Eddie the Eagle (2016)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History, Sports

From way up here, my view is clear,
And all the world extends below.
They wait to see if this wannabe
Deserves this chance and vertigo.

Yet no one thought this soaring spot
Could be achieved by such as me.
They patronized and minimized
My every try and cut me free.

But not this time, this chance sublime,
Unmarred by how they’ve criticized;
I’m flying higher than critics desire
And won’t the scolders be surprised!

I don’t compare in skill or flair
With medalists, but I aspire.
That goal sincere has brought me here.
Now just to land, and I’ll retire.
___________________

MPAA rating: PG-13 (could almost be PG)

One of the most pleasant surprises from last year was how the story of an apparent goofball from the 1988 Winter Olympics exceeded its by-the-numbers genre to become one of the most uplifting films of the year. Inspirational sports dramas are a dime-a-dozen, but I wouldn’t hesitate to call Eddie the Eagle the best underdog story since the 1993 classic Rudy.

That comparison extends to the plucky protagonist whose dogged refusal to give up overshadows his relative lack of athletic ability. Eddie Edwards (Taron Egerton) has dreamed since childhood of going to the Olympics, despite the repeated failures of his clumsy practice runs. All the familiar ingredients are here: a father (Keith Allen) who thinks Eddie’s dreams are a waste of time, an authority figure (Tim McInnerny) who disparages Eddie and does all he can to block the irrepressible upstart,  an embittered coach (Hugh Jackman) who grudgingly agrees to mentor the young dreamer. It’s all so potentially cliché, and yet it’s all done so well, thanks in large part to the unironic exuberance of Egerton as Eddie himself.

Eddie’s journey is a constant struggle that never seems to faze him, or at least doesn’t keep him down for long. In many ways, he glides along on unrealistic goals and loopholes, choosing to compete as an Olympic ski jumper when he discovers that Great Britain hasn’t had one since the 1920s. If it gets him to the Olympics, it doesn’t matter if he’s completely inexperienced. Yet it’s his unabashed spirit that earns some much-needed sympathy along his way and convinces disgraced former competitor Bronson Peary to coach and support him. Ordinarily, the coach would be the one encouraging his protégé, but Eddie needs no outside encouragement and instead lightens the drunken cynicism of his trainer.

It’s an important development toward the end that Eddie recognizes that his jubilation in the face of apparent failure can be seen as the antics of a fool and addresses those concerns head-on. Ultimately, as the film and a quote from the founder of the Olympics state, it doesn’t matter that Eddie’s best efforts still come up short, just as it didn’t matter that Rudy’s moment of truth was only a single touchdown: the very act of participating and doing one’s best is admirable, and it’s no wonder that Eddie’s tenacious joy and determination captured the hearts of spectators.

It helps too that the film is designed to be as crowd-pleasing as possible, with a good deal of humor and a deliciously ‘80s soundtrack with well-placed song staples from the time, like Van Halen’s “Jump.” Egerton and Jackman imbue their familiar character types with likable personalities, Egerton lovably nerdy and Jackman ruggedly cool, and are easy to root for. By the film’s breath-holding climax (which surely looks ridiculous to those not in the moment), I was cheering alongside the characters with the biggest smile a movie has given me in some time. Plus, except for some brief sexual dialogue, the film is refreshingly family-friendly and free of profanity.

It’s true that the core story of Eddie the Eagle is far from original and ends on Eddie’s most positive moment with no mention of the fact that his next three attempts to reach the Olympics failed due to eligibility changes. Thus, its inspirational bias may seem contrived to some, but when a film is this uplifting and joyous, who cares? Eddie the Eagle takes its genre and flies high with it.

Best line: (quoting Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the Olympics) “The most important thing is not the victory but the struggle.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
487 Followers and Counting

 

Bright Star (2009)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a nocturne, a poem inspired by the nighttime, which I applied to the elegiac notes of a film about the poet John Keats.)

 

Do you see the stars in their scattered arrays,
Content to fluoresce and to wait between days?
Do you hear the leaves when they flap in the wind,
In summer so teeming, in harvest-time thinned?
Do you feel the stillness of worlds at their rest,
Of closed morning glories and birds in their nest?

I witness these wonders you once wrote about,
Before disease meddled to snuff your light out.
Distractions of day help my memories melt,
But when night becalms them, your absence is felt.
I’ll dream of you here, and though Heaven is light,
I hope you still cherish the joys of the night.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

I thought it was about time I reviewed the film that placed #4 on my Top 12 Poems in Movies list. Bright Star is a film for poets and about poets, one that translates tender word to screen in the form of an intimate period piece. John Keats has never been among my favorite poets, but this film makes him more than a mere authorial name, chronicling his romance with Fanny Brawne during the final years of his short life.

Director and writer Jane Campion of The Piano fame was blessed with two outstanding leads in Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw, known as the latest Q in the James Bond franchise and as the voice of Paddington Bear. Cornish plays Brawne with some early traces of women’s lib in her attitude, proud of her fashion creations and her ability to earn a living from them. On the opposite side of the self-sufficiency spectrum is Whishaw’s Keats, whose chosen profession as a poet is decidedly unprofitable, especially when his published poem Endymion flops. The two aren’t sure that their harmless flirting should continue any further, especially when Keats’s roommate and fellow poet Charles Brown (Paul Schneider) competes with Brawne for his friend’s attention. Soon, however, their romance begins in earnest, with swooningly passionate and eventually tragic results.

The early 19th-century costumes and details are elegantly faithful to the period and somewhat reminiscent of films based on the works of Keats’s contemporary Jane Austen.  Another point of comparison might be 1998’s Shakespeare in Love, also based on a literary figure and his love affair, but whereas that film was mostly fictitious and overrated, Bright Star has a greater biographical basis and instills passion into the mundane. No sex scenes are needed to accentuate Keats’s and Brawne’s relationship; it’s in their woodland walks and love letters that their fervent affection is felt. I especially loved one symbolic part that became a microcosm of doomed romance itself, as Brawne fills her bedroom with butterflies while exulting at every letter from Keats only for disenchantment to set in as the butterflies inevitably die.

Bright Star holds much poetic appeal, not only by quoting many of Keats’s works but by voicing his and Brown’s opinions on the nature of poetry and the writing process. “It ought to come like leaves to a tree, or it better not come at all,” says Keats at one point. The quiet tone may be too slow and melancholy for some, but Bright Star makes the most of its poignant themes, graceful cinematography, and brilliant cast, with Cornish and Schneider especially nailing the most emotional moments. It’s not quite among my favorite films ever, but it’s an underrated gem that I’ll always be fond of and one all fans of poetry ought to see.

Best line: (John Keats) “A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out; it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.”  (Fanny Brawne) “I love mystery.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
471 Followers and Counting

 

Risen (2016)

Tags

Biblical, Drama, History, Mystery

(Happy Easter to all! Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem inspired by letter-writing, so I rhymed up a letter that the main character of this movie might have written by the end.)

 

Dear Lucius, please forgive
My sudden absence. I yet live,
But returning to my former life I simply cannot do.
I was Tribune, son of Mars,
And have weathered many scars,
But such were merely physical and all I ever knew.

I’ve seen many crucifixions;
I had no need for predictions.
Every broken, bloody body had its final resting place,
Till one random victim slain
The chosen grave could not contain.
I’ve never seen a man whom even death could not erase.

I doubted, how I doubted,
And was adamant about it;
I have seen and known too much to trust the supernatural.
I don’t expect you to believe,
For true faith I’ve yet to achieve,
But life can never be the same when it has known a miracle.

-Clavius
_________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

While all the other posts for NaPoWriMo have been decided mostly by the prompt, I knew there was no other recently seen film to review on Easter than Risen, the most prominent of the three Jesus movies from 2016 (the others being The Young Messiah and Last Days in the Desert). Risen was considered a spiritual sequel to The Passion of the Christ, picking up essentially where Mel Gibson’s film left off and focusing on the events of Jesus’ resurrection. Instead of merely showing the Biblical story as many previous films have, Risen differentiates itself for the better by applying an outsider’s view, specifically in the fictional character of Tribune Clavius (Joseph Fiennes).

Somewhat like 1953’s The Robe, the crucifixion is seen through the eyes of a Roman when Pontius Pilate sends Clavius to keep the crowds in check at Jesus’ execution. Clavius has never even heard of this man, and he absorbs all the reports and promises of his supernatural return with the mind of a pagan skeptic, putting his faith in Mars, the god of war. When the body of Jesus disappears, he is commissioned by Pilate to track it down and put all the rumors and worries to rest. Clavius’ investigations may not be strictly Biblical, but it makes sense that the authorities’ first response would be to disprove the resurrection with physical evidence, a search that is made surprisingly gripping by the urgency of the mission. The interviews Clavius conducts with the likes of Joseph of Arimathea and Bartholomew give him an idea of what Jesus’ followers are like, steadfast and often giddy with hope, and some of the side characters provide some excellent acting. The account of one of the unnerved guards from the tomb is especially well-delivered.

While Risen strives to be a cut above other faith-based films, it falls into the familiar mold by the end. Its similarities to The Passion of the Christ mainly consist in the use of the Hebrew name Yeshua for Jesus, and it does reimagine certain details with gritty zeal, but it doesn’t really follow The Passion’s sterling example of “show, don’t tell.” The film’s depiction of the resurrected Jesus (Cliff Curtis) felt rather insubstantial, quick to vanish without explanation, and the events following the resurrection are compressed to the point that the disciples seem to have barely a day with their Lord, much less forty. The ending is also ambiguously wrought and not in any satisfying way.

I liked Risen quite a bit, from its impressive re-creation of Roman warfare to its admirable performances, and it’s a film I would gladly watch again to celebrate the Easter season. It is let down by a weak second half, but it’s not as preachy or trite as some faith-based efforts, and unlike similar films, the script employs dialogue befitting the ancient world. Even if it doesn’t match the emotional impact of The Passion, Risen is a worthwhile story that stresses the life-changing significance of the Resurrection.

Best line: (Clavius) “I cannot reconcile all this with the world I know.”   (Yeshua) “With your own eyes you’ve seen, yet still you doubt. Imagine the doubt of those who have never seen. That’s what they face.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
470 Followers and Counting

 

Empire of the Sun (1987)

Tags

Drama, History, War

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem about the middle of something, so I applied that theme to another film about sudden and distressing circumstances.)

 

The peace we always took for granted vanishes, no warning paid,
And thoughts and fears and new frontiers take precedence as comforts fade.
This change of fortunes must be fleeting, say the victims who pretend.

Keep the faith, a little longer, don’t give up, our angels cheer;
Those who dare say, “Halfway there,” but that just means to persevere,
For how are we to know the middle when we cannot see the end?

Some are born to dream in darkness; some are born to bear its weight;
Some are born, it seems, to mourn with equal chance to hope or hate.
They all survive on how they face experiences no one should.

The start of hardship can unsettle, and its end can overwhelm,
What one endures between assures the rest of us who’s at the helm.
The middle of a tragedy reveals the evil and the good.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG (should be PG-13)

Empire of the Sun has never had the same reputation as Steven Spielberg’s other films. No one I know quotes famous lines or references famous scenes from it, but even Spielberg’s less prominent films confirm him as a consummate filmmaker, whether he’s directing fun actioners or serious historical narratives like this one. Little attention is usually paid to China during World War II, much less the foreigners living there at the time, but Empire of the Sun takes inspiration from J.G. Ballard’s semi-autobiographical novel, tracing one British boy’s survival story through the hardships of war.

While the cinematography, score, and direction are awe-inspiring in their epic scope, this film belongs to Christian Bale, whose first major performance as the teenage Jamie Graham has to rank among the finest child actor performances ever. He runs the full gamut of emotions, from his spoiled brat ways as a well-to-do schoolboy in Shanghai to his ever more desperate attempts at clinging to normalcy in the wake of being separated from his parents and forced to survive in an uncaring land. He nails the euphoria and admiration of a boy obsessed with the glory of war planes (“Cadillac of the sky!”), as well as the shock and sorrow of witnessing the loss of everything he held dear. A lesser performance couldn’t have supported such a long movie, but Bale distinguished himself early as a strong and versatile performer.

The always great John Malkovich also pops up intermittently as Basie, an American whose experience and leadership cause Jamie to latch onto him as an anchor amidst the chaos, even if he doesn’t recognize Basie’s repeated selfishness. Joe Pantoliano, Nigel Havers, and Miranda Richardson also do good work in supporting roles along Jamie’s journey, and apparently Ben Stiller was in it too, though I don’t remember seeing him.

Spielberg provides sharp contrast between Jamie’s privileged upbringing and the native squalor surrounding it—an early scene has a convoy of Britishers headed to a costume party besieged by the destitute masses—and the fall from status of Jamie and his fellow moneyed class is hard-felt as they are soon reduced to fighting over a potato or else starving to death. Jamie, or Jim as Basie calls him, displays surprising adaptability in the face of all the desperation, but the casualties of war eventually overcome him in tragic fashion, claiming his innocence as one of their number. In many ways, it reminded me of Grave of the Fireflies from the following year by putting a struggling boy through a wartime hell no child should have to endure.

Empire of the Sun is an epic with a pitying eye on the civilian cost of war and boasts a singular star performance to deliver both the hope and the heartbreak of its story. Its 2½-hour length is a bit of a bear at times, accentuating the duration of Jamie’s trials but testing the audience’s patience as well. It’s really the only fault I can point to to justify it not being List-Worthy, and it’s hard to believe it wasn’t nominated for Best Picture or Director that year. It’s not as watchable as most of Spielberg’s filmography, but it’s one of his grander, more illustrious works.

Best line: (Basie, in the Japanese internment camp) “It’s at the beginning and end of war that we have to watch out. In between, it’s like a country club.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

2017 S.G. Liput
470 Followers and Counting

 

12 Years a Slave (2013)

Tags

Drama, History

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a humorous four-line clerihew about a famous person, but in light of today being Good Friday, I went more of a serious route and reviewed a film with suffering as a major theme.)

 

Solomon Northup
Would not give his worth up.
At dignity’s theft,
He survived with what was left.
_______________

MPAA rating: R

When 12 Years a Slave won Best Picture back in 2013, I was struck by one critic’s statement that it was the first major film focusing on American slavery. I found that hard to believe, but the more I tried to think of a previous example, the more I realized he was right. Roots opened the eyes of television audiences back in 1977, but cinematic slavery seems always to have been in the background (Gone with the Wind, for example), centering more on white characters. There have been so many films about the struggles of African Americans during Reconstruction and the Civil Rights Era that their pre-Civil War history has surprisingly been overlooked, at least in the movies.

Directed by Steve McQueen (the director, not the actor), 12 Years a Slave is all the more potent due to its historical source, the real-life memoir of Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a free black man from New York who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841. Overnight, Solomon goes from a respected member of the community to a piece of property labeled “Platt,” and his agonizing journey represents a comprehensive survey of the slave experience, ranging from the humiliation of the auction house to plantation masters both kind and cruel. His first master William Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch) treats his slaves fairly yet does not recognize the moral dissonance between his Christian beliefs and slave-dependent lifestyle, epitomized by the delivery of his Sunday sermon competing with the wails of a grieving mother. Still, Ford is a saint next to Solomon’s next owner, Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender), a hard-hearted brute who takes pleasure in raping his favorite and most productive slave Patsey (Lupita Nyong’o, who deservingly won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar).

For years, films have grieved hearts and minds with Civil Rights-Era racism, behavior that is still seen as a holdover from the days of slavery, but it’s even more shocking to see the real thing, the undiluted cruelty and unrestricted control over human lives that were an unquestioned institution in the South before the Civil War. Multiple scenes are carefully crafted gut-punches that intentionally drag on to heighten their inhumanity: as punishment for fighting back on one occasion, Solomon is trussed up by the neck with his feet barely touching the ground, while his fellow slaves filter outside, too fearful to help him. In one astounding and brutal shot filmed without cuts, Epps forces him to repeatedly whip Patsey over a mere bar of soap. Through all this, Ejiofor delivers the performance of a lifetime, and even if the timing of what happens when during the twelve years is not documented, the years are felt in Solomon’s troubled gazes of ever-increasing despair and desperation.

For me, 12 Years a Slave is somewhat similar to The Passion of the Christ, mainly in its depiction of heartless savagery (including a prominent whipping) that makes it a film to appreciate as significant but by no means something to enjoy watching. All the performances are outstanding, though I would have thought Ejiofor deserved an Oscar even more than Nyong’o (who would have believed he’d lose to Matthew McConaughey?), and Fassbender’s wholly detestable role as Epps nearly threatened to destroy my personal regard for the actor. (It was cool, as well, to see Ejiofor alongside Cumberbatch three years before their pairing in Doctor Strange.) While some scenes are reminiscent of Roots, 12 Years a Slave is more mature and intense in its depiction of violence and rape, and the sense of misery and loss is constant, even after the emotional release toward the end. The portrayal of Christianity is also less than positive, illustrating how it was often used to justify slavery, but such representations are somewhat mitigated by the more sympathetic faith of a visiting abolitionist (Brad Pitt). While I’m not entirely convinced that all the powerfully poignant scenes add up to a masterpiece, 12 Years a Slave is an important piece of historical cinema and a long overdue look at a subject many might want to forget.

Best line:  (Epps, debating with the abolitionist) “I bought ’em. I paid for ’em.”
(Bass) “Well, of course you did, and the law says you have the right to hold a n*****. But begging the law’s pardon, it lies. Suppose they pass a law taking away your liberty, making you a slave. Suppose.”
(Epps) “That ain’t a supposable case.”
(Bass) “Laws change, Epps. Universal truths are constant. It is a fact, a plain and simple fact, that what is true and right is true and right for all. White and black alike.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

2017 S.G. Liput
469 Followers and Counting

 

Big Eyes (2014)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem featuring alliteration, one of my favorite poetic tools, which I employed with abandon.)

“She stares her sadness through my soul,”
The mother in the market said.
“This youth is yearning to be whole,”
The art collector commented.

“This portrait proves the painter’s skill,”
The masses mused with untrained eye.
“This artless amateur’s a shill,”
The critics coughed to clarify.

Like Mona Lisa’s murky mien,
Those sightly saucers still entreat,
With varied views from clerk or queen,
Depending on the eyes they meet.
________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

I’m not the biggest fan of Tim Burton and his penchant for macabre weirdness. In fact, James and the Giant Peach and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory are the only films of his that I can say I really like, and even then with reservations (Big Fish and Batman were all right too). He’s still a talented enough director that a step away from his comfort zone of weirdness could produce something to my liking, and Big Eyes is just that. It’s a Tim Burton film that proves that his style need not be synonymous with grotesque.

While they’re not as prevalent nowadays, most people have probably seen those paintings of big-eyed waifs staring mournfully ahead, but I wasn’t aware of the story of fraud behind them. Amy Adams plays Margaret Keane, who after divorcing and moving to San Francisco with her daughter, meets the incredibly charismatic Walter Keane (Christoph Waltz). After bonding a bit on their mutual love for painting, they marry, only for Walter’s promotion of Margaret’s work to reveal his looseness with the truth. While the idea of him technically “stealing” her work and claiming to be the artist seems hard to believe, it happens gradually and credibly, the result of Walter’s charm and Margaret’s timidity. It’s a lie that quickly grows out of control, with Margaret churning out new works from a secret studio and Walter becoming ever more passionate in protecting the lie. The way it plays out in the end is a testament to the truth always coming to light, and how it does is made more satisfying by the fact that it actually happened that way.

While Big Eyes is unlikely to be counted among the best films “based on a true story,” it’s solid all the way around, particularly in the casting of its two leads. Amy Adams excels in the role of a diffident artist struggling to work up her nerve, while Waltz brings the same gregarious magnetism that won him two Oscars, making Walter an amiable if unctuous fellow from the start who gets nastier with time. The mix of their two personalities makes the tale believable, and the film does give credit to Walter for his brilliant marketing strategies in disseminating the paintings. Burton presents it all in a pleasantly eccentric but straightforward style, only veering into odd territory a couple times with a hallucination had by an over-stressed Margaret. Burton obviously prefers his beloved macabre subjects, but for those like me who view them with more appreciation than enjoyment, a film like Big Eyes is a welcome change.

Best line: (Ruben, an art dealer) “Why are their eyes so big?”  (Walter) “Eyes are the windows to the soul!”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
467 Followers and Counting

Love and Mercy (2014)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a personal portrait of someone special, like someone who is a picture of unselfish love.)

 

Some people are draining and take what they can
Till you’re not sure how your acquaintance began,
But some, if you’re lucky, replace what you’ve lost
And give and love further, not counting the cost.

She’s one of those people, those angels on earth,
Who don’t get the credit or gold that they’re worth.
Where others step back in repulsion or fear,
She’ll take two steps forward, concerned and sincere.

When I was convinced I was flawed to my core,
She gave me the hope that I still could be more.
When I came to learn happiness can’t be bought,
She showed me that lonely need not be my lot.

Such lessons are simple, but we the unwise,
With no one to teach us, are quick to trust lies.
If all were like her, by such love overrun,
The clouds of this world could be scattered to sun.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It’s become something of a cliché for musical biopics to portray the rise and fall of their subjects, often lessening our opinions of them in the process, but Love and Mercy is just as concerned about its star rising again as it is about the initial fall. Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys is played by two different actors, Paul Dano as Wilson in the mid-1960s and John Cusack as his older 1980s self. Instead of depicting the two time periods one after the other, they alternate in advancing their stories of a man whose talent and success weren’t enough to conquer his demons on his own.

Both actors and storylines have their strengths. Dano does an outstanding job at representing Wilson at his most creative, tired of his usual surf music and eager to experiment on his personal pet project, which becomes 1966’s Pet Sounds. Here we get a rare look at a musician’s creative process that goes beyond just thinking up lyrics; the laborious spontaneity of the recording studio and a personal piano brainstorm of “Good Vibrations” capture the spirit of Wilson’s musical genius, which was challenged by his family and sadly marred by drugs and a wrongly diagnosed mental disorder.

Beyond the artistic insights of Dano’s parts, the film’s emotional core lies in the relationship between Cusack’s older Wilson and Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks), who meet while Wilson is under the controlling care of Dr. Eugene Landy (domineering Paul Giamatti). My VC had trouble understanding why Melinda would have any interest in Wilson, who is presented as acting strange and unstable from Landy’s overmedication. Yet that is what makes Banks and the real-life Melinda so admirable: she wasn’t a gold-digger or an opportunist like Landy. She had every reason and right to leave Wilson to his fate, but she instead became his way out and transformed his life for the better through her love and perseverance, laudably brought to life by Banks. She’s the kind of patient, positive influence that we wish for all troubled souls to find, even if they rarely do. Taking a line from Wilson himself, God only knows what he’d be without her.

Love and Mercy is marred somewhat by the psychedelic miasma of the drug scenes, which is compounded at times by the nonlinear storyline and both Brians’ odd behavior. It isn’t how I’d want all biopics to be told, but for something unique in an all-too-familiar genre, Love and Mercy harnesses the talents of its subject and its actors for an ultimately inspiring tale of professional and personal salvation.

Best line: (1980s Brian, to Melinda) “I want you to leave, but I don’t want you to leave me.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
466 Followers and Counting

 

The Imitation Game (2014)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to incorporate an “enigma” or something hidden into the poem, so I thought a movie about solving Enigma would be perfect. For my own secret message, try stringing together the underlined letters.)

The German Codes in safety rode
Upon the winds of radio,
And passed with ease their strategies
To Mystify the Allied foe.

Bright minds were scratched and Egos matched,
The Riddle daily taxing Brains
Who knew their best At this math Test
Could still Harm lives and Squander gains.

Unraveling this Risky thing
Was not for one man to Explain.
What Cracked And tamed the Numbers game?
A mind Combined To break the chain.
________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

Benedict Cumberbatch seems most comfortable playing the smartest guy in the room, even if he only thinks he’s the smartest guy in the room. Sherlock, Doctor Strange, etc. exemplify this, and The Imitation Game allowed him to apply that proven characterization to a real-life figure, Alan Turing, a mathematical computer pioneer who helped crack the German Enigma code during World War II.

Cumberbatch is the film’s strongest asset, channeling the same troubled-genius mentality as Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind, not so much in the mental health aspects as in his blinding self-confidence and difficulty working with others. His acting, as always, is beyond reproach and distinguishes Turing as a man of vision frustrated by the inflexibility of his superior (Charles Dance) but too single-minded himself to recognize the need for collaboration with the rest of his team of genius mathematicians. Keira Knightley’s Joan Clarke serves as an attractive reminder that a talent for numbers is not Turing’s alone, and it’s an insightful pleasure watching Cumberbatch engage with her and his fellow teammates to perfect his decoding machine. The espionage angle involving a major general from MI6 (Mark Strong) is also peppered with intrigue.

The performances, Alexandre Desplat’s score, and the period-piece re-creations are top-notch, but the film’s historical accuracy leaves much to be desired. Many “based-on-a-true-story” movies take artistic license, but learning after the fact that most of the events of the film occurred completely differently is rather disappointing. Likewise, the film’s ultimate transition from code breaking and war strategies to a social tragedy centered on the treatment of Turing’s homosexuality lost my interest. This aspect of Turing’s life was clearly important and lamentable, but it felt tacked on and even a tad manipulative when paired with the historical liberties. The Imitation Game is handsome and well-acted and even consummate in its first half, but the dual intentions of the filmmakers to merge two kinds of stories, one about war decoders and one about social injustice, feel like a forced fit that doesn’t live up to its early promise.

Best line: (Turing’s childhood friend Christopher, and later Joan) “Sometimes it’s the very people who no one imagines anything of who do the things no one can imagine.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
461 Followers and Counting

 

Hidden Figures (2016)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, Family, History

 

The chronicles of history are filled with famous names,
Who’ve earned our generation’s praise or bear their age’s shames.
We think we know the few worthwhile players of the past,
And yet the world was shaped by more than names we learned in class.

Behind each role we’re tested on and public figure known
Were men and women, making crucial impacts of their own.
Perhaps they knew obscurity would be their likely end,
But history’s more hidden tales are those to recommend.
__________________

MPAA rating: PG

I’m honestly amazed that I did not already know the story of Katherine Johnson and her fellow black female compatriots at NASA. I remember noticing a theater display for Hidden Figures on my way out of watching Rogue One and thinking, “Oh, NASA—that might be interesting.” The same day I saw an episode of Timeless that featured Katherine Johnson as the historical figure of the week. That’s when I did some research and knew this was a film I had to see, which I finally did with my mom.

She used to work at Kennedy Space Center during the early Space Shuttle launches, and my grandfather was involved at a relatively high level in the Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, and Shuttle missions, so the space program means a lot to our family. Which makes it all the more astonishing that neither I nor my mom had ever heard of these “hidden figures,” who calculated trajectories and landing coordinates even better than their white, male coworkers. Taraji P. Henson plays Katherine Goble (eventually Johnson), whose knack for algebra earns her the role of “computer” for the Space Task Group, a thankless job of number-crunching with more than a little prejudice aimed her way. Also working at Virginia’s Langley Research Center are Mary Jackson (Janelle Monáe), who strives for the right to be an engineer, and Dorothy Vaughn (Oscar nominee Octavia Spencer), who seeks the elusive title of supervisor over her team of black female computers. In addition to the talented cast of African Americans, including Mahershala Ali as well, Kevin Costner delivers an excellent supporting role as Katherine’s no-nonsense boss who refuses to let bigotry impede the mission at hand. (I rather wish Costner had gotten a Supporting Actor nomination; Ed Harris did for Apollo 13, and there’s nothing Harris did that Costner doesn’t do just as well.)

I expected to love Hidden Figures going in, with its inspiring role models and old-fashioned enlightenment of unsung history, and I did, perhaps not quite as much as I expected but not in any disappointing way. I felt that the racism early on was a bit heavy-handed, with entire rooms of white men staring at Katherine as if she had two heads, yet I wouldn’t be surprised if that was indeed how it was. Likewise, there are many historical liberties taken for the sake of the story, whether it be composite characters created to get points across or details streamlined to simplify the story. For instance, Costner is made to look like he’s running Mission Control, but he’s at Langley, not Houston. Yet, for the most part, I didn’t mind the license taken, since it served the story to no historical detriment. (There are some interesting true-to-life details thrown in, though, such as the flooring material that snags Mary Jackson’s high heel; my mom can attest to that annoyance.) I also don’t agree with the few complaints I’ve heard about the film’s predictable underdog conventions; when it’s done right, it makes for a great movie, and it’s never been done with these characters and this particular slice of history. For the record, my mom absolutely loved it, except maybe for some of the semi-repetitive soundtrack from Pharrell Williams.

Hidden Figures is a film I believe all African Americans, all women, and everyone else for that matter ought to see. Beyond being an entertaining true story, it’s a film rife with positive messages, both obvious and subtle. Mary Jackson and Dorothy Vaughan may be bitter about their superiors’ scorn, but they don’t take it lying down. Dorothy herself tells Mary not to complain but to do something about it. It’s a court plea in Mary’s case, while Dorothy shows incredible foresight in noticing the incoming IBM meant to replace her human computers and becoming an expert in computer coding to make herself and her team valuable. Her visit to the library is backdropped by a street protest, and while the protest clearly got more attention at the time, it’s her attempts at personal betterment that are more laudable.

While Hidden Figures may follow familiar story beats, it’s a marvelously acted feel-good film that ennobles intelligence and mathematics and casts a long overdue spotlight on the unrecognized heroines of NASA. Even if the initial reactions of their biased coworkers can be frustrating, the talent and intellect they displayed are undeniable, as is the satisfaction of seeing it vindicated. They served their nation well, and there was no color-coding to the worry and interest directed at sending Americans into space, evident from black and white families both anxiously watching John Glenn’s historic flight. At our present point in history, what could be more inspiring?

Best line: (Katherine, responding to being underestimated) “I will have you know, I was the first Negro female student at West Virginia University Graduate School. On any given day, I analyze the binomial levels of air displacement, friction, and velocity. And compute over ten thousand calculations by cosine, square root, and lately analytic geometry. By hand. There are twenty bright, highly capable Negro women in the West Computing Group, and we’re proud to be doing our part for the country. So yes, they let women do some things at NASA, Mr. Johnson. And it’s not because we wear skirts. It’s because we wear glasses. Have a good day.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
451 Followers and Counting

 

That’s Entertainment! (1974) and That’s Entertainment, Part II (1976)

Tags

Documentary, History, Musical

 

For centuries, great entertainers
Wowed the crowds and made them cheer,
With song and dance, speech, and romance,
Their famous names known far and near.

Yet soon they died, their plays and songs
Preserved in libraries and hearts;
We saved the page, but those on stage
Were soon forgotten from the arts.

Not till the novelty of film
Could actors prove their artistry
And ply their skill to awe and thrill
With hope of immortality.
_______________

MPAA rating for both: G

It’s hard enough trying to keep up with all the new releases that pass through the cinemas week after week, but what about the plethora of old classics stretching back to the 1920s? What about the hundreds of musicals that MGM churned out back in the days when contracted actors were assigned roles rather than offered them? Where does one start? Well, That’s Entertainment! is an excellent reference point, a star-studded documentary that also serves as a highlight reel of old musicals, famous and obscure.

Older musicals often seem to have just a thin plot meant solely to string together spectacular song-and-dance numbers, and That’s Entertainment! gets rid of the connective tissue to provide a musical tour of MGM’s forgotten pageantry. The early days of 1929’s The Broadway Melody may not be all that impressive, but within a few years, MGM had the musical extravaganzas down to a science. I’m well familiar with favorites like Singin’ in the Rain and The Wizard of Oz or famous scenes from On the Town (the three sailors singing “New York! New York!”) and Royal Wedding (Fred Astaire dancing on the ceiling), but there are boatloads more that I’d never even heard of, such as the series of suspiciously similar small-town romances starring Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland. Most of the clips are worth watching just as highlights, but a few have made me curious to check out the films themselves, such as the navy grandeur of Hit the Deck (1955) or the High School Musical forerunner Good News (1947).

Sprinkled throughout the singing and dancing are introductions filmed by a variety of stars in 1974 as they wander the decaying MGM backlot where these musicals were filmed decades earlier. (The sets were torn down shortly after filming.) The star power is incredible, including Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Jimmy Stewart, Fred Astaire, Mickey Rooney, and the late Debbie Reynolds. Each screen legend introduces the work of one of their friends and costars, passing the baton as the film progresses. Old film buffs are sure to recognize the less widely known stars from the old film clips more than casual viewers like myself, but seeing some of these stars in action helped me appreciate the talents of performers whose reputations have waned over the decades. I wasn’t familiar with the incredible tap dancing of Ann Miller, the water-fountain displays of Esther Williams, or the impressive voice of Kathryn Grayson, but I’m glad I am now.

The film also features a few familiar faces in unexpected musical roles. Mainstream musicals may be anomalies these days, but back in the day, they were everywhere, and stars didn’t always have a choice of whether to sing or not. I never thought to see Jimmy Stewart trying to carry a tune, much less Clark Gable dancing to “Puttin’ on the Ritz” in 1939’s Idiot’s Delight. Let’s just say, there’s a reason they eventually left the dancing to Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

Speaking of Kelly and Astaire, they actually teamed up to host That’s Entertainment, Part II, proving that there was far too much material in MGM’s vault to fill only one documentary. (There’s also a Part III from 1994, but I didn’t get to see that one.) While it features the same retrospective montage of film clips, Part II feels even less like a documentary, thanks to the more sensational production values and the entertaining interludes of Kelly and Astaire as the sole hosts. In the first That’s Entertainment, Astaire admitted that his favorite dance partner was actually Gene Kelly, whom he had danced with only once in 1946’s Ziegfeld Follies. In Part II, the two reunite to dance together again, which was actually Astaire’s last dance on film, and they reportedly did so just to prove that they hadn’t lost their mojo, even in their sixties and seventies.

As with the first film, the musical moments are plentiful and dazzling, again with a few stunning dance numbers that are undoubtedly the centerpieces of their films. I won’t soon forget the operatic rebellion of New Moon, the athleticism of Kiss Me, Kate, or the amazing extended shot of a young Bobby Van literally hopping across town in Small Town Girl. Plus, the almost disturbing sight of Fred Astaire, Nanette Fabray, and Jack Buchanan singing on their knees dressed as babies in The Band Wagon. Plus, I did get to recognize a few familiar scenes, including one for Cabin in the Sky, an all-black older musical I happened to randomly watch last year. In addition, there are more than just musical scenes. Part II also has tributes to screen greats like Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn and comedians like the Marx Brothers, including the famous packed stateroom scene from A Night at the Opera.

That’s Entertainment! and its sequel reveal just how much fabulous musical cinema is on the verge of being forgotten, and I’m quite glad that MGM kindly boiled down its heyday into these affectionately repackaged collections. I only knew of these films from my mom, who talks about how they opened her eyes to the Golden Age of Hollywood musicals, and in some ways, it did the same for me. The tunes are both new and familiar (I had no idea that the music to “Make ‘Em Laugh” predated Singin’ in the Rain and was used in The Pirate), the choreography and star power are staggering, and the whole package is, well, entertaining. I doubt I’ll ever get around to seeing all the films featured, but at least I know I’ve seen all the best parts.

Best line: (Liza Minnelli) “Thank God for film. It can capture a performance and hold it right there forever. And if anyone says to you, ‘Who was he?’ or ‘Who was she?’ or ‘What made them so good?’ I think a piece of film answers that question better than any words I know of.”

 

Since documentaries are ineligible for my List, it’s the return of the five-star system.
Rank for both: Five Stars out of Five

 

© 2017 S.G. Liput
437 Followers and Counting