Ramona and Beezus

Ramona and Beezus has been receiving very little attention thus far, despite the fact that it's an adaptation of a popular nostalgic book series (a fact I didn't realize until halfway into the movie, indicating this film's poor marketing) and stars many recognizable actors and actresses, some of whom I would even be willing to say are talented. You'd think a book like this would be marketed like all hell: a family friendly, star filled, feel good, simple love fest with an established fan base. Translated into "producer-ese," that essentially says "easy money." And yet, while there have been ads of course, said ads don't seem all that concerned with really selling there movie.

Ramona and Beezus Trailer

James Cameron once related how he received negative reactions towards a trailer for Avatar that showcased the visuals and much more positive reactions when a trailer was released that revealed something of the story. Thus we can see that even films that are, shall we say, not all that story focused can look better when something of their story is revealed. Because of what an audience expects from a trailer, what is revealed to them of the plot will register in their minds as a sample, so no matter how big or involving the actual story is, the audience will assume it is several times whatever they see in the trailer, even if the trailer may as well have revealed the whole movie. The trailers for Ramona have declared the film to contain "adventure run wild," and other such vague descriptions, yet while it showcases some of its cute set pieces, just about nothing is revealed of the actual story. Why? Well, just as the trailer for The Curious Case of Benjamen Button contained about as much story as the feature length movie, the desire amongst the powers that be to remain tight lipped about Ramona's story indicates that there simply isn't much to tell.

Ramona succeeds in what was possibly its only goal, specifically being cute. The hi jinx, the child logic, and most importantly the lead child actress are all undeniably adorable. The problem is that you can't just watch adorable for over an hour. Cute is an emotional concept, a form of pathos that can serve as, if you will, the fuel for a movie. But the fuel has to be running something or else it's just a fire sitting there waiting to fizzle out, and for all its flame, the Ramona train barely budges an inch from the station. Unlike many of the legendarily awful movies of Ramona's niche (movies like Teen Witch, Spice World, Babysitter's Club, and of course Bratz) it actually attempts to have some semblance of conflict in its story, specifically that Ramona's happy (yet oh so delightfully quirky and not in anyway at all bland) family is being impacted by her father's lost job, which creates the looming threat of them possibly having to move out of their beloved house. While this attempted conflict is appreciated, it is weakened by the absense of an antagonist (the closest thing there is is a bitchy classmate of Ramona, but said child has no impact what so ever on the plot) and especially by the fact that nothing Ramona does has any influence on the out come. This is truly the great conundrum facing writers of fiction that involves kids: when a character is too young to understand or much less deal with any of the situations around them, this can provide some opportunities for irony, but really destroys any sense of tension as we watch all the world's problems magically fix themselves around our main character's good natured tomfollery.

Ramona and Beezus is a very pointless movie, pointless in that there seems to be no reason for it to exist, pointless in that there is no attempt to really penetrate its audience and strike at the heart, and pointless in that it is childproofed; soft, dumb, and harmless. Nothing about it is offensively awful in any way, but when Toy Story 3 is still playing, there's really no reason to bother with it. You won't be suffering if your kids beg you to see it, but there's better things they and you could be doing.

The Parable of Lucas

Once upon a time, there was a young man who dreamed more than anything of having a house that he could call his own.

As a young lad, he had spent his time peering into the windows of all manner of houses, some mansions, some little more than shacks, but all with their own charm and beauty.

By the time he had become an educated adult and become a skilled architect, he held dreams of a home that most thought impossible to build.

He dreamt of a home that would be grandiose and spectacular like a new home, yet constructed on the same classic principles of the old homes from the golden years of architecture

He spent many years honing his skills building other houses to make a living. Some satisfied his patrons, others didn’t, but none could measure up to his dream.

At last the blueprints were completed and he found the opportunity to make his vision a reality. He looked far and wide for the best materials, assembled the most skilled carpenters and masons, and found the most solid foundation he could.

Construction was hard and fraught with difficulties. The young man’s allies struggled against their friend’s incredible expectations, and once or twice it seemed the house would not be completed at all. Needless to say, not everything turned out exactly as the young man had envisioned.

Yet the house was completed. The young man weeped for the potential that had not been achieved, and prayed and prayed that his friends and family would not mock his failures.

But when he opened his new home to those he loved, they were utterly stunned. Architecture of the past combined with new innovations and conveniences that seemed futuristic. They didn’t just love the home, they had to share it. They invited their friends to see it, who had to bring friends of their own, and so on until it became the most envied house in the whole land.

And it was good.

Over the years he enjoyed such praise and adoration, that he felt he should give back to those who had supported him, and set about improving the house.

Certain ideas were still unattainable due to limits in technology and craftsmanship, but he was able to bring his home much closer to what he had envisioned, and new collaborators in the construction brought ideas to the home he could have never dreamed of.

And it was very good.

All throughout the land people came to love the man who had built such an incredible house, and they came to expect more improvements in due time.

Tired from the work he had done and planned to continue, the man consented, but declared this would be the last time he would do a full renovation.

When the final renovation was complete, there was a tacky knick knack or two on display, but the improvements were still legitimate and the house still had the same heart and soul.

And it was still good.

And so, the man declared his work done. As the years rolled by, and the man grew older, there was some landscaping and such done, but no serious renovations as there had been when the house was new.

Yet still there was longing in the old man’s heart. Longing to achieve the conveniences and grandeur he had envisioned that were becoming increasingly more possible with the passage of time. And longing to receive the recognition he had when he was the young man who had built the world’s greatest home.

The people gathered around the house again in great numbers to witness something most odd; the house was being repainted! And though the paint was tacking and garish, the people oohed and ahhed at the spectacle and the novelty and they began to whisper, and the whispers matured into rumors as they flew through the air.

“Do you think he’ll do another renovation?”

Little did they know what the old man really had in mind.

Shortly after the paint had settled and the crowds were coming to see, the old man made a truly shocking announcement: he would not merely do a renovation, he would build a whole other house! A new foundation and a new plan which he could have complete control over and create using all the greatest techniques and technologies of the modern age.

There was much rejoicing among those who admired him.

The old man set to work. He gathered the newest materials, and found a very different foundation, and laid out the blue prints with haste, eager to begin.

And because he no longer had to put up with limits in technology, he chose not to put up with limits in people. No longer would anyone tell him what he could not do, what he should not do. This would truly be his house, unhampered by those who did not share his vision.

So he set out building, no voice telling him what could not be done, no material or device preventing him from building everything to his specifications.

Everything was included. And yet something was missing.

He could tell something was not there, yet he could not tell what. After all, he had accomplished everything he had imagined using modern machines and techniques.

He wrote it off as nerves. He made it known that the house was ready to be seen. He gathered everyone around.

He opened the door.

And it was not good.

In fact, it was quite awful.

No one was prepared. Least of all the old man.

The new fantastic rooms were superfluous and overly grandiose, built with no true purpose. The paints were all in bright colors with no thought given to interior decoration or design. The appliances and stairways and amenities were fabulous yes, but poorly organized.

It was an innovative, fascinating, epically constructed home.

That no one would ever want to live in. That no one could bear to stay in for more than an hour or so.

The old man was crushed.

But he was not defeated.

Just as before he made renovations, a grand two staged renovation that would return the home to its former glory.

He researched what others would want to see in a home, and added a room for every aspect he discovered. He brought in every bit of new technology he might have held back on to make sure his home was completely modern. He left no chance that the home could still be bad.

And it was still bad.

Both renovations brought somewhat better design, though even these improvements were slight. Both renovations brought huge crowds, though they were like viewers at a fire works show; only there for a momentary spectacle, not clawing at the door for the comfort of a home, even one they could not stay in forever.

Neither renovation could build a home that could compare with the joys still to be found in the old one, oddly painted as it now was.

This infuriated the old man to no end; how?! How could they still love that old house so much? That old house of the past that could not measure up to his vision; that old house that others had imposed their disagreements on; that old house that had been such a nightmare to build.

That old house that the old man had poured his heart and soul into when he had been a young man. That old house that he had built by finding clever ways around the limitations of the time it was built in. That old house whose challenges had made its charm.

That old house that didn’t have the newest layout, the best technology, the most grandiose architecture, or the perfect collection of rooms to impress absolutely everyone.

That old house that had aging wood, and scars from all who had passed by within it, and where one could look really hard and find a bug or two on the wall.

That old house, that for as imperfect as it may have looked, felt new in spite of its age, felt comfortable in spite of its scratchy sheets and worn carpets, felt immaculate in spite of the grime that could not be washed off.

That old house that felt like a home.

How could an old home beat a new house?

And in the End...

*ATTENTION: A SPOILER WARNING IS IN EFFECT FOR THIS ENTIRE ARTICLE; DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE YET TO SEE INCEPTION*

Inception is a great movie. This is a fact. I'm honestly saying this from a fairly neutral position; it's not really one of my favorite movies, and isn't attached to anything I have some bias for or against. Regardless of how you may feel about its themes (frankly I find it a little too cold and sterile at times, hence my criticism of the characters in the review) it's simply good filmmaking and good writing. However, no work of art can be completely without flaw, and often this can be gratifying. It teaches viewers that even the best of the best aren't perfect and that whatever the next classic is it will have something to improve upon. Yet because Inception is one of those particular kind of classics that has a certain vibe and succeeds on certain merits, its big flaw is one all too common among such films: its ending.

It isn’t bad just because it’s a twist ending (of sorts). A twist ending is something that never goes out of style, so long as it’s genuinely surprising. Being legitimately shocked after one to two hours of build up and excitement is a great bit of stimulation to leave one’s audience with, so the element of surprise shouldn’t be a problem with any movie, at least not in and of itself. Besides, with its constant reminders of the difficulty in determining dreams from reality for those who employ shared dreams, there being a question of reality at the end could hardly be considered a twist.

What I think is truly infuriating about this ending is that it’s ambiguous. As is very ironic for a term that is means the exact opposite of black and white, there really is a good and a bad kind of ambiguous ending. The good kind is the sort seen in Watchmen (the book that is; the movie was great, but the ending was barely the slightest bit ambiguous compared to its source material). This is an ambiguous ending where what is unclear is how the audience is supposed to feel. Someone has won, someone has lost; some are dead, some still live on. In terms of events occurring in story, it’s all over. However, what isn’t over is the audience’s reaction. Some will see the ending as sad, some will find it uplifting, others will agree on either position or some middle ground between them, but reach this agreement for completely different reasons. An ambiguous ending is a good thing when the moral/message/theme is what is ambiguous.

A bad ambiguous ending can be ambiguous in this way as well, but where it fails is in making the actual events of the story opaque as well as said occurrence’s implications. If anyone reading this article is a writer in any capacity what-so-ever, this is something they absolutely must come to understand: Readers want to know what happened. Do they like to debate about their favorite stories and properties? Absolutely, but the actual happenings of the story is not their favorite subject on which to theorize. How it all ends should be completely clear so the nerds and academics (read: nerds who are paid for their particular brand of nerd) can debate what said ending means and how satisfying it is. If a previously linear story suddenly asks the reader to just make up their own ending, there will be no debate as to how satisfied anyone is.

The Giver, The Sopranos, The Wrestler, 2001. These are all movies, books, tv shows, stories that are great in their own way, but are blighted by unclear endings. Ok, the events of 2001 are technically right on display, but really, any audience that claims to be viewing them with any degree of actual comprehension were either best friends with Stanley Kubrick, or are too far under the influence of a foreign substance to be given any credibility. Tales such as these and their newest fellow Inception prove that audiences do indeed enjoy a good bit of mental stimulation, so any who would claim that complaints by myself or others in relation to ambiguous endings are cries for more spoon feeding and less independent thought are clearly mistaken. An unclear ending is not clever, and debating how a good story ended in place of knowing is not any kind of productive mental stimulation. Think about this really: what does anyone gain from such an ending? The audience gains an increase in blood pressure, the internet gains a new crop of trolls, and the writer is able to spend less time being actually clever and more time rehearsing his art-farteur award speech. Speaking as a filmmaker who’s already experienced numerous forms of vindication and dejection, genuine adoration from honest fans is a far greater reward than any piece of metal or metal-looking plastic. With an unclear ending, you sacrifice the former in a weak attempt to capture the later.

I’ll indulge Nolan in throwing out my two cents by saying that, after Cobb has successfully completed his mission and been reunited with his family, I feel that his spinning top should’ve fallen, indicating the presence of earth’s normal gravity and therefore reality, resulting in what my fellow video game aficionados will know as “the good ending.” I suppose the idea behind the actual ending, making the top show signs of falling but not decisively so before cutting to the end credits, was to stimulate such a debate between those who feel as I do and those who feel differently. A noble attempt to make audiences more mentally engaged? Perhaps, but there’s no call for that when the entirety of Inception already does that, and without inspiring any enraged head slaps to do so I might add.

Film Review: Inception

Inception proves one fact beyond dispute: God does listen to film critics. Sometimes.

If you'll recall, I closed my previous review with something of a wish, or perhaps a prayer. I prayed and prayed with all my might that I might have the priveldge of reviewing a standout. A film that was different both in terms of its actual content and its implications for the art and industry of filmmaking. I'd be lying if I didn't say that Inception was in my mind when I wrote that bit, but all the same I was not prepared for it. Inception truly is a standout, but more than that, it's one of those films. Yes, one of those. You know the ones. One of those Dark Cities. One of those 2001's. One of those Citizen Kanes. Most people would call such a film a "classic." I think that's an accurate description, but there's more to it than that. Inception is a particular kind of classic. It's an entrancing, challenging film, and not just based on the whole "what's a dream and what's real," idea, but it's challenging in that it demands you as an audience member to not just pay attention, but to keep up, and it assumes that you are and will leave you behind if you're not up to speed. Classics such as these are like that; they take some getting used to, and aren't as accessable as the average flick. To some the appeal lies mostly in that, in its exclusivity; in the fact that this is a film that people like me- who live and breath movies- beg for, and that people who only go to see movies like Sorcerer's Apprentice probably won't see, or at least won't appreciate. This is what we like to call snob appeal, and Inception has a fair bit of it to be sure, but what truly puts it in the category of the classic movies previously mentioned is that it transcends that: it's not afraid to have action scenes and explosions and clever one-liners, and it trusts the intelligence of people who enjoy those sort of things. It's a film that doesn't beg for mainstream attention, but doesn't shun it either. A film that's completely honest with itself, and is an absolute gem judged on its own merits.

I'm neither good at plot summary, nor do I enjoy it, so another reason I love Inception is that I don't have to do it. It truly is a film that it's best to just jump right into, no hype required. Like diving head first into the ocean, at first you'll need a moment to adjust, but once you do, you be completely immersed. All you need to know about this film is detailed in the trailer, so here it is if you really need to know what the deal is (it won't spoil anything of course, but it really is best to go in with as little information as possible).

3rd Trailer for Inception

The only bit of plot information I'd like to discuss is that whole dreams bussiness; the point of the whole movie as it were. The film revolves around the concept of intiating shared dreams which one can- if properly trained and equiped- enter and rob, stealing valuable information or implanting a desired idea. Lots of heavy concepts are thrown around in the picture and all of them are well explored or result in some form of clever pay off... all of them but one, and unfortunately it's a big one. Never in the entire film is it explained how this works, how these brief cases with wires are able to connect people together into shared dreams. I would imagine this is due to a combination of the concept's imposibility and writer/director Christopher Nolan's desire to get on with the story he wants to tell, so it's ultimately forgivable, but it would've been nice to revceive some sort of information on the subject.

The only other consistent flaw I can think of is the characters. They're not bad persay, some of them are quite envolving, but they all seem unreal, and not in the way the movie wants them to. For the most part, you can't see them existing beyond the borders of the storyline. Classic characters like Indiana Jones or Batman, we know them not just as heroes but as people. On their down time, they teach at a college or  read ancient texts or bang super models or engage in philanthropy. The characters of Inception all have their key roles to play and these roles are filled to near perfection, but other than the last of the main cast- who is either the villain, victim, or objective, depending on how you look at him- it's pretty hard to see any of these characters doing anything but playing bank robbers in a dream world. However, this film has reinforced a notion that I've been struggling with for a while: that as long as your characters are good, and in some cases even just ok, you can still have a good story. For the longest time I thought that while non-traditional stories had proven themselves, that films could not succeed without great chracters. I had forgotten what purpose characters serve: to allow audience members to become emotionally involved in what is transpiring on screen. Inception knows what I know now, that the key to filmmaking, as well as art in general, is emotion. There were moments in the film where I literally was on the edge of my seat, coming dangerously close to screaming: "Hold on! You can make it!" The characters may not have been people I look up to, or people who truly fascinated me, but they were people I wanted to see through every fascinating twist, every mind breaking revelation, and every image that was so powerful I almost swore there way Nolan could've come up with this by himself; that someone- in all liklihood a team up of Jesus, Syd Barret, and Hari Krishna- must have entered his mind and implanted at least some of these ideas. The only way that Inception seems possible is through the process of Inception (as the film explains, putting an idea into someone else's mind).

Inception does have one major flaw that actually does remove some enjoyment from an otherwise peerless work, and this will be the subject of my next entry. But for now, you've spent more than enough time reading this review. Stand up, and go. You know what to do. Don't wait until you're an old man with a large DVD collection and a lot of regrets, go see it now. Inception may not be deemed the greatest film ever made, hell, I don't think it'll even end up in my personal top 25 ultimately, but it's one of those movies. One of those movies that you have to see. Now.

Film review: The Sorcerer's Apprentice

I am now convinced that the filmmakers behind this summer's crop of (aspiring) blockbusters got together before they began production and conspired to make sure that their movies would all be on roughly the same level in terms of general quality. This has truly been a summer of movies that are all good in their own way (to varying degrees), but none of which are really spectacular. Perhaps this is all some great conspiracy to ensure that Toy Story 3 would remain unchallenged as champion and Last Airbender would remain unchalenged as the most legendarily awful. However, even in the middle ground there's room for hierarchy, so if Predators is a lower middle class film and Despicable Me is upper middle, where does that leave Disney's The Sorcerer's Apprentice?

I'm going to go ahead and give Sorcerer's Apprentice the greatest praise I possibly can: it's like Flight of Dragons and Shanghai Noon had a child. These are two movies that I am incredibly fond of that are both on roughly mid-level in terms of (more or less) objective quality. Neither is really remembered outside of the internet, both take a deeper look than their contemporaries at tropes of classic adventure fiction, and either one is an excellent choice for those seeking a fun, simple, family friendly movie (assuming yours is not a family of puritans). Sorcerer's Apprentice shares (or will share) all of these similarities, but the family resemblance truly shows in the content: it has the "magic and science working together," angle of Flight of Dragons and has the "adventure genre buddy flick," element of Shanghai Noon. Sadly it never accomplishes either angle as well as its more straightforward parents, and is consequently unable to rise all that far above its fellow summer films, but even if it never achieves the level of prestige necessary to receive an inappropriate advertisement in a future blog entry, it's well worth seeing.   

 The plot concerns an awkward boy named Dave becoming an awkward man and then an awkward wizard. And that's not just a cute convenient joke; even when he's

attained ultimate power and is locked in climactic battle with the greatest force of evil in existence, he's deploying magic shields against dark magic in a pose that resembles a fourteen year old being beaten up for lunch money, but in many ways that's part of the charm. His magical instructor is Nicolas Cage as the centuries old apprentice of Merlin known as Balthazar. What's his character like? He's Nicholas Cage playing a good guy: he's sarcastic, bizarre, and fatherly. The other characters are hit and miss with some excellent villains (one of whom is played by Alfred Molina and another whose a cross between David Copperfield and Billy Idol) and some weak love interests, but the two leads have excellent chemistry as master and apprentice and the film wisely places the focus squarely on them.

As far as that silly bussiness of "serious criticism," goes, there's some hokey dialogue and some great jokes; there's some exposition that goes too fast and there's some really well executed character moments... you get the point. It's a mixed bag, but it's one of those mixed bags that was well mixed, with all the elements that work being key components brought to the forefront and those that don't being minor details shoved into the background. The faults are still noticeable, but the film does everything it can to make you forget about them almost as soon as you see them. The action scenes are the icing on the cake: well paced, mostly coherent, and very creative. Some elements of the plot may be incredibly predictable, but one thing you'll never be able to guess is what magic trick Cage and Molina are going to throw at each other next.

I reccomend Sorcerer's Apprentice, but honestly, I'm not entirely sure how many more reviews of this sort I have in me. I'm sick and tired of having to place a movie on the scale of mediocrity; I want a standout. I want a movie to review that's spectacular, for better or worse; something so bad or so good that I'd be left with a lasting impression. However, it wouldn't be right to let the disapointments of the season taint the appraisal of any movie, no matter how mediocre, and as far as middle of the road movies go, Sorcerer's Apprentice is one of the good ones. You won't cry, but you will laugh, and- like me- you won't find much to complain about, even if you might have liked to. 

Photoshop Wizard Wanted

My logo has been called, "ugly," "impossible to look at," and "the result of half an hour on MS Paint." Would any readers out there who are skilled in the ways of photoshop like to fix this? You won't be paid but will be credited and lavished with thanks and praise. I recommend a logo based on the current one, but if you have a different idea I'm more than open to it. It might be a good idea to put your name somewhere around the bottom corner of the piece so that you will remain credited for all posterity.

I look forward to seeing what you guys come up with.

Reappraisal: Alvin and The Chipmunks- The Chipmunk Adventure

I suppose I may as well explain myself. 

Reappraisal is a new series I've started for the dual purpose of reassessing films of old and exploting my readers for whatever I might earn from my Amazon Associates account. The primary focus will be to draw attention to over-looked classics (and obscure oddities), though I will occasionally attempt to dethrone false idols. 

This first edition's subject is something of a pity review, an attempt to restore honor to a thoroughly sullied name. Are there better films? Films more obscure and more deserving of attention? Aboslutely, but how many of those films belong(ed) to franchises that recently spawned anything that could be dubed a "squeakwel?" [Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel (Single-Disc Version)] (I'm unemployed, so you'll have to forgive me for whoring myself out on occasion)

Without further addo, Alvin and The Chipmunks- The Chipmunk Adventure.       

I'll be blunt: this is a guilty pleasure. In the interest of gauging the ratio between guilt and pleasure, I'll say this one is worth owning for anyone who remembers the Chipmunks cartoon series from the 80's- or simply has an affinity for retro music and animation- but it's not worth the embarrassment of  allowing one's friends, colleagues, loved ones, etc. to see said DVD proudly displayed, much less watching it with them. Why the embarrassment? If you honestly don't already know, then you've probably never seen anything (much less anything animated) that was produced in the 1980's and marketed towards children. 

For starters, the story: The Chipmunks- including the trouble making Alvin, the brainy worry-wort Simon, and the chubby but kind-hearted Theodore- are envious of their adoptive human father Dave, who is taking a business trip to "Europe." (Translation: whatever part of Eurasia the plot needs him to be in) Whilst in an arcade venting their frustrations with their female friends/rivals/love-interests the Chipettes (all three of whom dress in the same colors and have roughly the same character traits as their male counterparts), Alvin's bragging that he could navigate around the world in a hot air ballon with ease is over-heard by a pair of sibling diamond smugglers. The crooks hit upon the infalably brilliant idea of funding a convoluted race around the world between the Chipmunks and the Chipettes as a front for their illicit enterprise, and the young rodents are all too eager to accept this offer, completely unsuspecting of any ulterior motive. What do the villains' claim their reason is for paying six children to endanger themselves? "We're very wealthy, and very bored." Complications, stereotypes, bad jokes, and musical numbers ensue in various countries around the world. 

If that synopsis doesn't already have you blushing then the voice acting certainly will. I'm not sure how well any actor can voice a character when their speech needs to be sped up considerably to achieve the desired effect, but whether or not it's anyone's fault, the dialogue can be painful to listen to. All of the chipmunks over-emphasize every alternate word in such a way that it seems the producers may have been worried their audience would forget the characters' personalities within ten minutes. The worst of the bunch is easily Simon (voiced by Ross Bagdasarian Jr., not that it matters) who seems conditioned to drag out the last word of every sentence into a faux-academic whine. Most of the human characters are easier on the ears but the chipmunks are the ones we hear the most and they can get quite grating. 

The other half of the audio, the music that is, is of course essential to any chipmunks movie, since the boys are a singing group (which calls into question why their father and songwriter would be taking a business trip without them, but I digress) and the results are good- certainly as far as kids' films are concerned. The songs are catchy and energetic without being excessively stupid; it's not Beatles but it's not Jonas Brothers either. The uber high voices sound great, especially when harmonizing, and the musical flavors on display are as varied as the locales. 

And herein lies the issue of guilt vs. pleasure: a lot of what makes Chipmunk Adventure hard to watch (in company anyway) is what makes it fun to watch. The songs will be stuck in your head indefinitely, but you'll get some funny looks if you get caught singing them under your breath; the story, characters, and jokes are all too goofy not to love, but also too goofy to receive anything but blind dismissal from any dignified blogger (oxymoron of the year right there). Embarrassment is really the only thing keeping you from enjoying Chipmunk Adventure, because no matter how legitimate its faults technically are, judged on its own merits as a viewing experience it's undeniably joyous. It "borrows," certain elements from Around the World in 80 Days, but stealing from stories that are older than dirt is perfectly acceptable and even the most stereotyped characters are incredibly fun to watch as they chew the scenery like a lawn mower on loan to a community theater. On top of everything, the animation and artwork are frequently stunning: gorgeous and detailed backgrounds, fluid motions, clever lighting, and marvelous use of color.

Ultimately, Chipmunk Adventure is that one friend we all have. Do you want to take him home to your parents, follow his advice, or prop him up as a shining exemplar of human culture? God no, but do you think he cares? He's got the big book of acceptably racist humor, a full tank of helium, and the greatest hits of Duran Duran, and he's having a party. Whether or not you can take off your adult armor for a little over an hour and enjoy the party is up to you.      

I'll gladly accept suggestions for future Reappraisals, but bear in mind that I'd prefer to limit selections to movies released 10 years ago at the very least. The idea is to highlight more obscure pieces, though I might consider more famous ones, but if you suggest a so-called "classic," bear in mind that I may be inclined to call into question its position of honor. 

Film Review: Predators

I can't help but wonder if there is such a thing as a critic who is mismatched for a movie that he's reviewing. Predators seems like it should be a dream come true; a proper follow-up to a well loved classic after years of sequels ranging from mediocre to nigh unbearable, made by a talented company and featuring reputable actors in a fascinating setting. Add to that a fairly compelling premise of trapping a bunch of murderers on an extra terrestrial game reserve- meaning that the alien predators are hunting our societal predators- and you have what sounds like a solid movie. And it is a solid movie. For me, that's part of the problem.
Predators is a good movie. Well written- if predictable- very good acting, cool action bits, well maintained mood. All in all, there's really nothing wrong with it. So why don't I like it? I'm honestly not too sure. I feel as though I'm trapped in my own statistical impossibility: everything about it sounds fantastic, all of the elements work in the final product (lead actor Adrien Brody is even surprisingly effective as a bad ass), and it's quite simply a solid film; not a crack for legitimate criticism to fit through. But I cannot say I like it.
I cannot.
I don't.
Why don't I?
Why?
Is it simply not my cup of tea? No, it's a bunch of evil aliens hunting people who deserve to be eviscerated with invisibility armor and lazer cannons on their shoulders. How is that not anyone's thing? I don't know why I'm making such a big deal out of this, it's nothing I truly dislike and doesn't really have any aspects that scream out for snobby nit-picking. For me, it just kind of sits there: good dialogue spoken by interesting characters as they get ready to die in cool looking ways. And yet I don't care. On reflection, perhaps I've been missing the point: characters can be "interesting," but not compelling; dialogue can be "well written," but not really saying anything one cares to hear; action scenes can be "impressive," but not at all exciting; and movies can be "good," without me wanting to see them ever again. That's what Predators feels like: a movie that was so busy trying to be "good," that it forgot to give anyone a reason to love it, much less like it.
If you think this movie sounds as good as I did before seeing it, then there's really no reason not to see it. You won't leave the theatre feeling ripped off certainly. However that's not the same as a recomendation, it's just not a warning either. Ultimately, my reccomendation for Predators is roughly the same as my feeling whilst watching it: apathetic. Sure readers, go see it if you're bored, just don't make me try to write any more about it.

Film Review: Despicable Me

One trap that many movie critics can- and do- fall in to with all too much ease is judging everything they see the same way. Typically, this means that every film that receives a positive review must be written in such a manner that it is ingenious, multi-layered, complex, morally ambiguous, and (in the best cases, so they see it) utterly alienating to the average audience member. Something that is brave, bold, uncompromising, has a serious message, and doesn't rely on silly gags and cutesy moments. In short, most critics would consider a good movie to be a movie that is absolutely nothing like Despicable Me. This may explain why most critics are bitter, unpopular old men with inexplicably large numbers of readers. That is not to say Despicable Me is a masterpiece, much less that it's in any position to challenge the works of Pixar. But even if it doesn't necessarily deserve mountains of praise, if there's one thing it doesn't deserve, it's criticism.
This is somewhat ironic, because Despicable often seems to be begging for criticism: it subscribes to more cliches than a trench coated lone ranger ignoring the explosion he's walking away from; it occasionally resorts to cheap gags, though most of these featured heavily in the trailers, leaving the good bits to surprise viewers; and perhaps most deviously, it shamelessly takes advantage of human empathy. Aside from the comically cliched villainous protagonist Gru, the film's lead characters are a trio of undeniably adorable orphans. It's like an evil mastermind's equation for cuteness: spunky girl + bossy girl + youngest/most adorable girl x wacky situation - overly heavy drama = irresistable. See what I'm getting at? Critics are supposed to criticize that: it's formulaic, it's predicatable, it's stupid... right?
Thing is, none of that matters. What matters is that it works. Despicable subscribes to formulas, embraces them, and pulls them off better than any movie that pretends to be above them. Story wise things are kept similarly simple: Super villain Gru wants to steal the moon, he needs a shrink ray to do it, a rival villain steals the ray and the only way he can steal it back is with the help of three adorable orphans. He inititially sees the girls as little more than loud, hyperactive tools, but naturally falls in love with them in due course which naturally complicates his villain work. The film seems utterly unashamed of how basic this set up is, and instead places the focus on the characters: Gru's mommy-issues, the girls' adorable-ness, his henchmen's hilarity, and so on. This means that the actual story feels quite light by comparison, but that's ok; a story that's light and fluffy can work as long as we still care, and really, you'd have to be the most cynical person on earth to not care. Watching Gru play with (and mock) a finger puppet story book for his surrogate daughters is the sort of thing that would make you go "Aww," without restraint in real life, so why not in an animated movie?
Despicable Me is full of those moments; moments that don't beg for judgemental losers like me to love it, but for you to love it- you the audience member. Will you love it forever? Probably not, but like a grilled cheese sandwhich, the simple processed joy far outweighs the negative aspects, provided that's not all your intake. I wouldn't say this belongs in the DVD collection of anyone who isn't a babysitter, but anyone with kids or a fully developed heart should go out and see it as soon as they can. It's devilishly corporate, but (much like the little girls who seem unperturbed about their "dad's" evil occupation) genuinely doesn't care, and neither should you.

Celibacy Is(n't) Power

One curious element of the recently released Last Airbender that I chose not to comment on in my review was the film's notion of celibacy. Lead character Aang is not allowed to "have a family," because of his duties as the Avatar. Not only is this stipulation not at all present in the original series, but what sense does it make for Aang to not be allowed a wife and child in his future? Naturally the movie is too busy squeezing a revered series into two hours of concentrated agony to justify this concept- not even with the traditional yet incredibly weak Spiderman argument ("If my enemies found you," "I can't be there for you," etc)- but this concept of a hero taking a vow of celibacy, sacrificing his happiness for the good of the many, has become something of a sci-fi/fantasy trope.

First, allow me to clarify: this article is not about Twilight in anyway. That phenomenon receives more discussion than it ever deserved as is and its various crimes against art, morality, and feminism are well known. What I would like to call into question is the notion of (typically religious) celibacy as a plot device in film, which is actually quite different from the thematic elements of Meyer's "Glitter-pire" epic. What Bella Swan's suitors preserve for her in their refusal to "bite" her is her (metaphorical) virginity. Celibacy is more than that; to be celibate is not only to renounce sex, but to renounce marriage- hence a French word for bachelor is "celibataire." Essentially, what this means for Airbender and other films that employ this trope is that the hero is not allowed to pursue his love interest because he'd be endangering her and/or distracting himself from his duties, (I cannot bring to mind any case in which a female lead has been stupid enough to make such a sacrifice) meaning that said love interest will tempt/persuade him and they will break the rules and get together anyway with absolutely no consequence- at least none that a competent character couldn't have found a way to deal with.

If you're merely skimming this article and didn't pick up on it, this little story telling device is something akin to the snake that eats its own tail. As soon as it's introduced, even the slowest audience member knows exactly how it will be resolved, meaning that it instantly fails at its only purpose: superficially building tension. Tension is an essential element to story telling, there's no denying that, and a romantic subplot will go stale and bland without it, but in romances, tension shouldn't come from the same sort of place it would in an action film's main plot: outside forces. In Airbender, and the series it was originally based on, the central point of tension comes from the Fire Nation invading its neighbors and whether or not Aang will be able to master all 4 elements and stop them; the tension comes from the hero and/or what he is trying to protect being effected by an outside force. A romance works differently; whether or not two people will get together can hinge upon circumstances, but in a movie where the audience knows the two will eventually get together and is more interested in the how (mainstream blockbusters work this way and I for one think it's fine) such a situation will more or less answer both the why and the how. They live in different countries? One of them will make sacrifices and move. They come from warring families? They'll elope (though chances of success are limited in this scenario). One of them has vowed celibacy? He'll break it.

This is why most truly great romances are about the conflict that comes not from a traditional outside force, but from a force between them as characters. In the original series, Aang and his love interest Katara do not get together immediately because Aang seems immature to Katara, he's afraid to reveal his feelings, he says some really dumb things to her out of said nerves, and so on. No need for some superficial plot device, the conflict comes from the characters as a result of their nature; they are naturally attracted to each other, yet elements of their personalities call into question whether they are truly meant to be together. Could this have been achieved in the film? Certainly, if Aang had been his immature, inexperienced, lovable self and Katara had more character than a sobbing postage stamp.
And so we see why this concept of celibacy is so popular. It's not the desire to make our movie heroes into saintly monks; it's to make our scripts easier to write, to eliminate the need for believable complex characters and replace it with tiresome tropes that can be easily inserted into various stories, whether it's a good idea or not. Instead of Han Solo taking responsibility in spite of his roguish nature and princess Leia looking past his veil selfishness to see a great leader, one need only write two lines:

He can't get married. She'll convince him.

When are they going to understand that it won't convince us?

Film Review: M. Night Shayamalan's Last Airbender

The Last Airbender is the newest film to join a very select group; a collection of movies that defy the tradition of critics bashing genre fiction and fans defending their favorite properties with their dying breath. Airbender joins such unforgettable works as The Spirit, Dragon Ball Evolution, and Batman and Robin, as a film that unites fans and critics in an unbreakable bond of passionate, undying hatred. If the best films are enjoyable on every level then the worst films are despicable on every level, and Airbender could be used to teach a class on that thesis. Airbender’s plot follows the same basic structure as the first season of Nickelodeon’s award winning Avatar series: Aang is a young Airbender, a monk capable of manipulating air to his advantage, who is destined to master the bending of all four elements (fire, water and earth being the others) and thus become the Avatar, the world’s greatest hero. He runs away from his responsibilities and sacrifices and ends up frozen in an iceberg. One hundred years later he is rescued by new friends Sokka and Katara of the Southern Water Tribe and the three set out to save the world from the fire nation, which has seized control in the century for which Aang has been absent.

Ironically, this is actually a fairly faithful adaptation on the surface: the story hits all the same basic beats, elemental bending works roughly the same way, and the visual style of the show is beautifully captured, especially in terms of costume and set design. However, notice how I said “on the surface." Unlike looser but more enjoyable adaptations like Kick-Ass, or Star Trek, this surface is so thin one need not look any deeper to see just how unfaithful Airbender really is to its source. Many fans’ anxieties about M. Night Shayamalan’s position as writer, director and producer were assuaged when they found out that Shayamalan is himself a huge fan of the show, but that’s what Airbender feels like: fan fiction. It has the same characters and settings and basic rules down, but it doesn’t understand what makes them special. Aang has no character, Sokka (and everyone else) is completely humorless, and no one comes off as likable, or even human. If you’ve never seen Avatar and don’t know or care about any of these characters, this movie won’t change that at all.

Even if the original show had never existed and this was completely a creation of Shayamalan, it would still be terrible (worse in fact, without the existence of an infinitely superior alternative). It’s certainly difficult to take a 20 episode epic and condense it into a movie and the strain shows: Airbender feels way too rushed, skipping over its most visually impressive and (potentially) touching moments so as to get through all the story it has to cover as soon as possible. As little as I was enjoying the film and as much as I wanted to leave, when the climactic final battle was raging, I couldn’t help thinking that I should still be watching the middle of the movie. The film should have been three hours; a long time to sit through a movie to be sure, but as the Lord of the Rings films taught us, a good story is worth taking that kind of time for, and Airbender could’ve been that story. So why isn’t it? Because of M. Night Shayamalan. He’s not talentless- I loved his movie Unbreakable- but as much as he clearly enjoys the series his style is completely mismatched for the material; Avatar relies on three things to carry it: characters, atmosphere (the world, the bending, etc.) and action. Can Shayamalan do good characters? Yes, but they have to be completely humorless and act like entranced drones, which only works in specific situations and not at all for the characters and story of Avatar. Can he do atmosphere? Yes, but again, it’s only that specific kind of atmosphere all his own: dark, paranoid, and depressing, none of which really describe how Avatar’s world and mood feel. Can he do action? Well this is his first real try at it, and it’s an admirable first try, but as solid as the choreography and effects are on their own, he does present them with the necessary cinematography to make them really feel alive, and he treats the bending in an incredibly underwhelming manner, possibly out of fear that he wouldn’t be able to accomplish the sort of epic landscape altering combat seen in the show (the laughable low point for me was watching a troop of earth benders stomp into frame doing a Monty Python-esque silly walk that was supposed to pass for martial arts and using the combined power of five, six, maybe seven earth benders, they shot one tiny rock at a fire bender).

Non-fans will be mystified and uninterested, fans will be enraged. This is truly a film that will send children home from the theater in tears. However, do not give up hope: this is book one, and if the fans and the easily mislead public believe the trailers and sacrifice their pennies to this horrible beast (but not too many), maybe it’s masters at Nickelodeon will green light a sequel, but choose a better director, and maybe one of the show’s original writers. Maybe, if we can endure one truly horrendous film, then when the sequel rolls around, the Avatar will truly return. And Toph will be there. And it will be awesome.

Maybe.