When one hears the term "science fiction," images of slam-bang space opera material like Star Wars and its ilk fill the mind's eye. Because the genre slides so easily into the special-effects heavy, blockbuster mold, it's easy for many people to forget that most good-to-great science fiction is founded on ideas and paradoxes. That's where Tom Cruise, director Joseph Kosinski (Tron: Legacy), and Oblivion come in. While the movie contains its fair share of shoot-outs and edge-of-your-seat moments, the narrative is twisty and founded on questions of identity. There are issues with pacing and quite a few holes left unplugged, but this is definitely a more cerebral experience than what the ads promise.
The setup seems familiar enough. The year is 2077, and as protagonist Jack Harper (Tom Cruise) informs us, Earth is a wasteland. We won the war against interplanetary forces but the resulting warfare has left the planet mostly uninhabitable. Survivors have moved on to the planet Titan and established a colony. Jack and Victoria (Andrea Riseborough) are a two-person team tasked with finding and repairing damaged sentry drones. Their missions are complicated by the presence of "scavs," creatures who hang around the remains of the planet and occasionally attack drones. Victoria wants to finish their tour of duty with no complications and go back to enjoying life on Titan. Jack, however, feels an attachment to Earth, as evidenced by the makeshift cabin he has built in a radiation-free zone. His dreams are also dominated by a mysterious young woman (Olga Kurylenko), and Jack's life is turned upside down when he discovers a survivor who looks just like her.
Oblivion freely and liberally borrows from many sources, but where the movie lacks in originality, it makes up for in heart and in mind. Indeed, the question of what makes up a person's identity, whether that something is DNA, memories, compassion, or some combination of the three, is a topic that has obsessed countless writers. The conceit is given its due here with a narrative that contains several genuine surprises. Most of what the characters experience is material we've all seen somewhere before, but Oblivion wouldn't work if we didn't care about the main characters' struggle.
With Tom Cruise's wacky, anti-psychology days long behind him, viewers can finally enjoy watching a movie star in his element (it's also worth noting that at 50, he doesn't look a day over 35). Cruise essays a likable, entirely human character here much the same way he did in Steven Speilberg's brilliant Minority Report. Andrea Riseborough and Olga Kurylenko are beguiling and expressive, albeit in vastly different ways. The former plays a character who is certainly capable of emotion but more often is happy being mechanical in her duties. Jack and Victoria are partners first, but their relationship plays out like a marriage with all of the expected ups and downs. Kurylenko's character has a much more mysterious air about her, and her chemistry with Cruise is an undeniable asset to making the story accessible to more than sci-fi die-hards.
Oblivion isn't a teen-friendly blockbuster. The pace is sluggish early on, but the movie picks up steam not from action sequences-- which are cleanly edited with no shaky-cam in sight-- but from plot developments. Once the battle lines are established, the movie becomes almost conventional; entertaining to be sure, but the momentary rush of shootouts cannot measure up to the fun of trying to figure the narrative out. There are a few gaps in the story as well, but these are really only noticeable after the end credits have rolled and the viewer has time to unwind. Fortunately, for a movie with so much apocalyptic imagery (outdoing even Planet of the Apes with striking shots of a ruined Empire State Building and Pentagon, among others), Oblivion has plenty of positive things to say about the indestructibility of the human spirit.
Rating: *** out of ****
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Review of The Place Beyond the Pines
It's a well-known fact that for "serious" moviegoers, the first three months of the year are threadbare. A complex, sublime drama like The Place Beyond the Pines is typically reserved for the end-of-the-year Oscar rush. So a big thank you goes out to Focus Features for releasing director Derek Cianfrance's (Blue Valentine) movie in March (with an April expansion) so that those with more refined tastes have something to gnaw on. This is a powerful, engrossing drama about the sins of fathers being passed on to the sons, and while it follows the three-act structure to a "T," the path the narrative takes is anything but typical.
The first third of the movie focuses on daredevil motorcycle rider Luke Glanton (Ryan Gosling), whose life is dramatically altered when he discovers he fathered a son with a Schenectady, New York-based waitress named Romina (Eva Mendes). Wanting to avoid repeating his own father's negligence, Luke quits his carnival gig and seeks more money by getting a job working for local mechanic (Ben Mendelshohn). But the job is minimum wage, and Luke discovers he can give his son the life he deserves by robbing banks and utilizing his impressive getaway skills.
The second third shifts to police officer Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper), who is hailed as a hero after thwarting an armed robbery. He's a law-school graduate who joined the police force to fight injustice, but he receives a rude awakening on how deep the corruption runs in his own unit. He has an infant son of his own, albeit while married to the strong, supportive Jennifer (Rose Byrne), and his conscience ultimately places him in a logjam where he must choose between easy money and the moral high ground.
Finally, there are two high school kids, AJ (Emory Cohen) and Jason (Dane DeHaan), who form a friendship based on Jason's drug-dealer contacts and AJ's ability to score cash. As expected, the relationship between these two is a roller coaster ride, filled with the thrill of doing the taboo while also undergoing some rocky interpersonal conflict. The two share a secret that the audience is fully aware of but both have yet to uncover.
For a movie like The Place Beyond the Pines to work, one has to accept the dramatic license Cianfrance takes with regards to coincidences and cause-and-effect. It's a little like Paul Haggis' Crash, but this is a better developed motion picture with just the right number of characters to avoid spreading each story too thin. Needless to say, I bought it. Both Glanton and Cross decide on actions which they believe are right for their children, but despite their best intentions, they can't avoid the inevitability of mistakes repeating and drama begetting drama. The final third of The Place Beyond the Pines is frought with tension and is emotionally satisfying in bringing the threads together.
The Place Beyond the Pines also deserves a lot of credit for addressing a side of police work one rarely finds in movies. When a cop is hailed as a hero in spite of taking another man's life, how does he cope? Cross is obviously more ambitious and righteous than many of his colleagues, but the inner struggle over morality dominates his mind far more than the pride of saving the day and representing his town. Some facts he learns about the person he killed will have most viewers asking the same questions he does.
The Place Beyond the Pines is an acting goldmine. For most of the movie's first third, Ryan Gosling is in full Drive mode-- not a bad thing at all given how mesmerizing he was in that movie-- but this character has a lot more humanity in him, and it's not a stretch to say that some viewers will be rooting for him in spite of his illegal activities. Bradley Cooper once again continues to expand his range; he has the most screen time of everyone and is most key to the drama working as effectively as it does. He received a deserved Oscar nomination for Silver Linings Playbook, but it's possible to argue he's even better here. The rest of the cast is as solid as ever, although more scenes with Mahershala Ali (who plays Jason's surrogate father, Kofi) would've helped immeasurably since the few scenes he has bring out an interesting question about how adolescents process the idea of a good surrogate father versus an absentee "real" father.
Cianfrance's movie ends on the perfect note, an often-repeated and symbolic shot of a motorcycle driving into the horizon, that provides the ideal mix of closure with a little ambiguity left over to chew on. The Place Beyond the Pines is everything a compelling movie should be; at 140 minutes, it's lengthy, but the time passes so quickly that many will wish there were more minutes to come. All three acts command the thoughtful viewer's attention, and while the movie's sharp change of main character part-way through will disorient some, it is arguably Cianfrance's masterstroke. The Place Beyond the Pines is guaranteed to send viewers away in a reflective mood as they ponder just how close to home this story hits. 2013 has a long way to go, but this one will stay with me.
Rating: ***1/2 out of ****
The first third of the movie focuses on daredevil motorcycle rider Luke Glanton (Ryan Gosling), whose life is dramatically altered when he discovers he fathered a son with a Schenectady, New York-based waitress named Romina (Eva Mendes). Wanting to avoid repeating his own father's negligence, Luke quits his carnival gig and seeks more money by getting a job working for local mechanic (Ben Mendelshohn). But the job is minimum wage, and Luke discovers he can give his son the life he deserves by robbing banks and utilizing his impressive getaway skills.
The second third shifts to police officer Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper), who is hailed as a hero after thwarting an armed robbery. He's a law-school graduate who joined the police force to fight injustice, but he receives a rude awakening on how deep the corruption runs in his own unit. He has an infant son of his own, albeit while married to the strong, supportive Jennifer (Rose Byrne), and his conscience ultimately places him in a logjam where he must choose between easy money and the moral high ground.
Finally, there are two high school kids, AJ (Emory Cohen) and Jason (Dane DeHaan), who form a friendship based on Jason's drug-dealer contacts and AJ's ability to score cash. As expected, the relationship between these two is a roller coaster ride, filled with the thrill of doing the taboo while also undergoing some rocky interpersonal conflict. The two share a secret that the audience is fully aware of but both have yet to uncover.
For a movie like The Place Beyond the Pines to work, one has to accept the dramatic license Cianfrance takes with regards to coincidences and cause-and-effect. It's a little like Paul Haggis' Crash, but this is a better developed motion picture with just the right number of characters to avoid spreading each story too thin. Needless to say, I bought it. Both Glanton and Cross decide on actions which they believe are right for their children, but despite their best intentions, they can't avoid the inevitability of mistakes repeating and drama begetting drama. The final third of The Place Beyond the Pines is frought with tension and is emotionally satisfying in bringing the threads together.
The Place Beyond the Pines also deserves a lot of credit for addressing a side of police work one rarely finds in movies. When a cop is hailed as a hero in spite of taking another man's life, how does he cope? Cross is obviously more ambitious and righteous than many of his colleagues, but the inner struggle over morality dominates his mind far more than the pride of saving the day and representing his town. Some facts he learns about the person he killed will have most viewers asking the same questions he does.
The Place Beyond the Pines is an acting goldmine. For most of the movie's first third, Ryan Gosling is in full Drive mode-- not a bad thing at all given how mesmerizing he was in that movie-- but this character has a lot more humanity in him, and it's not a stretch to say that some viewers will be rooting for him in spite of his illegal activities. Bradley Cooper once again continues to expand his range; he has the most screen time of everyone and is most key to the drama working as effectively as it does. He received a deserved Oscar nomination for Silver Linings Playbook, but it's possible to argue he's even better here. The rest of the cast is as solid as ever, although more scenes with Mahershala Ali (who plays Jason's surrogate father, Kofi) would've helped immeasurably since the few scenes he has bring out an interesting question about how adolescents process the idea of a good surrogate father versus an absentee "real" father.
Cianfrance's movie ends on the perfect note, an often-repeated and symbolic shot of a motorcycle driving into the horizon, that provides the ideal mix of closure with a little ambiguity left over to chew on. The Place Beyond the Pines is everything a compelling movie should be; at 140 minutes, it's lengthy, but the time passes so quickly that many will wish there were more minutes to come. All three acts command the thoughtful viewer's attention, and while the movie's sharp change of main character part-way through will disorient some, it is arguably Cianfrance's masterstroke. The Place Beyond the Pines is guaranteed to send viewers away in a reflective mood as they ponder just how close to home this story hits. 2013 has a long way to go, but this one will stay with me.
Rating: ***1/2 out of ****
Monday, April 15, 2013
Review of Trance (contains oblique spoiler)
Warning: I reference a certain film later in this review that might give away this one for more astute movie-goers.
Danny Boyle. A movie from the "mind-fuck" thriller genre. Solid cast. Comparisons to Christopher Nolan's brilliant Inception. All signs point to what should be a winner from the Oscar-winning director, but unfortunately, Trance falls short of its lofty goals. I am normally a sucker for this type of storytelling-- films where the concept of reality is multi-layered and flexible-- and indeed Trance wears that badge of honor on its sleeve. But just because a movie is twisty, labyrinthian, and non-linear doesn't automatically make it a home run. The characters have to grab the audience as well; we have to not only know the answers because the movie is structured like a puzzle but because we genuinely care about the characters. With one exception, that element is what's missing here. Trance is a feast for the eyes and never boring, but I couldn't help but feel underwhelmed when all was explained.
Trance starts out like a high-energy heist movie before taking a turn for the strange. Simon (James McAvoy) is a deputy art auctioneer who initially appears to thwart a robbery of a Goya painting, but in reality, he's an inside man who's in serious debt to a dangerous, charismatic thief named Franck (Vincent Cassell). During a struggle, Simon is knocked out and Franck makes off with the painting only to discover the suitcase its supposedly contained in is empty. The blow to Simon's head gives him amnesia and he becomes unable to remember where he hid the painting. When fingernail-pulling torture doesn't suffice, Franck and his cronies enlist the aid of hypnotherapist Elizabeth (Rosario Dawson) in hopes to draw out Simon's repressed memories. But as we all know, any film that deals with memory is rife with red herrings, and as the story progresses, questions about what is real plague not only the characters, but the audience.
Trance is actually based on a 2001 British TV movie of the same name, so it pre-dates some of the more popular "mind-fuck" movies audiences are familiar with (like Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island and the aforementioned Inception). Boyle's movie can't be accused of being a rip-off, but it unfortunately cannot measure up from a character identification standpoint. The problem isn't that the protagonists are "bad guys"-- plenty of movies have kept our rooting interests with less-than-noble lead characters-- but that there's nothing to latch onto about any of them. Simon is a dull lead with little in the way of charisma or sympathy, and I frankly found it hard to care about where he hid the painting and whether he lives or dies. The whole movie is like that-- always interesting because we're never quite sure what's real-- but only because we're conditioned to wanting to know the answers.
James McAvoy does a fine job as Simon, but this is really an anonymous role that any capable actor could play. Vincent Cassell is clearly enjoying himself as the presumed heavy, but he's not as over-the-top as he has been in other similar roles. Rosario Dawson, on the other hand, easily steals the movie from her testosterone-laced co-stars. She's always easy on the eyes, but her performance as Elizabeth is smoldering, fetching, and (no pun intended) hypnotic in all the right ways. One could argue that Trance is worthwhile for her alone, and that's without her much-publicized, full-frontal nudity. Dawson bares all on numerous occasions and is undeniably sexy, but this isn't gratuitous nudity. There's actually a clever rationale behind her decision to shave down there.
Unless you're David Lynch, most filmmakers who dabble in this genre always give us somewhat of an explanation toward the end, and that indeed happens here. However, the climax of Trance is disappointing. Instead of a mind-blowing "whoa" reaction, viewers are more likely to experience something along the lines of "oh, okay, so that explains it." It makes sense from a logical standpoint, and there's still an ounce of ambiguity left over, but it felt underwhelming to me. There's also another, albeit unintentional, problem. The nature of what transpires during the movie's final 15 minutes reminded me of a movie that's not even the same genre (although it does deal with memory): Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And that's not a favorable comparison, either, since it only served to remind me how much more effectively Michel Gondry's film dealt with something similar.
I suspect I'm in the minority with Trance. I usually slurp a movie that boasts intelligence and a requirement of viewers to think outside the box, but there has to be an emotional attachment somewhere for the film to be truly successful. Trance is certainly ambitious and awash in color and atmosphere, but when all the pieces come together, the whole feels less than the sum of the parts. It's interesting, but ultimately an interesting failure.
Rating: **1/2 out of ****
Danny Boyle. A movie from the "mind-fuck" thriller genre. Solid cast. Comparisons to Christopher Nolan's brilliant Inception. All signs point to what should be a winner from the Oscar-winning director, but unfortunately, Trance falls short of its lofty goals. I am normally a sucker for this type of storytelling-- films where the concept of reality is multi-layered and flexible-- and indeed Trance wears that badge of honor on its sleeve. But just because a movie is twisty, labyrinthian, and non-linear doesn't automatically make it a home run. The characters have to grab the audience as well; we have to not only know the answers because the movie is structured like a puzzle but because we genuinely care about the characters. With one exception, that element is what's missing here. Trance is a feast for the eyes and never boring, but I couldn't help but feel underwhelmed when all was explained.
Trance starts out like a high-energy heist movie before taking a turn for the strange. Simon (James McAvoy) is a deputy art auctioneer who initially appears to thwart a robbery of a Goya painting, but in reality, he's an inside man who's in serious debt to a dangerous, charismatic thief named Franck (Vincent Cassell). During a struggle, Simon is knocked out and Franck makes off with the painting only to discover the suitcase its supposedly contained in is empty. The blow to Simon's head gives him amnesia and he becomes unable to remember where he hid the painting. When fingernail-pulling torture doesn't suffice, Franck and his cronies enlist the aid of hypnotherapist Elizabeth (Rosario Dawson) in hopes to draw out Simon's repressed memories. But as we all know, any film that deals with memory is rife with red herrings, and as the story progresses, questions about what is real plague not only the characters, but the audience.
Trance is actually based on a 2001 British TV movie of the same name, so it pre-dates some of the more popular "mind-fuck" movies audiences are familiar with (like Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island and the aforementioned Inception). Boyle's movie can't be accused of being a rip-off, but it unfortunately cannot measure up from a character identification standpoint. The problem isn't that the protagonists are "bad guys"-- plenty of movies have kept our rooting interests with less-than-noble lead characters-- but that there's nothing to latch onto about any of them. Simon is a dull lead with little in the way of charisma or sympathy, and I frankly found it hard to care about where he hid the painting and whether he lives or dies. The whole movie is like that-- always interesting because we're never quite sure what's real-- but only because we're conditioned to wanting to know the answers.
James McAvoy does a fine job as Simon, but this is really an anonymous role that any capable actor could play. Vincent Cassell is clearly enjoying himself as the presumed heavy, but he's not as over-the-top as he has been in other similar roles. Rosario Dawson, on the other hand, easily steals the movie from her testosterone-laced co-stars. She's always easy on the eyes, but her performance as Elizabeth is smoldering, fetching, and (no pun intended) hypnotic in all the right ways. One could argue that Trance is worthwhile for her alone, and that's without her much-publicized, full-frontal nudity. Dawson bares all on numerous occasions and is undeniably sexy, but this isn't gratuitous nudity. There's actually a clever rationale behind her decision to shave down there.
Unless you're David Lynch, most filmmakers who dabble in this genre always give us somewhat of an explanation toward the end, and that indeed happens here. However, the climax of Trance is disappointing. Instead of a mind-blowing "whoa" reaction, viewers are more likely to experience something along the lines of "oh, okay, so that explains it." It makes sense from a logical standpoint, and there's still an ounce of ambiguity left over, but it felt underwhelming to me. There's also another, albeit unintentional, problem. The nature of what transpires during the movie's final 15 minutes reminded me of a movie that's not even the same genre (although it does deal with memory): Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And that's not a favorable comparison, either, since it only served to remind me how much more effectively Michel Gondry's film dealt with something similar.
I suspect I'm in the minority with Trance. I usually slurp a movie that boasts intelligence and a requirement of viewers to think outside the box, but there has to be an emotional attachment somewhere for the film to be truly successful. Trance is certainly ambitious and awash in color and atmosphere, but when all the pieces come together, the whole feels less than the sum of the parts. It's interesting, but ultimately an interesting failure.
Rating: **1/2 out of ****
Review of 42
It's safe to say that, as a die-hard baseball fan, the Jackie Robinson bio-pic 42 was near the top of my must-see list for 2013. Even those who bash the sport as "slow" and "boring" know the story of how Robinson broke Major League Baseball's color barrier in 1947. As true-life tales go, this one is almost impossible to botch. So even though the movie itself is a standard order bio-pic with all of the expected rhythms, and Robinson himself remains a half-formed character, it still evokes powerful emotions at times. Credit director/screenwriter Brian Helgeland for not "Disney-fying" the production and giving audiences a startling sense of the resentment the man was up against and how a sport that unflinchingly embodied segregation slowly inched toward acceptance.
42 begins with Brooklyn Dodgers General Manager Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) declaring that he wants to integrate baseball, but that he doesn't need just any exceptional black ballplayer, he needs the right one, with skills and a future. Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman), currently dazzling the Negro League with the Kansas City Monarchs, becomes Rickey's choice for change. With their first meeting, he reminds Robinson that although the vitriol directed at him will be unprecedented, he must remain calm and have "the guts not to fight back." Of course, this is easier said than done, and so begins Robinson's tumultuous journey toward changing history, first with the Dodgers' minor-league affiliate in Montreal, and then to the bright lights of Brooklyn. And that's Triple-A-ball compared to what the road trips in Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh have to offer.
The best material 42 has to offer, unsurprisingly, takes place within the white lines of the baseball diamond. Early on, we're given a glimpse of Robinson's superior athleticism and anticipation as he plays mind games with pitchers after reaching first base. Chicks dig the long ball, so they say, but Robinson stealing bases is arguably more exciting, at least as far as this movie is presented. The most powerful material occurs mid-way through the movie as Helgeland depicts Robinson enduring brutal, pervasive racist taunts from Phillies manager Ben Chapman (Alan Tudyk). Obviously, Robinson has faced plenty of vitriol to this point in the movie from conservative white fans (in addition to neglectful treatment from airline officials and a hotel manager who bans the entire team from staying), but Chapman is the most relentless of them all. The language here actually approaches Django Unchained levels (MPAA hypocrisy note of the day: several dozen uses of the word "nigger" are okay for a PG-13, but a tiny fraction of as many "fuck"s gets an R. Go figure). This is a sports movie, but winning and losing games are (at best) secondary to overcoming adversity.
Acting is strong from the two actors who matter the most. Even though Robinson as a character doesn't quite reach three-dimensionality (his family life, for example, isn't delved into with much detail), Chadwick Boseman excels in the role nonetheless. He's an easy character to root for, and the actor's display of emotion is entirely believable. Harrison Ford disappears into the part of Branch Rickey. His mannerisms and appearance are spot-on, and this is a case where a big-name actor is legitimately acting as opposed to mailing it in. Outside of these two, others don't have much to do. Alan Tudyk fashions a perfectly despicable short-term villain who earns his comeuppance (in this case, being forced to take a photo with Robinson after the latter humiliates him by stealing two bases and scoring the go-ahead run in a win over the Phillies), and the attractive Nicole Baharie is largely underused in a standard "stand by your man" role.
Helgeland's manipulation is skillful, but there are a few scenes that strike a wrong note. A funny exchange between Robinson and teammate Ralph Branca where the latter encourages the former to shower with the rest of the team eventually leads to an awkward moment where string music kicks in on the soundtrack as Robinson steps into the shower room. Some of the scenes involving young children (one who idolizes Robinson, and another who reluctantly mimics his father's racial taunts) are diluted by some raw, unconvincing acting. Still, there are far fewer of these than there are thought-provoking and life-affirming moments, including one where Pee Wee Reese puts his arm around Robinson during pre-game warm-ups, and another where a sportswriter quickly dismisses his colleague's claim that Robinson can only play better because African-Americans have longer heelbones. In real-life politics, it's often the craziest, most heinous assertions from certain pundits that promote middle-ground individuals to take a side. So it was here, as some of the nastier attacks on Robinson's character (especially from Chapman) influence teammates and moderate baseball fans to stand up for him sooner than would've otherwise happened.
42 is a story that needed to be given mainstream Hollywood treatment. Baseball die-hards will be pleased with the film's overall depiction of the game as well as the faithful recreation of all the National League stadiums circa 1947, and those drawn to the more social aspects of the story will not be disappointed. There's nothing in this movie that couldn't be found in a 2-hour documentary, but there are very few obvious mistakes as well. Helgeland's film is not an Oscar contender, but it is respectful and uplifting, two qualities that audiences love today as much as they did when baseball really was America's Pastime.
Rating: *** out of ****
42 begins with Brooklyn Dodgers General Manager Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford) declaring that he wants to integrate baseball, but that he doesn't need just any exceptional black ballplayer, he needs the right one, with skills and a future. Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman), currently dazzling the Negro League with the Kansas City Monarchs, becomes Rickey's choice for change. With their first meeting, he reminds Robinson that although the vitriol directed at him will be unprecedented, he must remain calm and have "the guts not to fight back." Of course, this is easier said than done, and so begins Robinson's tumultuous journey toward changing history, first with the Dodgers' minor-league affiliate in Montreal, and then to the bright lights of Brooklyn. And that's Triple-A-ball compared to what the road trips in Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and Pittsburgh have to offer.
The best material 42 has to offer, unsurprisingly, takes place within the white lines of the baseball diamond. Early on, we're given a glimpse of Robinson's superior athleticism and anticipation as he plays mind games with pitchers after reaching first base. Chicks dig the long ball, so they say, but Robinson stealing bases is arguably more exciting, at least as far as this movie is presented. The most powerful material occurs mid-way through the movie as Helgeland depicts Robinson enduring brutal, pervasive racist taunts from Phillies manager Ben Chapman (Alan Tudyk). Obviously, Robinson has faced plenty of vitriol to this point in the movie from conservative white fans (in addition to neglectful treatment from airline officials and a hotel manager who bans the entire team from staying), but Chapman is the most relentless of them all. The language here actually approaches Django Unchained levels (MPAA hypocrisy note of the day: several dozen uses of the word "nigger" are okay for a PG-13, but a tiny fraction of as many "fuck"s gets an R. Go figure). This is a sports movie, but winning and losing games are (at best) secondary to overcoming adversity.
Acting is strong from the two actors who matter the most. Even though Robinson as a character doesn't quite reach three-dimensionality (his family life, for example, isn't delved into with much detail), Chadwick Boseman excels in the role nonetheless. He's an easy character to root for, and the actor's display of emotion is entirely believable. Harrison Ford disappears into the part of Branch Rickey. His mannerisms and appearance are spot-on, and this is a case where a big-name actor is legitimately acting as opposed to mailing it in. Outside of these two, others don't have much to do. Alan Tudyk fashions a perfectly despicable short-term villain who earns his comeuppance (in this case, being forced to take a photo with Robinson after the latter humiliates him by stealing two bases and scoring the go-ahead run in a win over the Phillies), and the attractive Nicole Baharie is largely underused in a standard "stand by your man" role.
Helgeland's manipulation is skillful, but there are a few scenes that strike a wrong note. A funny exchange between Robinson and teammate Ralph Branca where the latter encourages the former to shower with the rest of the team eventually leads to an awkward moment where string music kicks in on the soundtrack as Robinson steps into the shower room. Some of the scenes involving young children (one who idolizes Robinson, and another who reluctantly mimics his father's racial taunts) are diluted by some raw, unconvincing acting. Still, there are far fewer of these than there are thought-provoking and life-affirming moments, including one where Pee Wee Reese puts his arm around Robinson during pre-game warm-ups, and another where a sportswriter quickly dismisses his colleague's claim that Robinson can only play better because African-Americans have longer heelbones. In real-life politics, it's often the craziest, most heinous assertions from certain pundits that promote middle-ground individuals to take a side. So it was here, as some of the nastier attacks on Robinson's character (especially from Chapman) influence teammates and moderate baseball fans to stand up for him sooner than would've otherwise happened.
42 is a story that needed to be given mainstream Hollywood treatment. Baseball die-hards will be pleased with the film's overall depiction of the game as well as the faithful recreation of all the National League stadiums circa 1947, and those drawn to the more social aspects of the story will not be disappointed. There's nothing in this movie that couldn't be found in a 2-hour documentary, but there are very few obvious mistakes as well. Helgeland's film is not an Oscar contender, but it is respectful and uplifting, two qualities that audiences love today as much as they did when baseball really was America's Pastime.
Rating: *** out of ****
Monday, April 8, 2013
Review of Spring Breakers
Spring Break. Nothing more need be said before a rush of images comes to mind. Beach parties, bikini-clad women, tanned men, beer bongs, body shots, and a whole lot of "whoooooooooooooo!" Hollywood glorifies such behavior. You know it and I know it, but we always go along for the ride. Getting wasted makes for memorable stories, right? After all, you only live once. Your "real" life is necessary but boring and monotonous, so you HAVE to get away by going somewhere new and throwing out all troubles and inhibitions. Countless sex comedies, while entertaining, ultimately have this underlying message. Leave it to an independent filmmaker like Harmony Korine to take Hollywood's dominant ideology and drop it on its head.
Spring Breakers is a relentlessly dark and disturbing take on the "Spring Break" phenomenon, but it starts out deceptively lighthearted. The opening, color-saturated images of a beach party gone wild, set to the pulsating score of Skillrex. When we meet the four main characters: college students Faith (Selena Gomez), Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), Brit (Ashley Benson), and Cotty (Rachel Korine, the director's wife), they're lamenting how boring everyday life is and how they can come up with the extra cash to hit Florida for a few days of partying. But it isn't long before events take a turn for the unsavory. Candy, Brit, and Cotty rob a diner to come up with the necessary cash, and later on during Spring Break, they're arrested for drug possession at a party. Low-level rapper Alien (James Franco) is smitten by the bikini-clad gang and bails them out of jail. But while Faith is understandably disturbed by their new "friend"'s lifestyle, the other three are seduced into activities far more unsavory than drinking and partying.
Korine delights in pushing viewers buttons and toying with his/her expectations. When we first meet Faith, she's at a Christian group meeting, and if your reaction is to laugh and say, "What a bunch of lame Jesus freaks," that's probably the director's intent. The robbery of the diner is presented from a detached perspective (Cotty slowly driving by as we observe Brit and Candy's actions through a window) and seems almost tame before later being revisited in its full ugliness. The first 30 of the film sets up a viewer's expectations regarding a fun Spring Break excursion that Korine meticulously deconstructs over the next hour.
The movie's cautionary message is that while partying and drinking aren't inherently bad every now and then, a lifestyle that revolves around these activities ultimately hides something much more sinister underneath. Faith is an easy character to identify with. She's a good girl who just wants to experiment and step outside her boxed-in life, but the other three are disturbed individuals. Faith leaves to go home not long after Alien arrives on the scene, but the fact that the man is a drug dealer who has all the money and luxurious possessions one could want but is ultimately a thug doesn't bother Brit, Candy, or Cotty. It's something new and exciting. Only at the very end of the movie do they finally show some faint signs of understanding the lines they've crossed and how their actions will haunt them for a long time.
Told in a traditional manner, this tale would be engaging, but Korine ups the ante and enhances the film with a barrage of visual and spoken styles. Color is explosive early on but eventually settles into a desaturated feel throughout the rest of the film. It's certainly never a boring movie to look at (and for what it's worth, it contains more female nudity than in any movie I've seen in a long time). The most interesting choice is repetition. Entire sentences are spoken more than once, and some as many as six times. On paper, this sounds like it could be irritating, and indeed some may find it so, but there's a point to the madness. Early in the film, Faith states that the reason people are bored and depressed is that they live essentially the same day over and over, experiencing the same things. What none of the girls understand until it's far, far too late is that a life revolving around partying, booze, drugs, and thuggery is every bit as repetitive as something more "normal."
Much has been made of the fact that three of Spring Breakers' actresses are former teen stars shedding their squeaky-clean Disney image, but there's a precedent to this. Anne Hathaway's career followed a similar arc, beginning with family-friendly fare before taking a hard left turn. Selena Gomez doesn't swear like a sailor or bare her breasts (something the other three do on more than one occasion), but she creates a sympathetic character whose absence is felt when she departs mid-way through the movie. James Franco is a revelation. His character and performance is so off-the-wall when compared to anything else in his career that he's unrecognizable. Such is the mark of a skilled performer. Much of the movie's comic relief (including a hilarious "look at my shit" tour of Alien's house) also comes from him. You'll laugh in spite of the disturbing subtext. Finally, solid support is provided by rapper Gucci Mane (as Alien's best-friend-turned-rival, Big Arch) in an underdeveloped subplot.
Spring Breakers is not a film for everyone. Some will deride the filmmakers for being exploitative. Others will claim they're intentionally making an unpleasant film just to prove a point. In spite of all the female nudity, this isn't the sexploitation flick the ads promise. It's darkly dramatic and hard to shake. Those who are willing to step outside the mainstream will find a far more rewarding experience than a movie with such a frothy title has any right to promise.
Rating: ***1/2 stars out of ****
Spring Breakers is a relentlessly dark and disturbing take on the "Spring Break" phenomenon, but it starts out deceptively lighthearted. The opening, color-saturated images of a beach party gone wild, set to the pulsating score of Skillrex. When we meet the four main characters: college students Faith (Selena Gomez), Candy (Vanessa Hudgens), Brit (Ashley Benson), and Cotty (Rachel Korine, the director's wife), they're lamenting how boring everyday life is and how they can come up with the extra cash to hit Florida for a few days of partying. But it isn't long before events take a turn for the unsavory. Candy, Brit, and Cotty rob a diner to come up with the necessary cash, and later on during Spring Break, they're arrested for drug possession at a party. Low-level rapper Alien (James Franco) is smitten by the bikini-clad gang and bails them out of jail. But while Faith is understandably disturbed by their new "friend"'s lifestyle, the other three are seduced into activities far more unsavory than drinking and partying.
Korine delights in pushing viewers buttons and toying with his/her expectations. When we first meet Faith, she's at a Christian group meeting, and if your reaction is to laugh and say, "What a bunch of lame Jesus freaks," that's probably the director's intent. The robbery of the diner is presented from a detached perspective (Cotty slowly driving by as we observe Brit and Candy's actions through a window) and seems almost tame before later being revisited in its full ugliness. The first 30 of the film sets up a viewer's expectations regarding a fun Spring Break excursion that Korine meticulously deconstructs over the next hour.
The movie's cautionary message is that while partying and drinking aren't inherently bad every now and then, a lifestyle that revolves around these activities ultimately hides something much more sinister underneath. Faith is an easy character to identify with. She's a good girl who just wants to experiment and step outside her boxed-in life, but the other three are disturbed individuals. Faith leaves to go home not long after Alien arrives on the scene, but the fact that the man is a drug dealer who has all the money and luxurious possessions one could want but is ultimately a thug doesn't bother Brit, Candy, or Cotty. It's something new and exciting. Only at the very end of the movie do they finally show some faint signs of understanding the lines they've crossed and how their actions will haunt them for a long time.
Told in a traditional manner, this tale would be engaging, but Korine ups the ante and enhances the film with a barrage of visual and spoken styles. Color is explosive early on but eventually settles into a desaturated feel throughout the rest of the film. It's certainly never a boring movie to look at (and for what it's worth, it contains more female nudity than in any movie I've seen in a long time). The most interesting choice is repetition. Entire sentences are spoken more than once, and some as many as six times. On paper, this sounds like it could be irritating, and indeed some may find it so, but there's a point to the madness. Early in the film, Faith states that the reason people are bored and depressed is that they live essentially the same day over and over, experiencing the same things. What none of the girls understand until it's far, far too late is that a life revolving around partying, booze, drugs, and thuggery is every bit as repetitive as something more "normal."
Much has been made of the fact that three of Spring Breakers' actresses are former teen stars shedding their squeaky-clean Disney image, but there's a precedent to this. Anne Hathaway's career followed a similar arc, beginning with family-friendly fare before taking a hard left turn. Selena Gomez doesn't swear like a sailor or bare her breasts (something the other three do on more than one occasion), but she creates a sympathetic character whose absence is felt when she departs mid-way through the movie. James Franco is a revelation. His character and performance is so off-the-wall when compared to anything else in his career that he's unrecognizable. Such is the mark of a skilled performer. Much of the movie's comic relief (including a hilarious "look at my shit" tour of Alien's house) also comes from him. You'll laugh in spite of the disturbing subtext. Finally, solid support is provided by rapper Gucci Mane (as Alien's best-friend-turned-rival, Big Arch) in an underdeveloped subplot.
Spring Breakers is not a film for everyone. Some will deride the filmmakers for being exploitative. Others will claim they're intentionally making an unpleasant film just to prove a point. In spite of all the female nudity, this isn't the sexploitation flick the ads promise. It's darkly dramatic and hard to shake. Those who are willing to step outside the mainstream will find a far more rewarding experience than a movie with such a frothy title has any right to promise.
Rating: ***1/2 stars out of ****
Monday, March 25, 2013
Madness and the Maddening
So, Florida Gulf Coast University becomes the first 15-seed to advance to the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Round of Sixteen. They're the darling, the Cinderella, the proof that little guys can do it too, the antithesis of the BCS....... okay, enough. All of those cliches, as true as some of them are, are still cliches. The thrill of an upset is one of the reasons why millions of people love this tournament, but has that too become cliche in and of itself?
I remember George Mason's improbable run to the Final Four in 2006. It was unlike anything any of us had ever seen, almost movie-like in the way it played out. This was a true mid-major, a team whose games are never televised nationally and never come within sniffing distance of the Top 25. It was a shock to the system, and although the team lost its next game to eventual champion Florida, their journey represented the ultimate idealist belief sports can weave. As a 22-year-old college student, I lapped it up, and I have no regrets over doing so. Five years later, Virginia Commonwealth, out of the same conference no less (CAA) repeated the feat. I wasn't as ecstatic at this point, but still felt some measure of giddiness.
This time, I can't imagine feeling the same way should FGCU make the Final Four. Why not? It's a $#%*#@ 15-seed! It's Never Been Done Before! You could say age and modern-day cynicism has done this to me, and you might be right. But the the nature of the game has changed. The tournament format remains the same, but once NBA Commissioner David Stern implemented an age limit for his league's draft, the die had been cast. The influx of "one-and-done's"-- clear-cut NBA All-star prospects who attend school for one year only because they're forbidden from turning pro sooner-- was eventually going to lead to this; a sea of mediocrity where parity is abundant but greatness is scarce. The Final Four used to be a showcase of future pro stars, but with prospects physically developing at younger ages, most are better served taking the money rather than the collegiate glory. Given the numbers involved, you'd do it and I'd do it.
Check out the field in this tournament. This could be the weakest NBA Draft since 2000, maybe even longer. Among the players talked about as Player of the Year, who's a standout? Kansas' Ben McClemore? Disappeared in the win over UNC. Indiana's Victor Oladipo? Inconsistent. Others are even less certain. Of course, I'd love to be wrong, and by that I mean as wrong as my bracket every year, but I don't see a single future All-Star here.
When I was in college, I knew a young man in my dorm who once said, after an enthralling NCAA tournament day full of upsets, buzzer-beaters, and overtime thrillers, "If you like the NBA better after THAT, you should be burned at the stake." Of course he said that somewhat jokingly, and I laughed, but around 2004, right around the time of the infamous "Malice at the Palace" in Auburn Hills, this was the prevailing ideology: College players work harder and respect the game because they're playing for free, and millionaire pros are arrogant, thuggish, and play too much one-on-one style. I found it curious that mostly white fans were the ones espousing this belief, and even stranger that they were willing to ignore so many of the NBA's greats who shared the same sort of team-first mentality as top-notch college teams did. Suffice it to say I didn't believe it then and I sure as hell don't believe it now.
But the reason I believe college hoops is more popular than the NBA's playoffs is something far different than race, money, or quality of play: the format. Think about it. The NFL, the undisputed most popular sports league in America, operates on a one-game-a-week regular season and single elimination postseason. Do or die. Win or go home. It's the same here. In spite of the fact that a 5 or 7 game series unquestionably proves who the better team is in basketball moreso than a single game would, it's just too much fun this way. The drama is more immediate. Cut out the filler.
This may sound like I'm being hard on the NCAA tournament. I don't mean to be. I'll take it 100 times out of 100 over college football's shameful BCS; the fact that it does give smaller schools a chance to compete on the biggest stage is admirable and democratic. Logistically, it's impossible to lengthen it. But let's recognize it for what it is; a brilliant marketing creation. The format of this tournament, not to mention the brackets and office pools, takes it to heights that no other non-football sport could. I just see that the polish is beginning to fade from all these "Cinderella Stories." They'd be more unique if they didn't materialize every other year.
How the NBA should alter its age limit is another topic for another time. But it's become more obvious, this year in particular, that college hoops appears like glorified minor-league ball. It's a lot of fun, to be sure, and I'm glad my bracket isn't completely busted as of yet, but the seams are showing. This year, I'll still enjoy the Madness. But in the back of my mind are a few things that remain a little maddening.
I remember George Mason's improbable run to the Final Four in 2006. It was unlike anything any of us had ever seen, almost movie-like in the way it played out. This was a true mid-major, a team whose games are never televised nationally and never come within sniffing distance of the Top 25. It was a shock to the system, and although the team lost its next game to eventual champion Florida, their journey represented the ultimate idealist belief sports can weave. As a 22-year-old college student, I lapped it up, and I have no regrets over doing so. Five years later, Virginia Commonwealth, out of the same conference no less (CAA) repeated the feat. I wasn't as ecstatic at this point, but still felt some measure of giddiness.
This time, I can't imagine feeling the same way should FGCU make the Final Four. Why not? It's a $#%*#@ 15-seed! It's Never Been Done Before! You could say age and modern-day cynicism has done this to me, and you might be right. But the the nature of the game has changed. The tournament format remains the same, but once NBA Commissioner David Stern implemented an age limit for his league's draft, the die had been cast. The influx of "one-and-done's"-- clear-cut NBA All-star prospects who attend school for one year only because they're forbidden from turning pro sooner-- was eventually going to lead to this; a sea of mediocrity where parity is abundant but greatness is scarce. The Final Four used to be a showcase of future pro stars, but with prospects physically developing at younger ages, most are better served taking the money rather than the collegiate glory. Given the numbers involved, you'd do it and I'd do it.
Check out the field in this tournament. This could be the weakest NBA Draft since 2000, maybe even longer. Among the players talked about as Player of the Year, who's a standout? Kansas' Ben McClemore? Disappeared in the win over UNC. Indiana's Victor Oladipo? Inconsistent. Others are even less certain. Of course, I'd love to be wrong, and by that I mean as wrong as my bracket every year, but I don't see a single future All-Star here.
When I was in college, I knew a young man in my dorm who once said, after an enthralling NCAA tournament day full of upsets, buzzer-beaters, and overtime thrillers, "If you like the NBA better after THAT, you should be burned at the stake." Of course he said that somewhat jokingly, and I laughed, but around 2004, right around the time of the infamous "Malice at the Palace" in Auburn Hills, this was the prevailing ideology: College players work harder and respect the game because they're playing for free, and millionaire pros are arrogant, thuggish, and play too much one-on-one style. I found it curious that mostly white fans were the ones espousing this belief, and even stranger that they were willing to ignore so many of the NBA's greats who shared the same sort of team-first mentality as top-notch college teams did. Suffice it to say I didn't believe it then and I sure as hell don't believe it now.
But the reason I believe college hoops is more popular than the NBA's playoffs is something far different than race, money, or quality of play: the format. Think about it. The NFL, the undisputed most popular sports league in America, operates on a one-game-a-week regular season and single elimination postseason. Do or die. Win or go home. It's the same here. In spite of the fact that a 5 or 7 game series unquestionably proves who the better team is in basketball moreso than a single game would, it's just too much fun this way. The drama is more immediate. Cut out the filler.
This may sound like I'm being hard on the NCAA tournament. I don't mean to be. I'll take it 100 times out of 100 over college football's shameful BCS; the fact that it does give smaller schools a chance to compete on the biggest stage is admirable and democratic. Logistically, it's impossible to lengthen it. But let's recognize it for what it is; a brilliant marketing creation. The format of this tournament, not to mention the brackets and office pools, takes it to heights that no other non-football sport could. I just see that the polish is beginning to fade from all these "Cinderella Stories." They'd be more unique if they didn't materialize every other year.
How the NBA should alter its age limit is another topic for another time. But it's become more obvious, this year in particular, that college hoops appears like glorified minor-league ball. It's a lot of fun, to be sure, and I'm glad my bracket isn't completely busted as of yet, but the seams are showing. This year, I'll still enjoy the Madness. But in the back of my mind are a few things that remain a little maddening.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Review of Oz: The Great and Powerful (CONTAINS SPOILERS)
Note: It's debatable whether you can have spoilers in a prequel, but since the "spoiler" in question is not immediately obvious from the outset, I'll go ahead and include this warning anyway.
On the surface, prequels seem like easy projects to take on and succeed with, especially when the prequel in question is set before a classic like The Wizard of Oz. The universe and characters are established, so it comes down to setting up all the pieces, right? Yes and no. While a prequel is safe and comfortable in the sense that there are no real narrative surprises and a built-in audience is guaranteed, all you have to do is look at George Lucas' Star Wars Episodes I-III to understand how mammoth expectations result in a hangover of disappointment. So give director Sam Raimi credit for crafting a solid prequel that is guaranteed to delight viewers of all ages. It's familiar but still provides plenty of magic.
On the surface, prequels seem like easy projects to take on and succeed with, especially when the prequel in question is set before a classic like The Wizard of Oz. The universe and characters are established, so it comes down to setting up all the pieces, right? Yes and no. While a prequel is safe and comfortable in the sense that there are no real narrative surprises and a built-in audience is guaranteed, all you have to do is look at George Lucas' Star Wars Episodes I-III to understand how mammoth expectations result in a hangover of disappointment. So give director Sam Raimi credit for crafting a solid prequel that is guaranteed to delight viewers of all ages. It's familiar but still provides plenty of magic.
Much like the classic, Oz features a prologue set in Kansas that effectively sets up the story. Oscar "Oz" Diggs (James Franco) is a struggling magician travelling with the Baum Bros. circus who has plenty of luck with women but not as much when it comes to drawing crowds. One day, after escaping in a hot air balloon from an angry strongman performer, Oz is caught in a tornado, knocked out, and wakes up in the mystical land which bears his name. There, he is greeted by the good witch Theodora (Mila Kunis), who believes he represents the fulfillment of a prophecy and wishes to rule at his side. She escorts Oz to Emerald City, where he meets Theodora's sister, Evanora (Rachel Weisz). In order to claim the throne and all the riches he desires, however, he must travel into the Dark Forest and kill the Wicked Witch. Along with his flying monkey companion, Finley (Zach Braff), whom he saves from a lion, Oz sets off on the quest, but when the so-called "Wicked Witch" turns out to be Glinda the Good Witch (Michelle Williams), the nature of his mission is turned on its head.
Obviously, with production values having advanced light years since The Wizard of Oz debuted in 1939, it comes as no surprise that this Oz is a visual feast. The sets and special effects are state-of-the-art, but enough of the familar visual trademarks are retained to make this unmistakably an Oz adventure. The Emerald City, the Yellow Brick road, and the munchkins are back, and Raimi has a little fun with the movie's aspect ratio (4:3 in the Kansas scenes, uber-wide 2.35:1 for the rest of the movie). In addition, actors play dual roles, including Braff, Williams, and Joey King as a wheelchair-bound girl in the prologue and as a china doll who represents the narrative's emotional core. Raimi nails the perfect mix of nostalgia and modern spectacle.
James Franco proves an inspired choice for the wizard. He sells the character's transformation from egotistical to caring, and credit the screenwriters for slowly developing this arc over the course of the movie's 2 hour, 10 minute running time instead of having that sudden "reversal of philosophy" moment. Two of the three witches are well-cast. The mistake is Mila Kunis. Although she's fine in early scenes, the character's eventual transformation into the Wicked Witch of the West is laughable at best. I'm not sure how many people involved in this movie are fans of Family Guy, but Kunis' take on this green-skinned villain is far, far too reminiscent of Meg whenever a guy rejects her. This one colossal miscasting isn't enough to wreck the film, but it suffers noticeably whenever she's on screen. Fortunately, most of this is compensated by Williams and Weisz, who are charismatic and fetching, and they have a satisfying stand-off during the movie's climax.
On balance, Oz offers solid entertainment. There's plenty of witty dialogue (much of it from Finley), genuine emotion, and a fantastic sense of creativity during the climax, which reveals a lot about the main character and his ability to wow a crowd when he puts forth the proper effort. The March release is a smart one; this whimsical tale might not be able to stand toe-to-toe with the more action-oriented summer blockbusters, but early in the year, it's a welcome diversion. Depending on overall performance, this could be a franchise starter. L. Frank Baum wrote fourteen total tales of Oz, so there's plenty of material for use. I for one would welcome it.
Rating: * * * (out of * * * *)
Obviously, with production values having advanced light years since The Wizard of Oz debuted in 1939, it comes as no surprise that this Oz is a visual feast. The sets and special effects are state-of-the-art, but enough of the familar visual trademarks are retained to make this unmistakably an Oz adventure. The Emerald City, the Yellow Brick road, and the munchkins are back, and Raimi has a little fun with the movie's aspect ratio (4:3 in the Kansas scenes, uber-wide 2.35:1 for the rest of the movie). In addition, actors play dual roles, including Braff, Williams, and Joey King as a wheelchair-bound girl in the prologue and as a china doll who represents the narrative's emotional core. Raimi nails the perfect mix of nostalgia and modern spectacle.
James Franco proves an inspired choice for the wizard. He sells the character's transformation from egotistical to caring, and credit the screenwriters for slowly developing this arc over the course of the movie's 2 hour, 10 minute running time instead of having that sudden "reversal of philosophy" moment. Two of the three witches are well-cast. The mistake is Mila Kunis. Although she's fine in early scenes, the character's eventual transformation into the Wicked Witch of the West is laughable at best. I'm not sure how many people involved in this movie are fans of Family Guy, but Kunis' take on this green-skinned villain is far, far too reminiscent of Meg whenever a guy rejects her. This one colossal miscasting isn't enough to wreck the film, but it suffers noticeably whenever she's on screen. Fortunately, most of this is compensated by Williams and Weisz, who are charismatic and fetching, and they have a satisfying stand-off during the movie's climax.
On balance, Oz offers solid entertainment. There's plenty of witty dialogue (much of it from Finley), genuine emotion, and a fantastic sense of creativity during the climax, which reveals a lot about the main character and his ability to wow a crowd when he puts forth the proper effort. The March release is a smart one; this whimsical tale might not be able to stand toe-to-toe with the more action-oriented summer blockbusters, but early in the year, it's a welcome diversion. Depending on overall performance, this could be a franchise starter. L. Frank Baum wrote fourteen total tales of Oz, so there's plenty of material for use. I for one would welcome it.
Rating: * * * (out of * * * *)
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