Back in
November, I watched and reviewed a Belgian film called Girl, which tells the story of a transgirl transitioning in the
middle of high school, and her struggles as she grows increasingly frustrated
with the slow pace of change she has to endure. I gave the film 4 out of
4 stars in my review, lauding it as powerful, authentic, and deep. And I
was content to leave it at that.
And then a
month later I found out just how sharply controversial the film has been since
it started making the festival rounds. This was already simmering around
the time I wrote my review- the film won numerous awards at Cannes- but really
got kicked up a gear when Netflix picked the film up for distribution and it
was nominated for a Golden Globe, with a potential Oscar nomination around
the corner (although the film later failed to make the Academy shortlist).
Since the
heated debate surrounding the film centers around the very end, I will be up
front about the main spoiler; the film ends with Lara committing
self-castration. This is the scene I was referring to in my original
review when I said this film was the first in years to force me to look away
from the screen.What I failed to consider
in my review is that, just because a movie is cinematically effective, this is
not inherently good; something can, after all, be effective in both positive
and negative ways.
This was thrown
into sharp relief for me when I was made aware of just how strong the backlash
towards the film had gotten, with one writer going so far as to call it “trans
trauma porn.”The multitude of shots
that center around Lara’s genitals, the fact that both the director and lead
actor were cisgender men, and accusations that trans critics were being ignored
in the film’s press screenings and marketing efforts were all part of major pushback against the film’s handling of subject matter and the larger backdrop
of its release and awards-season attention.
Obviously, though,
the concerns that hit the hardest are those from actual trans writers and
critics.Trans activist Cathy Brennan
said she felt “sickened” and “horrified” watching the film, and trans
journalist Oliver Whitney called it “the most dangerous movie about a trans
character in years.”Another trans
critic, Samantha Allen, wrote a powerful piece placing the film within a larger
context of Hollywood’s tradition of elevating trans stories that center around
suffering, as opposed to telling stories that are more joyous or life-affirming.
This is really,
really heavy stuff, and I soon found myself deeply regretting my support for
the film, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.I was very close to deleting the review and disavowing the film
entirely.Then, though, I found out that
the real-life transperson who inspired the film, Nora Monsecour, supports the
film; she’s friends with the director and was actively involved in its
production.While the director, of
course, has pushed back against the criticism, I find his defense far less
convincing than the one offered by Monsecour herself, who published her own rebuttal
to the backlash in the Hollywood Reporter.She defends the film as being an accurate representation of her struggles
with transitioning, and criticized attacks on the film as an effort to silence her
identity and her story.
This makes
things a bit less black-and-white than I’d first assumed; Monsecour’s is the
one defense of the film that, I feel, cannot be so readily dismissed.However, I also realize that one op-ed from a
particular film's subject is not in and of itself absolution from criticism or
condemnation, especially from others within a community said film purports to
represent.
That said, I
myself am in no position to say where there is "wrong" or
"right" here; it just isn't my place to offer final judgement when
one transperson says a film represents them and another, or many others,
say it misrepresents or even harms them. What I can do is to admit
my own mistakes with a heartfelt “mea culpa,” since it simply did not occur to
me to do background research on the film or transpeople’s tractions to it before
writing my review. I did not consider that, as “effective” as the film’s
ending might be, it has potentially harmful real-world consequences regardless
of what the filmmakers intended.That
was a dumb mistake, plain and simple, and that is on me.
I will not
delete or alter my original review, since I feel that would be disingenuous,
but after reading through the critiques from trans writers, I decided I could
not be silent and certainly could no longer vocally support the film as I
otherwise might have done. So the review and my rating stand, but with
this attached disclaimer saying that I will no longer actively promote it.
Should you decide
to see it, though- regardless of your identity- then make sure to inform
yourself afterwards on what the trans-community has to say about it. It's
the very least we can all do.
Now
that we’ve taken care of the year’s worst, it’s time to get POSITIVE!My overall Top Ten List will definitely be
out by the end of the month, but before then, we return to one of my favorite
topics in the world; music.
Music
has always been crucial to the world of film, so when a film has a rocking
score underneath it all, it makes the experience all the more sublime and enjoyable.I am no expert in either music or sound
design, so I can’t offer the most detailed and in-depth examination of these
films.I just know that these are the
ones where I noticed and was affected by the music the most.
8-
Isle of Dogs (Alexandre Desplat)
Isle of Dogs is by no means top-notch
Wes Anderson, especially since the setting makes it a bit harder to ignore the
more…racially-challenged…aspects of his filmmaking.Despite its flaws, though, I couldn’t help
but enjoy it, and a big part of that was an effectively thematic score by
Alexandre Desplat, who has done a lot of great work for Wes Anderson before and
continues his track record here.
A German film about the
true story of a class of students in East Germany that, early in the Cold War,
found out the hard way how easily authoritarian governments can misinterpret
and twist the most innocent of actions into a conspiracy in need of harsh
treatment.The mixed use of the main
theme touches on this repeatedly, starting as a soft, sweet melody that keeps
sinking into a minor key to offer whispers and hints of the pains and torments
to come.
I do knock this film a lot- and no
matter what, I stand by my assertion that it has zero business being anywhere
near awards for Best Picture, Director, Actor, and Screenplay, as sadly
inevitable as those nominations likely are- but I will admit, there is a lot of
good stuff in it. Chief among them being, of course, the music.
Original soundtracks, as opposed to just original scores, came back in a big
way this year, with a number of Lady Gaga's collaborated works for this movie
leading the pack. "Shallows" and "Always Remember Us This
Way" are genuine powerhouses, and I even found myself really digging
"Maybe It's Time." Maybe I'd like Bradley Cooper better if he
stuck to making country-rock albums. I'm not nearly as high on "I'll
Never Love Again," but it serves its purpose as the closing anthem.
For my money, these songs deserve to be remembered, even if most of the rest of
film around them doesn't.
5-
Searching (Torin Borrowdale)
The opening of Up is so perfect, so profound, and became so instantly iconic, it's
easy to forget that the film isn’t even a full decade old. Since then
there have been plenty of attempts, both serious and comical, to get that
particular lightning to strike twice, but for my money no film has come as
close as Searching.
In terms of substance, the opening
sequence of the film almost entirely apes Up,
insofar as we are treated to a tableau of videos and images that tell the story
of a growing, loving family, until tragedy forever alters their lives, set to a
relentlessly emotional and catchy theme track. What makes Searching stand out, though, is that it
solely uses screens- mostly a single laptop, though a few other phones, tablets,
and TVs are thrown in on occasion- to tell a complete narrative. The
opening sequence uses this to serve as a fascinatingly effective nostalgia-trip
through the (so far) brief history of user interfaces that everyone’s
used.
As great as that opening is, though,
the rest of the score is just as excellent, utilizing rhythm and sound
combinations to create the pulsing climate fear, apprehension, and uncertainty
that dogs John Cho as a father searching for his missing daughter using any
means available. Every track is worth a listen.
Max Richter has, so
far, not gotten nearly enough attention as a film composer as he deserves- his
work on Waltz with Bashir ranks as
one of the best original scores of the century to date- and I can't help but
feel that a part of that lies in the fact that he tends to work on independent
and foreign-language films, meaning that way, way too many in the
English-speaking world simply don't know that he exist. Which is a crying
shame, because in von Donnersmarck’s massive historical drama, he turns in some
of his best work yet, including a main theme that somehow manages to pack all
the wonder, all the magic, and all the awe of the creative process into just a
few short minutes. It touches that deep, subconscious part of the human
soul driven to creativity that can never be fully conveyed with words to
others; like this music, it can only be experienced, deeply, personally, and
profoundly.
3-
Annihilation (Ben Salisbury and Geoff
Barrow)
Alex Garland followed up Ex Machina in a big way with Annihilation, the thought-provoking,
endlessly fascinating sci-fi movie no one saw, and Salisbury and Barrow came
back as well with another score precisely tuned to enhance each and every scene
of the movie. The culmination of both the film and score in the final
sequence of events at the lighthouse was, for me, one of the most visually and
audibly arresting moments I experience all year; it’s still stuck in my
head.
Black Panther is one of the year’s most
monumental cinematic achievements, and the film’s score is a huge part of that,
creating its own auditory journey to match T’Challa’s.Listen though it and hear how the main themes
repeat and alter according to the rises and falls of the fortunes of our
heroes.Hear the sheer celebratory joy
in Baaba Maal’s voice in one of the opening tracks when the ship returns home,
and the world is introduced to Wakanda for the very first time.Note the threatening, sinister undertones in
Killmonger’s theme.The variations in
the music are every bit as colorful and lush as the film’s color pallet.
There’s
so much here to pick out and enjoy, but my personal favorite has to be Okoye’s
theme during her fight scenes in the casino and during the final clash; it’s
fitting that one of the film’s standout women would get her own kickass theme to
boot.The fact that even side characters
get their own parts of the music is just one of many testaments to the film’s
amazing attention to detail.Not to
mention that there is an entire supplemental soundtrack led by Kendrick Lamar;
although only part of that is in the film itself, it is a great hip-hop album
and works as a perfect companion piece to the movie.
And
finally, we’re here; Spider-Man: Into the
Spider-Verse, my absolute favorite score AND soundtrack of the year.
Brought
to us by relative newcomer Daniel Pemberton, this score jumps right out with an
opening that sets the vibe for the loud, colorful, and vibrantly fun adventure
we’re about to experience.That opening
track is followed by “Visions Brooklyn 1, 2, 3,” easily the single catchiest
track I’ve heard all year.And it’s all
uphill from there.Though Kingpin is the
main villain, for reasons I won’t spoil here it’s fitting that the Prowler gets
an especially threatening theme of his own, a real pulse-pounder that forced me
to the edge of my seat during my first viewing.
Like
Black Panther, this film also has a
companion soundtrack, but one that’s used to much better effect within the film
itself.Post Malone’s “Sunflower” is
central to our introduction to Miles; the song is a clear favorite of his, one
he sings along to with gusto, but doesn’t quite
know the words to.It’s a perfect
example of how attention to such small, real details can take an already-great
film and elevate to the level of a genuine masterpiece of filmmaking.
“Elevate”
also deserves mention, as it is the perfect sendoff for the film as the credits
start to roll.My top prize for Best
Song Use, though, is “What’s Up, Danger,” the downbeat of which basically
functions as the film’s final mic drop.It is in that moment that Miles takes control of his powers, set to a
sequence of stunning visual beauty.
In
short, Spider-Man was one of the year’s
best films in no small part because it boasted the best music of them all.So…what’s up, 2019?Whatcha got?
The biggest frustration for amateur
film critics like me is that, since doing reviews is just a side project for us
as opposed to an actual paying job, we lack the access or means to see many of
a given year's releases quickly enough to write about them. We don't get
invitations or special access to film festivals, and even with general
releases, most of us don't have the income or time to afford to go out and see
EVERY movie.
As a result, I have to be pretty
ruthless in choosing which films to see or not see.Much of the time, this is extremely
aggravating. However, over the years I've come to appreciate a hidden side
benefit from this; unlike most professional critics, who are obligated by
either their affiliated publication/website or financial necessity to see every
(or nearly every) major film that comes out each year and review them, be it
good, bad, or ugly, I have the luxury of saving my time and money for the films
that I am at least reasonably sure I will like.
This means that, no matter how many
movies I see before making my year-end lists, most movies I've seen I find good,
or at least not offensively bad. Sure, a few stinkers always sneak by my
sensors, and every so often I'll join in watching a particular bomb for the fun
of it (like, say, every David Russell movie since The Fighter), but there have never been enough red marks on my film
lists to justify making a whole "Worst of" listicle like a lot of
other critics.If it’s getting panned, I
just won’t bother to go see it.
Until this year, that is.
Yes, it's finally happened. This
was the year I happened to see enough that bothered me to actually make a list,
and here it is.Keep in mind, though,
that the overwhelming majority of what I saw this year was still fine, and at
least most of the consensus "worst" of the year stuff I was still
able to avoid, so this list carries the qualifier of being the worst movies of
2018....that I just happened to see. Have one not on this list?
Well, too bad, because I assure you I will never see it. Life's too
short, even if these movies aren't.
5. Happy
as Lazzaro (Alice Rohrwacher)
Yes, I know this film got rave
reviews out of Cannes, and has continued to garner rave reviews as it’s made
the festival circuit.And you know
what?I don’t get it.I really don’t.
I found this film insufferably
boring.Its premise is solid and the
first half was properly atmospheric; there is certainly nothing to be said
against the film’s cinematography.Sadly, the further and further the film receded into itself after its
big halfway twist, the more and more frustrated I grew with how satisfied the
film was to wave its “Symboliiiiiiiiiiiiiism” in my face in lieu of actually
doing something with its premise, or to develop its “message” beyond
“Inequality Bad, Innocence Good, Fuck the Banks.”There were a solid half-dozen points where
the film could have ended with at least some of my goodwill intact, but instead
it just.Kept.Going.And.Going.And by the time it finally, mercifully ended,
I wished I, too, could turn into a wolf and disappear into the Italian
hillside.
4. Hold
the Dark (Jeremy Saulnier)
Why, hello there, Alexander
Skarsgard.Fancy seeing you here.
While the latest from Saulnier is
certainly a nice-looking film, set within the backdrop of stunning Alaskan
wilderness, the characters and screenplay just don’t measure up.If anything, the gorgeous scenery just
hammers in all the harder how far the story falls in justifying the setting.What is supposed to be a tense, psychological
thriller about a way-out-of-his-depth wilderness expert pulled into the drama
of a rural, desperately poor native community turns into a drag run though how the
town’s (apparently) lone white dude butchers natives and cops alike.The absolute nadir of the entire process is a
massive shootout sequence in the second act that, cinematically, is certainly
well-made, but narratively serves no purpose and is such a massively jarring
experience that the film never really recovers.
There are some well-enough performances
around the edges- Jeffrey Wright as the wilderness expert and James Dale as the
local police chief deserve mention- but Skarsgard is just plain terrible in the
leading role, staring and skulking and daring anyone nearby to try and make him
emote, and then horribly murdering those who do, all without breaking a
sweat.He’s proven himself to be a
perfectly charismatic actor in other roles, so I can’t begin to imagine what
sort of drugs he took to so completely repress it here.I literally couldn’t believe that the film
ended when it did, because I did not want to think it was going to stop on such
an obviously contrived note, but given how padded the run time was already, it’s
probably better that it did.
**for a more complete
version of my thoughts on this movie, check out our Cinema Joes episode on
it**
3. Mute
(Duncan Jones)
Why, hello there, Alexander,
Skarsgard.Fancy seeing you here.Again.
Yes, sadly, it was not the best of
years for the son of one of Sweden’s finest.Yet another Netflix original starring
Skarsgard, this one was directed by Duncan Jones, whose 2009 film Moon is (rightfully) considered one of
the best original sci-fi films to come out in the past decade.Alas, this movie is not Moon, not even close; if Roma was Netflix’s Citizen Kane of
2018, Mute was its Batman v Superman, a project so poorly
conceived and executed that it may never have been salvageable in the first
place.
Again, much like with Hold the Dark, a lot of what doesn’t
work centers around our Scandinavian lead.Here, though, instead of playing a silent, stone-faced Alaskan wandering
aimlessly through the film as the body count behind him piles up, he plays….a
silent, stone-faced German Amish man wandering aimlessly through the film as
the body count behind him piles up.Huh.Type-cast, much,
Netflix?
I must be fair, though; Skarsgard
bears a far lower proportion of the burden for this film failing, because so
much else going on around him is just as bad.There are reasons, after all- many, many reasons- why this film is
higher up on this list than Hold the Dark.Paul Rudd and Justin Theroux team up as a duo
of villains clearly modeled on Hawkeye and Trapper from M.A.S.H., but with none
of the wit and charm that made that show one of the staples of my
childhood.Given how Paul Rudd has done
such a good job of establishing himself as a solidly funny and charismatic lead
in the Ant-Man movies, it almost
feels like Jones made it his personal goal to roll every bit of that back
within the span of one movie.Rudd’s
trying so hard to be a big, scary, violent criminal, but oh baby, does it not
work.
The film is riddled with terrible
CGI, and of all the Blade Runner
wannabes that have been made so far, this one is one of the most naked in its
desire and the most depressing in its failure to live to up to its obvious
inspiration.The world-building is terrible,
and the story has more loose threads than a rotting carpet, with character and
narrative leads that are picked up and dropped seemingly at random.All of this culminates in a climax so
bewilderingly nonsensical, it would
take home my condemnation as the year’s worst finale if it weren’t for a
certain other film on this list.Speaking of which….
**for a more complete
version of my thoughts on this movie, check out our Cinema Joes episode on it**
It's been over half a year, and I'm
still not convinced I didn't dream this sucker up in the midst of a massive
mental fit. Nor have I made any progress in determining whether or not
this "horror" flick is, in fact, supposed to be satire. As it
stands, this remains one of the most baffling film experiences I have had in a
long time, but at least, while viewing it, my sense of rage eventually morphed
into a perverse determination to have fun with...whatever it was I was
watching. And thank God too, because the film's big third-act,
supernatural bonanza actually managed to top Mute in being the most terrible
and wholly unintelligible series of events I saw in a film this year, bar
none. If I hadn't found my spiritual Zen state by then, I would have hurt
one of the people sitting next to me, and simply I can't go back to jail.
While nearly every choice in the
casting, acting, writing, and effects departments are comically bad, the one
that still stands out in my head is a scene where the main couple is arguing
with each other from across a road. That in and itself was bizarre, and
the fight made no sense; for a couple ostensibly so in love they are
ready to marry, there is not one second in the entire film where they
create any sort of chemistry. But on top of that, for some reason the
entire color scheme is completely washed out, as if a hapless intern had
spilled a cup of bleach on the screen. All the details blur, and I almost
started rubbing my eyes to see if it was me. But no, it wasn't; the color
was just totally drained from the shot, until it suddenly all comes pouring
back at the very end.
Why? WHY? It was by no
means the most grating of the film's many flaws, but it may have been the most
senseless of them in a film filled with utter nonsense, and for my sins I shall
never be allowed to forget it.
1. Charming
(Ross Venokur)
You could be forgiven for assuming
that the tired genre of the Disney Princess knock-off ended over a
decade ago with the combined release of Shrek
2, the absolute peak of the Disney-knockoff-as-parody, and Enchanted, Disney's own dip into the
pool. Once the object of parody has started parodying the parodies of
itself, there's nowhere left to go. We've done the 360, and are back
where we started. Right? Right.
Well, turns out you’d be wrong!
For lo and behold, in the year of our Lord 2018, Netflix started distributing Charming, a Canadian-American production
that is, without a doubt, the cheapest, laziest, most paint-by-numbers Shrek wannabe I have ever seen.
Every single thing about the film- the songs, the characters, the dialogue, the
droll plodding of the story from each painfully obvious beat to the next- is
done in a manner so cold, calculating, and utterly without passion that I could
almost feel my apartment lights dim as the film dragged on. The only
point I could ever give in the film's favor is that it cares so little, it
doesn't even bother padding itself out; the whole affair barely scrapes over
the hour-and-a-quarter mark. It is one of the worst-looking animated
films I've seen in ages; it's as if like very, very, VERY early test
animation for the first Shrek film
became sentient after sitting in the Dreamwork vaults for two decades, and
resolved to haunt my nightmares forevermore. Not one punch line lands,
not one word uttered or sung is believable, and not one design has anything
remotely approaching original, human thought in it.
It's bad enough that the film is a
failed knock-off of knocked-off Disney knock-offs, but my horrified fascination
with the film got kicked up a notch when I double-checked the cast, unsettled
by how familiar some of the voices were....and promptly had to pick the pieces
of my shattered jaw off the floor. I mean, calling this burnt gumbo pot
of a cast list bizarre is putting it mildly. The three
"classic" princesses are collectively voiced by G.E.M., Avril
Lavigne, and Ashley Tisdale from High
School Musical. Demi Lovato is the female lead. The male lead
is...hang on, Wilder Valderrama?? FEZ AS PRINCE CHARMING???? You
gotta be kidding me.
Oh, but it doesn't stop there!
The villain is voiced by Nia Vardalos, last seen in *checks IMDB*, um, My Big Fat
Greek Wedding. Sia cameos as a minor side antagonist. Let's
see, and then there's....wait, John Cleese? JOHN? How does That 70's Show, High School Musical, My Big
Fat Greek Wedding, Sia, Monty Python, and the last remnants of early-2000 teen
pop end up in the same movie? Well, I guess we know now what happens to
Disney actors after the Mouse has decided it’s done weith them. And by
God, is it ugly. Which means...quick!Someone grab Lin-Manuel Miranda while there’s still time!
Spider-Man:
Into the Spider-Verse (2018): Written by Phil Lord
and Rodney Rothman, directed by Rodney Rothman, Peter Ramsey, and Bob
Persichetti. Starring: Shameik Moore, Jake Johnson, Hailee Steinfeld, Chris
Pine, Mahershala Ali, Brian Tyree Henry, Lily Tomlin, Live Schreiber, Luna
Lauren Velez, John Mulaney, and the one, the only, Nicolas Cage. Running
Time: 117 minutes. Based on the comics
created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko.
Rating:
4/4
It
stands to figure that 2018, a year filled with the unexpected in just about
every walk of life, would have one more shocker for us up its sleeve.In the midst of a particularly packed awards
season crush- including releases from the Coen Brothers, Damien Chazelle,
Steve McQueen, Alfonso Cuaron, Barry Jenkins, and even freaking Orson Welles-
the team that brought us The Lego Movie managed to sneak into theaters with a new Spider-Man movie.And not just any old Spider-Man movie; after
years of mediocrity dogging this particular franchise, they hit us with what is
not only the best animated movie of the year, but one of the best movies of the
year period, easily the best Spider-Man film since Spider-Man 2, and quite possibly the only movie that could potentially
unseat Black Panther for the mantel
of the year’s most meaningful superhero hit.
Let’s
go back and start at the beginning, though.This is the story of Miles Morales, a teenager living in Brooklyn
just trying to get by with school, family, and life.From the start, we know this is a world where
a Peter Parker Spider-Man already exists, and apparently has for some
time.Miles doesn't address that fact much, since
his Dad is a cop who doesn’t approve of vigilantism, but as it is, a world of adventure,
danger, and saving people seems pretty far from his mind.Until, that is, a series of unusual events- including,
of course, a radioactive spider-bite- turn his world upside down, and he finds
himself developing powers he doesn’t understand.
After
he happens to be present for a freak experiment by the main villain, Kingpin,
that tears open a rift between dimensions and kills the “original” Spider-Man,
he finds himself carrying the burden of the Spider-Man mantle on his own, wanting
to avenge Parker and stop Kingpin, but with no idea how to go about it and whom
he can trust with his secret.
And
that’s…right about where my plot summation will have to stop, because this is
where the many surprise twists and turns the film has up its sleeve start to
hit hard and fast, and I already worry I’ve given away too much of the game by
describing the opening, brief as it is.Much like The Lego Movie
before it, this is a film that thrives on subverting expectations in pretty
amazing ways even while the broad arches of the story closely adhere to the
classical Hero’s Journey narrative.Also
like The Lego Movie, it uses a truly
unique and staggeringly beautiful animated style to convey both the beauty and
strangeness of its world, riding its capacity for visual panache for all its
worth.
The
movie deliberately creates a “textured” look to its images, covering mono-color
surfaces with dots to make it look like your old comics sprang to life and
jumped onto the screen.There is literally
nothing else like it, at least not that I’ve seen, and Sony Animation is
already trying to patent the technique.This
is the most perfect marriage of cinematic form to the classical American comics
style yet to hit the big screen, and that in itself may end up being just as
impactful long-term as the fact that this is also the first Spider-Man movie to
feature a non-white Spider-Man.
The
“comic book” effect is enhanced by the added use of print-style thought bubbles
for Miles once he starts developing his powers.Not only does this give his moments of internal monologue a striking visual
flair that is hard to pull off in any medium, it also lets the filmmakers use
even these pieces of the film to further break the fourth wall and provide
color commentary on Miles’ emotional state at a given moment.They are also used to create some of the film’s
funniest punchlines.
Oh
yeah, I haven’t yet mentioned; this movie is freaking hilarious, with a sense
of self-awareness and humor that most other comic book movies (and, hell, even
a lot of today’s “comedies”) try and fail to attain.But then, what else could you possibly expect
from Phil Lord and Christopher Miller?There
is quite a lot of Ryan Reynolds’ Deadpool in how the older Spider-Man (Jake
Johnson) mixes his innate desire to do good with a brisk tongue-in-cheekness,
and a little pessimistic streak to boot (minus, you know, the profuse swearing
and dick jokes).No other film this year
made me laugh as openly, loudly, and often in a movie theater as this one did.On that note, to the people who sat next to
me in the theater, should you ever read this; I’m so, so sorry.
What
makes it an all-time great, though, is how far the film succeeds in going
beyond being just chuckles and pretty visuals.The broad story is, essentially, the Hero’s Journey, but like Black Panther, it does it about as
perfectly as possible, with a thoroughly believable, sympathetic, and enjoyable
main character surrounded by a dynamite cast, none of whom are weak links.Thanks to Shameik Moore, Miles Morales has
finally reached the popular consciousness in a big way.The same goes for Hailee Steinfeld as Gwen
Stacy, a character who has already made such an impact that she is likely to
get her own spinoff.Mahershala Ali as
Miles’ uncle and Bryan Tyree Henry as his police-officer father round out the
dynamics of the movie in important ways too.
In
fact, the relationship between Miles and his Dad deserves special mention.As satisfying and enjoyable as the
development of Miles and Gwen’s rapport was, I found his complex, and all too
real, interactions with his loving-yet-demanding father to be the movie’s true beating
heart.Neither of Miles’ parents are
dead, or absent, or deadbeat; both are present and loving, and Miles knows this
deep enough to appreciate it.Even
still, life as a teen is rough, and as he mixes regular teenage angst with the
travails of being a hero pursued by a murderous mob boss, it’s no wonder he can’t
bring himself to open up to his parents.Like everything else in the movie, the way this is handled and pays off
is spectacularly satisfying, and will jerk quite a few tears out of some
audience members.
This
is the closest thing to a flawless movie I’ve seen all year.Yes, I realize that’s a pretty big,
provocative thing to say about any film, but I stand by it.It pushes the bounds of animation, it has
amazing voice work supplementing an excellent script and a clear sense of
purpose, and it features possibly the best soundtrack and score of the entire
year.It has humor, action, and
heart.It made me feel invigorated to
get out and go on living both times I saw it, as the greatest of art tends to
do.With movies like this, I’ll happily
continue to go right back to the beginning, time and time again.
Roma
(2018): Written and directed by Alfonso Cuaron. Starring:
Yalitza Aparicio, Marina de Tavira. Running Time: 135 minutes.
Rating:
4/4
The
film opens with the camera staring at the ground, at the patterned tiles of a
floor of some sort.But then water tinged
with soap washes over it, opening up a reflective window of the open sky above,
wavering and unsteady, but there.A plane
flies across, up and away into the ether.This duality between the Earth and sky, between the hardness and dirt
and scrambling nature of people’s lives and the free openness of the sky above,
is arguably the most important theme of Roma,
one it touches on again and again.This
is a film of almost undefinable power, and it is one of the year’s best.
In
its purest distillation, Roma depicts
a year (give or take) in the life of Cleo, a maid working for a wealthy family
in Mexico City in the year 1970.She
lives, she works, she loves, she becomes pregnant and struggles with the
changes this brings to her life.Beyond
this deceptively simple narrative structure, though, is a wealth of commentary
on the nature of class, of race, of rapid societal change, and of the constant,
unceasing contradictions and paradoxes inherent in human existence.Like the camera, we are bound to the Earth
while constantly feeling drawn, time and again, to the sky above us.
More
than anything else, though, it is a movie about women, and about how they are
forced time and again to pick up the pieces left broken at their feet when men
fail.Cleo’s flake of a boyfriend
abandons her immediately after learning she is pregnant, in a scene that is one
of the film’s most acutely constructed; they are sitting in a movie theater
when she tells him, and as the scene plays out, the final scenes and credits of
the movie in the background mirror Cleo’s growing realization that, like the
movie, something unreal has just ended.The lights slowly come back on, and she has no choice but to return to
harsh reality.
This
is paralleled within the extended family Cleo works for; while she takes care
of both the house and the children (in many ways, it feels like she’s the one
actually raising them), we glimpse in bits and pieces how the parent’s marriage
falls apart, until, in yet another masterfully crafted sequence, it becomes
clear that this father, too, is also never coming back.
Once
these stakes are laid out for both Cleo and her employer, it is easy to draw
quick assumptions about how things will play out, but the film constantly takes
turns that are never quite what we expect.The class (and possibly also racial) divide between these two abandoned
souls is unavoidable, but not entirely unbridgeable; there is a clear bond that
starts to form, forged in the fires of abandonment and of the simple
necessities that drive them to continue on and to once more put their lives
back together.What this builds to in
the second half of the film, for both Cleo and the family, is one of the most
emotionally resonant endings of any film I’ve seen this year, and I dare not
spoil it, except to say that it will shatter you, in more ways than one.
Even
though this film is already available on Netflix, it is worth seeing on a big
screen if at all possible.This is one
of the most beautiful and well-crafted films of the year.There is a clear and present purpose in every
shot, every framing, each sweep of the camera.I have already mentioned the shots comparing the ground and sky, which
begin and end the movie.I also think of
the many shots of Cleo where the camera follows her as she seeks something, but
we never see what she sees; she is gazing off-screen, yearning for or seeking
something that is beyond our field of vision.The way that a favored car of the family father is shot as both he and
others struggle to park it in the family’s tiny garage is also loaded with
symbolic imagery that can only be seen to be appreciated.The car itself later plays a key part in one
of the film’s most viscerally satisfying payoffs.
Something
that the distance between the camera and its subjects allows is an appreciation
of how precisely every scene is staged; there are very few close-ups, but also
not too many far-away shots.For the
most part, the camera is in some sort of middle distance, where we can see the
characters clearly but also the details of the world around them, with all the
moving parts that are to be found in a bustling city, but none of them are
there by accident. This is most
effectively conveyed in arguably the movie’s grandest scene, a recreation of
the Corpus Christ Massacre.I could
literally spend hours doing commentary on each and every shot in this
movie.It is that detailed.
This
movie is far more than just technical artistry, though; in Yalitza Aparicio’s
portrayal of Cleo, we have one of the best breakout performances in years.She had no formal training or experience in
film acting prior to being cast, yet carries a weight and gravitas to each
scene that even most veteran performers aren’t able to pull off.The entire cast is stellar- even bit roles
for relatives and friends around the family are not left to waste- but it is
Aparicio who will provide much of what will, I expect, be this film’s
considerable staying power as one of the decade’s best.
When
considering the character of Cleo, though, the question of whether or not
Cuaron is the right person to tell this story has already come up in some
discussions; Cuaron dedicates the film to the maid who, he has said in
interviews, provided for and raised him when he was a child much in the same
way Cleo does; the title comes from the name of the neighborhood in Mexico City
where he grew up, and one of the boys in the family seems to be a pretty clear
stand-in for himself.He is still in
contact with her and spoke with her regularly while writing and producing the
film, which does lend the film added authenticity.However, it is still worthwhile to consider
whether a man can ever be in a position to properly tell this sort of story,
especially one that specifically focuses on particularly underrepresented
groups like the indigenous minority both Cleo and Aparicio herself are
from.
One
reviewer, Richard Brody from the New Yorker, delved into this question in
detail, and is of the opinion that, intentions aside, the film blots out or
ignores Cleo’s perspective, given that we very rarely directly hear from Cleo
what she thinks or wants.For him, this
is a fatal flaw that undercuts what the film is trying to do, but after much
thought, I’m not sure I agree.Not to
knock on someone with Brody’s pedigree (or indeed anyone else who takes issue
with the film), but I consider it rather better that Cuaron tried to go for a
more general approach, one more focused on nostalgic memory than natural
realism.It would, perhaps, have been
even more arrogant and privileged for him to assume that he could tell a film
that tries to explicitly explore the inner thoughts and feelings of Cleo.We see her experience so much without
directly saying anything, but Aparicio’s performance and bearing in the role
provide reams of silent information for us to consider and ponder.I usually tend towards the opinion that the
greater films are the ones that try to say less, and instead present more,
letting us mull things over for ourselves rather than telling us outright what
to think.
Regardless
of what one ultimately thinks of it, though, this is that rare masterpiece that
deserves to be seen and contemplated by everyone, regardless of their
background.I would say they don’t make ‘em
like this anymore, but the truth of the matter is that this kind of artistic achievement
has always been a rare feat; most filmmakers have never made one like this, but
Alfonso Cuaron has, and you owe it to yourself to experience it.
