The Bourne Identity (2002)

Directed by Doug Liman, starring Matt Damon

Plot summary: a wounded man without a memory is fished out the Mediterranean sea, who then finds himself chased by deadly assassins as he seeks to discover his past.

This is the spy movie that changed things for Hollywood action movies.  It has the same title as a spy novel written by Robert Ludlum that changed the way spy novels were written.  Interestingly, the title is about all the movie shares with the novel.  I exaggerate a bit, but not by much.  Let me explain.

I enjoyed The Bourne Identity.  A lot.  It has everything I love in an action film: great fights, frantic chases, quick thinking, and a simply fantastic car chase.  It keeps away from everything I hate about action movies: stupid plots, pathetic acting (or over acting), awful writing, terrible direction with horrid editing that disguises all the other rough edges.  Bourne worked into my heart, and I liked it greatly.

But the film has this one detail, a plot hole so deep and wide that I just couldn't get past it.  You see, Jason Bourne is a super spy.  He knows how to play the angles in any room, use anything for a weapon, can blend into the background or completely dominate physically.  He has an astounding ability to observe and memorize, as he himself admits and describes in one scene of the film.  So why would a guy who can memorize every license plate of the cars on the way into a diner need a fancy gizmo inserted into his hip with his bank account info on it?  Is he worried that he might forget his password?  You see, it irritated me to no end that this thing in his hip only seemed to be there in the rather unlikely eventuality that he would be wounded, recover, but lose his memory.  WHY IS THIS THING THERE??

So I read the book.  I simply had to find out if there was a rational explanation.  Turns out there is, though it is never discussed in the movie.  See, it's there as an insurance policy, where if Bourne ever was killed in action this thing in his hip would be found, his past discovered, and his name could be cleared.  Whew, one mystery solved, a host of others begun.

Understand, I read the book to understand the movie better.  But what I discovered is that the movie has almost no relationship with the book.  Sure, there's an amnesiac spy named Jason Bourne is in the book, as is a girl named Marie.  There is indeed something called Treadstone, and the CIA are involved.  The hip implant is there, and the beginning of the novel is very well represented in the film.  Other than that, there is nothing at all similar.  The plot is so divergent, so different, so unrelated that to say The Bourne Identity movie is based on the book is close to an outright lie.

So all that to make a judgement on the movie.  Is the movie any good?  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.
By no means is it perfect -the acting, while good, is often uneven.  The plot is convoluted, and the writing at times is not quite able to help you keep up too well.  And the romance side seems just a tad forced.  But on the whole, this is a well-done film.  Cinematography and editing a far above average, with some truly beautiful shots, complete with very nicely choreographed fight scenes.  Direction is great; plenty is done that is new and unique for action film.

What stands out is the humanity of the whole film.  It centers on one man and brings out his confusion quite well.  Action is great and frantic, but never for the sake of the action.  Everything centers around the man and his quest to know himself.  And when all the pieces come together the conclusion becomes unavoidable.

Bourne was a well-timed movie.  It found a niche, appealing to an audience loosing trust in the intelligence community after 9/11/01.  (Interestingly, just after 9/11 they shot a whole new ending, one that you might say makes the CIA into a "good guy" of sorts and helps build confidence in government security, but the original ending played better with audiences, so it stayed.)  And it reinvented the tired and stale spy thriller genre -Mission: Impossible 2 and the later Pierce Brosnan James Bond films released about the same time were more than a bit lackluster.  As such, The Bourne Identity is not just enjoyable; it is important as well.

Entertainment: 6/10
Artistic Value: 4/10
Technical Merit: 7/10

Overall: 6.5/10

Favorite Directors: Akira Kurosawa

So how do you choose what movies to watch?  Typically there are at least five major influences that convince me to watch a film:

1. I'm interested in the topic (AKA -"wow, that looks like something I'd enjoy!")
2. I'm a fan of the major actors (AKA -"Jimmy Stewart is in this!  Squeeeee!")
3. I'm with a group of friends, and they all insist on watching some terrible movie against my opinionated, yet correct, urging. (and that is how I was forced to watch the horrendous Wild Wild West more than once.)
4. It is made by a great director. (and thus I will watch anything that Christopher Nolan has made.)

We all have favorite directors.  My all time favorite has always been Alfred Hitchcock.  I've loved Alfred the Great since I first really encountered his work in high school.  

But right now I want to talk about a director that I've only recently discovered that has simply amazed me with his work.  I'm speaking of Akira Kurosawa.

I discovered Kurosawa in watching his magnificent epic Seven Samurai.  I'd long heard of SS, knowing how influential it was and how it was remade in America as the western The Magnificent Seven.  If you've heard of Seven Samurai and have not seen it, forget everything you have ever been told -it is far better than you could imagine.  It really deserves its own review sometime, but now suffice to say this; it is more magnificent than any remake.

Of course, one great film does not mean that a director is great.  Even bad directors sometimes strike gold, or as they say, even a blind squirrel can find a nut.  That is why I decided to check out more of Kurosawa's work.  Thus I watched Ran (the character "ran" in Japanese means something like "rebellion" or "betrayal"), Kurosawa's Japanese Samurai adaptation of Shakespeare's King Lear.  If you're thinking that Samurai King Lear sounds awesome, that's because it is (and again, the sweepingly brilliant Ran deserves its own review).  Then I bought and watched The Hidden Fortress, a film that had strong influence over George Lucas as he wrote Star Wars.  There I marveled at Kurosawa's ability to develop strong characters and slowly ramp up action, then bring together action and tension in completely stunning ways.

It hit me sometime after watching The Hidden Fortress that I was becoming an enormous fan of Akira Kurosawa.  Clearly he had a pattern of greatness, evident even in the three that I saw at first.  If you think of great film making, nobody thinks of Japanese flicks from the 50's.  Yet in that period Kurosawa was making films that were not just better than what Hollywood was producing, they profoudly changed movie making itself.  The preeminent example is 1950's Rashomon, which was the single most influential film in bringing Japanese cinema to the West.

Kurosawa became friends with the American western director John Ford.  He was highly influenced by Ford's work, and then Kurosawa's work highly influenced Ford (and everyone else).  For myself, I know that my appreciation of good film has been enhanced since running into Kurosawa's work.  He was a genius, far ahead of his time, who made films that have simply made me sit back in wonder.

Watch out Hitchcock, Akira is gunning for your spot on my favorites list.

Life is busy

So it's been a while since I've posted.  Of course, I've had vacation, work, and a family with kids.  That means far too little time that you might describe in any charitable way as "free."  So when it comes to "how do I spend that free time?" the answer is more frequently "watch movies" rather than "write about movies I've watched."

So enough excuses.  I'll be writing, just about as often as I can.  Which is to say, infrequently and in spurts.

Dreams of Star Wars 7: Thoughts on the Disney/Lucas Deal

As you may have heard by now, Disney will be buying Lucasfilm for 4.05 billion dollars.  And as part of the news release about the deal they revealed plans to release Star Wars Episode 7 in 2015.

So what does this mean for the future of Star Wars?  Is this an indication that Star Wars will Return to Strike Back with a New Hope?  Or will we see the Revenge of a Menace of idiot Clones?

To be very clear, I hope the new movie(s) are like episodes 4-6, not like episodes 1-3.  Because 1-3 were painfully bad.  Episode 1 was boring with horrible child acting and juvenile writing and directing.  Episode 2 made little sense, had a convoluted "plot," but much more satisfying action.  Episode 3 was decent in many respects, though still weak on the writing and direction.  Each film got progressively better, so the trend might lead us to Star Wars movies that are once again worthy of the name.  But of course, all our worse fears might be realized if Disney decides to continue Star Wars along the same lines as the prequel trilogy.  I'm not sure my childhood memories could take another assault like that.  I mean, could you imagine another Jar Jar, endless senate political discussion on whether to table the motion to amend the amendment, and (shudder) more horrible child actors?

So how do we make Star Wars good again?  What will it take to make the Sequel trilogy (or wherever it goes) better than the Prequel trilogy?  I mean, aside from the obvious observation that not much could be worse than the Prequel trilogy?  Fear not, dear reader!  For I am here with my opinionated ideas for how to save Star Wars!

1.  Get George Repellent

We must acknowledge, of course, the great debt we who love Star Wars owe to Lucas.  He came up with the whole idea, sold it to studios, pulled off Episode 4 with greatness, and built the empire (pun intended) of toys, games, and collectibles we all love to pay tons of money for.  In gratitude, we've made him extraordinarily rich and still give him applause for everything he does.

But it has to stop.

Honestly, he may be the reason Star Wars got started, but he is also responsible for how far it has run off the rails.  Lucas had a visionary idea, but he really needed to surround himself with people who would be honest with him and tell him what a horrible script he had for Episode 1.  He needed people to tell him that the entire idea of Jar Jar was a terrible mistake.  He needed people to tell him that Jake Lloyd couldn't act.  Most of all, he needed people to tell him that HE was not the right person to direct.

Therefore, the Sequel trilogy would benefit greatly from an investment in George repellent.  The less Lucas has to do with the direct production of any future Star Wars, the better.  Boy, that's hard for me to say, having grown up enjoying Star Wars as I did -but hey, sometimes the truth hurts.

2. Find the Right Director

(A guy can dream, right?)
Whoever the producers end up being need to find a director who is up to a real challenge.  The director needs to come with a vision for how to make the new films his very own, yet still retaining the spirit of Star Wars (to clarify, episodes 4-6).  This vision must be clear, understandable, and doable.

What simply cannot be allowed to happen is for a committee to come up with a list of things that must be done, then hire a director to bring it all together.  Story by committee rarely ends up well.

So get someone who has passion for Star Wars please.  Someone with backbone.  Not just someone who will put out whatever will make the studio execs happy.  I want a real Star Wars movie again, not a two hour commercial for Lego toys.

Oh, and please, not Spielberg.  I like him and all, but it's time for fresh blood and new ideas.

3. Get the Plot Right
I have dreams in my head of an aged Master Luke and his Jedi Academy, with a young apprentice who is dabbling in things he shouldn't...

I don't know what really could be done with the plot.  Perhaps some variant adaption of the Timothy Zahn books, with the resurgence of the Empire.  Perhaps some new threat could rear its head in the galaxy far, far away.

Whatever is done, please, for the love of all things cute and cuddly, make the plot more like episodes 4-6 and less like 1-3!  Make the plot simple.  You know, like there's this Evil Empire and a rebellion against it, so let's save the Princess and blow up the Death Star.  Make it something we care about again.

And along those lines...
4. Get a Wicked-Cool Bad Guy

See this?  That's wicked-cool.  Let's have a memorable bad guy like that, someone we want to dislike, someone we know is gonna do all kinds of evil things if he's not defeated.

Grand Admiral Thrawn would be a great candidate.  I mean look at this guy...

That's wicked-cool.

Wicked-cool means unique look, genuinely evil actions, and poses a serious threat to the good guys.  Having dark side force powers and having great lightsaber skills a plus, but not necessary.

Characters who have names that effectively translate to Count Poop?  Not wicked-cool.
Characters who are asthmatic robots and have names that effectively translate to General Bad Guy?  Not wicked-cool.

5. Get John Williams

Without the music, it's not Star Wars.  'nuff said.


In conclusion, there is no single thing that can be done to guarantee that the Sequels will be better than the Prequels.  In fact, I'm sure that no matter how well done they are there will still be fans who are disappointed with something.  But if they will just get some of these main things done right, everything else will fall into place.  And hey, who knows?  Maybe Star Wars will come roaring back!

The Lion King (1994)

The first five minutes.  This movie is worth 10 stars simply for the first five minutes.  Disney's masterpiece The Lion King is a marvel of movie making, and perhaps the best animated film ever.  But it is the first five minutes that simply stun and amaze every time I see it.  In those first moments we are introduced to a beautiful and wondrous setting, we march with the smallest ants and largest elephants, we fly with the birds, and we begin to understand characters, even without a word spoken.  There is awe and grandeur, a great song, and a bit of mystery hinted at.  Everything is perfectly timed, perfectly planed, and perfectly directed.  And, technically speaking, Disney animation does quite a few things that had never been done before.

And that's just talking about the first five minutes.

Speaking about plot, The Lion King is basically Hamlet.  With lions.  And that is another reason this movie succeeds.  You see, a movie needs a reason to be animated.  There is no reason to animate a film unless you are going to do things with the animation that you could never do with live actors.  This is where The Lion King shines.  It takes a basic story that is rich in history and pedigree, and infuses a beautiful new life into it by transporting it into the world of lions in Africa.  It also remains one of the classic examples of the plot device known as "the hero's journey."

The animation itself is brilliant.  It is colorful, full of life and beauty, and infused with African themes and style.  It communicates wonderfully through use of light and darkness and color.  Bad guys are pictured as drab, while the good guys almost shine.  Evil areas are dark and foreboding, and good areas are colorful and healthy.

The music is fantastic.  The Lion King was made in an era when Disney was expected to have 4-5 standout showstopping songs in each movie.  Now, it is never a good thing when studio execs dictate to a writer or director what they MUST include in the film.  Songs that are shoehorned in never work well and end up harming the movie over all.  The Lion King does not suffer from this.  It rises above expectations, with no song seeming to overly forced, and every song seems a resounding spectacle of grand magnitude.

The acting is passable.  Of course, Matthew Broderick should never be given acting jobs, unless the job is to portray someone who is MEANT to be more wooden than Pinocchio.  Everyone else does a great job, and seems to have genuine fun.  Especially Jeremy Irons, who provides the voice of Scar.

Overall, The Lion King is beyond good.  It has the kind of plot, pacing, and themes that transcend the simplistic offerings typically given by Hollywood today.  This is far more than what we expect from a "kid's movie."  This is a family movie in the best sense; one that can be enjoyed by all and that will remain relevant and fun for years to come.

Especially those first five minutes.

Entertainment: 9/10
Artistic Value: 7/10
Technical merit: 10/10 (in spite of Broderick)

Overall: 9/10

This is Spinal Tap (1984)

So there are some movies that reveal just how odd my sense of humor is.  Spinal Tap (more appropriately, This Is Spinal Tap) is one of those films.

For example:

"These go to eleven."  That is, after all, one louder.

If you're laughing, it means you've seen Tap and your idea of funny is as twisted as mine.  If you're not laughing, then you've not seen Tap or, alternatively, you don't know funny.  Either way, correct the issue.

This Is Spinal Tap is the story of a British heavy metal band on a comeback tour in America.  It is told in documentary style, leading many viewers to believe there actually WAS a band called Spinal Tap.  Which of course there was not.  But if there were it'd be awesome.

The movie plays that role of faux documentary perfectly.  The acting is just right; the actors flirt with the line that separates over-the-top from ridiculous, and yet there is constantly this thought in your head that there are many in the music industry who are probably just like this.  This is all about the perfectly delivered line: deadpan, with the actor appearing actually to believe that what he is saying is profound.  When it is, of course, abysmally stupid.

Quite importantly, the music is wonderful.  It is written and performed to perfection.  Many of the songs seem good enough that you could honestly believe they could be a smash hit.  The music is in the style of 80's metal, and are perfectly done in staging and sound.  And yet, even though the lyrics fit the genre, they are just past the line into absurd.  Thus we achieve comedic gold; what we hear sounds like true and well-done heavy metal, but the lyrics reveal everything to be both homage and parody at the same time.  I mean, how else can you explain the existence of a song called Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight?

But of course, the shining part of Tap is the writing.  This is the eminently quotable movie, each line delivered perfectly, perfectly timed, and amazingly brilliant.
"I'm really influenced by Mozart and Bach, and it's sort of in between those, really.  It's like a Mach piece."
"In ancient times, hundreds of years before the dawn of history, an ancient race of people...the Druids.  No one knows who they were or what they were doing..."
"I think the problem may have been that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf!"
"You can't really dust for vomit."
"It's like, how much more black could this be?  And the answer is none.  None more black."
"These go to eleven."

So get out there and rock with Spinal Tap!  Just be sure the glowing cocoon thing opens.  And that they don't put the puppet show on the marque over Tap.

Entertainment: 8/10
Artistic Value: 5/10
Technical Merit: 6/10

Overall: 6/10  (or should it go to 11?)

Content advisory: These guys frequently have potty mouths.  Just so you know.

Vertigo (1958)

A woman is rushing up the stairs of a tall bell tower.  Just behind her, Scottie (played by Jimmy Stewart) tries desperately to catch up.  Life and death is in the balance, and any delay could be disastrous.  Yet when Scottie glances below him he slams to a stop; bewilderingly, the ground far below appears to recede and approach at the same time, as though he were simultaneously falling down and up!  It is called vertigo, an uncontrollable fear of heights, a dizziness that stops him in his tracks.  Everything in him cries out to climb the stairs, to catch up to Madeleine, but he simply can't; the vertigo has paralyzed him.  And then he hears a scream...

Alfred Hitchcock was the Master of Suspense.  His movies are masterful and extremely well-crafted.  And of all his great career, 1958's Vertigo is his most exquisite.  Granted, it is not his most fun movie, that honor goes to North By Northwest.  Nor is it his most iconic film, that would be a battle between Psycho and The Birds.  And neither is it my favorite; that honor goes to Rear Window.  But Vertigo is certainly Hitchcock's most artistic film, and is likely to be his most enduring and influential movie.  After all, this past year it was Vertigo was named as Sight and Sound's top film of all time.  For 50 years Citizen Kane had the honor of being named the best film of all time in this poll of the nation's top filmmakers and critics.  Vertigo finally unseated it.  Does Vertigo deserve such an honor?

Absolutely.

Vertigo does all the important stuff so well it could nearly be called a perfect movie.  The acting is superb, especially Jimmy Stewart.  Now, I love Jimmy Stewart, but this is his best film and a departure from the style of many of his other roles.  He plays Scottie Ferguson with a lighthearted flare at first, then a dark and obsessive drive later.  He puts himself quite passionately into the role; this is the best acting performance in a Hitchcock film.  Opposite him is Kim Novak in the double role of Madeleine Elster and Judy Barton.  Novak often gets overlooked as an actress, but it is quite certain that Vertigo would not be effective without her convincing performance.  She nails this role, convincingly portraying herself as calm, cool, alluring, mad, confused, mysterious, suicidal, hopeful, abused, and ultimately terribly frightened.  There are other speaking roles, but really it all comes down to Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak, and they earn their accolades.

Technically speaking the movie is a marvel.  The editing is wonderful.  I love the drawn out shots that are allowed to go on for significantly longer than the audience might expect.  I love the sequences when Scottie is following Madeleine that contain little, if any, dialogue.  I love the wonderfully edited nightmare sequence that is still ingrained on the psyche of Hollywood.  I love how careful editing can make a race up a tower feel so frantic and heart stopping.

The music by Bernard Herrmann is perfect and even a character of its own.  It is hard to place the style, and you come away thinking that it was somewhat Spanish, yet otherworldly.  Certainly it does nothing to reassure the viewer, but always keeps you on edge.

Vertigo is a movie beautifully shot, with Robert Burks getting credit behind the camera.  Under the direction of Hitchcock he uses washouts and color effects to a high degree of effect, allowing us not only to see but experience the madness and obsession of the characters.

And then there is the famed "Vertigo Effect."  Alfred Hitchcock pioneered the use of a great many techniques in filming.  Not all of them worked well for him, but his greatest success was how he allowed the audience to experience Scottie's acrophobia, his fear of heights, his vertigo.  By simultaneously pulling the camera physically backward while zooming in with the lens, you get the result of maintained focus on the subject but a highly unsettling change of perspective.  You get the sensation of falling while not moving.  This technique has become passe, used in almost every instance when a character sees something of great concern or realizes a horrible truth.  It was used to great effect in Jaws.  It was even used in Michael Jackson's Thriller video.  But it had never really been seen before in movies until Vertigo, and Hitchcock capitalized on that quite well.  The audience was seeing and experiencing something new, something unsettling, something that brought them into the action and made them part of the scene.

If there is a portion of Vertigo that is a bit weak it might be the writing. The story is about a detective hired to shadow a woman who may be mad, or even possessed.  To explain any more would be criminal, if you have not seen it before.  Let's just say that when the story is laid out simply it seems on first blush to be a bit absurd, even simplistic, melodramatic or corny.  There are a few small plot holes, and also a few things that seem far too convenient.  Just hearing the plot explained to you would not make you want to see the movie.

But that doesn't matter.  The film is so well made, so meticulously constructed that it transcends the story.  This is a movie about obsession, something even understood from the titles.  There we are treated to an extreme, uncomfortable close-up of a portion of a woman's face.  And as the camera pans from one side to the other we finally come up to her eye, and in the eye we see this spinning geometric patterns.  We fall, mesmerized, into this woman's eye.  Hitchcock had a way of making his title sequences fit into the story or set the tone of the film, but nowhere does he succeed better than in Vertigo.  Vertigo is about obsession and guilt, and by the end of the film these forces transform the character we had thought a hero into a manipulative bully, an abuser even.  And in my favorite shot, as the camera pans in a circle around Scottie and his remade Madeleine we clearly see that the obsession he thought would remove his guilt only plunges him into madness.  He has his demons to overcome, but what toll will they take on him or others before he conquers them?  There are no happy endings for the characters here; but then again, what happy endings are possible when obsession and guilt are your driving forces?

Vertigo ages well.  It was not received enthusiastically by critics in 1958, nor did it do extremely well in theaters.  Yet it seems to grow in influence as the years go on.  And for me personally, each repeated viewing (and there have been many) brings new insight and seems a bit more powerful than the last.  Vertigo will forever be regarded as Hitchcock's great artistic masterpiece.

Entertainment: 8/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 10/10

Overall: 10/10

The Hunger Games (2012)

I had no idea what to expect from this one.  When I first heard of The Hunger Games it was in context of the Twilight books.  As in, "The Hunger Games is the newest series aimed at young fans of Twilight."  Given the fact that Twilight is a horrible monstrosity, such an association did not fill me with great hope and confidence.

So let me get this out in the open: The Hunger Games is to Twilight what apple pie is to cow pie.

But even so, I've eaten better pie than Hunger Games.  After all, in this business, simply being not as terrible as Twilight is not really a huge deal.  Twilight was bad.  It was miserable dreck.  It really isn't all that hard to be better than such pathetic stuff.  Hunger Games, on the other hand, does quite a lot very well.  It really is a good movie in many ways.  Unfortunately, it seems to rely quite heavily on having a built-in fan base and rarely rises above the level of adequacy.

The acting is adequate.  Jennifer Lawrence, of X-Men: First Class fame, has the lead role, and puts in the best performance of the cast.  It shocks me to say this, since there are a few top names in the cast such as Woody Harrelson and Donald Sutherland.  Woody Harrelson has a great entrance and a large part, but never manages to make much with what he is given.  Donald Sutherland is grossly underused; he had simply nothing to work with, showing up now and then only to scowl and such.  I can't help but think that his role is actually unnecessary for this film.  Perhaps the character of President Snow would have been better as an unseen menace, a power behind the curtain like the Emperor was in the first Star Wars.  All that to say this: the acting is passable, but could have been much better.

The writing is adequate.  Certainly this is a film that leans upon the source material and does not want to displease the target audience.  Perhaps this is why I, as a viewer who has never read the book, kept thinking that what I was watching would be better if I knew the book.  It came off stiff and unnatural at parts, as though faithfulness to the novel were more important than being its own thing as a movie.

The special effects and design are adequate.  I appreciate the fact that they do not try to do much that is over-fancy.  On the other hand, nothing really stood out either.  This was a glossy, high-shine kind of film, where everything that is done feels like there was a high price tag to make it.  But for all that there was not much that was truly memorable.  No iconic location, set piece, or distinct feel.  Not to mention that each of the "districts" felt rather small.  I honestly thought, after viewing the film, that each district (at least district 12) was about the size of a county, perhaps a very small state at best.  Only later (online) do I find out that each district represents a region that would incorporate several states.  That each district seemed only to have the population of a few thousand seems a design flaw to me.

Overall, I enjoyed watching The Hunger Games.  It was a good action film, drawing on tried and true themes that had been done many other times by previous films.  The problem, of course, is that previous films had done all those themes better.  At best, The Hunger Games is average.  That's not bad, of course, but neither is it worthy of all the attention it is getting.  I'm just guessing here, but the book is probably better.

Entertainment: 5/10
Artistic Value: 4/10
Technical Merit: 5/10

Overall: 5/10

Apollo 18 (2011)

I've always been a space nut.  Since childhood I've been fascinated by rockets, space, and landing on the moon.  I've extensively researched the space program from Mercury through the space shuttle.  I've enjoyed museums and documentaries about space.  I love seeing pictures and film of earth from space.  And the Apollo missions are by far the greatest achievement of manned space flight.

Added to that is the fact that I love thrillers and scary movies.  I'm a sucker for this kind of film, seeing it as escapist entertainment that has at least the possibility of saying something profound.  The best monster movies are really statements about the condition of man, or even a political statement, in the guise of some giant lizard terrorizing Tokyo.

So it can clearly be understood, taking those two interests of mine, why I watched Apollo 18.  Space flight with monsters.  This is a winning formula, and has been since Ridley Scott directed Alien.

How was it, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  Lousy.  It really is hard to think of even one element of this movie that could have been done worse.  The one thing that I might give any sort of gracious nod toward is that there were a few shots that did indeed look like old footage of Apollo missions.

But that's it.  The script was awful; it seemed like the stunted and anemic work of some high school aspiring writer who thought he had a great concept.  The acting was as bad as I have seen in the past 2-3 years; absolutely no line was delivered in anything approaching a believable way, and no opportunity was passed up to display an over-the-top emotion, or just plain the wrong emotion.  The direction was laughably amateur.  The editing was obnoxious.  The cinematography, meant to resemble found footage, was horrible, distracting, and painful.  The monsters, which resemble (are?) rocks for most of the movie, are never seen clearly and never explained or explored properly.  The effect that these things have on the astronauts is unclear and unexplained.  Nothing is explained, come to think of it.  There are plot holes that are big enough to sink a house.  Even at the end (which you won't mind if I spoil for you, will you?) we see that there is an accident that kills all the remaining astronauts, which only begs the question: if this is supposed to be "found footage" of a secret Apollo mission, who found the footage?  All the tape is out in deep space!

Enough of this abomination.  If you have the choice between this one and vacuuming the carpet, make sure that carpet is nice and clean.  If this is the in-flight movie on your next trip, take a parachute.  You get the idea.

Entertainment: 1/10
Artistic Value: 1/10
Technical Merit: 2/10

Overall: 1/10

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

2001: A Space Odyssey is perhaps the most perplexing, strangest movie that I love.  It's an experience, a work of moving art more than it is a typical movie.  If you've never seen it you need to stop reading now, because it is utterly impossible to discuss this film without spoiling everything strange and shocking about it.

Seriously now, you don't want a movie review to spoil one of film history's most amazing enigmas, do you?

The plot is really hard to define.  We begin by watching a group of apes do typical ape stuff.  This is not what we might expect from a science fiction movie, but apes it is.  These apes encounter...something.  A large black rock (hereafter "The Monolith") that seems to have some effect on them, though it is hard to define exactly what.  These apes then learn to use bones as tools.  Then, in one of the greatest time-jumps of movie history, we are rocketed to the near future, when space travel is common and we are beginning our baby steps into the solar system.  There is a permanent base on the moon, and something has been discovered there.  It is another Monolith, which sends a radio signal out toward Jupiter.  So we jump to the mission to Jupiter that results from this discovery.  This Jupiter mission is the part of the film that has the closest thing resembling a typical movie plot.  Astronauts Dave Bowman and Frank Poole are the crew of the ship heading out into deep space.  I guess technically there are other crewmen; several scientists are in cryosleep, and then there is HAL 9000, the ship artificial intelligence.  But then something goes wrong; HAL predicts the failure of a circuit board, which when replaced is found to be in perfect condition.  At this point there is a paradox, a bit of a conundrum really; since this seems to be an error, and since HAL supposedly cannot make an error, Frank and Dave begin to wonder whether to shut HAL down.  So HAL tries to kill them.  Frank is lost into deep space, and Dave is locked out of the ship in the ship's space pod.  (and thus the exchange "Open the pod bay doors, HAL."  "I'm sorry Dave, I can't do that." becomes movie legend)  To make the long story short, Dave forces his way in, manually shuts HAL down (And by the way, if your computer starts singing "Daisy Belle"...run.), and completes the journey to Jupiter on his own.

And then things REALLY get weird.  At Jupiter Dave discovers another Monolith, and flies his pod toward it.  And then he goes into hyperspeed, or something.  There is a segment of probably about 3-5 minutes of nothing but quickly moving lights and odd patterns.  It's a light and sound spectacular show, but very trippy.  And just as suddenly, Dave finds himself in a hotel room.  Well, it's something like a hotel room anyway.  Very austere, without carpet.  Just hard surfaces and a bed.  Then he sees himself out of the pod.  Then he explores a bit into the bathroom, then sees himself, only now as an older man, eating at a table.  Then the Older Dave knocks over his glass, breaking it, and after looking at the glass glances at the bed and sees himself again, only this time as a very old man.  Old Man Dave is dying, ancient, very close to the end of his life.  Then the Monolith shows up again, and as Old Man Dave reaches out to it he is transformed into a glowing, quasi-spiritual human fetus.  This "Star Child" then is shown floating through the void of space, revisiting earth and watching over the globe as "Thus Spake Zarathustra" plays its epic music in the background once again.

The End.

I remember my very first full viewing of 2001 many years ago.  I remember quite well my initial reaction to what I had just seen.  I think my full thought pattern was as follows: "What?  ...what?  ...did I just...what was...huh?  Really?"  I admit, I was lost and had no clue what I had just seen.  There did not seem to be any rational explanation to what I had just seen.  Other than the obvious, which was that there were film makers who did a LOT of drugs in the 60's.  But now after seeing it many more times, and contemplating long and hard over the various themes of the film (and even reading the book), I think I have a much better understanding of what the film is saying.  And I actually believe it is brilliant, even though I disagree with its conclusions.

This is a movie about a journey, a "space odyssey," as it calls it.  No, not the trip to Jupiter, that's only one very small part.  Really, this is a journey of a whole species, from birth to the evolution of something wholly new.  Evolution is at the heart of this film, but it is a guided evolution as represented here.  Humanity begins when the Monolith is first encountered; what humanity was to become is inspired at that point at the beginning of the film.  And humanity is defined by its tools.  It was the crude bone club that marks the beginning of the human race.    Symbolically, the bone is thrown into the air and becomes a space ship.  Just another stage in evolution, because you see, the human race goes on progresses, and the tools become more complex.

But now something is changing.  Tools enable us to reach into space, but our tools are beginning to get away from us, as symbolized by the floating pen in the middle of the earth to the moon sequence.  Much is made of the tools that humanity has mastered, yet the tools that define us and give us our best advantage over nature are becoming our biggest threat to ourselves.  This is most evident in HAL 9000.  HAL is the greatest tool ever invented by humanity, a flawless computer of exceptional speed and ability.  This perfect tool, designed to carry out its task with perfection, concludes that perfection cannot be attained while the humans it should be helping remain alive.  After all, if the computer cannot make an error and humans can, then what should be done to remove the chance of failure?

HAL fails to kill all the astronauts, with Dave triumphing over him.  Tools cannot be the future of humanity; designing new and better tools only seems to lead to the probability of destruction.  But if tools are not the future, then what is?  Dave discovers the next step in encountering the Monolith again.  He travels beyond space and time, to a place not constrained by distance and sequence.  Certainly this "hotel room" is the most puzzling part of the film.  It is here that Dave, and humanity with Dave as its representative, learns to rid itself of the tools that are now a detriment to further development.  First, Dave leaves the space pod, and that disappears.  Then Dave leaves his suit behind, aging and now eating at a table.  But even the tools of table, utensils, and cup must be rejected; it is when Dave breaks the cup and sees the wine (presumably wine, anyway) spilling out that he is able to take the next step.  He is dying, yet there is a rebirth awaiting.  One more encounter with the Monolith and humanity has finally progressed to the next stage, one needing no tool and constrained by nothing.  The Star Child has been born, and with him the future hope of humanity.

So what does the Monolith represent?  One possibility is that it is a form of life that is far beyond our existence, an alien presence that simply manifests itself in this way.  This is the way the book presents it.  Another way to take the Monolith is simply as a marker, a beacon that indicates major moments of human development.  I personally think the movie makes more sense along this option.

It needn't be said that I disagree utterly with the message of this movie.  As a Christian, I believe what sets humanity apart from the animal kingdom is not the fact we use tools, but rather that we are created in the Image of God.  And the great hope of humanity is not simply progressing beyond tools and flesh, but spiritual rebirth and resurrection with Jesus Christ as Lord.  The worldview of Christianity and the worldview of 2001 could not really be more different.  However, the movie is certainly a work of art, and one that is worthy of appreciation.  And the longing that the movie has for something greater than the physical, something beyond the consumeristic mentality, is laudable.  The sad part is that the movie's hope seems to be that somehow, someday we might possibly maybe perhaps attain a godlike status through unknown means.  This type of optimism is unmerited and actually kinda pathetic.  Humanity needs a better hope; one found in a real Savior who has overcome death and is beyond the limitations of this world.

Technically, this movie is a masterpiece.  The classical soundtrack consists of songs like "Thus Spake Zarathustra" (popularly known now as the song from 2001) and "The Blue Danube."  And with such limited dialogue (you will not hear a whole lot of talking in this one), I almost regard 2001 as a cinematic ballet.  Everything seems to dance with the music; spaceships fly, space stations spin, and apes strike the ground, all in time with the beat.

Beyond that, the special effects are astounding, even by today's terms.  Everything looks fabulous; the shuttles and stations (done with models) are well-conceived and believable, and the weightless moments are perfectly filmed.  Visually, only the "flying at hyperspeed" portion at the end looks dated at all.  Remembering that 2001 was filmed nearly 10 years before Star Wars will also help you appreciate the model work.  And if we consider that this vision of the future was all conceived and filmed before the first moon landing our appreciation will grow by magnitude.

This is a masterpiece, but it is hardly among my favorite films.  To be fair, while it is always interesting it is not always entertaining.  I'm sure that those who only like movies that have tons of action and constant tension would find 2001 a tad on the dull side.  You might even hear the word "boring."  

But I do enjoy 2001.  I find it stimulating as a mental exercise.  In film-history terms, it is a must-see simply due to its unmistakable influence; it is undeniably important and references to it permeate our popular culture.  I also simply enjoy the music and rhythm of the film in the same way that I would enjoy listening to a favorite CD or marveling at ballet or interpretive dance.  This is a deep film, deserving of the recognition it has always received.  2001 is an enigma, a great work of film art that will continue to puzzle and befuddle audiences for years to come.  Yes, I'm a fan.

Entertainment:  4/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 10/10

Overall: 8/10

Really?

My Opinion: The fact that there is a movie called Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters makes us all a bit dumber.  That is all.

Fond Memories of Childhood Movies

Some movies do not age well.  They seem fine for their time, but after a while they become horribly dated.  After all, everything that was cool and trendy in the 80's is universally regarded to be terribly bad.  So there are some movies that were cool or on the cutting edge then, but now are as wonderful as leg warmers.

And then there are movies that have never been good, but that I loved when I was a child.  Let's be frank, shall we?  We all loved some really awful things as children.  In my childhood things like Care Bears and He-Man were popular.  He-Man is about a guy who lives in a technologically advanced world but fights with swords, who wields space magic to be immensely strong and explore the cosmos.  Basically, it is Conan the Barbarian meets Buck Rodgers.  Terrible idea.  And yet every boy of my generation thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Here's the issue: I have so many wonderful memories from my childhood.  Included in those memories are favorite movies that I would repeatedly watch over and over.  I loved those movies.  Yet looking back through the murky fog of my memory I wonder about the quality of those films.  I mean, did you ever get the opportunity to watch a movie you simply loved as a kid, only to spend your time aghast, wondering how this movie got to be so bad?

I had that experience with Superman II.  I adored all the Superman movies as a kid (except #4, I think I knew how terrible that one was even as a child) and would watch them countless times.  I remember loving especially #2, with the epic showdown between Supes and General Zod.  Then I watched it again when I was about 24.  Somehow, Superman II became full of terrible dialogue, questionable acting, poor pacing, and bad overall direction (I know now the powers-that-be replaced Richard Donner before he had a chance even to finish filming).  Someone replaced the dreaded bad guys from my memory of the movie with guys who just posed a lot and told us they were bad guys.  Something about my childhood died the day I rewatched Superman II.

With such a bad experience I am absolutely loath to watch more of my favorites from my younger years.  I'm staying away from Superman III.  I loved Transformers: The Movie (the animated one).  I hear some people say it's not that bad, but do I risk it?  There was another that I loved called The Last Electric Knight (I think that was the full title).  It was some kung fu kid beating up bad guys.  THAT one I'm positive would be painful to watch now.

But my absolute favorite movie as a kid was called Ewoks: The Battle for Endor.  I loved it.  It was a straight-to-TV movie in 1985 about a kid, an old guy, some Ewoks, an alien army with their witch, and some cross between The Flash and an Ewok.

In other words, this movie has "annoying" written all over it.  How bad is it?  I point to exhibit A, the poster for the movie:

Just look at this horrible, horrible artwork.  Look at that.  You can never un-see something that bad.



This is a movie that forgets that the Ewoks don't even live on Endor -they live on the forest moon of Endor.  EVERYONE knows this!




The plot, so far as I can remember, is that the kid is stranded on Endor (really the forest moon) after his parents are killed by bad guys.  The kid is helped by Ewoks and some old dude and the aforementioned giant speedy rodent.  They steal a power source that the bad guys think is magic, fix a broken ship and have a happy ending after a brutal final "defend the alamo" type of showdown.

Of course, I'm sure that none of those elements are nearly so good as they are in my memory.  If I think hard enough I can almost discern very terribly awful acting.  I also seem to remember the Ewoks talking, which simply cannot be a good sign.

I remember enjoying this show so much it still brings happy feelings.  Why should I spoil that by watching this abomination again today?  I think I'll just keep the good memories and stay away.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

"They send you here for life, and that's exactly what they take."

The Shawshank Redemption is the story of Andy Dufrane (Tim Robbins), a man sent to prison for life for the murder of his wife and her lover.  He maintains his innocence, but hey, who doesn't in Shawshank prison?  Only Red (Morgan Freeman) freely admits to his crime -he is the "only guilty man in Shawshank."  As the story goes, Red and Andy strike up a friendship, pass the time, find work to do, and deal with both guards and dangerous inmates.

But of course, there is much more than that.  (as a fair warning, I'll be spoiling absolutely everything about the plot in this review.)

Shawshank is a story about life.  Sure, it all takes place in a prison, but really the movie is about the human condition and our need for redemption.  We may not be trapped by stone walls, but we are all trapped on this earth.  In many ways we on the "outside" are not more free than those on the "inside."  Ultimately, our basic problem is the same -in a world of pain and hurt, where there does not appear to be the possibility of anything better coming down the line, is there any reason for hope?

Andy Dufrane, after a compellingly beautiful rebellion against the powers-that-be, gets thrown in solitary for a while.  Upon emerging and cheerfully greeting his friends, they ask him why he can do time in "the hole" so happily.  He replies that he has something deep in him that sustains him.  He urges them not to forget that "There are places in this world that aren't made of stone.  That there's something inside they can't get to, that they can't touch!  That's yours."  To this, Red replies, "What are you talking about?"  Andy: "Hope." Red scathingly replies: "Let me tell you something my friend, hope is a dangerous thing.  Hope can drive a man insane."

Here we have the core of the movie: do we hold onto hope, or do we become institutionalized?  Do we anticipate a day of freedom to come, or do we begin to get used to our prison?  Do we desire to leave the prison, or has our walled world become home?

Brooks, the old man of the prison, is the great example of the institutionalized man.  Through his experience we the audience see the horror of the man who, having spent the chief portion of his life in Shawshank prison, is forced to leave and rejoin society.  But how can he rejoin society?  It is a world he doesn't understand, a world he left far behind.  His only home is Shawshank, and he considers re-offending just to get back.  He faces a stark truth -he is unable to go home to what is comfortable, yet unable to fit in on the "outside."  He is free, but prefers the cage.  That's institutionalized.  Is it possible to think that this "institutionalization" process can happen to us as well?  What if we are made for another world, yet because of our crimes we are trapped in the prison of this one instead?  What if we come to accept our cage, then come to depend on it, then come to love it?  What if we get to that point where we are unable to imagine that we even could live in true freedom?

That's the need we have for redemption.  Without it, even freedom is captivity and a horror.  Without redemption, heaven becomes our hell.  It's just too much for Brooks; unable to handle freedom he commits suicide.

And then the parallels start stacking up, and we realize that this movie is really about Red, and not about Andy ("Red" is spelled with the first three letters of "redemption" after all).  Red is also a lifer, a guilty man who has a hard time remembering life outside Shawshank prison.  He needs redemption, a reason to live, not just exist, even if he never leaves the confines of those stone walls.  That's where Andy comes in.  Andy brings the possibility of redemption, and the good news that all the condemned men might still have hope.

Since redemption is such an important plot element in literature and film, there is often a character who represents a type of Jesus Christ.  Andy is that character in The Shawshank Redemption.  He is an innocent man who enters the world of the condemned.  He suffers as a condemned man, though he is innocent.  He performs "miracles," bestowing favors and tastes of the free world on those who are still inside.  He pulls together a band of disciples, teaches them of the outside world again, and after his "death" and (SPOILER!! but you've been warned) "resurrection" those disciples tell and retell his stories.  And all he asks from his disciples is that they have faith, and keep hope alive.

So when Red is finally released on parole, we are left to wonder if he will follow the footsteps of Andy, or the footsteps of Brooks.  Andy has invited him to travel to Mexico, to a town on the Pacific named Zihuatanejo, and find him there.  What will Red choose?  Will he have found redemption, or despair?  The final monologue of the film, narrated by Red, are among the most beautiful lines that I know of in film:  "I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head!  I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain.  I hope I can make it across the border.  I hope to see my friend and shake his hand.  I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in  my dreams."

"I Hope."

Those last two words of the movie resound with meaning.  It has been quite the journey, and not an easy one. But Red has found redemption.

Now, it needs to be said that this movie deserves its "R" rating.  The sheer volume of vulgar language is astounding.  Furthermore, it deals head-on with such uncomfortable prison themes like homosexual rape, brutality, corruption, and suicide.  The main antagonist is a man who spouts Christian lingo and Bible verses, while all the time hypocritically acting in an antichrist way.  I wish I could unreservedly recommend it, but the content of the film makes that impossible.  However, even such content does lend power to the film's resolution.

This is a movie exceptionally well put together, with hardly a line or moment out of place.  It has so much that is memorable, so much that is inspiring, and an ending you'll never forget.  Along with Red, the audience is taken from walls of stone to a limitless horizon at the ocean.  Like Red, we long for the Pacific.  We long for a place with no memory, a place of true freedom, a place where our Savior has gone to prepare a place for us.

Entertainment:  7/10
Artistic Value: 10/10
Technical Merit: 8/10

Overall:  9.5/10

Remakes and Movies Worth Making

Right now I'm reading through Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities.  I'm again astonished at how wonderfully tight, personal, and yet epic in scope the plot of this novel is.  Really, it ought to be a great movie, but there hasn't been a serious attempt to film it in decades, and certainly no definitive version.  I'd love to see a big budget movie that deals reverently with the source material and gets this story right.

What we certainly don't need is Hollywood making new versions of movies that have already been done right.  Hollywood is reportedly remaking Rebecca, which Hitchcock adapted masterfully in 1940.  It needs no remake, it just needs modern audiences to get over their phobia of black and white film.  Worse, there is also a My Fair Lady remake in pre-production.  Tell me honestly, what can they possibly improve on?  How could this remake even remotely be better than the 1964 classic with Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn?  (aside from the decision to dub Hepburn's singing voice, I can't name a single flaw in the first My Fair Lady.)  Some movies just plain should NEVER be remade, and My Fair Lady is one of them.

Could you imagine a remake of Citizen Kane?  The idea is nigh unto blasphemy! (ok, not quite that far!)  How about Casablanca?  The Godfather?

But for all my indignation at the whole concept of remakes, I have to admit there are times when a remake is a good idea.  The 1959 Charlton Heston classic Ben-Hur is technically a remake; the story had first been very successfully filmed in 1925.  However, that version was silent, and limited by the techniques and technology of its age.  By 1959 they had the technology, the know-how, and the budget, to give the story the enormously epic treatment it deserved.  That was a remake worth making.

So Here's The Question:
Are there old movies that Hollywood really SHOULD remake?

I've got perhaps one or two:
-Godzilla.  Now understand: the original (Japanese) is a classic that is amazingly influential.  But it hasn't aged well as a film.  The special effects were amazing in its day, but now it just looks like a guy in a rubber suit stomping on models.  Plus, they (SPOILER ALERT!) kill it with an "oxygen exploder."   I swear I'm not making that up.  Time for a good remake.  The Matthew Broderick version doesn't count, 'cause I said a "good" remake.  And believe it or not, there is one scheduled for release in 2014.  We'll see if it's good.

-Metropolis.  This is a classic silent film that simply set all kinds of trends for science fiction.  But it is a stinkin' long film (153 minutes of no talking is LONG) that feels every bit as long as it is, with groundbreaking yet questionable special effects.  Time for an update with sound.

So what do you think?  Are there remakes that ought to happen?

Red Tails (2012)

The story of the Tuskegee airmen needs to be told.  It is the inspiring true story of a segregated group of black pilots and ground crew who rose above prejudice and racial politics to become one of the most celebrated and decorated air units in World War 2.  This story needs to be told.

But the story needs to be told much better than it is in the movie Red Tails.  Simply put, Red Tails is beyond disappointing, combining poor writing and some of the worst acting I've seen in a long time.  Ultimately the blame for such a horrible movie falls on the director, Anthony Hemmingway, and by extension also upon the producers, including George Lucas.

The story here, being that it is based on history, is overall not bad.  They managed to focus on a good selection of the air squadron, distilling many stories into just a few characters that we could easily follow.  The problem was the execution.  Much of the writing was very poor, particularly individual lines.  Compounded upon that was the fact that the lines were then delivered so terribly it was unbearable to watch.  Lines like "I sure hope those red tails are with us again tomorrow" are bad enough (in context).  That the line is read in such a way that a high school drama seems better is just embarrassing.  Not even Cuba Gooding Jr. and Terrence Howard -two perfectly decent actors in their own right -could turn in good performances.  They just are not given much to work with, and the directing is so obviously bad they must have spend most of the time feeling underused.

It's been a while since Hollywood put out a good WW2 dogfighting film, so most of the flying stuff felt fun and lively.  There was once or twice that the visuals just didn't seem very good, but overall the dogfighting was the best part of the film.

I watched Red Tails hoping for something like a cross between Glory and Twelve O'Clock High. What I got instead was a hopeless mess with a lot of expensive sparkle.  Maybe someday the Tuskegee airmen will get the film tribute they deserve.  It just hasn't happened yet.

Entertainment: 3/10
Artistic Value: 4/10
Technical merit: 3/10

Overall: 3/10

The Lady Vanishes (1938)

The Lady Vanishes is the next to last movie that Hitchcock made before leaving England for the USA.  By this point in his career he had larger budgets to work with, and had garnered quite a bit of international recognition.  He had hit a huge home run with The 39 Steps back in 1935, and had a few well-received but less fantastic films that followed it up.  But in 1938 he released another real masterpiece, a film that still stands out as one of his best: The Lady Vanishes.

This is a film that perfects the pacing of a thriller.  Actually, The Lady Vanishes begins in almost every respect as a comedy.  It is light and funny, introducing and showcasing its characters in engaging and lovable ways.  There is a young English girl, Iris (played by Margaret Lockwood), traveling through Europe with her friends for the last time before going home to marry.  There is a pair of English gentlemen who seem to think the world begins and ends with cricket (that's a sport, for all my American friends).  There's a bumbling, lovable hotel owner, a nice English lady on her way home after serving as a foreign governess, and a young rascally man writing a book on folk dance who insists on doing loud, stomping research late at night in the town hotel.

As I said, things start off innocently enough, with clever and witty dialogue and not a few running gags (such as the maid having to come in and out of the room with the cricket nerds).  There's been a snow avalanche covering the rail lines, and the hotel of a small alpine town in some unnamed European country is packed with travelers trying to get home.  Everything is going along swimmingly; meals are eaten, the travelers are serenaded by a man outside playing the guitar, and the worst problem (aside from the hotel running out of food) is the loud music and dancing from the top floor room of the folk dance researcher.

But then somebody kills the singer outside.  And the next day somebody pushes a pot from a high window, which then injures Iris, our main protagonist.  Things have become a bit sinister, and Hitchcock just slowly dials up the pressure from there.  After all, once the train gets going the next day, the lady vanishes.  Where did Miss Froy go, the lovable English governess who befriends Iris?  She just disappears, and for no apparent reason nobody on the train other than Iris seems to remember that she had been on at all.  From here we get some fantastic movie-making; at one point Hitchcock even has us the audience doubting that Miss Froy really was there at all.

I won't give away the end, because you ought to see this film.  But the plot seamlessly and deftly moves from very light to mystery to action, maintaining the suspense throughout.  For all of this, the praise deservedly goes to Hitchcock.

But upon Hitchcock's shoulders falls the blame for the movie's shortcomings.  Fortunately, those shortcomings are very few.  The movie's worst moment is the opening shot: we are presented with that Alpine village in a shot that sweeps into town from outside of town, all the way to the front door of the hotel. Of course, the village in the shot is a model, and obviously so.  It is a good model, but a bad effect and does not age well.  Another issue has to do with the central MacGuffin, the reason everybody is after poor Miss Froy.  For spoiler reasons I can't tell you what it is, but I can say as far as coded messages go it strains credulity by quite a bit.

But those are small complaints, issues that only really serve to show the great parts of The Lady Vanishes in greater relief.  This is everything that a movie ought to be; funny, memorable, entertaining, a bit mysterious, and nail biting to the end.  This is a lady worth finding.

Entertainment: 8/10
Artistic value: 5/10
Technical merit: 6/10

Overall: 7.5/10

Transformers: Dark of the Moon (2011)

Still stupid, but not as stupid as the last one.  Only about as stupid as the first one.

To be fair, they went a long way toward fixing most of the issues that were so embarrassingly bad in the previous two.  They spent actual time developing the transformers as characters.  They used the visuals much better this time, using selective slow motion so we can actually keep track of what is happening.  The action was a cut or two above the last two.  The big set pieces are memorable and fun, such as the toppling building.  They cut out the racist twin Autobots.  The plot seemed much more coherent (though it still boiled down to a MacGuffin in the end).  Optimus is once again simply amazingly awesome.  And no Megan Fox.

But really, just as soon as everything would be going along swimmingly, those idiot little robots that seem to be TheBeef's pets come up again and say and do idiotic things.  That kind of thing just drives me nuts.  Otherwise, everything was tremendously predictable, things seemed to happen with little reason, TheBeef still stars (and has gotten whinier), and the new girl is no better than Megan Fox.

So, Transformers 3.  Transformers is fun again.  It just isn't any smarter.

Entertainment: 6/10
Artistic value: 1/10 (ha!)
Technical merit: 5/10

Overall: 4/10

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (2009)

Awful.  Deplorable.  Abysmal.  Dismal.  Bad.  Refuse.  Junk. Worthless.  Horrible.  Terrible.  Atrocious.  Appalling.  Nasty.  Ghastly.  Unpleasant.  Unbearable.  Unspeakable.  Unlikable.  Vile.  Dreadful.  Shameless.  Deficient.  Flawed.  Substandard.  Sub par.  Poor.  Inferior.  Shoddy.  Defective.  Trashy.  Sloppy.  Slapdash.  Rotten.  Lousy.  Obnoxious.  Foul.  Distasteful.  Repulsive.  Weak.  Meager.  Feeble.  Less than Mediocre.  Inadequate.  Pathetic.  Shameful.  Putrid.  Fourth-Rate.  Rancid.

Perhaps the worst movie of all time.

I liked the first Transformers.  It had a charm to it, in spite of bad acting and laughable plot.  So what makes Transformers 2 so bad?  Can I say everything?

The writing and plot ideas were just over the top idiotic.  The first one lacked anything near an engaging plot, having mostly to do with a magic space cube.  This one was about a bad guy trying to blow up the sun while still on earth.  As anyone with a greater than 1st grade education could probably tell you, this is most likely a very poor idea.  So basically, it's not that the plot makes no sense, it's more that the plot is galactically stupid.  I try to turn my brain off when watching certain action films, but when my brain is so actively insulted by a movie, it's hard to enjoy it.

Let's go on, shall we?  What else is wrong with this movie?

• TheBeef is back.  Why?  Nobody like him.
• Megan Fox is back.  I think I know why (she does run around in practically nothing the whole movie), but it's not a good reason.
• The directing goes from straightforward to "MAKE IT STOP!"  Example: I have no desire to watch TheBeef and miss-pose-a-lot slobber all over her while the camera spins around them for 30 seconds.  So painful.
• Michael Bay (our favorite worst director) doesn't seem to know what a robot is.  Instead of them acting like robots, they act out sexually, have teeth (with gold fillings), and age with flatulence and other embarrassing bodily functions.
• Those twin Autobots.  Even if they are not racist (they are), they are annoying to the highest degree.
• These are robots, not star wars jedi.  So why is the bad guy a sith lord?
• Why do robots need to be born in little sacks in space?
• Sam goes to Autobot heaven.  Really.
• They need to "wake up" a sleeping jet.  So it can teleport them.  
• They teleport instantly from Washington to Egypt.  It's early afternoon in both places.
• The movie seems to think the pyramids are within sight of the sea.  
• Petra is in Jordan, not Egypt.  And you can't walk from Petra to the pyramids in one day.
• Did you know that border guards will let you cross illegally if you talk about the Yankees?
• Optimus dies, and only fairy dust can bring him back!  I'm surprised Sam didn't look at the audience and have us "believe" him back to life.  "Clap!  Clap for fairies -I mean Optimus!"

This list could keep going.  There really was nothing that I can remember that was good or redeeming.  Ultimately, I'm not sure which is worse: that the producers were cynical enough to believe that audiences would be happy with this final product, or that so many people actually were.

Entertainment: 1/10 

Artistic value: -2/10

Technical merit: 1/10 (still looked pretty, but they did nothing right with the pretty looks.)

Overall: 0/10  -dreadful.  This is a movie that should never have been made.

Transformers (2007)

This is the worst movie I have ever liked.

Honestly, there is no denying that this is in almost every way a bad movie.  The plot is nonsense: the good guys need to keep the magic space cube safe from the bad guys, or evil wrong things happen.  I remember sitting in the theater and hearing the opening line: "In the beginning was the cube."  I proceeded to laugh at the writing for about 15-20 seconds, then turned my brain off for the rest of the picture.
The acting is abysmal.  Shia LaBeouf (hereafter called "TheBeef") and Megan Fox turn in sub-high school drama performances, aided by an assortment of other b-grade support actors and a few cameos.  In the mind of director Michael Bay, good acting seems to be posing his leading lady in the most suggestive ways and outfits possible.
The action is frenetic and confusing: when the space robots are fighting it is extremely hard to tell what is going on, and in some cases hard to tell why we should care.

And yet I liked it.  I just couldn't help liking it.  It's probably the kid in me that grew up with 500 transformer toys, but I was often left with a "that was great!" feeling for no real reason.  Perhaps it was those moments like Optimus Prime transforming on the highway to deal serious punishment to Decepticons.  Perhaps it was the way they just seemed to get the Starscream/Megatron relationship right.  I don't know.  I just liked it.

Not to say it couldn't have been better.  Boy, it could have been better.  Let's have more of the robots please, and less of the idiot humans.  Let's try to develop the characters of the transformers themselves, instead of trying to insert toilet humor into things.  Here's a bold idea, but let's just give it a hearing: perhaps a movie called Transformers could be about the transformers, and not be all about TheBeef and little miss pose a lot.

What can I say?  This was barely a movie.  It at times seemed like a 2 hour pyrotechnic display.  But if you are a child of the 80's, as I am, somehow it all comes together into something vaguely likable.  Not the most stunning endorsement, I know.

Entertainment: 5/10
Artistic Value: Are You Kidding Me? (1/10)
Technical Merit: 5/10

Overall: 4/10

Leon: The Professional (1994)

I heard great things about this film before I watched it.  It is high in the IMDb top 250, and has achieved a high regard among a loyal cult following.  Not wanting to miss a potential overlooked masterpiece, I rented it.  Results are mixed.

Leon hardly has an original plot.  Talented mob hitman Leon befriends a young 12 year old neighbor girl, and when her entire family is killed by crooked policemen, Leon takes her in.  Then he gives her some training, and they fight back against the corrupt cops.  It might have its own aspects, but that sort of plot is rather vanilla in Hollywood for the last 30 years.

The acting is not bad.  Jean Reno does a fine job as Leon, and Natalie Portman plays his young friend.  They both are passable in their roles, with no major problems (Portman definitely showed promise).  However, neither played their characters as well as needed.  I mean, I didn't really care all that much for either.  I more pitied them, but perhaps that's the point.  The whole movie seems to be about the unloved finding each other.

The show is stolen, however, by Gary Oldman.  Oldman plays the corrupt policeman with a relish I just plain did not expect.  He is beyond brilliant, a joy to watch in a snappy grey suit.  His was a performance not to be missed; he elevated the movie from forgettable to memorable all on his own.

Otherwise, I just didn't get the praise people heap upon it.  The great crime committed by Leon is that in most every way the movie is remarkably average.  Sure, it delves into interesting topics such as honor among thieves, mistrust, and the need for community/love.  Some viewers might think it deals with its subject in sublime and powerful ways.  To me it seemed like a high school paper on psychoanalysis.  Good subject, average to simply passable execution.

Entertainment: 5/10
Artistic Value: 6/10
Technical Merit: 5/10

Overall: 5/10

The Princess Bride (1987)

The Princess Bride is one of the ultimate comedies of all time.  Anyone who has seen this whimsical tale can tell you there is something magical and brilliant about it.  And something outrageously funny.

For the longest time The Princess Bride was my favorite movie of all time.  The reasons are many; it had tons of fantastic action, it told a great and timeless story, it was immensely quotable, and it was funny beyond all reason.  This movie will forever retain a blessed place in my heart, even if other movies have replaced it on my "best ever" list.

You really don't need to know much about the story.  Basically, there's a grandfather reading a sick grandson a book, and we see the book come to life in his imagination.  It stars Carey Elwes and Robin Wright (who later married Sean Penn and added his name to hers), along with appearances from Andre the Giant and Billy Crystal.  Suffice to say, the greatest-named-movie-princess-ever "Buttercup" needs saving from the evil prince, and the dashing Westley/current Dread Pirate Roberts is up to the task.  Along the way we have adventure, giants, pirates, fencing, iocane powder, torture, true love, and the tormentation of farm boys.

And now, in leu of further exposition on the plot, I will simply quote from the movie, laughing all the while as I type: "Anybody want a peanut?"  "Inconceivable!"  "You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means."  "Mawage.  Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday.  Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweem, wifin a dweem..."  "It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead."  "Murdered by pirates is good!"  "Veer left!"  "And thank you for bringing up such a painful subject.  While  you're at it why don't you give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?"  "As you wish."  "Is this a kissing book?"  "You wish to surrender to me?  Very well, I accept."  "I am not left handed."  "...My way's not very sportsmanlike."  "To the pain!"  "Have you the wing?"  "Perhaps it's just some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night through eel infested waters."  "Life is pain, highness!  Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something."  "Goodnight Westley, good work, sleep well, I'll most likely kill you in the morning."  "Am I going mad, or did the word think just escape your lips?" "True love is the greatest thing in the world...except for a nice MLT, a Mutton Lettuce and Tomato sandwich."  "Death cannot stop true love.  All it can do is delay it for a while."  "You rush a miracle man you get rotten miracles."  "When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn't buy brandy!"  "I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using."  "Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."  "I'm not a witch I'm your wife!"  "'Give us the gate key.'  'I have no gate key.'  'Fezzik, tear his arms off.'  'Oh, you mean this gate key!'"  "No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Westley."  "I've seen worse."  "Humperdinck!  Humperdinck!"  "Let me explain.  No, there is too much; let me sum up."
And of course, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die."

The movie isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  It has very little in the way of great and timeless philosophical themes.  It leaves a bit to be desired in the acting department.  It breaks no ground in any technical category.

But in spite of any problems I could point out, I remain convinced that The Princess Bride could not be more perfect.  Even its defects become endearing features to cherish.  For example, I happen to think it adds to the movie that the ROUS's look like guys in giant rat suits.  Watch it.  Laughter guaranteed, and it will probably succeed in touching you as well.

Entertainment: 9/10
Artistic value: 4/10
Technical merit: 4/10

Overall: 6/10

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

Epic.  Little else really needs said about the 1962 absolute classic other than the simple word "Epic."  Hollywood released plenty of movies in the epic genre during that period, with emphasis on scope, drama, costume, and grandeur.  The Ten Commandments, The Robe, Spartacus, Cleopatra, and many others drove the epic genre forward.  But there are two films that will forever define the genre and also be among the best films ever made: Ben Hur and Lawrence of Arabia.  Of those last two I love Ben Hur more, but Lawrence surpasses it in technical brilliance and sheer scope.  Lawrence of Arabia is the kind of movie that makes you realize what a movie can really be.

Let's talk cinematography.  By far this is to me the standout aspect of Lawrence.  I have never seen a movie that is more perfectly framed, more expertly focused, and more beautiful in picture.  Great care has obviously been taken in the choice of locations, the set up of the shot, and the execution of the camera.  Freddy Young, the director of photography, was clearly a master of his trade at the height of his career.  The desert simply becomes a living thing, filmed in a wondrous way.  We who have grown up in a fat land, a land of hills and trees and lakes could never conceive of what desert living would be like, but in watching Lawrence we have the feeling of being there, of experiencing the heat and wide open spaces.  Sand swirls in the wind, rocks stand against the sun, and small shapes of people move far off and barely visible in the vast ocean of the desert.  We see it all perfectly, even the trick of the sun making the desert horizon shimmer like water.  This is everything that moving images in the movies should be.  This is a movie I wish I could see on the big screen, as it was meant to be seen.

The vast spectacle continues as we watch Lawrence build his army of Arabs.  Sooner or later it has to hit us that this movie was made at a time long before computer images, so all those people we see are real people, real horsemen in that real place.  For once we see what a mounted army must have looked like in World War I; droves of people kicking up insane amounts of dust in vast desolate places.  And then the camera will pull back and show us just how small that army is in comparison to the land, the great desert of Arabia.  Epic. 

And yet in the midst of all the spectacle there is soul; this is a movie that is about a person, not about images or trying to impress the audience.  This movie is about a person as mystifying and unknowable as the desert itself.  Lawrence was the kind of man able to lead strangers to their deaths, the kind of man who understood and valued the culture of those he led (even though he himself was English), and yet the kind of man who struggled to know himself.  This role is played wonderfully and hauntingly by Peter O'Toole.  This was one of O'Toole's first films, yet he owned the role and surpassed in brilliance everyone else in the film, which included some of Hollywood's brightest stars (Claude Rains, Omar Sharif, and Alec Guinness, to name a few).  And this role would forever define O'Toole.  He could never be in another film without bringing Lawrence to mind.  When I once saw him in person I recognized him first as Lawrence of Arabia, and only after that could call to mind the name of the actor I beheld.  Everyone does a fabulous job in this film, but Peter O'Toole set himself in movie history, doing a job that will forever go down as one of the best roles ever played.

Who can forget Lawrence of Arabia's classic moments?  Who can forget Sherif Ali riding in from an unknown distance, from a speck on the horizon toward the camera?  Who can forget Lawrence holding that match, extinguishing the fire with his fingers? ("Naturally it hurts!  The trick...is not minding that it hurts.")  Who can forget the Anvil of the Sun?  Who can forget Lawrence standing on the wrecked locomotive, receiving the adulation of the army, with his robes blowing in the wind?  Who can forget the look on his face as he screams, "NO PRISONERS!" 

This is a movie that makes you sit back and say, "They don't make 'em like that anymore."  Today we seem to get plenty of specacle with no soul, stupidity made to sparkle.  Lawrence is not that.  Lawrence of Arabia is not afraid to hold a shot for a long time without cutting away.  It isn't ashamed of its 3 1/2 hour length.  Why?  Because it has something to say that is worth saying.  Lawrence of Arabia is simply epic.

Entertainment: 8/10
Artistic value: 8/10
Technical merit: 10/10

Overall: 9/10