Spotlight / **** (2015)

If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse one.

One of the first rules a young journalist must learn in the newsroom is often the hardest pill for them to swallow: good ones never betray the principles of their profession. As a fresh face in college quietly observing the rationale of reporters throughout history in classroom case studies, I was silently baffled by the moral gray areas they routinely danced on to get a story, even apart from their dichotomous reasoning (whether it be for information or sensationalism). That risk-takers could equally produce both great correspondents as well as tabloid vultures wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon, but the stigma of the latter certainly helped to undermine the reputation of genuine newspaper sleuths, whose work on the field could often be met by the suspicion of partial truths and lurid exaggerations. Part of that thought process worms its way into the fabric of Tom McCarthy’s “Spotlight” at various intervals, and yet the obstacles these reporters face are valid concerns: there is a shocking story to tell, but many of those targeted have waited too long for some semblance of justice to assume that the media is willing to publish unfiltered versions of their stories.

The Witch / ** (2016)

They want you to believe the hype. They have sold the illusion well. Everywhere you turn – whether it is in media plugs or face-to-face acknowledgments – “The Witch” is the latest commodity hot on the lips of filmgoers, who have lauded the endeavor as a bold new precedent in the method of modern horror movie approaches. What that practice entails, however, isn’t nearly as profound as so many colleagues and observers have bought into. Perhaps the relative ambiguity of it all gives it a quality of fascination, and it’s easy to see why; we live in the clutches of a horror genre now drunk on the blood of its own gratuity, and the mere suggestion that all of it can be restrained for the sake of evoking a mere mood seems like such a novel concept. But it is one, in either case, that is already familiar to anyone who has ever taken the time to look beyond the mainstream supply of hack-and-slash vomitoriums. Psychology is the driving force of the most resonating scarefests, and good ones will take their time to silently unravel our security before hitting us with the sensational stuff. Unfortunately for this one, that trajectory is uncertain in a premise that seems orchestrated from an absent-minded perspective.

Contention in the Contest: A Final Word on the 2016 Academy Awards

Audiences who descended on the Dolby Theater in Hollywood on Sunday night were certainly expecting active discussion about the diversity issue at the Academy Awards, but when Chris Rock took the stage to open this year’s ceremony, they probably didn’t expect it to be as sharp and insistent as it wound up being. What it also was, even amongst the numerous laughs, was an opportunity for the comedian to use his tongue to spread around the underlying blame of the issue, even to those on his side of the aisle. In one of the night’s most memorable jokes, his aim fell directly on Jada Pinkett-Smith, who lashed out after her husband, Will Smith, wasn’t nominated. “Jada boycotting the Oscars is like me boycotting Rihanna’s panties,” he shot back. “I wasn’t invited!”

A Movement of Trophies: 2016 Oscar Musings and Predictions

As we draw closer to the 88th Oscar telecast, a very visible dark cloud has nestled over the motion picture academy in what many are calling a divisive year of contention. It is a scenario made all the more prominent by the very public outcry made by members in the voting body, who have called for a boycott of the ceremony because of a distinct lack of diversity in the actor’s playing field – namely, a shortlist that includes no black actors. Spike Lee, one of the more vocal members, refuses to participate or watch. Others have suggested that Chris Rock, who is assigned hosting duties, to resign from participating. And with various other members of the debate lending support – or opposition – to the cause, the prevalent feeling is that all the attention of possible winners has been absorbed by the politics of the scenario, creating distinct divides that have both escalated the issue and opened old wounds.

The Passion of the Christ / 1/2* (2004)

Let’s have a serious discussion about context. Does it have a place in faith-based storytelling? Isn’t there a danger in exploiting the connotations of an event if it is far removed from the perspective of reasoning? We are hard-pressed to find a decisive assessment in many an instance of these sorts of pictures, but Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” argues against the rules of film directors modulating their own creative process. Some level of horrific overzealousness possesses his instincts in this chronicle of Jesus’ crucifixion, empowering him to use his camera as a sadistic observer in the cruel and gratuitous sacrifice of the Christian messiah at the hands of incessant tormentors. So great is the violence, however, that his endeavors leave us with two nagging questions: 1) how, anatomically speaking, was it possible that any man (even the son of God) could survive long enough to make the ascent up the hill to be nailed to a cross?; and 2) how does the mere notion of his death lead an established veteran like him down such a grotesque and unsightly road of contemptible values? Show me any scenario that justifies these extremes and then tell me how it all fits into any framework other than pornography.

Amorous / ** (2014)

Generally speaking, a movie must usually be tasked with two primary objectives: setting a scene, and then filling it with plot and characters. Joanna Coates’ “Amorous” has the former down to a science; the camera catches images within the lens that are evocative and spacious, and serve the purpose of creating a world well suited to what is about to transpire. Then the question becomes one of direct concern: what exactly do these images mean to the faces that are about to populate them, and what must drive them beyond the necessity to be caught up in all sorts of random frivolity? The four leads, each of whom have come together after apparent alienation in the big city to lead a life of contentment in the English countryside, are less displaced by a sense of cultural alienation and more caught up in the confusion of the impulse. They don’t even seem eager or happy to wind up where they have arrived. And that’s troubling for any audience that is attempting, wholeheartedly, to find an entry point into this story in order to generate empathy or general interest in what transpires. What they get is not so much a study of characters as it is a simplified examination of behaviors, all of them too far out of context to be the source of any significant dramatic depth.

Deadpool / **1/2 (2016)

Wade Wilson may have been manufactured in a universe with few similarities to ours, but in a movie climate overrun by noble superheroes and domineering tyrants hell-bent on world destruction, his arrival could have not come at a more apropos time. A staunch practitioner of all things vulgar, he comes to be the lightning rod for which desensitized audiences can rest their cynicism on, occupying a space in his social culture that arms him with a scathing editorial analysis of all things loud, obnoxious and completely absurd. Such intentions are made known quite early on in the new movie about him; waiting for the arrival of a slew of enemies he is destined to slaughter, he narrates in sardonic oratory that breaks the proverbial fourth wall of movie awareness. Endeavors with less alert protagonists would hardly have the audacity to regard their destinies with some level of cheeky discernment, and yet here is a man whose life experiences – and colorful observations – work directly in favor of that proclivity. The funny thing about costume-wearing warriors is that the more abundant they become, the less likely they are to comment on how cliché their own origins might be.

Fifty Shades of Grey / *1/2 (2015)

There is something inherently unsettling about a young handsome billionaire that spends all his time thinking about aggressive sexual desires. To witness him come to fruition in the frames of “Fifty Shades of Grey” is to partake in an intriguing case study, in which we become transfixed by the strange dichotomy of an upstanding citizen as he delves into pleasures that are as devious as they are time-consuming.  How does anyone, indeed, come to be so successful and dependable in the business world without taking a break from getting off? Christian Grey, an ego-maniac who lives and works in sterile spaces, doesn’t seem as if he has lived with any other interest beyond the possibility of luring a poor unsuspecting girl into his chamber of dark fetishes. It possesses him so incessantly that there is almost no time for business calls or important meetings – just enough to follow someone around to social jaunts or into secluded areas in order to exude erotic authority. In some strange paradoxical way, the poor subject of these actions finds them endearing, almost romantic. But who in any self-respecting audience is going to share in that perception without feeling uneasy? In a story with a tone this uncertain, Christian plays less like a Casanova with conviction and more like a brute eager to replace Patrick Bateman on the creepy meter.

The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill (2003)

The rhetoric of commoners would have you believe that animals only occupy the personalities we attach to them, but more perceptive minds know better: they can sense the gears of attitude lurking underneath a trajectory of common instincts and silent routines. Part of what attracts us to such creatures – be they pets or otherwise – is that they know how to hold their own in a world of conventional disinterest, often catching our notice by acting in such a way that is indicative of some kind of internal spark. Sometimes that comes in the form of relentless affections, other times strength or defiance. The constant is that there is a necessity in them to be noticed, especially if it relates to their very survival or comfort. How perceptive they must be to have so thoroughly sharpened their associations with human beings over the centuries, especially as it has been instrumental to their endurance in a world that continues to offer new dangers at every given moment.

Hail, Caesar! / **1/2 (2016)

As a straight narrative, “Hail, Caesar” by the Coen Brothers represents a shocking misfire of intent, but as a collection of scenes that offer a slice of their infectious wit, it is an exercise in some of the most delightful chuckles of recent memory. How rare to arrive at the embrace of so much joy and enthusiasm in the midst of a perpetual nothing of a plot. It’s not as if there wasn’t an underlying set of values going for it all, either; set in the days of old Hollywood when the concept of movie illusions kept us at bay from the realization that pigs and idiots could populate the sets of our treasured epics, there is a great sense of comic awareness running through every scene – not cynical or insulting to the legacy of the craft, but certainly cognizant of the strange motives of the puppet masters. A wide array of sequences showcase these ideas to the peak of possibility, and like eager schoolboys these dependable filmmakers wrap them in a subtext that disregards seriousness, embraces the absurdity and caps it all off in a show of charm and wisdom. It’s just that pesky nuisance of a story that seems to louse it all up.

Lessons from Criterion:"Ivan's Childhood" by Andrei Tarkovsky

Had the debut feature of Andrei Tarkovsky been merely regarded as one of the first of many critical essays about the impact of war on the innocence of youth, it certainly would have been enough. But “Ivan’s Childhood,” one of the saddest and most honest tragedies ever to come out of Russia, rose above even those standards – it was the caveat of the profound possibilities of eastern cinema, effectively heralding the discovery of one of the most perceptive minds to ever stand behind a movie camera. While the very concept of war films was certainly nothing new to industries overseas – especially given that most countries could only reach wide distribution by dealing with such material – seldom had they been devised under the weight of such heartbreaking humanity, or in the space of impeccable artistry. Before his undertaking, the genre had mostly been dominated by the onslaught of propaganda agendas, or movies about the strategy of the act; more routinely they were crude excursions, cut together like sensationalist news reels. But after his audacious foray into the most unfortunate reaches of the victim pool, perceptions changed so intensely that it paved the way for nearly all anti-war films that would follow. Rare is it for any single achievement to drive the hands of the cultural zeitgeist, and even more elusive is the realization that so much of today’s standard still rests firmly on any single achievement.

1408 / *** (2007)

The common decree of the haunted house formula insists that harmful energies must exist in places where great pain has been inflicted – that in order for there to be a legitimate case for ghostly curses to remain behind, some sort of catalyst must lurk underneath, waiting for someone perceptive enough to trigger release. Rarely do writers and film directors deviate from that standard, although they are apt to stretch the possibilities. Consider a recent series like “Insidious,” or the ambitious “The Conjuring.” What do they have in common beyond their own self-reliant boundaries? Each implores the use of details that heighten the stakes of the outcome, usually at the service of climaxes that stretch the limits of the stories (or highlight strange fragments in the psyches of the characters). And in even rarer cases there are those infrequent journeys through locales that create impossible mysteries; they become mere devices to propel the personal dilemmas of the victims, and one is often left to wonder what – if any – source could inspire so much evil.

Balls of Fury / 1/2* (2007)

In a literal context, “Balls of Fury” is a movie about a misfit competing in an upscale Ping Pong tournament in order to gain information against a government enemy, but on some subterranean level, it’s a study of how celebrity agents can coerce a talented veteran actor into participating in one of the most painfully unfunny comedies ever made. The very existence of Christopher Walken has the capability of inspiring devious intrigue, but the suspicion that any person in his circle did not look at this project and insist on restraint is a disheartening prospect. That, of course, opens the door to more centralized contemplations. Did he really think what he was getting involved in was flattering to his legacy? Was he simply manipulated into it for a financial gain too precious to contemplate? Or worse yet, did he find it at all funny, essentially pigeonholing his own sense of humor as one of tone-deaf naivety? The lack of an answer may be even more troubling, especially in context of a supply of scenes where he is made to look and move like a confused impersonator doped up on mood enhancers.

What We Do in the Shadows / *** (2014)

There’s a challenge at the start of “What We Do in the Shadows” that supplies audiences with a fascinating quandary: what kind of lives would vampires lead if they were not privy to the glitzy glamour of gothic romance novelists or horror film architects? For most, the implication might not have involved something so tongue-in-cheek. But here is a movie that suspects there would be no other option beyond characterizations so seemingly absurd; caught in a world that recognizes their elaborate curses from a place of silliness, it tells the story of a group of close-knit bloodsuckers who engage in wild nightlife antics that are neither strategic nor threatening, and often culminate in elaborately disastrous consequences. Beyond the gruff exterior of pale skin, sharp fangs and insatiable bloodlust, these are beasts that possess none of the preconceived characteristics of a vampire and simply emerge as nocturnal simpletons. If only their appetites – and their decision-making skills – were as sound as the legends painted them to be.

Everest / **1/2 (2015)

Ominous warnings fill our heads when we contemplate the details on a narrative card at the opening of “Everest,” and only some of them are subconscious ruses. The mere thought of Earth’s tallest peak inspires a sense of uneasy anticipation; while it has rested comfortably for millions of years atop the Tibetan plateau, man has inherited a long-standing fascination with its deadly charm. They see it as a monument of impossible endurance, a testing ground for an extreme layer of human limitations that have no certain answers. And while many have attempted to scale its dangerous slops in the last century, only a handful have ever made it all the way – peaking at the altitude of most aircraft, the very low supply of oxygen has diminished one’s odds for survival, and the upper echelons have become icy graveyards for those succumbing to the harsh cold. At some point those odds became more favorable when more skilled climbers mapped out the most navigable paths, but like an evolutionary predator the mountain had its own dark intentions, and would eventually offer new and fatal challenges for those partaking in the daunting ascent to the summit.