Black Panther (2018)

Last night, I finally participated in American pop culture and watched Black Panther. Despite the talent involved and the box office records, the film itself is rather lackluster and ultimately underwhelming. 

I want to preface this review with two admissions: 1. I know almost nothing about the Black Panther comic books and 2. I loathe Marvel films. In fact, many of my complaints actually apply to the entire Marvel franchise, so bear with me. 

Truly, the most important aspect of this film is that African American children finally have a superhero. It is absurd to the point of obscene that it has taken Hollywood this long to produce a superhero movie with a predominately black cast and black heroes. Yet, finally Black Panther is here. I have been touched by all of the images on the Internet of young black children doing the Wakanda Forever pose, and I am glad this source of inspiration exists. Chadwick Boseman (representing SOUTH CAROLINA!) is well cast as the titular character, T'Challa, and and the supporting actors, particularly the women, were equally well-suited to their roles. In fact, one of the thrills of watching this film is its terrific principle black cast: Boseman, Michael B. Jordan, Lupita Nyong'o, Angela Bassett, Forest Whitaker, Sterling K. Brown, Danai Gurira, Daniel Kaluuya, and more. The only main white actors are Andy Serkis (who was almost impossible to understand through his manly grumbling) and Martin Freeman. Seeing so much talent involved was exciting, and I hope that Hollywood realizes people want to see more casts like this. 

The problems with this film, however, are far beyond the issues of casting. Ryan Coogler is one of my favorite emerging directors, but it was clear that Disney was in complete control and smothered whatever creativity he wanted to bring to the film. The greed that has infected Disney, while in addition to being an abomination of everything Walt Disney stood for, is also their greatest liability. It's as if there is a checklist of elements each Marvel film is required to include--a formula, if you will--and this formula truly tainted what could have been an interesting and impactful film. 

There were a few sequences in which Coogler clearly was allowed to infuse the film with his own style, but those sequences are fleeting at best. The action sequences in Marvel films are usually filmed before a director has even been hired, and it shows in this movie. I felt profound disappointment in the action after seeing what Coogler achieved in Creed, which had some of the best boxing choreography in the entire Rocky franchise. Here, the action is messy and almost impossible to see. The CGI looks spongy and hurried, as if one is watching a cheap video game. 

One aspect I wholeheartedly condemn is how grossly sanitized the production is, both regarding the violence and the sex. 

This film is incredibly violent: people shot in the head, impaled with spears and swords, stabbings, throats cut, bombs--you name it. Yet, there is not one drop of blood. I realize the movie was made with children in mind, but to portray violence as bloodless--as clean--is not only dishonest, but a dangerous message for children (and adults). It shows that violence is passive, without consequences, and even fun. I've come to view Marvel films in general as methods of indoctrination, all of them aiming to teach children that violence is the ultimate clean fun. As Chris Pine pointed out, the concept of an infinity war is disturbing and sadly much in line with our country's current values. Considering the target audience is kids who either are too young to remember 9/11 or weren't born yet, this portrayal of violence and war should give us all pause. 

The sexuality in Black Panther was even more sanitized--to the point where it was non-existent. Curiously, there are a number of sequences in which we see T'Challa and Killmonger (yes, that is the villain's name in another example of subtlety) shirtless, which made me think about the portrayal of black bodies in American film. Hollywood almost never portrays black people as sexual, and at first I found Black Panther's depiction of Chadwick Boseman and Michael B. Jordan as sex symbols to be refreshing. Yet, there is nothing sexual about their characters. I wasn't even aware that Lupita Nyong'o's character was the girlfriend until late in the movie--not because of subtlety, but because of this prudish, sanitized portrayal of sex and desire. There isn't even any sexual tension. Am I arguing for explicit sex scenes in a children's movie? Of course not. As with "clean" violence, though, this clean sex is not at all honest. Let's face it: most children's movies have some kind of sexual chemistry--even 101 Dalmatians. But to portray sexual tension as something that is too prurient for children while bombings, shootings, stabbings, and hand-to-hand combat are not is yet another creepy form of indoctrination: get kids comfortable with clean violence and sexless sex. What could possibly go wrong?

I did enjoy some of the side characters, the little sister especially. Yet, there is no character development. In fact, none of them even feel like real characters with flaws, quirks, or motives. To be fair, though, most comic book movies are like this, so this is (again) more of a critique of Marvel movies in general.

The one character I actually found interesting was the villain, Erik Killmonger. Michael B. Jordan is a fine actor, and his was actually the best performance in the movie. His character, ironically, has the purest motives, and he is the only one with sincere passion or any actual inner conflict. I did appreciate the film's brief comment on the differences between African and African American, and was impressed to see Coogler bringing the racial violence of Oakland in 1992 into the story. Yet, this was a missed opportunity. This movie is about as subtle as a sonic boom and as nuanced as a video game. I would have liked to see these themes developed more, as Coogler has demonstrated he can clearly do, but this is a Marvel film....

All in all, Black Panther felt like yet another cheeseburger on the Marvel McDonald's assembly line, which saddens me. I appreciated the things Disney allowed Coogler to do, but I wish he had been allowed to make his own movie without Marvel Studios and a deranged and greedy Mickey Mouse hyperventilating down his neck. 

Grade: B-

Wonder Woman (2017)

This afternoon, I finally joined the rest of civilization and saw Wonder Woman at the theater. Although continuing to receive stellar reviews and ecstatic praise, the film left me wondering if these critics and viewers were not so hungry for a female-centric action film that they overlooked some glaring flaws and missed potential in this underwhelming addition to the DC canon. 

On the surface, Wonder Woman certainly delivers: female heroine, female director, feminist themes. Yet, the film ultimately left me cold and slightly bored. The first act and third act were the strongest points, but the second act was a colossal mess of such sweeping proportions that it damaged the rest of the film. Nevertheless, there were elements that deserve praise. 

For one, the film got the character right. Here I must confess to knowing very, very little about the Wonder Woman comics. My brother, however, who accompanied me to the film, was most knowledgeable and reassured me that the film was true to Wonder Woman's character. Considering how grotesquely the DC universe perverted Superman's character in the unwatchable Man of Steel, this faithfulness is definitely worthy of celebration. 

Indeed, the strongest part of the film was the introduction to Wonder Woman's world. The film opens like a tale of Greek mythology, which I found inviting and interesting. Diana (Wonder Woman) lives with her mother on an island inhabited only by women. As a result, the world she knows is completely devoid of war or violence. Again, I stress I have not read the comics, but I was struck by the film's perhaps purposeful reference to Charlotte Perkins Gilman's Herland with its focus on femininity as strength within a world only inhabited by women. The photography was beautiful, and the inclusion of Greek mythology (and classic literature!) was refreshing.

I enjoyed Gal Gadot's performance as Diana immensely. She brought a combined vulnerability and strength to the role, her brown eyes expressing many conflicting emotions within Diana. Her athleticism was impeccable as well. 

When Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) enters the world, the film does become more exciting. I have to say, Chris Pine's acting was excellent, and his performance was my favorite in this film. The man absolutely needs to do more comedy; he has a natural gift for humor, even in scenes that were not intended to be humorous. I also completely disagree with some self-important editorials claiming the movie did not need him. All superhero movies have a love interest and some kind of goofy sidekick character (or fool); Pine's Steve Trevor fulfills both. He brought energy to his part that kept the movie going, even when it took a turn for the worse. 

The second act, as stressed earlier, was hands-down the worst part of the film. Descending into horrible, cheese-ball jokes and plot turns that made absolutely no sense, the middle section of the film was boring, silly, and above all stupid. The secretary character was obnoxious and made no sense. If Steve is a spy and no one can know his identity, why does she loudly announce who he is and do, as she puts it, "everything for him"? This was even sillier than Money Penny in the Bond films. 

One sequence in particular that made my head hurt was when Steve takes Diana shopping. The entire sequence felt like a parody of Mr. Selfridge (which is a fine show). It reached a point where I almost expected Jeremy Piven to pop out and ask if they were enjoying his store. It was ridiculous and boring, and it added nothing to the story or characters. There were also a number of heavy-handed attempts at feminist commentary, such as having a group of men question why a woman was allowed in their meeting, but it felt forced and didactic. 

The third act was exciting, and I actually liked the group of side characters introduced as part of Steve's team. The actors each brought some humor to the film and enriched the character development (small as it was). I also appreciated the film's embracing traditionally feminine characteristics as sources of strength. Protecting loved ones, preventing violence, treasuring children and innocents, these were all values Diana embodied, which strengthened the film's sociopolitical content. 

The fight scenes were decent--nothing spectacular, but not so poorly cut that the action was impossible to watch. Each act has a major battle sequence, giving the film some symmetry. The first battle, however, which takes place on the island felt ridiculous on reflection: why would all of these soldiers who just discovered a beautiful paradise completely populated with beautiful women scantily clad in leather who are shooting arrows at them simply go along with it? Wouldn't they be at least some what surprised? It was silly, truly, but to be fair one can only take a movie about a godlike woman with a magical lasso only so seriously. By comic book movie standards, the battles were entertaining, but the music was the stuff elevators were made for. Dull, dull, dull. Again, however, to be fair, there are no strong movie scores any more, so Wonder Woman is hardly alone. 

The main letdown for me was the film absolutely did not earn one speck of its emotional content. When Antiope (Robin Wright) dies, the boring, sad music appears, but I felt nothing. Frankly, her death was predictable the instant her character appeared on screen. As readers probably know by now, my most hated character trope is "The Character Who Is Obviously There to Die." It's the worst. It's nothing more than a cheap attempt at provoking emotions, but there is nothing to warrant any emotion at all. I was extremely disappointed that the film went there. The romantic plot felt forced, perhaps even more so. I did not feel the heat at all between the two leads, and the conclusion to their relationship again left me feeling nothing. Frankly, for me the only comic book film with genuine pathos is Spiderman 2, starring Tobey Maguire. But that is for another review. 

Is Wonder Woman worth seeing? Absolutely. It's easily the best of the DC films so far, offering three clear acts with three well-done action sequences. The acting is solid, as is the direction. There is little fat on this film; there was not one bit of gratuitous action. In fact, the action was rather limited, considering the genre, which was refreshing. I enjoyed watching the film and appreciated it for what it was. That being said, this was definitely not the masterpiece the Internet has made it out to be, but it's still worth a view. 

Grade: B

The Revenant (2015)

When I was leaving the library yesterday afternoon, I noticed The Revenant was available, so I checked it out. I was eager to see it, having found no one who would go to the theater with me when it was out. Late last night I watched it alone, and disappointment and disillusion were the main emotions I felt - presuming this film made me feel anything.


The Revenant is the cinematic equivalent of a late Henry James novel or a Faulkner novel. James and Faulkner (and Cormac McCarthy, for that matter) both wrote long, meandering, garden path sentences, often a paragraph long, and these monstrous sentences formed the bulk of their prose. The result? Their novels are tiresome to read, and any interesting or moving ideas are buried within the prose. The Revenant is much like this.


I think at this point everyone knows the "plot" of the film: Hugh Glass (DiCaprio) is left for dead after a bear attack, so he recovers in the wilderness and seeks revenge. The bear attack looked real - in fact, the violence throughout was realistic - but there was no emotion. The attack happens early in the film, and there has been no effort prior to it to develop or reveal anything about his character. We see some interesting flashbacks in Glass's imagination that involve his (presumed) wife and his son as a baby; there is some thought-provoking imagery involving stacked bones and soldiers burning huts. Honestly, I found the story hinted at in the flashbacks far more interesting than the blandness that was supposed to pass for a story within the main narrative.


That being said, the two women in the movie occupy perhaps the most boring cliches possible: the dead wife, who always appears in Glass's imagination with a smile and wind blowing her long hair; and a nameless woman whom Glass rescues while she is being raped. Neither of them have lines, other than Glass repeating some stoic proverb the wife told him long ago about trees and strength. And it is this stoicism that pervades the characterization of the Native Americans.


The Native American actors in the film don't do anything other than: attack white people, trade with the French, be stoic. That's it. They serve no other purpose than to evoke pity. I found this insulting and gross, especially when compared to films like Dances with Wolves or Last of the Mohicans. None of them even have names. I have no idea why this film was touted as being sympathetic to Native Americans when they essentially fulfill a "How, White Man" stereotype that has plagued Westerns for far too long.


Writer and director Alejandro Inarritu relies on similar camera work in his other Oscar-winning film Birdman: every scene is a series of long tracking shots that sweep across the scenery and the actors in a broad, focus-less way. There is no focal point to most of the scenes; you as the audience are expected to take in these long, sweeping shots and absorb everything without any clue as to what you should be watching. As a result, there is almost no emotion in this film - well, no genuine emotion. There are a few forced scenes with Glass mourning his son and dead wife, but, as a film without character development or story, it left me cold and slightly irritated. I cared next to nothing about any of the characters, let alone the protagonist.


I am convinced Inarritu has no idea how to film action, nor how to create tension in a scene. The film opens with Glass and Son (he only calls him "Son" throughout in some kind of attempt at being McCarthy-lite) are stoically hunting a deer, then it sharply contrasts with the Americans' dirty camp. About 90 seconds into the film is a violent attack from Native Americans, but it may be the dullest action scene I have ever seen in a movie. There is no emotion, nothing at stake. You have no idea who the characters are, so you really don't care whether anyone lives or dies. And, unlike Last of the Mohicans, you don't have the Native Americans' perspective on the attack; all you know is that white people are in jeopardy.


The music was horrible. I think I counted about four different notes used throughout the entire "score," if "score" is not too generous a word, and there was a great deal of percussion, as in Birdman. While the percussion - and camera work, for that matter - served Birdman well, it actually hurt The Revenant. The music should elevate the story, not reinforce its blandness.


The acting was so-so. Although, to be fair, the actors had little substantive material to work with. As a Leo fan, I felt nothing but dismay knowing he finally won his Oscar for this. He does little besides look angry and cold. The Wolf of Wall Street was a tour-de-force; this was just an exercise in wild dedication, like eating the bison liver. Tom Hardy is difficult to understand, but I thought he gave a performance the movie deserved, which brings me to another point.


The word "fuck" was not used as a swear word or intensifier until the early 20th century, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. Yet, Tom Hardy's character says it all the time. That irritated me to no end.


The one good thing I can say about this movie is the cinematography was exquisite. Emmanuel Lubezki deserved his Oscar; in fact, he was the only person from this film who truly earned his awards. The photography was beautiful and did bring some desperately needed richness to an otherwise lackluster production.


When the race for the Oscars grew more contentious and the world seemed to be pulling for Leonardo DiCaprio to finally get his due, I had remarked rather cynically that the Academy would reward Eddie Redmayne because his film The Danish Girl was more politically correct. Having now seen both films, I must retract that statement. Eddie may have been the more deserving one after all.


Grade: C

Last of the Mohicans (1992)

The Last of the Mohicans has been adapted several times, including as a play, a silent film, a 70s television miniseries, and a film in 1936. None, however, have been as successful nor as well made as Michael Mann's 1992 film. 

Starring Daniel Day-Lewis as Hawkeye, Madeline Stowe as Cora, and Wes Studi as Magua, Mann's Last of the Mohicans is a complex, moving, and historically rich film, albeit one that is only loosely based on Cooper's novel. There are deviations, certainly, but the changes made are undoubtedly improvements on both the themes and characterizations, most of which in the source material are at best "quaint" by today's standards. 

As a period drama and an action movie, Last of the Mohicans proves action films don't have to be mindless morasses of explosions. There is surprising depth to this film, and in spite of my having watched this movie more times than I can count, I was still able to detect the many layers in this richly American movie. And I stress "American" because the very essence of this film is about the myriad clashes that took place with the germination of this country. The colonials' rising resentment of British rule; the collision of white settlers, Native Americans, and the British and French governments; the clashes between European and guerrilla warfare; the erosion of Native American culture: all of these themes intersect in the most moving and exciting ways in the hands of Michael Mann. 

Mann is often a hit or miss when it comes to directing. He has the skills, certainly, but his movies do not often reflect his talent. Last of the Mohicans and Heat, however, represent Mann at his best--although, Mann has done much to sabotage this. 

The theatrical cut of Mohicans was released on video tape in the early nineties, and it is the best version. However, Mann refuses to put this version on DVD or Bluray. In the early 2000s, Mann released what he called the "Director's Expanded Edition," which could not have been a more dishonest title; the so-called "Expanded Edition" cut nearly all of the best one-liners from the film, some of the music, and even some scenes, resulting in a clunky dud of a movie. I still remember watching this version when I (foolishly) purchased it as a teen. I yelled "No!" the entire time and truly considered writing Michael Mann a letter. Evidently Mann saw the error of his ways (not one human being preferred that edition) and then released his "Director's Definitive Cut" on Bluray. This version does restore many (but not all) of the lines from the theatrical version, and it brings back the beautiful Clannad song ("I Will Find You"), but like its predecessor has a few places that feel clunky due to Mann's using different takes in a few scenes or editing the dialogue in a way that simply does not make sense. As I watched it tonight, I felt annoyed by the changes. Nevertheless, the "Definitive Cut" is the closest you can get to the theatrical cut. I have no idea why Mann refuses to put out the true version of his best movie, but there you go. 

The production value of this film is astounding. The score itself is magnificent and one of my favorites; the scenery could not be more lush and beautiful; and the acting is excellent. I would like it to be known that I consider Wes Studi's performance as Magua one of the best movie villains of all time. The fact that he was not even nominated for an Oscar must rank as one of the most colossal Oscar-snubs in history. He plays Magua as a complex man driven by anger and hatred that he has allowed to poison his very soul. Without a doubt, Magua is a victim of colonization, which is made clear when he recounts his suffering at the hands of "the Grey Hair" to French General Montcalm. Yet, he has allowed his anger to define him completely, and in the end he is completely consumed by it--all to his own detriment. It is a fantastic performance and one of my favorites. 

In some slick and imaginative casting, Mann cast Indian rights activist Russell Means as Chingachgook. As one of the many improvements on the novel, Chingachgook here is a father figure to Hawkeye. In the books he's more of a "gentle savage" who is always subordinate to Hawkeye/La Longue Carabine/The Deerslayer/and all of the other nicknames he has in the books. I read The Pathfinder a few years ago and was struck by the massive difference in characterization. Means plays him with dignity and depth, which again enriches the film's themes.  

The battle sequences are probably one of the best things about this movie. When it comes to building tension before an action sequence, few surpass Mann. The two massacres are still enthralling to watch, and the violence is realistic (especially the scalpings). 

The final 15 minutes or so of this film should be required viewing for anyone interested in film making. Without dialogue, Mann employs pure cinematics to tell the story's conclusion. The placement of the shots in this scene is still moving to watch (despite how many times I've seen it). This scene is among the finest in terms of pure visual storytelling as it captures visually the emotions, action, and themes that simultaneously climax in this sequence. 

In short, Last of the Mohicans is a stirring, exciting film. Michael Mann has never surpassed it in the 24 years since it came out, and he will not cease to suppress the true version. For the time being, the "Director's Definitive Cut" must suffice. 

Grade: A

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-