The Dark Knight Rises

* * * * *
Seen July 21st, 2012 in RPX at Regal Fenway 13

*NOTE: I don't consider anything I've written below a spoiler - I'm not talking about intimate plot details or reveals. However, there are some pieces from this movie that, when discussed, may give you a pretty good idea of the film's direction. So if you draw a conclusion because of something I write and it turns out you're correct, don't say I didn't warn you.*

I'm not sure this quite qualifies as a review as much as a collection of my thoughts on the film and the series as a whole, but being so driven to write after coming home from a movie happens so rarely anymore, so I'm just going to run with it.

Much will be made of the conclusion of Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy. I suspect lots of well-deserved good things will be said. There will be some bad things said as well - to that, I can only say that everyone is entitled to their opinion. I know only what I saw, heard and felt, and I witnessed one thing that tells me that Nolan's film is a winner.

I've never seen, nor did I ever expect to see, so many people cry in a Batman movie.

Now, it's not all that surprising, I suppose. Nolan and Christian Bale's version of the Dark Knight has been a very different take from the very beginning. He's vulnerable, flawed, and so very, very human. And between the first two movies and this one, there's been over seven and a half hours to connect with him. What's astonishing is how well Bale makes that an incredibly difficult task until the very end. Every time you get close to identifying with Bruce Wayne in this series, he tends to go and do something deeply stupid to screw it up. Finally, in The Dark Knight Rises, you're able to feel for Wayne, because he's finally allowed to truly put on the table all the pain and suffering he's endured, and be weak because of it.

Of course, that's not to say he doesn't get over it when he has to...

The best part of this movie is that Nolan couldn't have possibly made it without making Batman Begins and The Dark Knight first. In one respect, it's a true sequel, drawing closely from the world and relationships established in the first two films to color its entirely self-sustaining story. There are strong ties to both Begins and Dark Knight, though I think it ends much more firmly connected to the first. That in itself is something that franchises run into trouble with, particularly action/adventure/superhero movies - this is not just another tale from Batman's long history featuring a new villain. In order to fully appreciate it, you need the understanding of some of these characters that can only be gained from the first two. But more than that, this movie reveals Nolan's plan for the franchise, and the Batman character as a whole. The strongest point of Batman Begins was its origin story, the birth of the hero. The Dark Knight outlined the villain, so strongly epitomized by Heath Ledger's Joker. It's important to specify that brilliant though Ledger's portrayal of the iconic archenemy is, "The Joker" is not the villain that Nolan needed to define in that movie. It's less about the actual man, and more about understanding what type of man would serve as the villain - the lengths they were willing to go to, the amount they were willing to risk, and their motivations for doing so. All of those elements set the standard for Tom Hardy's Bane, but more importantly, it draws the tightrope-thin line that divides these villains from Batman and Bruce Wayne himself.

So if the first two films established those standards, then The Dark Knight Rises establishes the stakes of the battle and wages the war. Because despite being "about" Batman, this movie is about Gotham. The whole series has positioned Gotham as the logically-derived theoretical end point of America's current social and economic predicament - a jewel of a city celebrated by those who can enjoy it, and whose weight crushes an ever-growing number who cannot. For all three movies, that unsustainable tension has been at the boiling point, and it takes very little for Bane and his backers to supply the small push needed to break. Much of the movie focuses on the backlash against the upper class, though the warning is blunted a bit since the "oppressed" used are, for the most part, rightfully-convicted criminals. But not all. There's one scene during the breaking that shows horrendous acts being carried out by prisoners as an in-uniform doorman does the same side by side. While the orange jumpsuits give a small barrier, look closely enough, and it's not hard to see some version of our own future, defined only by how far some of the marginalized are willing to be pushed.

Even more telling about Nolan's final Batman film is how little Batman is actually seen in it. I've always marveled that in Begins, the first shot of Bruce Wayne in the costume comes a full hour into the movie. Nolan was very dedicated to establishing how that persona came to be before we got the payoff of watching him jump off buildings and hit things. The same goes here - so much precious time is spent showing exactly why Gotham needs to be saved, and who it needs to be saved from, before the hero has an opportunity to do it. Ironically, my mind goes to the end of Marvel's The Avengers, when someone asks Nick Fury how he knows the supergroup will be back. His response is simply, "Because we'll need them to." Nolan painstakingly establishes his city in peril, all the while building up the people who would be integral in saving it. It's a beautifully planned trek through the muck to get to the icon, and it works, because when Batman finally comes in to save the day, we know exactly why; we know what is at stake and how it came to be endangered. The city's savior could not have returned at any other time, nor could it be anyone other than Batman. It's a phenomenal commitment to world- and conflict-building that is unparalleled in any other franchise that I can think of.

As expected, your normal cinematic elements are airtight as well. Bale's Bruce Wayne is still deeply layered and interesting, as are the people he surrounds himself with. In each of the movies, someone close to Wayne has been tested by his methods and disregard for law in the face of what is right or necessary, though the test in Rises is much more personal, heartbreaking and effective than the other two, great though they were. Anne Hathaway's Catwoman (neé Selina Kyle) doesn't fit as cleanly into the overall arc of the films, but she's a still fun addition that gives Batman both a foil and an ally as needed. There are enough hints of a backstory to keep her interesting and to tie her into Gotham's story, though not really enough to warrant another disappointing spinoff. Much focus has been placed on Joseph Gordon-Levitt's previously-unknown beat cop and how he may factor into the Batman canon, but his strength comes from being a phenomenally relatable everyman. Levitt plays John Blake so cool and controlled that in the rare moments when he does break out, whether from frustration or awe, it's really fantastic. I've been a huge fan of his for a long time, and between this and Inception he's finally begun to be the star he's capable of being. I guess I owe a lot to Nolan for that one...


But as always, Nolan's role as writer-director is what ties everything together, and he's done it masterfully once again. He has woven these stories, settings and characters together in such a way that links them inextricably - this story could only be about Batman, and only Batman could fit into this world. It's something he could only achieve by knowing exactly where his story begins and ends, and planning it to fit that structure from the very beginning. I'll be incredibly interested to see where Nolan goes next - what Nolan will be allowed to do because of his success with this trilogy really has no boundary; his is a blank check that will undoubtedly be paid in full once the project hits the screen.


I'm sure I'm not the first to make this comparison online (I haven't looked), but it's sort of unavoidable for me. Nolan laid out a three-part structure in The Prestige. How Begins is the Pledge and Dark Knight the Turn could each be a discussion unto themselves, but there's no doubt that Rises is the Prestige for Nolan. This film will be the one that lingers. Origin stories may be judged by Begins, and villains may be compared to Ledger's Joker. But more than anything else, Nolan delivers a complete, fully-functioning story arc in Rises, and I would guess manages to keep everyone happy. Fans of both the movies and Batman's comic-based canonic legacy can all leave happy. Nolan even manages to keep Warner Brothers happy, since he leaves the door open for someone else to pick up the franchise without another reboot, if they so choose.


And let's be honest - we all know they will. Nolan's legacy, his prestige, is how incredibly daunting those shoes will be to fill.

Movie Review: The Hunger Games

See March 23rd, AMC Boston Common Sorta-IMAX

**** (out of 5)

I will admit that I completely bought into the hype for The Hunger Games. When the third book in the series was released, my wife was working at a children's bookstore, and needless to say they were mobbed. She had read The Hunger Games at one point, and mentioned to me that it's something she thought I would like, but I didn't get around to it until the trailers started appearing for the film. It looked interesting enough, so I picked up the first book, and proceeded to read all three over one three week period. They flow very, very well that way. The initial previews set the right tone, and had me looking forward to the adaptation for months.

The quick version: In a dystopian North America, the citizens of Panem are divided into two classes: the well-to-do Capitol residents and the less fortunate residents of 12 outlying districts. 74 years ago, the districts rebelled against the government, only to be defeated. A condition of the treaty was that every year, each district must offer up one teenage boy and one teenage girl for gladiatorial combat as a reminder of the Capitol's dominance, with only one of the 24 participants surviving. The Hunger Games follows Katniss Everdeen, the female "tribute" from District 12, who has had only one winner in history. It follows her from the day of her "reaping" into the arena where she must find a way to outlast the other 23 participants in order to get back to her family and life in District 12.

If you've read the books, you'll be pretty pleased, I think. The film hits the highlights really well. The production design stays very true to what Suzanne Collins described in all areas - District 12, the Capitol and the Arena. While everyone's imagination will fill in details in a slightly different way, this is absolutely in line with how I pictured the world. Most of the major events from the book are present, though the significance of some have been adjusted one way or another.

The film's biggest strength is its star - Jennifer Lawrence plays Katniss with all the intensity and ferocity needed to appropriately set the stakes. She's more than capable of carrying the film on her shoulders, which is good, since she's in 90% of the scenes. She strikes a nice balance of determination and desperation when in the arena, and seems to carry the weight of at least her world very believably, mostly revolving around her younger sister back in the district. Lawrence is capable physically, too, and shows Katniss as resourceful - she looks right at home in the various deep-woods environments - and dangerous - she sells her archery skills really well throughout the film, and she seems like a legitimate threat to win from the beginning.

Having Collins as one of the writers probably paid off in deciding what scenes were necessary, and what could be cut without hurting the overall film. It also allowed her to add some context with scenes that weren't possible given the first-person narrative in the book. We see glimpses of the Gamemaker's control room, a la The Truman Show, that further the reality show, blood-for-entertainment feel for the event. It also gives some depth to Gamemaker Seneca Crane - mentioned in the book, but not seen. It would be easy to dismiss the character in charge of constructing booby-trapped arenas in which children fight to the death as evil, but Wes Bentley plays Crane as a dedicated TV producer, determined to give his audience the best show possible. Certainly out of touch, but that can be said of everyone in the Capitol. It's a job for Crane, one he takes pride in and seems to be quite good at. He becomes a part of the system he inherited and thrived in, but is not the ultimate sadistic villain he could easily degrade into.

The downside to the perspective change is that The Hunger Games stumbles a bit when trying to establish the level of emotional impact of the books. All of our information about other characters comes directly from Katniss in the book, and without that intimate assist, we're left without a ton of direction as to why we ought to care for much of the supporting cast. Because of that, relationships feel a bit shallow, and some of the dramatic emotional scenes end up a little unearned and hollow. Once again, this is something that fans of the books won't have an issue with (myself included), because we'll be able to fill in those details. Fortunately, the world is built well enough that even without the distinct personal connection, heavy events maintain some weight simply because of the situation these kids are thrust into - you can feel the emotional impact of a character's death as a victim of this brutal system, even if the emotional tie to Katniss doesn't play as clearly as it ought to.

If director Gary Ross in on board for the sequels, I do hope the studios insist on some more steadycam involvement. Handheld shaky cams certainly have their place, and can be used to establish a level of frantic activity that is appropriate for parts of the story, but it's overused here. Too often it becomes unclear who is doing what to whom - likely intentional at times to maintain their PG13 rating, but while I appreciate that, I would still like to be able to follow the action. Other than needing a more steady hand (literally), Ross does a fine job of translating to screen, and allows Lawrence to take the lead and be the heart of the film, as she should be.

Probably more than the book, this is very clearly part one of a trilogy. Efforts were made to build some tension between the districts and the Capitol that will pay off in Catching Fire and Mockingjay, and the film actually did a better job of identifying the ultimate antagonist than the book - I'm very much looking forward to that character getting more screen time and more impact as the films continue. Ultimately, The Hunger Games didn't really have a prayer of living up to the hype that was built around it, but this is certainly a well-made, entertaining first step that not only made me want to reread all three books, but also left some anticipation for the second film, currently slated for November 2013. Do yourself a favor and read the book before heading to the theater, but if you don't get around to it, you'll still find a good adventure with an intriguing setup that will probably drive you back to the book to fill in the little details once the credits roll.

Taken

Yeah, yeah, it's been a long time. I suck. Get over it.

Taken

* * * * * (out of five)

Assuming that people like some complexity, Taken might be a hard sell. It just doesn’t mess around with any of that. It’s a thriller. It knows it, you know it twenty minutes in, and you never forget it until the very last second. Frankly, there’s not a lot of character here. There’s not a lot of background. There’s not a lot of relationship development. And honestly, there’s not a lot of moral consideration, all of which might turn some people off. But if you walk into this movie looking for a good time without any needless complications, you’ll walk out satisfied. 

Liam Neeson, who owns the movie every single second he’s in frame (and there are very few Liam-less frames in the whole 90 minutes), plays Bryan Mills. There are really only three things you need to know about Bryan. A) He used to work as some sort of covert ops agent for the US government, a job at which he was very good, B) he is extremely meticulous and detail-oriented, and C) he loves his daughter, Kim, but didn’t get to spend much time with her growing up because of work. All of these points are bluntly established within the first twenty minutes.

After some exposition establishing tension between Bryan and his ex-wife (Famke Janssen), who now lives a much better life with her new, rich and present husband, Kim (Maggie Grace) asks her parents for permission to spend a summer in Paris with a friend. Bryan is skeptical, something that initially reads as overprotective, but it’s sort of understandable – without details, it is established that he has seen much more bad in the world than most people, and wants to shield his daughter from that if possible. But eventually he relents, with a number of seemingly-controlling conditions, and off she goes. Naturally, everything that could go wrong does go wrong within a matter of hours, and Bryan flies to Paris with a presumed 96-hour window to find his daughter before the trail runs cold.

Liam Neeson is not a guy you look at and immediately think “action hero,” but he doesn’t have to be, because this is not that kind of movie. Bryan isn’t a hero. He’s not even trying to be a hero. Bryan is dangerous, and Bryan has a goal. He knows exactly of what he is capable, and as far as we know there is no line he won’t cross in order to attain his goal. Compared to most other lead characters, this could very well come off as a flat character, because he doesn’t demonstrate many of the humanizing qualities we’ve come to need from action heroes in order to justify their actions. Difficult decisions, especially those that might result in violence, pain or death, are typically given heavy consideration. This is not a concern for Bryan Mills. It’s not that he’s sadistic – at no point does he enjoy what is does. It’s not even that he’s immoral. It’s all about priority, and in his case, doing what he needs to do to find his daughter outranks any moral consideration he might otherwise have.

There’s the potential for commentary about Bryan’s life in the times leading up to or following this particular moment – what training made him this way, if he comes to regret his actions, etc. – but while those might be interesting ideas to explore, they aren’t this moment. For that, credit writers Luc Besson and Robert Mark Kamen. Most of their scripts are action-based, but this sort of stripped-down single serving is relatively new for them (see Banlieue 13). They focus so completely on one situation, they’re able to really perfect the telling of this story, this moment, without other side plots getting in the way. The film is a straight line, from abduction to the end, and it is tense for the entire run. It’s really beautiful in its simplicity – sidetracks would have required more time to explain, and almost certainly would have lost the momentum of the main story.

Neeson’s not going to win any awards for this one, but I doubt there was any intention of that going in. This is a film about a man unleashed, and Neeson handles both extremes flawlessly. His stillness and quiet is often impressive, and nearly as frightening as his very, very violent outbursts, because to this guy, those are both means to the same end, equal tools for the same job. It’s Neeson that makes Bryan Mills dangerous, not his training or ability. But at the same time, it’s Neeson’s early sincerity in his love for Kim that justifies for the audience his actions later on, even though there’s absolutely a vindictive edge to some of the violence. Neeson’s total commitment to the black and white nature of what he’s doing sells that not only is Bryan doing what he must, but the bastards had it coming. There’s a recurring idea of focus that Bryan keeps coming back to – he exhibits it in everything he does, and he reminds everyone with whom he has contact of its importance. That idea really wraps up what Neeson brings to this part – a tunnel vision-esque focus that sets the pace and the mood for everyone else who has the pleasure or misfortune of being in Bryan Mills’s life.

The only issue with the film for me was the directing, car chases in particular. It’s a long-held complaint that didn’t get any better here… the best way to sell action and suspense in fistfights, in car chases and in tense scenes is to show us what the hell is going on. Showing Bryan’s car swerving in and out of oncoming traffic, hearing and feeling near miss after near miss, with the occasional look at Bryan’s reactions, will be much more tense than fraction of a second cuts that just end up being spatially confusing. I understand that the idea is to get a frenetic, stressful blood boil, but it doesn’t work for me. It’s stressful, but only because I get frustrated when I can’t see what’s going on. Anyone who wants to put a car chase in their movie ought to be forced to watch Tarantino’s Death Proof and take notes.

Other than that, Pierre Morel does just as well here as he did in Banlieue 13. He knows the story Besson is trying to tell, and knows the best thing he can do is stay out of the way. Besson and Kamen are working through Neeson to create this guy’s life and Morel is there to put it on film. He does well enough, but no one is exactly making it hard on him.

Neeson and a tight-as-hell script are the reasons to see this one. Why it got dumped in a crap slot like the end of January, I’ll never know. It’s much better than that. But it sure was a nice distraction from the cold. Appreciate it while you can.

Also up on eFilmCritic.

Hah! Take that!

A new post! On the OTHER blog!

Review of Eagle Eye is up. Enjoy, either at the movie blog or at Hollywood Bitchslap/eFilmCritic

Fall Movie Preview

I've tried to do season previews before, and I've never quite gotten them decent enough to post. No more of that. This one is getting done. As it is, I'm already a week behind - this weekend offers 3:10 to Yuma and Shoot 'Em Up, two of the higher films on my must-see list for the fall.

3:10 to Yuma
Yuma looks like someone is dumping money into a quality western, working with people who want to make a quality western and tell a good story. The trailers have been solid from the beginning, and Christian Bale is one of those guys who will get me into just about anything. I'm more hit or miss with Russell Crowe - he gets points in this one because I very much liked the last western he did (Sam Raimi's The Quick and the Dead). I still haven't managed to get Walk the Line into my DVD player, but I hear nothing but good things, so director James Mangold behind the wheel on this one is tentatively ok by me. The way I see it, westerns are one of the most fun genres to watch, because you're playing in a world where there are inherently no rules. In every other genre, there are societal rules, and your film stands out primarily by how you break those rules in order to present an original story or idea. To me, a good western feels like something that started with a blank canvas. Just like everything else, the genre fell prey to idea sniping, piggybacking and copycats, but Yuma looks like something I haven't seen in awhile. Yes, I understand the hypocrisy in hoping for fresh ideas and originality from a remake, but that's the vibe I'm getting off of this one. I think I'm going to preface that cinema trip with The Proposition, an Aussie western from 2005 that I've heard great things about. It's sitting on my coffee table via Netflix right now.

Shoot 'Em Up
Changing gears more or less completely, Shoot 'Em Up looks stupid. Real stupid. But stupid in the best possible way. I can appreciate when a film completely identifies the audience it is gunning for, and makes no concessions for other groups. This one is clearly going after the action video game crowd, and what it looks like they've come up with is a no-strings-attached actioner: competent star that I can easily believe as a badass, a beautiful girl, a truly evil, scene-chewing villain, and a shoestring plot that puts them in the same room with guns in their hands. As far as I'm concerned, this is the stuff that Clive Owen was built to do. The guy's not the most charming or convincing guy out there (I need something else at the level of Children of Men in order to be convinced otherwise), but tell him he needs to be the uncompromising badass, and you'll get exactly what you need. I've never been a huge Paul Giamatti fan - there are more downs than ups in my mind when it comes to him - but his over-the-top crazy guy looks to fit perfectly here. And I'm all for Monica Bellucci in roles where she's just supposed to be sexy. In an interview I skimmed at one point with writer-director Michael Davis, he started describing one of his sequences (the helicopter thing, I think), and the interviewer stopped him and asked if maybe it wasn't a bit over the top. Davis absolutely agreed that it was, but said he did it because "he'd want to watch it." Directors approaching movies as fans can be a very dangerous thing - I'm pretty sure that's how we got Michael Bay - but in the right hands, this can come off beautifully. Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg are, I think, the perfect example of that. So long as Shoot 'Em Up commits to its concept without taking itself remotely seriously, we should be good. Everything I've seen indicates that none of this should be a problem.

I'll be back with a by-the-week preview as soon as I can be. I imagine at least next week will be up today. Until then...