toward
A story of my own.

My mind became a jungle
As the years were filled with noise.
Though grief was vying for the lead,
A stronger love became my creed,
The kind that builds on fate fulfilled
And makes men out of boys.
____________________

MPA rating: Not Rated (nothing really objectionable, though at least PG for the serious subject matter)

So I didn’t fit in all my 2022 Blindspots into last year. It happens, and I’ll just have to aim for better this year. First, though, it’s time to wrap up the old ones, starting with a pick that was perhaps overly ambitious for my slow viewing schedule. Instead of just one film, I made one of my picks a trilogy so that I could introduce myself to the work of acclaimed Indian director Satyajit Ray. Based upon the novels of Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay and boasting a score by Ravi Shankar, the Apu Trilogy is made up of three black-and-white films following the life of a poor Bengali boy named Apu: Pather Panchali (or Song of the Little Road), Aparajito (or The Unvanquished), and Apur Sansar (or The World of Apu). All three are considered landmark films in Indian cinema, earning international esteem and influencing many filmmakers in the decades since.

First up is 1955’s Pather Panchali, Ray’s debut film focusing on Apu’s childhood in the rural forests of Bengal in the 1910s. More than any of the sequels, the first film is focused on the visuals, with an unhurried pace to allow viewers to consider the episodic life of the Roy family, a poor life of sweeping dirt floors and brushing their teeth with a finger but not without its moments of joy and wonder. A more commercial film would have provided some kind of narration, with Apu (Subir Banerjee) reminiscing about his harried mother (Karuna Banerjee), traveling father (Kanu Banerjee), and impish sister Durga (Runki Banerjee and later Uma Dasgupta; no actual relation between the four Banerjees, by the way). Instead, the movie shows rather than tells, reflecting the fact that it was filmed based on storyboards rather than a script, and it boasts several striking images in its picture of agrarian poverty, from the reflection of shadows in a pond as Apu and Durga follow a sweets peddler or the appearance of a train chugging through windswept fields of tall grass, the only sign that this story is set in a modern era.

Despite a behind-the-scenes featurette’s assertion that Pather Panchali is Durga’s film in the trilogy, I thought it belonged more to the mother Sarbajaya. While she doesn’t always come off as likable, even nagging an elderly houseguest until the old woman leaves, Sarbajaya bears the heaviest burden of the family. She deals with the objections over Durga’s stealing from neighbors, the loneliness when her husband is away earning money as a Brahmin priest, and the financial worries when he disappears for months at a time. Her actress has especially expressive eyes that do wonders with the mostly minimalist dialogue. Still, the rambling pacing of Pather Panchali is admittedly tedious at times and ultimately telling a sparse and sad story of poverty. Yet, even if it was meant as a standalone film, I see it as necessary groundwork for the story to come.

The second film is 1956’s Aparajito, which I enjoyed more than the first simply because more happened, but somehow I think it’s my favorite of the three. After the heartache of the first film, young Apu (Pinaki Sengupta) and his family have moved to the city of Benares (now Varanasi), leaving behind bamboo forests and sweeping dirt floors in favor of crowded riverside ghats and sweeping stone floors. While Apu’s father finds more work in the city, it doesn’t take long for more tragedy to strike, forcing another move to stay with a rural relative. There, Apu finally has the opportunity to attend school and awakens a love of learning that eventually sends him off to college in Kolkata, stepping into a more modern world of books and electricity.

Whereas Pather Panchali seemed largely observational, Aparajito felt like a more personal film, particularly focusing on the relationship between Apu and his mother. Apu didn’t have much agency before since he was a wide-eyed child, but comes into his own as a character once he makes the choice to attend school, thanks to the support of the long-suffering Sarbajaya. Like so many adolescents growing up, the older Apu (Smaran Ghosal) is drawn toward the bustling college life instead of his provincial past, and even his moments of sweetness with his mother have a tinge of disinterest on his part. I’m a sucker for a sacrificial mom story, and this is the kind of regretful tale that made me want to hug mine.

Rounding out the trilogy is 1959’s Apur Sansar, focusing on Apu as an adult (Soumitra Chatterjee). Now on his own, he’s a starving artist working on a novel and tutoring on the side, too overqualified for manual labor. When he is invited to a country wedding, a trick of fate and odd local customs result in him marrying the bride, which is a shock to both him and the lovely Aparna (Sharmila Tagore, who somehow looks and acts older than her mere fourteen years). Despite being strangers, a sweet romance gradually blossoms between the two, and Apu must come to terms with his role as husband and then father, as well as the trail of tragedy and grief that has followed him throughout his life.

It seems that most critics consider Apur Sansar the most complete and professional work in the trilogy, and it does feel like the most self-contained, as well as the most satisfying. Ray (or perhaps the author of the source material) is actually quite ruthless with his characters, so by the end, it’s gratifying whenever Apu has a bit of happiness. It helps too that Chatterjee is an outstanding actor, able to evoke his thoughts with only a look, such as a moment in bed where he seems struck by the fact that he is really married. (May he rest in peace, since he died just a couple years ago due to COVID.) I also liked how Apu and Aparna go out to the movies at one point to watch a rather hokey mythological epic, which both recalled a similar play Apu saw in the first film and highlighted how different Ray’s more grounded films were from what came before.

There actually isn’t much continuity between the three films, and any of them could be watched in isolation. Yet they do build upon each other in subtle ways, as when the Apu in Aparajito excels in class due to the home lessons his father gave him in Pather Panchali, or the chuckle-worthy scene in Apur Sansar where Apu’s friend describes the rural lifestyle of his cousins that so closely mirrors Apu’s own upbringing. There are a wealth of more subtle details and creative choices that a non-critic like me may not catch, so I found it even more rewarding to watch behind-the-scenes features about Ray’s artistry, such as the symbolic use of trains as harbingers of death throughout the films.

Now that I’ve watched these certified classics, I can see why they are so well-respected, and I now view Satyajit Ray as an Indian counterpart to Akira Kurosawa in Japan, telling detailed, culturally authentic stories that resonate beyond their specific country or setting. At the same time, I’ll be honest and say these are definitely what I call “critic movies”; perhaps in decades past, they might have had popular appeal, especially in India, but they are designed more to tell a slow and personal story rather than entertain. They are not the kind of movies one watches casually and thus probably not ones I’ll ever see again.

But as works of cinematic art representing the highs and lows of Apu’s life, they do live up to their reputation, provided one has the patience for them. Considering both Chatterjee and Tagore had long and successful careers after Apur Sansar, I’m now curious to see more of their work, not to mention that of director Ray. And I am very grateful for the Criterion Collection’s dedication to preserving all three films, the originals of which were burned in a fire and required great pains to restore. These are nuanced and significant entries in the history of international cinema, and even if they seem mundane by modern standards, I’m glad to have seen them.

Best lines: (schoolmaster, to Apu in Aparajito) “If you don’t read books like these, you can’t broaden your mind. We may live in a remote corner of Bengal, but that doesn’t mean that our outlook should be narrow.”

and

(Apu in Apur Sansar, commenting on Aparna going to her parents for a while) “But I will get some work done on my novel. I haven’t written a line since we were married.”   (Aparna) “Is that my fault?”   (Apu) “It’s to your credit. You know how much my novel means to me. You mean much more.”

Rank for all three: Honorable Mention

© 2023 S.G. Liput
784 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #8: Shutter Island (2010)

Tags

Drama, Mystery, Thriller

The mind has many corners in its many-wrinkled maze,
To hide from heavy burdens that it cannot hope to raise.
The layers of its labyrinth stretch to depths we cannot guess,
And how deeply we flee depends upon our yesterdays.

While most of us can cope with just the top tiers meant for stress,
The world at its most wicked makes us seek a dark recess.
And if we lose our way, the dark that darkness drove us to
May keep us from escaping our escaping in excess.
________________________

MPA rating: R (for violence, language, and brief nudity)

A Merry belated Christmas to all! I may have given up on reviewing all my 2022 Blindspots before the end of the year, but I think I can at least watch them all before year’s end. The reviews will catch up in good time. To be honest, I haven’t seen many Martin Scorsese movies, so I figured I should address that by starting with the one that seemed to have the most intrigue to it. Based on Dennis Lehane’s novel, Shutter Island is a psychological thriller that thrives on its foreboding atmosphere and strong performances, even if it ends up feeling like a mid-tier M. Night Shyamalan plot.

Leonardo DiCaprio delivers an intense performance as U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels, who arrives with his new partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) to the titular island’s Ashecliffe Hospital for the criminally insane to investigate a recently escaped prisoner/patient. Despite requesting their help, the hospital’s head psychiatrist Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley) is hesitant to divulge certain information to the marshals, even as a hurricane moves in to wreak havoc on the island. As Daniels becomes more and more haunted by his own past traumas, he begins to question reality and what kind of conspiracy he has come to confront.

It’s a bit surprising that, despite its acclaimed director and star, Shutter Island failed to generate any awards nominations, aside from a National Board of Review nod. Whether you connect with the story or not, there’s no denying the skill with which it was made: the dingy lighting, the ominous cinematography, the subtle performances. Inception was easily DiCaprio’s better puzzle-box film that year, but it’s still interesting that this film couldn’t snag a single nomination.

I was rather shocked while admiring an especially poignant portion of the musical score as I realized that I had heard it before in another film: “On the Nature of Daylight” by Max Richter added the same emotional gut punch to the ending of Arrival (far more effectively, in my opinion) and other films and TV shows besides. I didn’t realize till afterward that this track was not original to either film or that the entire soundtrack of Shutter Island comprised pre-released classical music.

Perhaps it didn’t help that I had some idea of what the film’s key twist would be. I credit the screenplay for still keeping me guessing and wondering if I was right or not, but yes, I was right. Not to say the film’s reveal wasn’t still effective and heartbreaking, but it didn’t have the same punch as something completely unforeseen. Overall, Shutter Island reminded me a bit of Nightmare Alley in its masterfully composed story and dark setting that I appreciated without being truly drawn into, probably because of its ending clearly designed to foster thoughtfulness in the audience rather than satisfaction. But it’s still an excellent genre piece ripe for theorizing that will no doubt reward further rewatches, which could perhaps raise my opinion of it even more.

Best lines: (Rachel Solando) “People tell the world you’re crazy, and all your protests to the contrary just confirm what they’re saying.”
(Teddy) “I’m not following you, I’m sorry.”
(Rachel) “Once you’re declared insane, then anything you do is called part of that insanity. Reasonable protests are denial, valid fears paranoia…”
(Teddy) “Survival instincts are defense mechanisms.”
(Rachel) “You’re smarter than you look, Marshal. That’s probably not a good thing.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2022 S.G. Liput
783 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #7: Murder By Death (1976)

Tags

Comedy, Mystery

When someone’s suspiciously murdered (which happens all the time
According to TV and film and cozy books on crime),
We normal people just freak out, too shocked to even try,
But sleuths will quickly get to work deducing who and why.

What makes a sleuth is hard to say. They’re curious and bold,
Perceptive often to a fault, and don’t do as they’re told.
They let the wheels of logic turn before they chance a guess,
And where the experts fail with more, they find success with less.

These traits are hardly out of reach, quite feasible in truth,
So average folks like you and me could well become a sleuth.
But sleuths depend on one external factor to arise:
They need the luck to be nearby when someone up and dies.
_____________________________

MPA rating: PG

Even though good ones like Knives Out and See How They Run are still being made, the murder mystery formula is old hat nowadays, and Murder by Death shows it was old hat back in 1976 too. Yet well-worn genres are ripe for parody, especially when writer Neil Simon and a star-studded cast join forces to poke fun at the most recognizable archetypes.

Having seen Glass Onion recently (review pending), I was struck by how similar the setup of that film is to this one’s premise. All the characters are invited to the home of wealthy eccentric Lionel Twain (Truman Capote in a rare acting role that earned him a Golden Globe nomination) and challenged to solve a murder. All of the main guests are acclaimed crime solvers and represent famous fictional detectives, including stand-ins for Hercule Poirot (James Coco), Sam Spade (Peter Falk), Nick and Nora Charles (David Niven and Maggie Smith), Miss Marple (Elsa Lanchester), and Charlie Chan (Peter Sellers in a yellowface role that would definitely not fly nowadays). Beyond those stars, the cast also features Sir Alec Guinness as a blind butler (which is as ridiculous as it sounds) who makes an amusing pair with a new deaf-mute cook (Nancy Walker), as well as Eileen Brennan, Estelle Winwood, and the very first role for James Cromwell.

On the scale of parody, I’d place Murder by Death somewhere around the silliness level of Mel Brooks’ lesser offerings. For most of the film, it plays as a legitimate mystery with injections of zany absurdity and dubious plot twists, and it’s a unique pleasure to have these familiar-ish detectives bounce off each other and trade one-liners, from the preening Coco to the snobby Niven to the hard-boiled Falk. Unfortunately, Sellers’ very presence with his big teeth and broken English is the picture of retroactive racism, furthered by Falk’s prejudiced interactions with him, but he still does a decent job in representing the analytical wisdom of his inspiration, still played for laughs of course. (On another note, I kind of wish there was a Charlie Chan adaptation with an actual Asian actor, modernized the way Shang-Chi was to avoid stereotypes, maybe even about his real-life inspiration Chang Apana.)

Not everyone has enough to do, with Lanchester’s character standing out the least, but Simon’s clever dialogue keeps things entertaining throughout. As an almost chamber piece, it could have made a good stage play as well. By the end, it leans more on screwball parody with a flurry of plot twists that don’t make any sense for the whodunnit but are certainly worth a chuckle, if not the laugh-out-loud experience the film was marketed to be. Likable and dated in equal measure, Murder by Death can’t compare with the recent renaissance of murder mysteries, but it’s a fun ride for those wanting to poke fun at the genre. I think I preferred Clue, though.

Best line: (Sam Diamond, played by Falk) “Locked, from the inside. That can only mean one thing. And I don’t know what it is.”

Rank: Honorable Mention

© 2022 S.G. Liput
783 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #6: Chef (2014)

Tags

Drama

If life were like a recipe,
We’d follow every step and see
If what we’ve done or tried to do
Produced the proper cake or stew
Or coq au vin or cordon bleu
Or tonkatsu or what-have-you.

We’d quickly know where we went wrong,
Like where the salt’s a bit too strong
Or where the spice got out of hand,
Where fresh is favored over canned
Or where the flavor grew too bland.
It would be simpler if pre-planned.

But life’s not like a recipe.
More often, it’s a mess, and we
Must guess on times and quantities,
Ingredients and potencies.
And sometimes we pair fish with cheese
And wish we had more expertise.

But trial and error bear their fruits
(Ideally fending off lawsuits),
And soon the recipe is clear
In retrospect, without veneer.
Sometimes it takes a whole career
To be the chef who cooks by ear.
_________________________

MPA rating: R (solely for language)

As December progresses, I feel like I’m in a race to see if I can cram the rest of this year’s Blindspots into the weeks remaining. Writer’s block doesn’t help, but a good movie certainly does. Chef has long been in my backlog as a widely lauded film that I just never got around to watching until now. Trained and co-produced by food truck chef Roy Choi, director Jon Favreau also plays Carl Casper, the head chef of a distinguished restaurant in L.A. that is sorely in need of a positive review from a critical blogger (Oliver Platt). Yet when Carl runs afoul of his employer (Dustin Hoffman) and makes a highly public mistake, he is forced to revamp his career by trying something new, namely opening a Cuban food truck that might just bring him closer to his son Percy (Emjay Anthony) and ex-wife Inez (Sofia Vergara) along the way.

Chef definitely seems like a film tailored for me. Not only has my family long been faithful Food Network viewers, but I even owned and operated my own food cart business, selling hot dogs for a grand total of three months. I’ve probably told this story on the blog before, but it’s one that I often look back on as a huge mistake. So I had mixed feelings watching Favreau’s Carl find almost immediate success with his venture; there is vicarious satisfaction at seeing someone else succeed, mixed with a tinge of bitter jealousy whispering “It wouldn’t have been that easy. He would have needed more permits.” But I digress. The satisfaction was louder anyway.

As a food lover, I was delighted by the delectable dishes throughout the film, from a sumptuous pasta Carl concocts as a sort-of date night to a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich that Carl’s son doesn’t fully appreciate. The love of food infuses much of the story, especially as Carl tries to instill his own passion into his son, telling him of the joys of New Orleans beignets or urging him to never grow complacent in serving anything but the best. Plus, despite my earlier complaint, there’s a likable genuineness to the script as well, such as the waggish kitchen banter with Carl and his sous chefs (John Leguizamo, Bobby Cannavale). That also extends to the relationships; Percy craves the attention of his dad, yet Carl is far from an absentee father, just constantly distracted, so it’s easy to see how he might think he’s doing enough as a dad. Their mutual bonding over food and the work that goes into it is a joy to watch.

Chef does have its flaws, taking a little too long with the set-up before the food truck idea gains steam, and, beyond some awkward scenes played for laughs, it’s a prime example of a film that doesn’t need its abundance of F-bombs, since it would make a solid family film without them. It was nice seeing cameos from the likes of Amy Sedaris and Favreau’s Iron Man co-stars Robert Downey Jr. and Scarlett Johansson, though it was odd seeing him flirt with the latter. Happy Hogan and Black Widow? I can’t see it. Despite all this, Chef has all the culinary love of a passion project and boasts an all-around feel-good ending that is likely to leave any viewer smiling. It’s yet another Blindspot I’m glad to finally have seen, if only for that grilled cheese recipe I’m totally going to try.

Best line: (Chef Carl Casper, to his son) “I may not do everything great in my life, but I’m good at this. I manage to touch people’s lives with what I do, and I want to share this with you.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2022 S.G. Liput
782 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #5: Short Term 12 (2013)

Tags

Drama

We think of scars as plain to see,
Disfigurements of normalcy,
And never could we guess the pain
Of people who do not complain.

While many bare and air their hurts,
Both recluses and extroverts,
With time they tend to hide regret
And cover what they can’t forget.

Both the mount and molehill end,
And yet the tolls they take depend
On what we each have faced before
And whether we can take much more.

The world is not known for its heart;
The people in it must do that part,
To take the scars concealed so well
And show the heaven beyond the hell.
__________________________

MPA rating: R (for much language and some sexual references)

The end of the year is fast approaching, but I haven’t yet given up on finishing my Blindspot series. Short Term 12 earned a place on the list mainly because I was curious to see so many now-famous stars in what I might call an “incubator film.” I would compare it to 1983’s The Outsiders, which was a vehicle for multiple big-name actors before they were famous, such as Tom Cruise, Patrick Swayze, and Rob Lowe. Short Term 12 likewise highlighted the skills of Brie Larson, Lakeith Stanfield, and Rami Malek years before they were Oscar contenders, not to mention writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton.

Expanding Cretton’s own short film and based on his experiences working at a group home for troubled teens, the film is a masterwork of empathetic storytelling. A story of kids overcoming trauma could so easily have become maudlin or trite or else devolved into soul-crushing despair, but somehow the script tows the line between realism and hope. Larson plays Grace Howard, a line worker at the titular group shelter whose responsibility, as she tells new recruit Nate (Malek), is to only give the kids there a safe place, not to be their therapist or friend. Yet for teenagers struggling with distrust, abuse, and anxiety, that safe place and the act of listening and caring are worth more than any amount of formal therapy. However, when a sullen girl named Jayden (Kaitlyn Dever) arrives, Grace is reminded of her own past trauma that threatens to overwhelm her.

Short Term 12 would be an interesting watch just for its cast alone. Look, Brie Larson before Room and Captain Marvel! Look, Lakeith Stanfield before Get Out and Judas and the Black Messiah! Rami Malek before Bohemian Rhapsody, John Gallagher, Jr. of 10 Cloverfield Lane, Kaitlyn Dever of Last Man Standing, Stephanie Beatriz of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Encanto. And they all do phenomenal work, with Larson, Stanfield, and Dever especially giving Oscar-worthy performances. Yet the script is the real star, filled with brilliant individual scenes that give so much nuance to the characters and their struggles, whether it be a resentful rap delivered by Stanfield’s Marcus, a grateful toast from Gallagher’s Mason to his foster parents, or a children’s story by Jayden that has the same simplicity and achingly sad truth of The Giving Tree. Foul-mouthed outbursts are contrasted with moments of genuine compassion, and somehow none of it comes off as overly scripted or artificial.

The most meaningful theme I got from Short Term 12 was the sense that, for every terrible ordeal or wave of panic, “this too shall pass.” In the case of the kids lashing out, the adults have to literally hold them down to prevent them from hurting themselves or others, and it’s awful in the moment but ultimately a sign of caring once the intense emotions fade. Likewise, Grace’s apparent happiness is shattered by a succession of bad news, bringing her to the brink of despondency and regrettable life choices. Yet there is catharsis for everything, whether we see it or not, often making us better able to understand the pain of others and help them through it as well.

Short Term 12 is a hard watch at times, putting an unvarnished spotlight on teen distress that is so often kept out of sight, but it’s a highly rewarding one. I have always held up Amy Adams in Arrival being ignored for Best Actress as a notorious Oscar snub, and now I can add this film to the mix, since it was entirely and criminally passed over by the Academy. While Larson got her due two years later for Room, Cretton’s screenplay absolutely deserved a nomination, if not a win. I never would have guessed he would go on to Shang-Chi and the upcoming Avengers films, but it’s satisfying to see the humble beginnings of him and his up-and-coming stars. (We can thank this film for Stanfield’s whole acting career, since Cretton cast him in the original short and later tracked him down to get him to return for the film.) With its perceptive direction, star-making performances, and encouraging pro-life sentiment, it’s a film that shows that the best in people can outshine the worst.

Best line: (part of Marcus’s rap) “Look into my eyes so you know what it’s like to live a life not knowing what a normal life’s like.”

Rank:  List-Worthy

© 2022 S.G. Liput
780 Followers and Counting

2022 Blindspot Pick #4: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

Tags

Comedy, Horror, Musical, Sci-fi

There once was a castle perverse.
Its owner was evil and worse,
He’d break into song
While his friends sang along
Without any time to rehearse.

All visitors finding his lair
Were likely to join the nightmare,
And goody-two-shoes
Who had morals to lose
Would leave, having had an affair.

Beware then the castle debased,
If you’d choose being chaste over chased,
Unless you’re the type
Who exults in the hype
Of intentional absence of taste.
__________________________

MPA rating: R

I know this review is a little late for Halloween (and for only my fourth Blindspot), but I’ve been struggling to figure out how to review The Rocky Horror Picture Show. When a film is this iconic in its cult status, is it basically above criticism? To be clear, I did not enjoy this sex-crazed salute to campy horror, but I can see why others might. It’s the kind of over-the-top cheesefest that knows exactly what it wants to be and is so committed to it that it doesn’t matter whether I like it or not. It is what it is, and I guess it proves that a film can be both classic and atrocious at the same time.

The paper-thin story, narrated periodically by a genteel criminologist (Charles Gray), sees newly engaged couple Brad (Barry Bostwick) and Janet (Susan Sarandon) being stranded when their car breaks down on a dark and stormy night, leading them to the castle of the eccentric transvestite Dr. Frank-N-Furter (a scenery-chewing Tim Curry). The straight-laced couple are soon drawn into a free-for-all of seduction, murder, and musical numbers, complete with a creepy butler named Riff Raff (Richard O’Brian, who also wrote the film and the original stage show), a newly created muscle man named Rocky (Peter Hinwood), and a machine that turns people into statues.

Objectively, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a mess, as reflected by its poor reception by critics upon initial release. Characters come and go randomly, notably Meatloaf as a half-brained motorcyclist who shows up for one chaotic song and is abruptly killed for no reason. And a big stage number near the end is a fever dream of trashy costume glitz that makes zero sense, followed by a swimming pool championing wish fulfillment. In short, once Brad and Janet entered the castle, I just alternated between appreciating the music, feeling uncomfortable, and wondering what the heck I was watching, which I suspect was the intent of the filmmakers all along.

Speaking of the music, the movie does have some catchy songs to its credit (all written by O’Brien), energetic bops like “The Time Warp” and “Hot Patootie – Bless My Soul” to match its tongue-in-cheek silliness. I generally love musicals, and, while I would consider this one of the exceptions, I will grant that the music is pretty much the only thing that makes it watchable, some chuckle-worthy jokes notwithstanding. Perhaps I’d buy into the film’s bizarre brand of fun more if I attended one of the midnight showings known for audience participation, and I’m tempted to. If only I had a better baseline opinion of it….

I’m well aware that The Rocky Horror Picture Show isn’t my kind of movie. I’m not a fan of watching two clean-cut kids be corrupted by an alien missionary of the sexual revolution and his motley array of perversions, even if it’s someone as charismatic as Tim Curry. I suppose that makes me a prude, but so be it; I prefer my musicals less hypersexualized. I do find it funny that my first exposure to both Curry and O’Brien was in kid-friendly cartoons where they played likable dads: Curry in The Wild Thornberrys and O’Brien in Phineas and Ferb, which were a far cry from their raucous younger days. I’m glad I’ve seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show at least once, if only to understand its iconic cult reputation, but it’s a cult I’d prefer to avoid.

Best line: (Dr. Frank-N-Furter) “It’s not easy having a good time.”

Rank: Dishonorable Mention

© 2022 S.G. Liput
780 Followers and Counting