Monday, March 18, 2024

REVIEW: “Mad Max: Fury Road” (2015)


WRITER'S NOTE: A shorter version of this review was posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian on March 18, 2024. 

It had been thirty years since we last saw a Mad Max movie on the big screen, and seventeen since franchise co-creator George Miller directed a live-action feature. The question was, would audiences today be interested in seeing a new installment/iteration of this post-apocalyptic series that launched the career of original star Mel Gibson? 

Mad Max: Fury Road was said to have been one of the most difficult shoots in Hollywood history. Production was delayed several times due to budget concerns, location scouting, logistics, and safety. Filming lasted for over six months in the country of Namibia, with grueling weather conditions that ranged from scorching hot (during the day) to freezing cold (at night). And lead actors Tom Hardy (taking up the mantle this time as the wandering Max Rockatansky) and Charlize Theron (as the fearless and determined Imperator Furiosa) didn’t get along. To make matters worse, executives at Warner Bros. were skeptical—and dismayed—by early test footage. 

With that in mind, a better question was if this new Mad Max would actually be any good. As recounted in author Kyle Buchanan’s 2022 book, “Blood, Sweat & Chrome” (an in-depth and eye-opening oral history of the making of the film), Miller described the genesis of his years-in-the-making project this way: 

I was in Los Angeles, crossing the street, and this very simple idea popped in my head. What if there was a Mad Max movie that was one long chase, and the MacGuffin was human? Can you tell an entire story on the run, and how much of the backstory can you pick up on the way? The essential task was to see how rich the story could be while it’s on the road.

Miller added, 

In one way, it was surprisingly restricted: When you think about it, most of the key characters are sitting in the same spot all the time, and those vehicles are hurtling through the wasteland in some form of chase or race. Those sorts of restrictions are stylistically interesting as a filmmaker but also, it’s a very seductive world to work in because of the allegories. It’s all there for you.

So, is Fury Road any good? The answer: a phenomenal yes. Essentially a two-hour car chase (as Miller described), Fury Road pulls off the challenging feat of sustaining a narrative that’s in constant movement. (That's why they're called "moving pictures," right?) To describe the experience of watching it is like getting a (pardon the expression) humongous shot of adrenaline in your chest and going full-throttle. 

Originally written on storyboards (the filmmakers also seriously considered shooting in native 3-D), every character, vehicle design, and prop has a specific and unique function and history, not to mention real substance. As they did with The Road Warrior, the crew creatively took scraps and pieces of junk, and made them into works of art. Reportedly, 90 percent of the action and stunts (meticulously and expertly planned out) on screen were done practically, with post-production visual effects that removed safety wires, and added massive sandstorms and other compositing. (The same went for nighttime scenes, shot during the day but changed to a blue haze for the final movie.) And wait until you see the flame-throwing guitar and polecats! (I don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like that in movies before.) 

Yet, for all of its heart-pounding spectacle, the story (written by Miller, Brendan McCarthy, and dramaturgist Nico Lathouris) is rather simple and linear. Hardy's Max (haunted by memories and visions) may be the title character, but he really plays passenger while Theron's Furiosa is in the driver's seat, as she leads a dangerous trek to free a group of women from a violent warlord (the infamous and intimidating Immortan Joe, played by Hugh Keays-Burne) and to a Garden of Eden of sorts.

The film is so exhilarating and jaw-dropping that we’re more invested in the story, characters, and genuine stakes, rather than the behind-the-scenes drama. (Hardy and Theron reportedly resolved their differences near the end of production and have since apologized, especially after seeing the finished product.) Still, I don't know what's more amazing: the amount of effort and layers put into the making of this film, or that every single person who worked on it survived. It's a unique and incredible story of tenacity, persistence, integrity, and survival against overwhelming odds. Buchanan, perhaps, summed it up best, 

We go to the movies to be transported, and Fury Road takes us to the outer reaches of our imaginations . . . But the epic journey of [getting the film made] proved even more meaningful for the people who made it. What they had all accomplished by the skin of their teeth was a very rare thing indeed. (pp. 324) 

I would argue that Fury Road has more craft and substance than most action movies put together. Many contemporary filmmakers, like Guillermo del Toro and Bong Joon-Ho have declared it as one of the greatest films they’ve ever seen. Executive producer Iain Smith called it “a victory of filmmaking over studio expediency” (read Buchanan's book, pp. 290). Unlike, say, Apocalypse Now (which also had a tremendously difficult production, and a very depressing narrative), Fury Road is a film I could watch again and again, because it’s greater than the sum of its parts. (Which is not to take the otherwise complicated behind-the-scenes stories, nor the film’s violent nature, lightly or passively.) It's also a rare movie of its kind to get the recognition it did at the Academy Awards, maybe the first since The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King the previous decade. (Fury Road won six of its ten nominations, the most awarded to an Australian film to date.) Both were game-changing juggernauts on so many levels. Plus, a black-and-white "chrome" edition of Fury Road (which Miller himself favored more) was released in 2016, with its own unique and dynamic results. 

But it’s not a film for everybody, especially the squeamish. Because it's a two-hour chase, the action sequences are relentless, wild, and gonzo. They're the primary reason for the film's R-rating, with a high body count, a few sad deaths, and one particularly graphic moment. The subject matter is heavy, with references to sex slavery (the Five Wives wear revealing garbs for most of the story), human sacrifice (blood is a visual metaphor for life-stealing--hence, the "blood bags"--but also for life-giving), and suicidal fanatics (although, the pale-bodied Nux, played by Nicholas Hoult, does have a redemptive arc). 

For everyone else, they may find a lot of mythological and theological elements under the hood. There are themes of environmentalism and some biblical parallels (the aforementioned "Green Place" a.k.a. this story's Garden of Eden). Other themes include feminism, standing against those who abuse power (i.e., political, sexual, physical, spiritual), taking back what was stolen, facing the harsh realities of the world (“Out here, everything hurts”), and looking/fighting for hope and redemption—not just for the central characters, but also for a community or more. Just be sure to strap in. 

Monday, March 11, 2024

Oscars 2024: To the Unsung Heroes That Make the Movies

The cast and crew of Oppenheimer accept the award for Best Picture 
(Courtesy NPR

The 96th Academy Awards were another year of celebration and dedication. For starters, five previous award-winners each presented and commended each of the twenty acting nominees for the first time since 2010. Starting with Da'Vine Joy Randolph's Supporting Actress win for The Holdovers (a very inspiring way to begin the ceremony), several of this year's nominated films managed to take home at least one Oscar statue. 

Some of these films included Hayao Miyazaki's seven-years-in-the-making anime masterpiece The Boy and the Heron (a surprise victory against the more ambitious Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Justine Triet & Arthur Harari's original screenplay for their morally-ambiguous courtroom drama Anatomy of a Fall (that film's dog, Messi, was in the audience!), Jonathan Glazer's haunting Holocaust drama-thriller The Zone of Interest (which won Best International Feature, and for its chilling sound), Cord Jefferson's adapted screenplay for the sharp satire American Fiction, and Wes Anderson's short film adaptation of Roald Dahl's witty and entertaining The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. Jefferson even made an eye-opening (and worthwhile) call for other types of stories to be told, particularly low-budget independent features, and not just big-budget spectacles. (No offense, Christopher Nolan.) 

I was disappointed that Lily Gladstone didn't win Best Actress for her captivating, empathetic, and layered performance in Martin Scorsese's historical western-drama Killers of the Flower Moon. That honor went to Emma Stone, for her leading performance in Yorgos Lanthimos's dark fantasy Poor Things (which picked up additional trophies for its makeup, production design, and costumes). In fact, had Gladstone won, Scorcese's three-and-a-half-hour epic saga wouldn't have gone home empty-handed--a feat it now shares with the director's previous flick, The Irishman (also pushing the same runtime). And with last night's runtime. (Well, almost.) But all disappointment aside, Scorsese remains one of our master filmmakers and dedicated advocates for cinema. 

Getting back to the ceremony, Christopher Nolan's three-hour biopic Oppenheimer took home seven of its eleven nominations, including acting wins for Marvel vet Robert Downey Jr.'s supporting turn and DC vet Cillian Murphy's leading role (marking them the second and third people to win acting trophies for a Nolan feature, since Heath Ledger's posthumous win in 2009), Hoyte Van Hoytema's cinematography, Jennifer Lame's film editing, Ludwig Goransson's original score, Nolan's direction, and Best Picture. 

Billie Eilish (one of the best dressed that evening, along with Randolph, Ariana Grande, and Jon Batiste) and Finneas O'Connell gave a beautiful rendition of their Barbie ballad "What Was I Made For?" (which won Best Original Song, and was backed by an incredible orchestra). But it was Ryan Gosling who stole the show with his hilarious and well-choreographed performance of "I'm Just Ken". (It was extra fun watching him share the mic with co-stars Margot Robbie and America Ferrera, and director Greta Gerwig.) 

There were also some terrific reunions amongst presenters and/or nominees throughout the evening, including Twins and former Batman villains Arnold Schwarzenegger & Danny DeVito (one of the biggest laughs of the night)Beetlejuice alums Michael Keaton & Catherine O'Hara (who will be reprising their respective roles later this year), WWE pros John Cena (who had, perhaps, the most awkward moment of the night) and Dwayne Johnson backstage, and Best Picture presenter Al Pacino with Nolan and co-producer Emma Thomas (for the first time since the 2002 psychological thriller Insomnia). Pacino, however, seemed to rush opening the envelope without acknowledging the other nominees (although, I have seen this twice before, when Tom Hanks presented the award to The Hurt Locker in 2010, or when the late, great British actor Sir Laurence Olivier presented the statue to Amadeus in 1985). 

But more importantly, "Barbenheimer" reps Emily Blunt and Ryan Gosling were just two of the many presenters and/or winners (along with host Jimmy Kimmel) to salute the unsung heroes who make movies happen, from stunt performers to crew members and orchestra players. The same goes for real-life heroes, including teachers and educators (i.e., Billie Eilish's win, Best Documentary Short winner The Last Repair Shop), and those fighting and advocating for various causes around the world. Ukrainian filmmaker Mstyslav Chernov (Best Documentary Feature winner for the harrowing 20 Days in Mariupol), perhaps, said it best: "Cinema forms memories, and memories form history." Cillian Murphy also dedicated his Oscar "to the peacemakers everywhere" around the world. 

Amidst all the praise, glamour, and recognition, we should do the same. 

Monday, March 4, 2024

REVIEW COLLECTION: “Mad Max”—The Original Trilogy

(Courtesy Google Search)

Mad Max (1979) 
Movies about car chases and stunts reached new heights with this sleeper flick about a post-apocalyptic future ruled by road gangs and patrolled by remaining highway officers, including the relentless Max Rockatansky. Mad Max not only marked the directorial debut of former medical doctor (and Australian native) George Miller, but also the debut of its leading man, the American-born Mel Gibson. More accurately, the setting of this fast-paced story is a small town, with truck shops, diners and police stations still intact, and what remains of a contemporary civilization but slowly becoming a wasteland. 

The high points of this film are its car chases and crazy stunts (including an iconic crash through a white camper). Everything is on display: cars, motorcycles, trucks, you name it. Following Steve McQueen in Bullitt and Gene Hackman in The French Connection, Gibson’s Max is a man of few words, but with a lot to say physically, as he goes toe-to-toe with various kinds of psychopathic criminals—ruthless, sadistic, and exploitive. Metaphorical snakes, if you will. Miller has described Mad Max as “a silent picture with sound,” and as “a western in new clothes.” (Read IMDb trivia.) Agreeably, the film is full of kinetic energy and thunderous impact. 

Brian May’s score is equal parts action-fueled, emotional (particularly with Max’s family life), and at times terrifying (like a horror show); one gang scene involves a meat cleaver, and another a target practice on a naked statue. There are other scenes of nudity as well; others reveal bloody after-effects. Then there’s that split-second shot of one character’s bulging eyeballs. 

Max’s character changes over the course of the film, from determined to traumatized to vengeful; from hero to anti-hero. It’s a brilliant three-act structure, no doubt. But a bleak and ambiguous one, at that. In other words, Mad Max is a slow-burn thriller under the hood. 

One of the rare sequels to improve on its predecessor in just about every way. Thanks to a bigger budget and more creative freedom for director George Miller and his team, The Road Warrior (a.k.a. Mad Max 2) shifts into higher, full-throttle gears of action, adrenaline, mythology, history, and sociology. Furthermore, this is the Mad Max chapter that set the standard for what this cinematic world represents: a post-apocalyptic setting of a desert wasteland, scrappy colonies, and global loss. 

Max continues his existential journey as a steampunk “Lone Ranger” (with a dog as his only companion), in a future where people fight for gasoline, and even dog food is used for meals. The film provides another commendable three-act structure, which involves Max wandering the dusty highways, running into a community of desperate survivors, and ultimately helping those people, if only to get himself out of the situation. Even so, the traumatized, former police officer is asked about what he’s looking for, and what his purpose is. He’s even offered an opportunity to start a new life. 

More significantly, The Road Warrior succeeds as an even more engrossing “silent picture with sound,” as Miller once called the first film. It has strong sound design and editing, not to mention massive and insane set pieces, as well as gripping chase sequences. But it also contains a few jump scares, some brief images of nudity (including one rape scene), and some bloody results. 

The filmmakers came up with more unique (and standout) vehicle designs and crazy costumes, whether for the antagonistic gangs (led by the bulked-up Lord Humungus, whose hockey mask predates horror icon Jason Voorhees), the aerial scrapper that Max keeps running into (veteran character actor Bruce Spence), or the survivors looking for a better world—a promised land, a Garden of Eden. As the saying goes, it’s a long road ahead. 

TRIVIAL FACT: Late cinematographer Andrew Lesnie (a frequent collaborator of Peter Jackson) worked on this film earlier in his career, and is credited as “Documentary Cameraman.”

This third chapter in the original Mad Max saga leans more into mythology and world building than in action. TV director George Ogilvie assists franchise co-creator George Miller behind the camera this time around. And as the first and only PG-13 entry in the series, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome feels like two movies for the price of one. 

In one corner is a society that gets its fuel from pig manure and holds gladiatorial matches to the death in the titular arena. Running this show is the charismatic Auntie Entity (played by Tina Turner, in her screen debut), who uses the elusive road warrior (Mel Gibson takes up the mantel one last time—and with longer hair) to take back control of her community from a supposedly-fierce competitor. (Max is just looking for supplies that were stolen from him.) In the other corner is a tribal society of lost children, waiting and hoping for a lost war pilot a la Lord of the Flies or Peter Pan’s Lost Boys of Neverland. (I wonder if Steven Spielberg was inspired by this movie when he made Hook years later.) 

Definitely a product of its era (in style and tone), Thunderdome is a bit uneven and tamer than its predecessors, but a distinct and dynamic vision from a brilliant filmmaker nonetheless. Instead of mostly automotive action, it’s more about adventure and discovering a larger world. But that doesn’t mean it’s devoid of ambitious set pieces, including the titular match, and the climactic chase sequence (complete with a thunderous score). Plus, it’s incredible hearing Turner’s voice over the soundtrack (including the profound anthem, “We Don’t Need Another Hero”). 

Beyond Thunderdome was reportedly the inspiration for Dr. Dre & Tupac Shakur’s 1995 music video for their rap hit, “California Love”. Two years after this film, Gibson helped launch another successful franchise with Richard Donner’s buddy-cop action flick, Lethal Weapon, opposite Danny Glover. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: Legacy of the “Planet of the Apes” Part 1

(Courtesy Pixels Merch)

A trio of American astronauts, on a special mission deep in space, crash land on a strange planet ruled by human-sized primates, while people there are enslaved or used for sport. That’s the premise of the original 1963 novel, La Planète des singes, by French author Pierre Boulle, and the basis for the groundbreaking film adaptation released five years later. 

From a screenplay by Rod Serling and Michael Wilson, and under the direction of Franklin J. Schaffner (not to mention Steadicam cinematography by Leon Shamroy), Planet of the Apes was headlined by screen legend Charlton Heston, as lead astronaut Taylor. Though known for such larger-than-life figures as Moses and Judah Ben-Hur, Taylor is a much more complex role for Heston to flex his acting muscles—and literally, since many of his scenes involve him being shirtless or in dirty rags—as he searches for answers to how this mysterious civilization came to be. 

Planet of the Apes is most famous for its impressive makeup effects by John Chambers and his team. And they’ve managed to convincingly pull off not one but three different species of monkeys, from scientist chimpanzees (including Kim Hunter’s Zira and Roddy McDowell’s Cornelius) to militaristic gorillas and politician orangutans (led by Maurice Evan’s commanding Dr. Zaius). 

But the film has so much more going on underneath all that makeup and world-building. This is a thoroughly-engrossing science-fiction tale with challenging themes of evolution, power, class, religion, enslavement, and destruction. (Reportedly, that first sight of apes on horseback, as well as Heston’s oft-quoted line in their presence, and the shocking twist at the end, were and remain jaw-dropping moments in cinema.) The result is haunting and thought-provoking. 

It’s also worth noting that, while this film (and most of its sequels) received a “G” rating upon release, this is not really a child-friendly movie, due to scenes of nudity, sexuality (including Linda Harrison’s mute Nova), language, and intense action and violence. Not to mention a pervasive sense of chills and thrills. That would be a madhouse for the little ones.

20th Century Fox followed up the successful Planet of the Apes with this lackluster (and stranger) sequel that centered on a different astronaut, on a rescue mission, who eventually discovers a secret underground society of telepathic people. Beginning exactly where the last film ended, Taylor (Charlton Heston, in a rather small role) suddenly disappears, leaving his mate Nova (Linda Harrison, once again) on a search for help. She soon meets Brent (an engaging James Franciscus, who bears a resemblance to Heston), and they both not only try to survive the present ape society (on its way to war, apparently), but are shocked at the discovery of a secret world deep into the “Forbidden Zone” that (gasp) worships an atomic bomb. 

Maurice Evans (Dr. Zaius) and Kim Hunter (Zira) reprise their respective roles from the first movie. And there are some thought-provoking themes about characters contemplating what they’ve lost or left behind, as well as political or ethical conflicts between intelligence and morality. The same with prejudice, power and control. 

Whereas the first film was Grade A, Beneath the Planet of the Apes is B-level moviemaking, both visually and viscerally. Several obvious green screen effects (from lightning strikes to earthquakes and firestorms) are dated, as is the film’s sexual imagery and revealing garbs (including a scene of implied and forced rape?). As soon as our main characters discover what was once an underground subway station, the movie loses it from there, thanks, in part, to fast editing and a screeching sound design. 

This cult of Doomsday worshippers—and it is clearly a cult, with creepy and radiated skin—confuse peace with malevolence, and thereby mentally force others to kill each other.) That’s messed up. With more of an emphasis on man-made religion and destruction, Beneath has one of the most depressing and nihilistic endings of any film—certainly in this original series. This was reportedly Heston’s idea, as he believed it would not guarantee any more installments. Be careful what you wish for. 

Considered by many to be the best of the Apes sequels, Escape From the Planet of the Apes opens with scientist chimpanzees Zira and Cornelius (Kim Hunter and Roddy McDowell, the latter of whom couldn’t be in the previous movie due to scheduling conflicts) as they, along with a fellow doctor, crash land from the future into present day California. What follows is a subversive franchise entry that embraces more comedic aspects while retaining the series’ trademark surprise/shock factor. 

A subplot explains that the three primates found one of the American spaceships (from the previous films), fixed it up, and managed to escape earth just before a nuclear explosion that destroyed the planet. A bit far-fetched, perhaps. But it sets the stage for an exceptional three-act structure in which our sole ape characters are embraced by the general public and bask in various trends and culture of the time (the story actually takes place in 1973), including fashion, television, sports, women’s rights, and museums. But Zira and Cornelius eventually go on the run once dark secrets of a possible future are revealed and those in power label them as threats to human civilization, especially since Zira is expecting a child. 

Escape also counts as something of a reboot in this series, as it deals with time travel and relevant fears of the unknown, including the future. As one character asks, “Given the power to alter the future, have we the right to use it?” The screenplay (written by Paul Dehn) even throws in discussions about the nature of evil and the existence of God, but not passively. And it does all of these things with genuine character development, conflict, and emotional and moral stakes. “We think we have all the time in the world,” argues a political official, “How much time does the world got?” 

But because this is a Planet of the Apes story, it also has tragedy. Not only does one character or more apparently condone suicide in one scene, but the tension and suspense throughout the film’s third act boils to a sad finish. Then again, the chimps did have Ricardo Montalban’s circus manager Armando on their side.

The Planet of the Apes series took a daring and controversial turn with a fourth installment in the early-1970s. Roddy McDowell headlined this darker chapter, this time as Caesar, the son of simians Cornelius and Zira. Set in the year 1991 (or rather, a 1970s version of the future, and 20 years after the events of Escape), the human-ape roles have been reversed—primates are enslaved, and fearful or controlling human beings try to keep them in check and prevent a reported apocalypse. 

Caesar’s existence and true identity—no other ape can speak but him—is unknown to everyone else, except for his kind-hearted master and circus friend Armando (Ricardo Montalban, once again). But after a heated public incident nearly blows their cover, the two are forced to split up and blend in with society. As Armando is interrogated, Caesar is horrified by the cruelty his brethren face on a daily basis. But step by step, he spreads the word about a plan to fight back and free his fellow captives. 

This is a story where police officers and other authority figures are the villains (which is hard to watch, given the numerous related headlines our culture has seen in recent years). Moments involving torture and beatings are one thing. But when the central rebellion really gets going, it’s relentlessly violent and polarizing. One of the lone exceptions in this batch of human characters is the governor’s right-hand man, McDonald (played by Hari Rhodes), who reveals unexpected motives that make him a trustworthy and empathetic figure. He even has two of the film’s best moments, evoking humanity in the midst of all the chaos and slaughter. 

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes was the first and only PG-rated sequel in the series. But it should stand as further proof that these films were never really for children. McDowell once compared this sequel to other gritty films of its era, such as Dirty Harry and The French Connection. With scenes involving weapons, gunfire, explosions, property damage, one suicide, and a main character who ultimately becomes the future that humanity feared (very haunting), it’s not hard to see why.

The final installment in the original series, Battle for the Planet of the Apes proceeds the devastating events of Conquest—twelve years after an atomic explosion ignites a war between simians and mutated human adversaries. In this chapter, Caesar (Roddy McDowell, one last time) leads a community of surviving apes (including his chimpanzee wife Lisa, orangutan confidant Virgil, and militaristic gorilla Aldo) and allied human beings. 

Screen veteran John Huston makes an appearance as the eponymous “Lawgiver,” who recounts the events from the previous two films. In those respects, Escape, Conquest, and Battle form their own trilogy within this franchise, culminating in a battle between not only man and beast, but also ape against ape. Caesar even journeys to a “Forbidden City” to look for answers to his past, and soon comes face to face with (what looks like) a former assistant to the governor from Conquest

Other themes include religion, the nature of good and evil, the reality of war, power, control, and what it means to be human. But Battle feels like it retreads familiar territory. It’s a very dialogue-driven piece, and, perhaps, the tamest of all the Apes films by comparison. Still, it does contain scenes of intense violence (predating Mad Max and The Terminator), including one tragic, merciless death (a moment that’s reiterated later on, supposedly going against what the central community stands for). 

The success of this franchise (around the same time as James Bond and Star Trek) soon led to an animated television series, a successful merchandising campaign, an insightful behind-the-scenes documentary in 1998 (one of McDowell’s last on-camera appearances before his death that year), and a hilarious parody on an episode of The Simpsons. Talk about monkey-see-monkey-do. 

Friday, March 1, 2024

REVIEW COLLECTION: Six x Seuss

(Courtesy Reddit)

WRITER’S NOTE: In honor of Dr. Seuss’ birthday this weekend, here is a look back on the six films that were adapted from his original works. Except for the last one, the following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian. 

(Courtesy Columbia Pictures) 
While several children’s books written by Theodore Geisel a.k.a. Dr. Seuss had been adapted into animated shorts throughout the 20th Century, none of them were made into live-action movies in the author’s lifetime. The lone exception was an original musical conceived and co-written by Geisel in the early-1950s. But it reportedly wasn’t a very good experience. 

The story of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. centers on a boy named Bart Collins (a play on Bartholomew Cubbins, portrayed by Tommy Rettig), bored by piano lessons from his overbearing and strict teacher, who escapes into a surreal and sinister dream world ruled by the maniacal Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried, best known as the voice of Captain Hook in Walt Disney’s Peter Pan that same year). 

The film’s set and costume designs are impressive, impeccable, and grand, with clever homages to Seuss’s Hunches in Bunches, very witty lyrics (“What Marvelous Weather”), an extravagant sequence involving non-piano players in green makeup, and the centerpiece involving hundreds of child extras and wacky sounds galore. It may just have the largest and most unique piano ever constructed for a mainstream feature film. 

The story is full of moments that start but don’t seem to quite finish, as if each character is dragging from one thing to the next. While it seems to critique the roles of adults/parents and children, and portrays music playing as a chore or slave drive, 5,000 Fingers isn’t quite sure what kind of story it wants to. Much of this is due to the entire film being reportedly reworked and re-edited. Geisel subsequently refused to have Hollywood make any more live-action versions of his work, a stipulation that his widow, Audrey Geisel, kept after the author’s death in 1991. That is, until the turn of the century. (But that’s another story.) 

TRIVIAL FACT: The 2001 DVD release of 5,000 Fingers includes the 1953 UPA short, Gerald McBoing-Boing’s Symphony, a superb piece of animation that I found livelier by comparison. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures)
It was one of the most anticipated movies at the turn of the century. Not to mention one of the biggest Hollywood productions in years, with hundreds of actors in makeup and prosthetics, and sets that brought a beloved author’s iconic illustrations and characters to life. The resulting live-action version of Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas, directed by Ron Howard, is highly divisive. 

The positives, for starters, include the incredible art direction, production design, and costumes, as well as Rick Baker’s award-winning makeup for Jim Carrey’s ever-infamous curmudgeon and the many citizens of Who-ville. To be sure, the film works on its own, and it has heart (thanks to James Horner’s wondrous score, and the moving “Where Are You, Christmas?”). And even though his schtick and voice can get old at times, Carrey still delivers some clever improvised bits, fourth-wall gags, and other now-iconic moments (“5 o’clock, solve world hunger. Tell no one”). 

That being said, you can really see the hand of Hollywood all over this production. This 2000 box-office hit extends the narrative with a creepy and sad backstory for the Grinch, the addition of a love interest (and some unnecessary innuendos and subtle adult jokes), making the Whos more consumeristic, and giving Cindy Lou-Who (Taylor Momsen, in her screen debut) a larger role. Plus, the Grinch’s main heist doesn’t really begin until the last act of the film. 

Carrey himself has admitted that he regrets some of the aforementioned gags in this PG-rated family comedy, while Seuss’s widow Audrey Geisel consulted over script rewrites and input at best. She did, on the other hand, approve of Carrey’s casting and the incredible crew work behind-the-scenes. Which is why it’s a shame that the overall tone is edgy. The movie may be funny, imaginative, and heartwarming, but this big-budget spectacle ain’t got nothing on the simple cartoon. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures/DreamWorks Pictures)
I really wanted to like this movie. And there was every reason to. It was only the second live-action film adaptation of a beloved Dr. Seuss book (consisting of 220 words and 31 colorful illustrations). It starred an iconic comedic actor in the title role (Mike Myers). And its sets were impeccable and whimsical. Plus, I’m a Dr. Seuss fan at heart. Which is why this 2003 flick was so disappointing. 

Picture the most imaginative sets being treated like giant litter boxes. This may look like a Seuss story, which reimagines the classic tale of a brother and sister who, home alone on a rainy day, get visited by a mysterious and mischievous feline. But it feels and acts nothing like it. (The lone exceptions are the charming animated logos during the opening credits, and Victor Brandt’s fitting Seussian narration.) Instead, the filmmakers litter the screen with uncalled-for innuendos, mean-spirited hijinks (one sequence has the Cat cutting his tail with a meat cleaver), shameless product plugs, and lowbrow potty humor. And a disgusting gut. For a book that originally taught children how to have fun while reading, this movie is nothing more than encouraging them to misbehave. 

Myers’ non-stop riffing (an impersonation of Bert Lahr’s Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz) gets old fast. Thing One and Thing Two are just creepy. The main kids, Sally and Conrad (Dakota Fanning and Spencer Breslin, respectively), aren’t even likable. And the supporting cast (including Sean Hayes as a germophobic boss and Alec Baldwin as a snooty neighbor) is lame. Only a few climactic moments work (“You don’t know when enough is enough!”). 

Film critic Leonard Martin believes this movie betrayed everything Dr. Seuss stood for, and that the inclusion of his name in the title was and is insulting. It was this flick that prompted Seuss’s widow, Audrey Geisel, to put an end to any future live-action movies based on her late husband’s work. And for good reason. Next, it was back to animation. 

(Courtesy 20th Century Fox)
This CGI flick from the late-2000s was hardly the first to translate a Dr. Seuss book into an animated feature. (That distinction goes to Bob Clampett’s 1942 take on “Horton Hatches the Egg”.) But “Horton Hears a Who” arguably proved that the medium was the best way to adapt Ted Geisel’s unique characters and literary worlds. 

“Horton” is a visual delight. It’s a brilliant showcase for Blue Sky Animation’s photorealistic techniques (including water and fur), walking a fine line between lifelike and cartoony. The film itself has its moments, and a terrific voice cast (Steve Carell is perfect as the Mayor of Who-ville). As only the third feature-film adaptation of Seuss’s books, it’s the most audience-friendly pick, with clever, seamless Seussian narration by Charles Osgood, and a colorful score by John Powell. 

But it has the hand of Hollywood all over it. In spite of its G-rating and accolades from critics and audiences, its tone is broad and edgy. For one thing, the Sour Kangaroo (voiced by Carol Burnett) comes across as mean and cruel. A few pop culture references feel out of place (REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling,” anybody?). And while I’m a lifelong fan of Jim Carrey, I’m not sure if he was the person to voice Horton. I’ve always pictured the delightful pachyderm as a good-natured and humble character. Carrey’s voiceover does those things, but he plays Horton as overly-excited and exaggerated. But that’s just my opinion. 

On the other hand, the way the filmmakers handle the story’s themes of faith, doubt, perseverance against all odds (even in the face of death), and integrity (biblical parallels can be drawn from them as well) are commendable and worthwhile. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures) 
The Lorax (2012) 
Dr. Seuss books are natural fits for musicals. (Lest we forget, there was, in fact, a stage production in the early-2000s, titled Seussical, which they still need to make into a movie.) The 2012 CGI take on Geisel’s 1971 tale The Lorax (courtesy Illumination) was technically the first official feature-length Seuss musical (previous films had at least one musical segment). The songs by composer John Powell and co-writer Cinco Paul aren’t memorable, but they are intriguing, well-written, and progress the story. (The comically-dark “How Bad Can I Be” is a standout.) 

The movie features the voices of Zac Efron (as protagonist Ted), Taylor Swift (as the girl next door he tries to impress), Betty White (as an optimistic grandmother), and Danny DeVito (as the titular creature). Ed Helms voices the Once-ler, who’s given a face and a more likable personality (a significant liberty from the book) and a hillbilly-esque family. The writers even go so far as making him and the Lorax friends before all the destruction happens. 

The additional of a plastic-filled town called “Thneedville” (based on the material from the ever-popular truffula trees) is amusing, adding to the story’s commentary on commercialism, greed, and the damaging effects on nature and life. But the addition of an antagonistic business tycoon O’Hare (voiced by comedian Rob Riggle) leaves little to be desired, and reduces some of the story’s wit and creativity. (The Once-ler’s scenes as an older man work much better.) 

If I’m being honest, I truly believe Hollywood doesn’t fully understand Dr. Seuss. Sure, they get the look and character designs right. (And The Lorax has bright and gorgeous animation, to be sure.) But they feel and act like generic or lukewarm variations, which explains this movie. At least The Lorax is age-appropriate and mild enough for its target audience of children and families, with some nice messages about owning up to mistakes, and about caring and stewardship. Not bad at all. 

(Courtesy Universal Pictures)
The Grinch (2018) 
Let me be honest: I still think a great adaptation of a Dr. Seuss book is yet to be made. It would be amazing to see a visionary filmmaker that has a lot in common with the author's originality and whimsy. Say, Wes Anderson or Spike Jonze. That being said, I enjoyed the latest version of The Grinch. It's wonderfully animated. It has a terrific voice cast, including Benedict Cumberbatch as the titular "Mean One.” And it continues Illumination's reputation as a first-rate studio that specializes in fun culture and character-driven stories that audiences of any age can appreciate.

Instead of expanding the Grinch's background like they did in the live-action version, this one restrains certain elements that give enough of an idea of why the green miser chooses to "steal Christmas" from the Whos of Who-ville. It also pays homage to the Chuck Jones short with the iconic songs (and in Danny Elfman's magical score), and by portraying the Whos as sweet and not as superficial consumers. Purists may balk at the way the film modernizes the story, or the music by Pharrell Williams (who narrates) and Tyler the Creator. 

But if I've learned anything about books and movies, it's that, while they may take certain liberties, as long as the author's vision and the story's center drive everything, it's alright. For what it's worth, the characters in this version (compared with the other Seuss-related movies) aren't overly exaggerated or pointless (e.g., Cindy Lou Who is portrayed as a little girl with a single mom and two brothers). 

Stephen King once said, "Movies and books are apples and oranges. They're ‘delicious,' but they don't taste the same." The Grinch is more of a holiday treat as opposed to poetic produce. But it’s one of those rare cases where the movie works on its own. Though far from a great movie, The Grinch may currently be the best movie version of a Dr. Seuss book. It's certainly the most endearing. 

Monday, February 12, 2024

REVIEW: “Origin” (2023)


Ava DuVernay’s ambitious feature film Origin opens with a disclaimer that, while it is based on a book by journalist Isabel Wilkerson (the 2020 bestseller, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents), it is a dramatization of that text. But the socially-conscious filmmaker takes it several steps further by placing Wilkinson center stage, and presenting the story of a dedicated woman (an incredible Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) who researches the history and roots of prejudice, and eventually goes on a centuries- and continental-spanning odyssey. 

Shot on 16mm Kodak film, Origin interconnects multiple storylines of “quiet revolutionaries,” from a German Nazi and Jewish woman in World War II, to black researchers in the Deep South, and an Indian professor advocating for Dalit rights. According to Devernay, the story blends magical realism with real-life historical periods. I wondered, on the other hand, how all of this was connected, especially with Isabel’s personal stages of grief over the loss of those dearest to her. 

The film dramatizes the original author’s writing process, research, and immersion into the facts and untold stories from the world’s history of dehumanization. Observations and/or accounts from others (including eyewitnesses) create an objective and universal experience. The result is what Ann Hornaday of the Washington Post called “a new cinematic language.” 


Perhaps Origin answers more questions than it asks. It also carries a bit too much conversation and some political agendas, more than its captivating visual imagery/poetry (i.e., falling leaves), including the difference between racism and caste systems, subjugation and elimination, and the issue of labels. As Isabel tells us, "You don’t escape trauma by ignoring it, but by confronting it." 


What is for certain, on the other hand (despite this film’s heavy and difficult subject matter), is what a bold and daring piece of cinema this is. Only two other films from 2023 took such risks: Sony Animation’s Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and Raven Jackson’s All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt; all three center around black protagonists. (In addition, next to Sound of Freedom, this is the only other 2023 release I saw in theaters with a hashtag over the end credits, encouraging audiences to buy tickets for others to see the film.) 


Origin is a profound and eye-opening testament to the power of the written word, as well as perseverance, social change, acknowledging our nation’s (and world’s) history, and recognizing what’s worth living for after all that has happened. 

Tuesday, January 23, 2024

Oscar Nominations 2024: Large and Small, Local and Abroad

(Courtesy ABC)

Academy members from a record 93 countries around the world were involved with this year's Oscar nominations (announced this morning by Academy president Janet Yang, and presenters Jack Quaid and Zazie Beetz). And a large majority of that diversity is collectively reflected in each category and genre--with a few snubs thrown in, as is common. 

First, let's talk about the films that we weren't surprised got recognized this year. As one of two blockbuster hits that did phenomenally well with both audiences and critics, Barbie picked up noms for its colorful and respectable costumes and production design, Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach's satirical screenplay (although some, like myself, would argue that it was more original than adapted), two of its songs (the tongue-in-cheek "I'm Just Ken" and the deeply emotional "What Was I Made For"), the supporting performances of Ryan Gosling and America Ferrera, and as Best Picture. 

The other record-breaking success it shared the screen with last summer, fellow Best Picture-nominee Oppenheimer, earned Christopher Nolan his second nomination as Best Director (after Dunkirk in 2018). Nolan also picked up nominations for his adapted screenplay and for co-producing the film, while the biopic's score, sound, production design, editing, and cinematography went off at the push of a button. And let's not forget the two standout performances by Robert Downey Jr. (supporting actor) and Cillian Murphy (lead actor). 

Other acclaimed films that made the cut included Martin Scorsese's western epic Killers of the Flower Moon (Best Picture, Director, Editing, the late Robbie Robertson's posthumous score, Original Song, Cinematography, and DeNiro's supporting role; I'm rooting for Native American actress Lily Gladstone's lead performance), Alexander Payne's seasonal dramedy The Holdovers (Best Picture, Editing, and performances from Paul Giamatti and Da'vine Joy Randolph; hats off for David Hemingson's original screenplay), Yorgos Lanthimos's dark comedy Poor Things (Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, Emma Stone and Mark Ruffalo's performances), Bradley Cooper's music drama Maestro (Best Picture, Makeup & Hairstyling, Original Screenplay, Sound, Cinematography), and Cord Jefferson's daring satire American Fiction (Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, Score, and Jeffrey Wright's brilliant performance). 

Other inclusions that weren't surprising were Animated Feature nominees The Boy and the Heron (Hayao Miyazaki's latest masterpiece from Japan), Elemental (Pixar's inventive and emotional romantic comedy about personified elements), and Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (Sony Animation's genre- and medium-bending Marvel superhero sequel). While tentpole movies like Gareth Edward's sci-fi epic The Creator and Christopher McQuarrie's globe-trotting action-adventure sequel Mission: Impossible--Dead Reckoning Part One performed below expectations during their theatrical runs, the Academy recognized each of them for their respective visual effects and sound designs (and deservedly so). The same could be said for Ridley Scott's large-scale take on France conqueror Napoleon, which picked up nominations for its costume design, production design, and visual effects. Speaking of Napoleon (but on a different note), Napoleon Dynamite alum Jared Hess and wife Jerusha Hess scored their first Oscar nominations for their animated short film, Ninety-Five Senses

(L-R) Anatomy of a Fall (Neon) and Zone of Interest (A24)
(Courtesy Deadline) 

Other first-time nominees included Emily Blunt (for her supporting role as the wife of the titular Oppenheimer), Colman Dimongo (for his lead performance as March on Washington organizer Bayard Rustin, in George C. Wolff's historical biopic Rustin) and Sterling K. Brown (for his supporting role as a gay sibling, in American Fiction). Oscar veterans Annette Bening and Jodie Foster also picked up nominations (their first in 13 and 29 years, respectively) for their performances as real-life swimmer Diana Nyad and her friend-coach Bonnie Stoll, in Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi's sports drama Nyad

Jonathan Glazer's Holocaust thriller Zone of Interest and Justin Triet's courtroom drama Anatomy of a Fall both shared nominations as Best Picture, International Feature, Directing, and Screenplay (Zone's adapted, Fall's original). The only differences are Zone's sound design and Fall's Lead Actress Sandra Huller. Even so, I believe this is the first time in the Academy's history that two international features were also nominated for Best Picture in the same year

While Margot Robbie's absence as Best Actress for Barbie is a bit of a bummer (she was recognized as one of the film's producers, a credit she shares with fellow nominee Bradley Cooper), it's even more of a letdown that Greta Gerwig didn't get a Best Director acknowledgement. Other snubs included Cooper as Best Director for Maestro (although he was recognized as Lead Actor, along with lead actress Carey Mulligan, and as co-producer, along with Steven Spielberg), Leonardo DiCaprio's leading role in Killers of the Flower Moon (ditto Martin Scorsese and Eric Roth's masterful adapted screenplay), Alexander Payne as Best Director for The Holdovers, and the impressive visual effects for Oppenheimer. Another of the year's best films, Celine Song's thoughtful drama Past Lives, only received two nominations (Best Picture and Original Screenplay). Greta Lee not being recognized as a Lead Actress is another shame, because her performance was one of the best of 2023. I will say, Past Lives does count as an International Feature, alongside Zone of Interest and Anatomy of a Fall. So that's a pretty remarkable achievement. 

The musical adaptation of Alice Walker's The Color Purple received only one nomination, for Danielle Brooks' commanding supporting turn. (Lead actress Fantasia Barrino, a phenomenal performance, was left out.) Other films with sole nominations include Todd Haynes' dark comedy May December (Original Screenplay; nothing for actresses Natalie Portman and Julianne Moore, nor acclaimed supporting actor Charles Melton), Wim Wender's character drama Perfect Days (International Feature from Japan), Matthew Heineman's engrossing documentary American Symphony (Original Song by Jon Batiste and Dan Wilson; it arguably should've gotten a Best Documentary Feature nomination), James Mangold's adventure sequel Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (for John Williams' reportedly-final film score; both Williams and Scorsese are the oldest nominees this year), Takashi Yamazaki's monster movie update Godzilla Minus One (for its visual effects), and Wes Anderon's short film adaptation of Roald Dahl's The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (his feature-length comedy Asteroid City wasn't recognized at all). 

If there's a common theme among this year's roster of films, I would say it includes box-office hits, comedies, epic stories (both large scale and small scale), and international darlings. Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen, for the televised broadcast (with host Jimmy Kimmel) on March 10th.