Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

To explain fully why this movie is so abysmally bad, I will have to write about spoilers. If you wish to avoid them, do not read this review. 

Early this morning my brother and I saw Star Wars: The Force

Awakens at the local theater. Rising early to watch a sci-fi film certainly resurrected memories of Saturday morning cartoons in the best possible way...until the film started. 

I have always enjoyed Star Wars for what it is, but I've never been a fanatic. It's an important piece of American pop culture and beloved by many. The rancid prequels and the teddy bear movie aside, the Star Wars franchise is exciting, suspenseful, and above all, fun. The latest installment, however, derives its entire essence from this nostalgia people have for the original movies. What we get is a slop of quips and references whose sole purpose is to put butts in seats and sell an unimaginable amount of toys. (There's a reason this film came out at Christmas and not the summer.)

After viewing Star Wars: The Force Awakens, I think I can say unequivocally that J.J. Abrams is a lousy director. His Star Trek films burn my soul, and this one was yet another addition to his pantheon of lens flares and exploding robots. Every few minutes we're fed action sequences of explosions so vibrant they left me with a migraine - truly, each scene contained some combination of the following:

• Running from explosions
• Shooting up things and causing explosions
• Stopping explosions.

One would assume with so much action that the film was exciting, exhilarating even. Not so. I kept yawning and struggled to stay awake the whole time. Yet, this explosion plot is perhaps the least offensive thing about this movie.

The original cast is never together for any shots in the entire film. Not one. In fact, the whole story surrounds Luke's absence. When we FINALLY do see him, he doesn't even have a line, he stares at the camera. Han and Leia are divorced, which was irritating, and the conclusion is made so obvious from the second Han appears that the actual scene is boring and offensively banal. They never kiss; they only hug, which taps into Hollywood's ageism. However, the most egregious ageism is Lupita Nyong'o's character. Nyong'o, the only Oscar winner in the film, is reduced to playing a CGI old lady. Yes, you read that correctly: an old lady. Hollywood has a terrible legacy of casting off actresses once they reach their thirties. I just never expected them to be so blatant about their thoughts on just how over-the-hill women over 30 are. Good lord.

The new characters are boring and reduced to quips. Oscar Isaac is completely wasted here; the only thing he does is shoot lasers and shout, essentially, some version of "Ya-HOO!" the whole time. Finn is equally lame and played by one of the dullest new actors I've seen in a while. The girl, Rey, has potential, but all she does is run from explosions or look sad. The new bad guy, Kylo Ren, played by Adam Driver, also has potential, but the writers used his character in the lamest and most predictable way possible. 

All of this said, the one thing that drove me from disliking the film to outright hating it was the plagiarism. In 1977, when Star Wars first appeared, legendary sci-fi author Frank Herbert of Dune fame almost sued George Lucas for the gross similarities between Star Wars and his novels. If you feel I'm overstating, take a look at this link, which features a chart comparing the two. The similarities are astounding. 

While I sat in the theater, I felt my teeth grinding; not only have they copied many of the essential elements (desert planet, the Voice/the Force, Sardarkur/Storm troopers, and many more), but Star Wars: The Force Awakens took almost its entire plot from the third Dune novel, Children of Dune. 

In Children of Dune, Paul is missing - like Luke Skywalker, whose character was basically lifted from Paul Atreides - and his sister, Alia, now runs his empire...much like Leia is a general in Luke's absence. Someone who goes by "The Preacher" lurks around Arakeen, and he is brought to Paul's children, a girl and boy who are twins and have greater innate knowledge of the Prana Bindu - oh, excuse me, "the force" - than anyone else...just like Rey and Kylo Ren. (Kylo Ren is Han and Leia's son, and it's pretty obvious Rey is either Leia's or Luke's daughter.) Also, let's not forget that Baron Harkonnen, like Darth Vadar, is dead in Children of Dune, but his presence - and his bloodline in his grandchildren - still burns. Leto II, Paul's son, becomes known as "the Tyrant" in the fourth novel (my second favorite) God Emperor of Dune...kind of like Kylo Ren is now embodying Vadar's evil. Granted, Children of Dune is far more interesting and complex than The Force Awakens could hope to be, but the similarities, which build on the elements already copied in the earlier Star Wars installments, are impossible to deny. I kept wondering why Frank Herbert's estate did not sue, frankly. 

Altogether, Star Wars: The Force Awakens is a long and expensive toy commercial. Remove the nostalgia, and it is nothing but a host of really bland new characters and explosions that do little more than cause headaches. I have no idea why hard core fans enjoyed this movie because it violates so many precious elements and completely misses what is great about the first three films (teddy bears notwithstanding): suspense, action, and character, and a celebration of friendship. 

Grade: D-

The Counselor (2013)

The Counselor marks Cormac McCarthy's foray into screenwriting, and the film is oozing with McCarthy's signature elements: pornographic violence, boring, symbolic dialogue, and stereotypes instead of women characters. Twenty minutes into the film, I checked the time only to be shocked and disheartened there was over an hour and a half left. The abysmal quality of this film is worse than anything I've seen in a while, and that's saying something. 

The plot makes little sense, but here's an attempt at summary anyway: The counselor (Michael Fassbender - the character has no name) has some kind of relationship with a scarily orange Javier Bardem. (I have no idea what Bardem's character's name was, so we'll just call him Bardem for the sake of clarity.) Rosie Perez has a 3-minute role as one of the counselor's former clients whose son is in jail. The counselor gets him out, but he is soon killed in an elaborate murder plot that made no sense and was executed with the kind of gross-out violence one would expect from McCarthy. At the center of the plot is Cameron Diaz, who does little besides strut and look evil. Brad Pitt has a part in this, too, although I have no idea why; he was just there to offer surly opinions and be killed in one of the most excessively gruesome scenes I've seen in a while - one that makes Neil Patrick Harris's demise in Gone Girl look child-friendly. I really have no clue who his character was or why he was even in the movie, and honestly the same goes for almost everyone else in this meandering drivel. 

The most striking flaw, and one that mars all of McCarthy's fiction (and now his screenplays), is the women characters. I'm using the word "character" loosely because that's not actually what they are: they're symbols solely there to show us the torment of the male characters. Penelope Cruz co-stars as Michael Fasssbender's lover (named Laura!), but she has maybe ten minutes of screen time - and that's a generous estimate. I kept a list of everything we see Cruz do in the entire film:

• Complement Michael Fassbender on his bedroom technique (this is the first scene);
• Accept Fassbender's marriage proposal;
• Show off her diamond to Cameron Diaz, then blush at talking about sex (so we know she's a "good girl");
• Restrain Fassbender from fighting some creep to defend her honor;
• Plead with Fasssbender to run away with her to escape danger;
• Arrive at airport in red dress and flowing white coat where she:
• Screams
• Is chased
• Is kidnapped;
• Dumped into landfill as a decapitated corpse.

So, basically, "Laura" exists in this movie only to look pretty, tell the audience what a great lay Fassbender is, and die. There are several scenes with Fassbender weeping about her, but I felt nothing. The film has no pathos: the plot makes no sense, the characters are symbols, and the violence has no point. 

Sadly, the misogyny doesn't stop with Cruz; Diaz is equally ridiculous and only does the following:

• Lie (mostly) naked on a bench and quiz Laura about her diamond and sex;
• Plot murder on the phone;
• Strut;
• Have sex with a windshield (yes, you read that correctly: with not on);
• Taunt priest about sex at confession;
• Plot murder;
• Strut;
• Plot;
• Plot;
• Strut;
• Plot.

Now, if these lists do not embody the most misogynistic (and boring) stereotypes about women, I don't know what does. I found myself sighing loudly throughout the whole thing and begging my bluray player to hurry up and end this torture. Sadly, at almost two hours, this trashy, boring, meaningless junk is like a case of diarrhea that won't go away. The dialogue is bland and goes on and on and on and on without any point. The cinematography is ugly and almost as orange as Javier Bardem's spray tan. Considering the amount of talent involved with this film, the tacky result is startling and embarrassing. 

As the credits mercifully arrived, I struggled to think of one positive thing about this film, and realized there really is only one: getting to hear Michael Fassbender say my name. For that, I give it a slightly higher grade....

Grade F+

The Age of Innocence (1993)

The blog is back! So sorry for the long interim, but my blu ray player stopped working on Halloween only to come back to life miraculously just a few days ago. Given I was in the middle of purchasing a new player, my relief at my current one resurrecting itself is almost inexpressible.  

In celebration of my player's return, I watched a film I have not seen in at least five years, but one that never ceases to stir me: Martin Scorsese's The Age of Innocence. Based on Edith Wharton's novel, this adaptation is superb and easily my second favorite of all time (only Ken Russell's Women in Love surpasses it, but that is for another post). 

I must confess that I am a Whartonion, to coin a new phrase: she has easily been my favorite author since I was in high school, and this adaptation of her work is actually a most personal film for me. The memory of viewing it religiously in high school, absorbing its vivid sensuality and lush symbolism with determined focus, is still fresh; I remember how deeply this film affected me, especially as a teenager with health problems, because of its unflinching plunge into a world of aching rigidity and cruel gossip. Having been the target of such exploitation myself (as recently as this summer) for issues beyond my control, I can truly say this film - and the book to an even greater extent - encapsulates the emotional turmoil of codes and rumors and ignorance and cruelty, above all, better than any other work of art I can think of. This film left such an impact on me in high school that I soon read the novel for the first time as a teen and have treasured it ever since. In fact, I wrote my MA thesis on Wharton, with one chapter discussing The Age of Innocence. Not only shaping my world views and emotional experiences, this film also germinated my studies and career, for which I am indebted to Scorsese for creating such a faithful and impactful adaptation. 

For those who are unfamiliar, The Age of Innocence, set in the 1870s, tells the story of Newland Archer, an aristocrat who is not quite part of the leisure class because he has do something as vulgar as "work," who is engaged to May Welland, only be to swept off his feet by her exotic, older cousin Ellen Olenska, who is trying to divorce her philandering husband, a Polish count whom we never see. The title is ironic, and Newland and Ellen's love is never consummated; truly, the torture of this film comes from seeing these two people who share such an intense connection never allowed to realize it fully. 

It is actually difficult for me to put into words precisely how raw and agonizing the emotions of this film are. Scorsese himself has actually called this one his "most violent film," and it is not difficult to see why. Does the film have people getting shot in the head or being beaten to death and buried alive in the desert? No, but to associate only physicality with violence is ignorant at best and is a complete misunderstanding of the very nature of violence. Violence is raw, cutting, and scarring; it can be physical, certainly, but emotional violence leaves scars far deeper than a punch or bullet can. Newland's internal violence, which the audience experiences through him, is so suffocating that one can actually find breathing difficult while watching this film. Although most people may assume Goodfellas or Casino is Scorsese's most violent, neither of those films reaches the depths of distress or melancholy that is realized so beautifully and hauntingly in The Age of Innocence. 

How is The Age of Innocence more disturbing than Goodfellas, you ask? The fact is that despite the world in Age belonging to a very specific time and era, the truth beneath its setting is applicable to any time. The film is all about how it feels to succumb to others' expectations for you and to disregard - or even suppress - your own desires for your own life. It's about learning everyone around you has gossiped about you behind your back. It's about giving in to habit and normalcy at the expense of sacrificing your own self merely to maintain propriety. These experiences apply to anyone in any time, and they certainly resonate with me. 

Newland's world is lush and gorgeous; indeed, the film itself is a visual feast. Like a strong perfume, though, his world is too beautiful, suffocatingly beautiful. The novel is full of death imagery, and Scorsese leaves much of this dialog in the film. The contrast between the extravagant wealth and "polite" conversation and the actual meaning behind these words is startling, especially when compacted with Elmer Bernstein's magnificent score. 

Truly, this is a film that demands re-viewings; it is impossible to absorb all of the details of this film in only one viewing. Tonight, after watching this film countless times for more than 15 years, I still caught new things. That is how much skill went into this film. The production design is peerless in both its beauty and its authenticity; the music is gorgeous; and the acting is perfect. 

If you ever want to measure Daniel Day-Lewis's talent, simply watch both of his Scorsese films. The gulf between Newland Archer and Bill the Butcher (Gangs of New York) is so vast that it is difficult to believe they're played by the same actor. In The Age of Innocence, Daniel has increasing difficulty speaking, becoming more tight-jawed as the film progresses. Michelle Pfeiffer is in one of her best roles as Ellen, and Winona Ryder complements as the seemingly oblivious May. 

Sadly, The Age of Innocence may be both Scorsese's best film, yet also his most underrated and overlooked film. Criminally ignored by film critics and even dismissed by so-called Scorsese aficionados (the ones who only think of Scorsese as a master of blood and guts; those folks are also called "idiots"), The Age of Innocence receives little attention, which has led to some unfortunate consequences. One cannot even purchase a 35 mm print of the film - not even the editor Thelma Schoonmaker. Yet, if one looks closely, one can see the similarities between Goodfellas and The Age of Innocence: both films deal with entities that have specific codes of conduct - and thinking - that must be followed in order to survive in their respective worlds; when someone challenges this order, he or she must be axed, which is what happens to Ellen Olenska. 

I cannot say enough good things about this movie, and it has been difficult for me not to write about the book in this post. My only suggestion is that you watch this film, then watch it again, then watch it again until you finally grasp the enormity of its messages and veracity. 

Grade: A+