Film Review: Black Swan

I suppose the reason I've come back to do another review is that I feel like I have something to say about Black Swan. Not that it's good, although that's true, but that it's a good movie that represents something that aspiring filmmakers need to watch out for. I hope very much that my classmates will give this review a look and maybe pass it on to other young filmmakers at other schools they might know. Not so much because I long for readers, but because you need to hear this: When you make a film you are trying to make people feel, not think. Making them think is good, but it's not your goal, and if you insist that it is then you'll be making the same mistake director Daren Aronofsky makes here, and your film will suffer the same fate as Black Swan: you'll make a film that's good, when it's supposed to be great.

Black Swan concerns up and coming ballerina Nina Sayers in her endeavor to dance as both the pure-as-snow White Swan and her evil vampish twin the Black Swan, as is traditional for the leading lady of Swan Lake. The film's story succeeds in how firmly it adheres to this premise while still taking it to fascinating places. This is perhaps one of the greatest examples on film of internal conflict, much of which is the result of it trying to fool the audience into thinking the conflict is external, as is more typical for films. Without spoiling anything, Nina truly is her own worst enemy; the competing ballerina Lily, the hard to please director, even her domineering mother, debatably the source of her inner turmoil; none of these characters are trying to hurt her, much less sabotage her role. However they appear to be because that's how Nina perceives their actions. She has fears, she has desires, yet rather than act upon either, she sees one of these characters thrusting both at her, often literally, when the fact of the matter is that these people are really her most valuable benefactors, or at least they would be if she would let them be. This film doesn't need any more oscars than it's going to get already, but if it should win one thing- other than the inevitable best actress for Ms. Portman- it's best script.

It often seems that many films, good and bad, seem to be reflections of their own stories. In much the same way that Nina suffers because she is a cold, logical, perfectionist who's been forced into a career that is all about passion, Black Swan suffers because it takes a brilliant story about inner conflict and identity issues, and is sure that such issues are matters of the mind rather than the (metaphorical) heart. Setting aside my insistence that all films should focus on emotion, (not exclusive from, but more so than intellect) what we have here is a story about feeling like you have one purpose in life and everyone is out to get you, and yet I never once felt a hint of paranoia. I felt fear, or more accurately suspense, and that is one area where I feel Aronofsky shows his talent, but for a piece that's supposed to be about beauty and tragedy I was not at all moved. It was not an emotion-less experience, but it was an experience that emphasized intellect, asking you to think about Nina's situation but never really letting you into it.

One of the main reasons for this is cinematography: the camera work seems to be a subtler version of mumble-core, or neo-realism, or whatever word for "no tripods allowed," you prefer. This style is a pet-peeve of mine, but when it serves the art I can set aside my personal distaste. Swan however is completely unsuited to this style of cinematography. Yes it's a realistic film, but ironically, for a film that comes off as emotionally lacking, the camera should behave in a less visceral manner. Not only is this a stylistic choice that is more distracting than more subtle, traditional camera techniques, but as personal and up close as the story is, in order to better grasp that we need to really feel the cold detached nature of the less freaky scenes. The story may be internal and emotional, but it concerns a character who is denying their emotions and doesn't truly know themselves, and the camera needs to put us in that distant spot. Distance has a feeling, and it can be pretty strong.

Black Swan is one of the most fascinating things you can watch play out on a silver screen, but with a great movie, there is no screen. A great movie is a movie where all the elements are in alignment, where every aspect of the film is tailor made to make the viewer feel that what they are seeing is happening to them, or at least that they are right in the middle of the proceedings. The reason Black Swan is only a good movie is because it does exactly what Nina does when she dances: it focuses on the tiny details and perfects them, but never really feels the heart of what they are all about, and consequently neither does the audience, as much as they may think about them.

Top Ten: Voice Actors

10. Christian Bale

Known for:

Thomas (Pocahontas)

Howl (Howl's Moving Castle)

(He seriously needs to do more voice acting; he's really very good but these two are his only roles.)

9. Beau Billingslea

Known for:

Jet Black (Outlaw Star)

Cyborg 005 (Cyborg 009)

Narrator (Outlaw Star)

8. Mako

Known for:

Uncle Iroh (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Aku (Samurai Jack)

Narrator (Conan the Barbarian)

7.  Phil Lamar

Known for:

Green Lantern (Justice League)

Hermes Conrad (Futurama)

Samurai Jack (Samurai Jack)

6. John Goodman

Known for:

Sulley (Monsters Inc.)

Zeus (Hercules)

Pacha (Emperor's New Groove)

5. Dan Castellaneta

Known for:

Homer Simpson (The Simpsons)

Krusty the Clown (The Simpsons)

Genie (Return of Jafar)

4. Gray Delisle

Known for:

Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Yumi (Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi)

Frida Suarez (El Tigre)

3. Kevin Conroy

Known for:

Batman/Bruce Wayne (Batman: The Animated Series)

2. James Earl Jones

Known for:

Darth Vader (Star Wars)

Mufasa (The Lion King)

"Bleeding Gums" Murphy (The Simpsons)

1. Mark Hamil

Known for:

The Joker (Batman: The Animated Series)

Firelord Ozai (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Stickybeard (Codename: Kids Next Door)

Film Review: Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World is a movie that's been making waves, partially because of its indie-comic source material, but mostly because the very first trailer indicated to just about everyone that this was going to be truly an epic movie. There is a possibility that both the marketing and the movie itself would put off certain people with its "in-your-face" indie art direction and video game nerd styled insanity, but such naysayers should know that there's more to the film than crazy. 

Though there is a lot of crazy. 

Scott Pilgrim is a bass player in a Canadian indie band who falls desperately in love with Ramona Flowers, a girl with an always changing hair color and a never changing exasperation. The complication is supposedly the fact that Scott has to defeat Ramona's seven evil exes in order to be with her, but this is something of a ruse. The real problem is Scott's insufficient level of maturity, as indicated by his *ahem* "forgetting" to break up with his previous girlfriend (or pretend girlfriend as she's called, in case we needed any further reminding that Scott was emotionally a four year old) before beginning to date Ramona. He's not a bad guy, and certainly not an anti hero, but his flaws really are what makes him work as a hero. He's stupid in ways we've all been, and the movie's crazy special effects and set pieces genuinely work towards making us empathize with him, rather than just declare him to be "awesome." If none of its brilliant editing, flawless effects, or charming characterization survives to teach the film school brats of the future, then one thing Scott Pilgrim must be remembered for is its peerless balance of its leads charm and flaws. To illustrate my point, there were many points in the movie where I was yelling encouragement at Mr. Pilgrim, but it was never "don't go in there," or "give him a left!;" it was "don't sit there and take that!," "tell her you love her for real!," and even "stop being a complete idiot and kill him!" Simply put, I wasn't yelling at Scott to survive, I was yelling at him to get his head out of his ass. 

This notion of the film as an internal rather than external struggle raises the question of which is more relevant to the movie. Are Scott Pilgrim's action scenes representations of deep relationship struggles, Scott's battles with the league of evil exes being manifestations of his immature issues with Ramona's baggage? Or perhaps is that just pretentious drivel to satisfy the crowd that's too cool for fight scenes? The answer is both and neither. If you want to pretend it's all about spastic action and anyone who says otherwise is a poseur, the movie will back you up. If you insist that the fight scenes are an expensive way to mock people on Scott's level of maturity, then you could find enough in the film to support your argument too. If you think, as I do, that fight scenes are fun both when they represent something and when they're totally friggin awesome, then the movie will say "whatever," and welcome you with open arms as well. 

The point is that Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World is good. Very very good. It's better at depth than deep movies, better at spectacle than empty movies, better at love than romances, and better at being a movie than anything it's currently competing with, unless Inception is still playing at your local theatre. Then it's kind of a toss up.

Film Review: Airborne Part 3: The Secret of Identity

For those unfamiliar with the series, The Airborne Trilogy is a set of three films masterminded by up and coming filmmakers Jordan Imbrey and Eric Ugland [both of whom I know and have worked with and neither of whom may be said to benefit from any bias on my part as a film critic because I find them both utterly contemptible( ;) )]. 

Over the course of three movies, the pair have told the tale of Clay Rudolph, played by Imbrey, a dweeby high schooler who discovers that, following a bizarre biking accident, he has the ability to sculpt the air to his will, a power that he continues to master and develop with the aid of his fellow comic afficionado Gary Chew, as he battles crime and villainy in his hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina. The first film, Airborne: It Takes More than Powers, was a success in terms of comedy and introducing its characters well, but was somewhat lacking in most other areas. Airborne Part 2: The Pressure Builds, saw marked improvements in terms of its visuals, strong developments in terms of plot and character, and even greater comedy, leaving hardly a moment that was not laugh out loud funny. Similarly, Airborne Part 3: The Secret of Identity builds on and improves every aspect that has come before it, and yet, perhaps because of the nature of the project, once the Airborne Trilogy reaches its peak, it feels like it still has miles to go. 

One area in which Part 3 does not go the distance is in answering questions. Now, I am personally of the belief that telling the audience about something that doesn't happen is not to be considered a spoiler, but if you disagree and would rather keep such details unknown, consider this a spoiler warning. With that said, The Secret of Identity reveals nothing of how Airborne, or his bully turned rival Louie, (Alias "Pressure Point") acquired their powers, which is a particularly sore spot for Louie since his powers don't seem to have had any sort of trigger.The story is, on the whole, the real big problem with Part 3; aside from not explaining Clay's power source, the film takes a couple of twists that some may find overly jarring, both the twists and the recurring elements that have been well developed can seem somewhat rushed, and most specifically and worringly of all is the absense of a strong antagonist. There is a villain and a climax and a final showdown, but all of these elements are products of a pretty under developed conflict. Both the character who turns out to be the primary antagonist and his relationship/relevence to our hero were introduced in Part 2 and only get much screen time here in Part 3. Ultimately, this all leads to a film that feels like it may have been long enough, but is somehow incomplete, despite clearly being the last in its series.

As I eluded previously, however, a lot of these issues may be have been caused by the what the Airborne Trilogy's true nature is. In a recent interview, writer/director Jordan Imbrey said that the films were meant to be about a hero who was coming of age and still learning how to use his powers. As such, it would seem that the entire trilogy could be considered something of an extended origin rather than a traditional hero story involving a hero's rise to defeat his antagonist (making it very much like the first Iron Man in that respect). So if all three parts of Airborne could be considered a really really long issue #1, as it were, then it makes sense that not all questions are answered, the antagonist of the day is more of an Angleman than a Darkseid, and that it feels as if Airborne is less riding off into the sunset than he is flying off to further adventures, antagonists, and answers, even if we may never learn of such things. 

Furthermore, the aforementioned plot issues really don't do much in the way of preventing one from enjoying The Secret of Identity. The comedy is better than ever (no small feat, given how hard to top part 2's gags were); the characters all go through believable, relatable growth, even if it does sometimes come at an abrupt pace (but hey, isn't life like that sometimes?); and the effects and fight scenes have seen drastic improvements in terms of quality if not necessarily in quantity. The highlight of the whole show for me was seeing Pressure Point kicking butt and taking names towards the end in his awesome reworked costume (I felt the bandana-heavy get up he was sporting in Part 2 was a tad generic), though I felt his powers went somewhat under-expolred, both in terms of his fighting and his overall development. 

All in all, Airborne Part 3: The Secret of Identity, and indeed the entire Airborne Trilogy is highly enjoyable if a little rough around the edges in a few areas. In many ways, the nature of the films (and the filmmakers) shines through in the hero's journey: still learning all the tricks of the trade, not as experienced as the house-hold names, flawed in ways that may never be fixed (or perhaps should never be fixed), but if you take a deep enough look, you'll see the heart of a true hero, even if there's still a long way to go before the fame, fortune, and truly trying obstacles. Do your funny bone, your inner child, your sense of adventure, and the art of independent superhero movies a favor, and give The Airborne Trilogy a look; check out the creators at http://vimeo.com/ericugland and http://vimeo.com/redhead. 

Film Review: The Other Guys

Have you ever known, based both on common sense and the horrible wrenching feeling in your gut, that you were in an abominably horrible place? Have you ever been in such a place, and yet surrounded by peers who laughed merrily with the torment? That was me whilst viewing The Other Guys. I was a long figure in the fourth row tearing his hair out over fare that was making all three or so other people in the cinema laugh raucously. 

It would be childish of me to run screaming up and down the street declaring this to be the worst movie of all time, but seeing as I've already done that, I suppose I may as well say this is the worst movie of the summer. By far. I place most if not all blame squarely on the writer, and honestly, every other aspect of this film is really an impressive effort: strong direction, particularly in the visual department, strong acting with Wahlberg being his typically awesome self and Ferrel giving the most natural and well timed performance one can for such awful jokes, and aside from the occasional editing hiccup, it really seems that all involved with the production of The Other Guys was determined to give their best effort to create a good movie out of an awful script. This feat is not impossible, as anyone whose seen the first Superman movie can attest, but it is incredibly difficult, and this film is a great example of why. No matter who's delivering a bad joke, it's still bad; no matter how talented your "gun-fu" choreographer is, he won't be able to make your audience care about whoever is narrowly escaping death. 

So what is so awful about the writing that all the excellent effort put forth by those depicting its content cannot over come? The shorter, and far more insulting version, goes like this: it's like the people who gave us Ren and Stimpy attempted to make a parody of buddy cop flicks (a genre that, need I remind you, no longer exists outside of parodies). To elaborate, none of the characters, from Wahlberg's angry straight-man to Ferrel's nerdy paper pusher act in any kind of sensical manner. The movie quickly sets into a pattern: introduce a scenario so whacky it's completely incongruous, have our two leads react to it with neurotic alien dialogue and anger respectively, throw in a series of awkward and equally non-sensical jokes, then get the leads out of there pronto and move them onto the next insane set-piece asap. It's complete insanity plus gob-smackingly senseless reactions times blinding fast pace. But the fact that the movie moves along quickly doesn't by any means mean that it's plot is truly moving; it's just running around in circles from bad jokes to craziness while the plot sits directly below all of this separated by a mile deep sheet of glass; you can always see it and know exactly what's going on, but it's kind of fuzzy and wonky and you're not going to actually get down there and get involved with it for a long time. 

The Other Guys is one of the worst kinds of movies in that it's a waste of time for all involved, it looked really good in the trailers so its awfulness comes as a sucker punch and it may still make a lot of money, and it has more bad jokes than the Veggie Tales Bible (which mercifully does not yet exist). Yet in another sense, it's of the best kind of movies, in that it's inspiring. It's inspired me not to count on any summer movie season to stay mediocre and never stray into abject horribleness. It's inspired me to not focus so much on directors- as opposed to writers- as the deciding factor in how good a movie will be. But most of all it's inspired me to write another, much better movie, about a frustrated film critic who goes on a shooting spree. I'll call it: The Other Guys Made Me Do It!

Film Review: Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore

It has often been commented by reviewers that one of the most difficult kind of film to review is a good comedy. Comedy films are judged almost exclusively based on how funny they are, so the difficulty in explaining success at humor is partially due to humor's inherently abstract nature, and partially due to the critic's desire not to spoil the movie they are reviewing. Neither of these factors are an issue in assesing Cats and Dogs, leading me to conclude that another, equally difficult kind of film to review is a really really really bad comedy.

The difficulty in describing the reason behind Cats and Dogs 2's abject horribleness is that very little on display in the film is terrible in an overtly obvious way. The animals are cute, some of the jokes are passable enough to garner a giggle or two, and the plot, while stupid in the way that comedy plots are generally allowed to be, keeps things moving quickly enough that no one will be terribly bored. In many ways, it's the sort of movie this summer has been teaching us to expect: something to get you and the kids out of the house and into another air conditioned building with a bunch of over priced snacks in your lap; nothing too horrible to endure, but nothing so amazing that you will be forced to think about it.

If you do have the sheer gall to think about it however, you will be discover that you have somehow found yourself seated before the worst movie of the year. This is the case for various reasons, the most notable of which is a single character: the pidgeon known as Seamus, voiced by Katt Williams. First off, he's horribly racist in a way this is not instantly apparent, since a pidgeon is not exactly a common figure of black stereotyping, but put simply, compare Seamus's "ghetto speak" to the vocal mannerisms of the crows from Disney's Dumbo, then take a moment to reflect on just how much growing up hollywood's been doing these days. Just to add insult to injury, this character, who gets an unfortunately large helping of screen time, isn't in the least bit amusing even if you can somehow set aside everything that makes him offensive. His purpose in the film is to make obvious, over-used, and poorly timed quips when not pretending to be relevent to what the film claims qualifies as a plot.

Comedy plots tend to get something of a free ride, being often allowed to contain as much depth, heart, and story as a 20-or-so minute sit-com episode stretched out to feature length. Because a comedy promises, and hopefully keeps the promise to keep an audience laughing at a steady rate for an hour and a half, a complex story is pretty well not required for entertainment needs to be met. However, the plot of Cats and Dogs is not just stretched, not just contrived, not even just plain stupid, but impossible to follow. The devices and macguffins come and go with no coherence, and you will be so utterly confused and bored as you sit there trying to make sense of it all that any enjoyment you could possibly have immagined was present in the jokes will be drained out like the life blood from the still living bodies of the careers of all involved with this film's production.

A lot of this criticism may sound generic and vague, the tell-tale signs of a bitter critic eagerly bashing a film that does not cater directly to his tastes as a means of self-gratification. While that is not (entirely) the case, I will admit that Cats and Dogs is not the kind of film that will violently rob your children of their capacity for higher thinking, but this movie rubbed me in several wrong ways and I have deemed it worthy of death, so I'll close on this note:

Do you remember the first Cats and Dogs? Vaguely? Yeah, I kind of did. Do you remember anything that actually happened in that movie beyond "doggy and kitty fall down go boom?" Didn't think so. This film never deserved to exist and the people making it clearly understood that. You should too.

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.