RETROSPECT: “Unbreakable” or, How to Ground Comic Book Figures In Reality

Writer-director M. Night Shaymalan has had his share of successes and failures for the past two decades since his surprise hit thriller The Sixth Sense (about a boy who sees ghosts) made an impact in the industry in 1999. Although he's made a comeback with last year's equally-terrifying Split (about a disturbed man with multiple personalities) as well as the highly anticipated release of Glass this coming winter, interest has been renewing regarding his sophomoric effort from the 2000--a story about a man who survives a train crash and discovers that he may have superhuman abilities.

Unbreakable was released at a time when superhero movies were not the norm. Blade (a half-man, half-vampire character, courtesy Marvel) had been out for two years, and it would be another two until director Sam Raimi would bring Spider-Man (also Marvel, but more light-hearted) to the big screen. In the mean time, director Bryan Singer brought Marvel's X-Men into the limelight in a new, sensational way.

What made Shaymalan's film so unique and unprecedented (and, in retrospect, perhaps his best achievement) was, as one character describes a vintage art portrait from a comic book (poetically illustrating the film itself), "its realistic depiction of its figures." Not to mention a tone that was bleak, melancholy, quiet, mysterious, at times slow, and yet contemplative and grounded. (Keep in mind, it would be another five years before Christopher Nolan would do the same thing while bringing Batman back. He and director Zack Snyder, meanwhile, would eventually, and respectfully, be some of the only filmmakers who arguably used the comic-book medium for truly artistic and thematic purposes.)

"Real life doesn't fit into little boxes that were drawn for it."

As for the film's characters, Shaymalan takes the time in allowing us to sympathize or understand where they're coming from and what they're feeling or, overall, going through.

David Dunn (Bruce Willis, in what may be his best performance, aside from the first Die Hard) is a former college football star who now works as a security guard at the University in Philadelphia. He is apparently struggling in his marriage and considers job opportunities elsewhere, until an unexpected railway crash leaves him not only miraculously alive, but unscared and unbroken.

Elijah Price (Samuel L. Jackson, ever the incredible chameleon of an actor he is) is a crippled art gallery owner who has, since childbirth, sustained multiple and numerous fractures due to a rare genetic disorder. As a fearful and sad child (other kids call him "Mr. Glass"), his mother used to motivate him with comic books to get him out into the world. (Notice in certain scenes, his character is reflected in glass mirrors or windows.) From that, he came to believe that superheroes are more than just drawings on the pages of magazines. They are ancient, mythological stories and figures that walk the earth. He even explains in two back-to-back monologues said history and its descent into commercial items. "If there is somebody like me, on one end of the spectrum," says Elijah, "couldn't there be somebody else on the other end? Someone who doesn't get hurt, doesn't get sick? The kind of person these stories are about? Someone who was sent here to protect us?"

Though he tries to deny it at first, David discovers that he may be superhuman, from how many weights he lifts, to how his instincts grow on him, to how water (from a childhood trauma) makes him weak and fearful, and even how his wife Audrey describes football as "violence against opponents." Even his security guard raincoat acts as a kind of hero costume. (A similar example can be found in 2017's Sleight, about a street musician.)

Bruce Willis

Samuel L. Jackson

"Heroes don't get killed like that. Normal people do, right?"

Elijah's worldview and statements, though intriguing, may prove, on the other hand, to be questionable and even creepy, considering how these new discoveries take a toll on David's son, Joseph (Spencer Treat Clark, whose credits also include Gladiator and Mystic River), who wants to believe his father is an extraordinary person and far from normal, and Audrey (Robin Wright, a very underappreciated actress), who wants to rebuild their marriage (a rare story element these days).

Unbreakable includes long, uncut takes that apparently resemble panels of a comic book. Notice when the camera slowly pans left or right, when it zooms in and out, at specific beats, such as when David finds a note on his car windshield. There are even point-of-view shots of characters looking upside-down. It's a slow pace, for the most part, but to reiterate, it takes said time in allowing us to feel with the characters. James Newton Howard's score brilliantly embodies these character emotions and aforementioned tones.

While advertised as a mystery-thriller (to play off the success of Shaymalan's The Sixth Sense), there are really only a couple of truly suspenseful scenes in the whole film. One involves a character who falls down a flight of stairs and breaks his legs--and shatters his glass cane. Another has David following an orange suit man to a house, where a family is being held hostage. Still, another intense scene involves a child pointing a revolver at his father to try and prove he can't get hurt.

Robin Wright and Bruce Willis

"They say this one has a surprise ending."

Shaymalan's tone remains consistent, up until the climactic twist (a trope that would become common with most of his films). This twist could even echo a significant theme from 1989's Batman: Does the "villain" make the "hero," or does the "hero" make the "villain," or both?

It's almost hard to believe that since the beginning of the decade this film was released, there's been an exponential growth in popularity and quality for superheroes and comic books in general, not to mention over-saturation. And yet, because there's so much nowadays (especially of the cartoon nature), it's refreshing that there are those types of films that transcend their genres or mediums. In that regard, films inspired by or about comics are a rare thing.

While Nolan and Snyder are brilliant filmmakers in their own right, Shyamalan may have been the first to truly ground a comic-book-inspired story in reality. He has openly stated the same about this winter's highly-anticipated Glass, which will be bringing together characters from both this film (Willis and Jackson) and Split (James McAvoy's Kevin Crumb and Anya Taylor-Joy's Casey Cooke). Until then, Unbreakable deserves another look.

"It's hard for many people to believe that there are extraordinary things inside themselves, as well as others. I hope you can keep an open mind."

REVIEW: "First Man" or, One Small Step for Filmmaking, One Giant Leap for the Space Genre

"Never before have so many people been tuned in to one event at one time." The late news anchor Walter Cronkite said those words following the unforgettable Apollo 11 mission by NASA from Earth to the moon, as well as the television broadcast that coincided with it, back in 1969. And it remains an iconic event.

What director Damien Chazelle does with the story that leads up to it in First Man (based on the bestselling biography by James R. Hansen) shows the raw and difficult reality of what NASA and the families involved had gone through, far from the victorious publicity Apollo 11 had become known for. Specifically chronicling the life of astronaut Neil Armstrong (who eventually became the first man to step foot on the then-unknown terrain) over a near-decade-long journey, it's an intense but very human story.

The screenplay (written by Spotlight co-scribe Josh Singer) chronicles how Armstrong's familial and professional lives affected him, how the losses in both lives affected him (including his 3-year-old daughter Karen, who's untimely death opens the film), and how he may have used work to stay away from the heartaches of family (or at least the memory of his daughter). Ryan Gosling (who worked with Chazelle on La La Land) is great at expressing himself, subtly yet complex, through his face and eyes, for almost any role he plays, and this one is no exception. (Ditto for The Crown's Claire Foy, who's just as dynamic, as his wife, Janet Armstrong.)

As he did with Whiplash (2014) and La La Land (2016), Chazelle pulls no punches on the central raw emotions here, despite some quick transition cuts between years of failed tests and familial/personal heartaches. Consider a scene where Janet forces Neil to prepare their children for the possibility that he may not come home from the Lunar mission, as previous losses during launch tests have proven.

Many even question (as they did at the time) if all that NASA was doing, financially and personally, was worth the risks and sacrifices. Some would even call it a waste of resources. But as Armstrong states earlier, "This mission may allow us to see things we should have seen a long time ago, but we just haven't been able to until now," foreshadowing the notion of being more than just "the first" to do something unprecedented. Or, as John F. Kennedy would declare, a belief in our "progressing as a nation".

From frame one, you feel as if you're right up there with the astronauts themselves. Case in point: the opening test flight. Shaky camera techniques and tight framing on display make the experience (and film) claustrophobic at times, not to mention very immersive, compared with, say, Apollo 13 or Gravity. Ditto the Gemini 8 launch sequence, or the signature Lunar sequence (beautifully filmed with IMAX cameras).

Ryan Gosling

The filmmakers made a smart choice to shoot on film, as it puts viewers in the period of the 1960s. And yet, the story, strangely, doesn't feel dated, thanks, in part, to stunning cinematography (e.g., blue light shots) by Linus Sandgren (echoing Kubrick and Malick), production design by Christopher Nolan collaborator Nathan Crowley, heart-pounding sound design by Ai-Ling Lee, and a score by Justin Hurwitz that is beautiful, haunting, and astounding. The aforementioned moments are recreated as if we're witnessing history-in-the-making, or the early days of the space program for the first time. Either way, it leaves you breathless.

Out of the many space-related films to have come out this decade (Gravity, Interstellar, The Martian, Hidden Figures), this film is, perhaps, the most grounded and the most intense. Chazelle's approach is fresh, brutally honest, and on-the-edge-of-your-seat. It's involving and moving, to the moon and back.

REVIEW: Illumination's "The Grinch" (and The Animation Studio's Universal Vibe) May Make Your Heart Grow Three Sizes

Let me start off by saying this: I still think a great film adaptation of a Dr. Seuss book is yet to be made. Unless you count the classic animated shorts from the 60s onwards (particularly Chuck Jones's unforgettable animated version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"), it would be amazing to see a visionary filmmaker that has a lot in common with the author's originality, creativity, and whimsy. Say, Wes Anderson or Spike Jonze, whose film adaptations of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr. Fox and Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are (both released in 2009) were terrific and poignant, respectively. Not to mention artistically and thematically impressive.

That being said, I'm happy to say that my less-than-anticipated perspective on the latest version of The Grinch (courtesy Illumination, the animation powerhouse that turned supervillain-turned-superdad Gru and his ever-popular Minions into a billion-dollar franchise) has changed. After all, Theodore "Seuss" Geisel's books haven't had the best track record in being brought to the screen by Hollywood standards, to say the least.

The 2000 live-action version of the green-furred curmudgeon, starring Jim Carrey, was described by one critic as a "basterdization" of the classic story. And understandably so, in retrospect. Although it wasn't without its merits, including its fantastic production design, and Oscar-winning makeup by Rick Baker. 2003's live-action The Cat In the Hat starred Mike Myers. And while visually Seussian on the surface, the movie became an infamous abomination that gave the miscivious feline's creator a bad name. (Really? Images of potty humor and alcohol, plus near-swearing and tasteless gags, in a film based on a book that made reading fun for children?!?) After seeing this version and disapproving, Seuss's widow Audrey Geisel went on record by saying that no more live-action films would be made based on her late husband's work.

Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Mike Myers in The Cat In the Hat

Jim Carrey in Horton Hears a Who!

Danny Devito in The Lorax

She did, however, approve of a feature-length CGI version of Horton Hears A Who (2008), made by Blue Sky Animation (the studio behind the Ice Age franchise) and released by 20th Century Fox. This movie was a more respectable adaptation, and arguably proved that computer animation (and animation in general) was the best medium for bringing these stories and characters to life. It also began a working relationship between Geisel and Fox Animation producer Chris Meledandri, who left the studio that same year to form his own animation company, Illumination (with Universal Pictures distributing its films). Two years later, Despicable Me was released, and that film's success spawned two sequels, a spinoff prequel about the Minions, a theme park attraction at Universal Studios, and other original films about pets and singing animals (The Secret Life of Pets and Sing, both released in 2016), and, of course, Dr. Seuss characters. Speaking of which, The Lorax (2012) was another visual showcase, though a middling and reworked story that gave the Once-ler a face, threw in musical numbers, and had an environmental message that may have been pushed a little too hard.

Nevertheless, the working relationship and trust with Seuss's properties continues with the newest adaptation of The Grinch, which remains a studio-produced film, to be sure. It's wonderfully animated. It has a terrific voice cast, including Benedict Cumberbatch as the titular "Mean One," as well as Rashida Jones, Kenan Thompson, Angela Lansbury, and Pharrell Williams (who narrates). And it continues Illumination's reputation as a first-rate independent studio that has set itself apart from other animation houses (including Pixar, DreamWorks and Disney), by specializing in a creative and fun culture, and also unique and endearing character-driven stories, that audiences around the world, of any age, can appreciate.

Storywise, instead of expanding the Grinch's background like they did in the live-action version (which added some unnecessary supporting characters, including a love interest, and an exaggerated vibe that recalled John Huston's 80s film version of Annie), this adaptation restrains certain character elements that give enough of an idea of why the green miser chooses to "steal Christmas" from the Whos of Who-ville, without overwhelming the audience. It also pays homage to the original Chuck Jones cartoon by including the Whoville songs in verse and in Danny Elfman's wonderful, magical score, and by portraying the Whos as they were in that cartoon and not as superficial consumers. (Here, subtlety is key.) Purists may balk at the way the film modernizes or changes the story, including the addition of such characters as a reindeer named Fred, or the inclusion of modern music by Williams and Tyler the Creator. Some critics may argue about a few minor character holes as well.

But if I've learned anything from movies adapted from books over the years, it's that, while they may take liberties with their respective literary counterparts, as long as the author's vision and the story's center drives everything, it's alright. For what it's worth, the characters in this version (compared with the live-action movie, and with the other Seuss-related movies) aren't overly exaggerated, over the top, or pointless (e.g., Cindy Lou Who is portrayed as a little girl with a single mom and two brothers, and with a Christmas wish that has nothing to do with gifts or the like). In those respects, I'm happy with how Illumination handled bringing The Grinch to new, animated, and endearing life.

Author Stephen King once said, "Movies and books are apples and oranges. They're both 'delicious,' but they don't taste the same." And while The Grinch is more of a holiday treat as opposed to mere poetic produce (at least on the surface), it stands as one of those rare cases where a children's book works on its own as a feature film, yet still retains the visual and visceral charm and warmth that the original source material gave it. This may be the first time in years I've experienced such a movie, the last being probably Sony Animation's Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (2009), and counting Disney's unforgettable animated version of The Jungle Book (1967). While it's far from a great movie, The Grinch just may be the best feature-length version of a Dr. Seuss book to date. It's certainly the most endearing.

REVIEW: "Free Solo" Hangs On . . . and Doesn't Let Go.

"Nobody achieves anything because they're happy and cozy." So says soloist climber Alex Honnold in Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarheyli's National Geographic-produced documentary Free Solo, which chronicles Honnold's daring and dangerous climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in 2017.

Without safety ropes.

For Alex, his choice of professionalism "makes him feel alive." Or, as he adds, "If you're seeking perfection, free soloing is the closest thing." His journey and lifestyle stands as a new benchmark in the theme of "pushing the edge"--not only literally, but also physically and mentally--hence, the triumph of the human spirit.

Honnold's lifestyle gets chronicled from an apparently shy and introverted childhood, to choosing to live out of a van, to what drives and influences him and how he processes things. At one point in the documentary, he gets an MRI to see how his brain works/is working, partly to make sure what he's doing is for the right reasons--yet not changing his mindset about it.  His current relationships and communication skills, both professionally and personally, get tested including the one with his girlfriend, Sannim and how she impacts his life; a life they could or could not be living together. As for the titular climb up El Capitan itself (and free soloing, in general), the results could go one of two ways: accomplishment or death.

(l-r) Alex Honnold, Sanni McCandless, Elizabeth Chai Vasarheyli, and Jimmy Chin

Talk about edge-of-your-seat. As exhilarating and thrilling as free solo climbing is to look at, it's also incredibly risky and dangerous. The tiny points on the structure of such landmarks, for one thing, require so much pressure and mentality. To reiterate Honnold's analytical mindset, he describes different "pitches" to the climb--that is, so many analytical ways or possible patchs to climb up, not to mention the number of attempts it takes. (There are 31 pitches that were done on this climb, for the record.)

The theme of risks and consequences genuinely takes a toll on the crew members (all professional climbers) involved, and certainly audience members. Many people have reportedly tried climbing this monument before, but not without safety ropes. And many have died as a result of that. "There's no margin for error," says one crew member. Friends and cameramen have questioned at many points if this climb should be done, in light of the extremely dangerous circumstances, not to mention the difficult possibility of anything going wrong. (It's no spoiler, obviously, that he does survive the climb.)

When the climb does start, hang on. As tense and gripping as it is, it's also unexpectedly moving. Forget Spider-Man or any Mission: Impossible stunt that Tom Cruise has ever pulled. With stunning photography and sheer commitment, you feel you're right up there on the mountain with Alex, and as nervous and thrilled as he is. (The "Boulder Problem" pitch was especially so nerve-racking, that at least one cameraman couldn't watch.) The effect is thoroughly gripping, yet subtle and, again, unexpectedly moving. I was just floored. Very rarely does a documentary (let alone a filmgoing experience) do that for me. Wow. Just wow.

RETROSPECT: From "Rocky" to "Creed" or, What We Can Learn From Sylvester Stallone

"Why do you want to fight?" "Cause I can't sing or dance."

In the early-1970s, a young actor was struggling to make it into the movie business. He was constantly being rejected by producers and agents who never believed he would be a movie star, due to the way he looked and the way he talked; when he was born, he was pulled out by the forceps, which caused a paralysis in his lower lip and a permanent snarl. He was also struggling to make ends meet, and (according to one resource) had only $106 in his bank account. Inspired by the poems and life of Edgar Allen Poe, as well as the idea of unfulfilled dreams, he turned to writing as another form of escapism and inspiration. Then, one night, after watching a televised boxing match between Muhammad Ali and Chuck Wepner, he had an idea for a story. A story about a lowlife boxer from Philadelphia who is given a one-in-a-million shot at the heavyweight title. A story about redemption, self-respect, love, courage, and going the distance.

This man was Sylvester Stallone. And the story he wrote became Rocky. The rest is history.

A landmark film from 1976, Rocky is arguably the quintessential underdog story (at least, as far as fictional stories go). But what makes the film even more compelling is the real life story behind Stallone's life up to that point, including his persistence and dedication in writing it, as well as his insistence on playing the lead role. In a way, it's a semi-autobiography of his own life (which the other films, from 1979 to 2006, would subsequently do).

Rocky could easily be called a sports/boxing movie, but it really isn't. The heart of the film lies in its character drama and universal story. (It should be noted that the characters in this film, all fully-realized and multi-dimensional, represent the kind of people that they don't make stories about a whole lot anymore.) There's the title character, Rocky Balboa (a.k.a. the "Italian Stallion"), a street-smart fighter (complete with his trademark fedora and jacket), who makes a living by working the books for a loan shark. There's Adrian (Talia Shire), the painfully shy pet shop worker he falls for. There's Paulie (Burt Young), his closest friend, a meat factory worker and brother to Adrian, who constantly asks Rocky for other job opportunities (namely, the one Rocky does). There's Mickey (Burgess Meredith), Rocky's trainer, who at first seems very arrogant and mean-spirited, but who deep down believes in Rocky so much he's willing to be brutally honest with him (watch this clip here). And finally, there's Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers), the prized fighter a la Muhammad Ali, who gives Rocky a shot at the title.

If you don't believe Stallone has range as an actor, you haven't seen this film! He's tough. Charismatic. Charming. Sensitive. Sympathetic.

The screenplay for this film represents a great three-act structure in how to tell a story. There's, of course, the introduction, which sets up the characters, who they are, and what their dilemmas and desires are (Rocky's low point in society, Adrian's shell she apparently can't escape, Paulie's lack of career opportunities, and even Apollo's flaws he tries to cover up). There's, of course, the central conflict, pitting two ends of society against one another, preceded by a manager's offer to Rocky, and followed by Mickey's insistence on training Rocky (much to the latter's initial refusal), plus the various forms of physical, relational and emotional conflict brewing between the characters. And, of course, there's the resolution, or payoff, with the climatic match.

Talia Shire and Sylvester Stallone in Rocky

Films certainly have a long history of "happy accidents" that have become seminal or iconic moments over the years. And this low-budget film (made from about $1.2 million) is no exception. From the lack of extras in the ice-skating rink on Rocky and Adrian's first date, to Talia Shire being sick with the flu during her love scene with Stallone, to the fight poster's misplaced colors, and Rocky's baggy fighting robe. These scenes could've been cheap because of the film's low-budget. And yet, they work because the actors made the most of them.

And, of course, we can't talk about Rocky without mentioning the iconic training montage, complete with Rocky running, meat punching, and soaring to the top of the Philadelphia steps (which, reportedly, is the second most-toured landmark in the city of Philadelphia, after the Liberty Bell) with his fists in the air, and at the height of Bill Conti's unforgettable score (a personal favorite of yours truly).

For so many sports films (let alone, sports stories), it's easy to watch a film and hope that the main protagonist will win because that's the conventional nature of the story and of the hero. Rocky was made and released during the mid-1970s, a time when various antiheroes dominated the cinema, from mafia boss Michael Corleane in The Godfather films to Travis Brickell in Taxi Driver. Stallone has said he was inspired by films like Mean Streets, Marty, and On the Waterfront when writing the film. (You can even see some semblance of Marlon Brando's performance from the latter film in Stallone's performance.)

What made Rocky so inspiring was his integrity and perseverance against all odds. And also his raw honesty. He even admits (in a scene that may just be the best showcase of Stallone's acting career) he can't win the fight. On the other hand, he believes if he can still stand after ten brutal rounds (the most he's ever endured), then it will all be worth it. And therein lies the moment of truth for Rocky, in the form of "going the distance". In other words, the important thing for Rocky (and all the other "Rocky"s in the world) is not merely winning. The important thing is sticking it out; but from that, it's a win for one's integrity. Or as he says, "If I can go that distance . . . I'll know, for the first time in my life, that I weren't just another bum from the neighborhood."

Stallone in the 1980s (left) and in the mid-2000s (right)

"But then, the worst thing happened to you; it could happen to any fighter: you got civilized."

Stallone's career from there on became a series of hit-or-misses, as well as some career lows (almost all of which he has personally admitted). However, in the midst of these various projects (including another franchise he helped popularize, adapted from David Morrell's novels about Vietnam war veteran John Rambo), he kept coming back to Rocky every few years, incorporating semi-autobiographical elements related to his growing fame as a movie star and status as a machismo icon. While these sequels were mostly crowd-pleasing stories (with over-the-top fighting and occasionally sappy dialogue), they still came with their share of signature moments or elements. For one thing, there were the diverse opponents Rocky came up against, including the obnoxious Clubber Lang (future "A-Team" member Mr. T) in Rocky III, and Soviet machine Ivan Drago (future action star Dolph Lundgren) in Rocky IV. There was also the surprising character arc (and rivalry-turned-friendship) of Apollo Creed, a friendship that Rocky began to value and soon avenged. And who could forget Survivor's inspiring anthem, "Eye of the Tiger," in the third film, or the gripping training montage of intercut workout methods in the fourth film?

Things came to a supposed (and disappointing) end after the release of Rocky V in 1990, which found Rocky (broken down and brain-damaged from his match with Drago) being stripped of his riches, forced to move his family back into his old neighborhood (one of the few worthy story choices here), and seeking to train a new up-and-coming fighter, who eventually gets led astray by money and fame and pride, all while Rocky puts his family aside. There was even a street fight instead of a boxing match, which Stallone admits was a dark choice instead of a hopeful one. The overall effect of the film (besides its critical and commercial failure) took a toll on Stallone, who admitted he made the film out of greed. He continued starring in various hit-or-miss films, including the action-packed Cliffhanger, the disaster feature Daylight (in which his son, Sage Stallone, who also played his son in Rocky V, appeared), and the critically-acclaimed police-drama Copland, in which he packed on 50 pounds to play an overweight sheriff of a small New Jersey town led by crooked cops.

Personally, Stallone had gone through two failed marriages and two sons. Then, in 1997, he wed actress Jennifer Flavin and eventually had three daughters, all of whom were named "Ms. Golden Globe" in 2017. On his marriage to Flavin, Stallone stated, "It's been a fantastic revival of my life. As you know, my first marriage didn't go so well, though I have a relationship with my sons, but this marriage has been a second beginning. I used to think my career was number one, so I was gone nine months out of a year, but I learned the hard way that the most important thing is that you start at home and then comes the career." At the Golden Globe Awards in 2016, he thanked his wife and children by saying that "having [their] love is the greatest award in the world, every day."

"It ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward."

In 2006, Stallone was, at first, the laughing stock of the film industry when he announced he was writing, directing, and starring in a sixth Rocky film, titled Rocky Balboa, leading many to believe it would be just another pointless, cash-grab sequel. But when it was released, it proved critics and general audiences wrong. Instead of a mere fight film, Rocky Balboa recalled the emotional complexities of the 1976 original by portraying an aging fighter in a world that has passed him by, where he has lost some loved ones (his wife, Adrian, has passed away), and who fights an inner "beast," apparently out of the difficulties and unpredictabilities of life. And yet, Rocky still tries to maintain what he does have (i.e., his friend Paulie, his son Robert), and prove that his life (and life in general) is still worth living.

Stallone in Rocky Balboa

The film marked a proper end to the series and the birth of a renaissance era for Stallone as an actor, as well as an action star who didn't let his age discourage him (he was in his early 60s at the time) by writing, directing and starring in a fourth Rambo film, as well as the 2010 surprise hit, The Expendables, an ultra-violent mashup of 1980s action stars and explosive mayhem.

"I got other plans for my life, and this wasn't part of it."

Stallone was certain he was done with the Rocky series, and obviously worked hard to complete it on a high and worthy note. Then, when audiences and critics (let alone, Stallone) least expected it, a young up-and-coming filmmaker from Oakland had "an intensely personal idea" for reviving the Rocky franchise: a spinoff centered on the illegitimate son of the late Apollo Creed, and his tutelage from the Italian Stallion himself. Director Ryan Coogler first connected with Rocky through the sheer passion of his athletic father, who was a huge fan of the series. When Coogler was completing film school at USC, his father had fallen gravely ill. As a personal favor, the young filmmaker then knew what film he wanted to make, and who he wanted to make it for.

After Stallone refused Coogler's initial idea (which included an aging and ailing Rocky), Coogler's directorial debut, the Sundance-winning drama Fruitvale Station (2013), was released. It impressed Stallone and co-producer Irvin Winkler, but Stallone was even more enamored by Coogler's sheer willpower and determination, which reminded him of his own tenacity when writing and starring in the original Rocky. Therefore, Creed (2015) represented a passing of the baton from one generation (Stallone) to the next (director Coogler, actor Michael B. Jordan, who plays Adonis Creed; and actress Tessa Thompson, who plays love-interest Bianca), as the story centered on a young man who has fighting in his blood, and who sets out to prove to himself and to others that his existence isn't for nothing, and that "a name alone" does not define one's legacy.

Coogler added a gritty realism and original voice that had never been seen or heard in the series before. The fighting, for one thing, has never been more realistic or intense. (One scene shows two rounds of boxing done in one impressive take.) The character of Adonis, like Rocky and Apollo, sees Rocky as a surrogate father-figure, even while fighting or going through feelings of abandonment. This is the first time Rocky has played a supporting role in a film. And yet, Stallone has never been more vulnerable or believable with this character, or in any other role for that matter. (And he deservedly received various accolades for his performance.) Creed is a story of father-son dynamics, of hard work and will, of holes needing to be filled, of forgiveness, and fighting together. ("You taught me how to fight again," Rocky tells Adonis. "I'm gonna go home and I'm gonna fight this thing. But if I fight, I want you to fight, too!")

"Show me something." (l-r) Sylvester Stallone and Michael B. Jordan in Creed

The story will continue this month in Creed II, with Stallone returning as the Italian Stallion, Jordan returning as Adonis, Thompson returning as Bianca, and first-time feature-film director Steven Caple, Jr., filling in for Ryan Coogler (who remains one of the film's producers). Here, Adonis will go up against the son of Ivan Drago, who infamously "beat" Apollo Creed in Rocky IV. (Dolph Lundgren will reprise his famous role from that movie here, as well.) The film could go one of two ways: it could be 1) just another cash-cow installment centered on a brutal grudge match, and filled with Rocky nostalgia from the Eighties. Or 2) it could be a more grounded approach (maybe with some unexpected character development and depth) and a continuation of a previous installment (which many considered over-the-top and controversial), and of the Rocky mythology in general, where one opponent seeks to "rewrite" his history and legacy. If anything, it should be a thrilling experience.

"One step at a time, one punch at a time, one round at a time"

Stallone has proven he's not just a movie star or action hero. He's proven he is an artist, a poet, a painter, and a devoted husband and father. Whatever you think of him, you can't deny he is a dedicated and hard-working man, not to mention a force to be reckoned with. And he's still pressing on.

As Rocky would say, "Ain't nothin' over still it's over."

REVIEW: "A Star Is Born" Sings Phenomenally, But Is Nevertheless a Tragedy

A few years ago, I was browsing through a DVD bin at Wal-Mart and came across a concert DVD of Lady Gaga. It had pictures of some of her in some of the wild and weird wardrobes she's become synonymous with in her music career. But the one photo that caught my attention was a previous headshot of her without all that. No makeup. No costumes. Just her.

I spent some time listening to snippets of some of her hit songs before attending a screening of A Star Is Born, the latest remake of the 1937 film with Janet Gaynor. (This story of a tragic romance had been made two other times before--in 1954 with Judy Garland, and in 1976 with Barbara Streisand.) It's amazing that after a decade in the music industry with hits like "Poker Face," "Bad Romance," "Born This Way," and "Give Me a Million Reasons" (arguably her best song to date) and starting an acting career with "American Horror Story" and two films directed by Robert Rodriguez, Gaga (born Stefani Germanotta) breaks out on screen with a truly vulnerable and genuine performance opposite Cooper (who makes an impressive directorial debut as well). Gaga even shows echoes of Garland in her performance.

This story of a new talent that rises while another falls is nothing new to the film industry, as already noted. What Cooper and Gaga do with the material (along with co-screenwriters Eric Roth and Will Fetters) is fresh, raw, and phenomenal. Cooper is dynamic and emotionally complex from his opening ballad as country-rock musician Jackson Maine, an alcoholic with progressive hearing loss. But when he inadvertently walks into a drag bar late at night and discovers struggling artist Ally (performing a rendition of Edith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose" in its native French), he's amazed. Almost immediately, when they hang out for the first time, and he hears her write and sing an original song for the first time, it's like magic.

It's perhaps a gross understatement that Gaga's performance fits into the list of other successful leaps that female artists have made in becoming actresses, from Cher to Madonna to Bette Midler and, of course certainly, Streisand. The well-deserved acclaim her performance, in particular, has been getting is overhyped, maybe, but it's no question that when Ally sings, you can almost hear a pin drop (listen to the beautiful "Always Remember Us This Way" and the bittersweet ballad "I'll Never Love Again" and watch her body language). And when she and Cooper sing the now-signature "Shallow" for the first time on stage together (and the music in this film was all reportedly done live, for the record), it's like witnessing a classic movie moment in the making. These are some of the best original songs I've heard in a film since The Greatest Showman last year.

Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga knock it out of the park

As the title of this review indicates, however, this is also a tragic and heartbreaking story. For one thing, it, unfortunately, walks through paths of brief sex scenes, pervasive strong language, and drug and alcohol content to tell its story. It may be about pursuing dreams, as well as understanding (and illustrating) the difference between mere talent and how you use it. When Ally sees a billboard of herself during her growing and promising career, there's a sense that she's forgetting who she is. As Jackson tells her candidly, "If you don't dig deep in your . . . soul, you won't have legs," as if he's trying to warn her. "You just tell them what you want to say [no matter what]," he adds. (She had asked him earlier how he constantly deals with people who talk to him like he's not a real person.)

But A Star Is Born also presents the dark side of fame and a harsh side of reality, in terms of what the industry can do to people (both professionally and emotionally), not to mention romance and the possibility of (figuratively) fading away from the spotlight. Nowhere is this, perhaps, best expressed than in Jackson's guitar ballad, "Maybe It's Time." "You're not going to get back what you lost," argues Jackson's older brother Bobby, regarding Jackson's hearing aids and progressive loss, "It's the only way to help what you still have."

For Jackson and Ally, there seems to be a sense of things happening so fast for them, as musicians and as people. Jackson's "star" predictably falls. Still, we worry hard for him, as Ally unconditionally does; what he's contemplating, and if he's going to fall off the deep end. A Star Is Born also seems to carry the notion of not really knowing people in the spotlight, despite what their music and performances express, if only for a few moments.

REVIEW: "Halloween" or, A Forty-Year Slate That's As Eerie and Disturbing As Ever

I spent eight years trying to reach him, and another seven trying to keep him locked away, because I knew that behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply evil.

These words (at least in horror cinema) were unforgettably and chillingly spoken by Dr. Sam Loomis (the late Donald Pleasance), describing the character of Michael Myers, an mysterious and disturbed killer who, as a six-year-old child, murdered his sister and became institutionalized, only to escape fifteen years later and bring his reign of terror on the small town of Haddonfield, Illinois, on October 31, 1978, in John Carpenter's iconic and terrifying horror classic Halloween.

When creating the script and characters, Carpenter and co-writer/co-producer Debra Hill not only incorporated some common fears associated with horror and suspense a la Alfred Hitchcock, but also a villain that had a complete lack of sympathy and relatable qualities. In two words, Michael Myers would represent "Evil Incarnate," not to mention a modern day "boogeyman."

Made on a low budget, the film nevertheless took full advantage of its technical aspects, including several tracking shots from Michael's perspective (remember that nerve-racking opening), shots of him standing and staring blankly in the dark (his infamous William Shatner-esque mask and large kitchen knife in tact), and topped with Carpenter's appropriately-placed (and eerie) score. And, as another Hitchcock homage, Carpenter cast a then-unknown Jamie Lee Curtis (daughter of Psycho actress Janet Leigh and actor Tony Curtis), who went on to claim the title of "Scream Queen" from the late 70s to the early 80s (her other credits at the time would include Halloween II, Prom Night, and The Fog) as Laurie Strode, who stood out as the smartest of a group of high school babysitters stalked by Michael on Halloween night, and became the final survivor of the night.

This latter notion (when one considers the other young characters' sexual objectives, not to mention what happens to Michael's sister in the film's opening scene) may have reportedly created the misconception or myth that only virgins survive scary movies, and that sex equals death. (At least, that's what the 1996 film Scream claims.) Nevertheless, this traumatic experience takes a toll on Laurie, as well as the fact that Michael Myers apparently can't be killed. Is he human? Is he supernatural? Is he something else? "You can't kill the boogeyman," says Tommy, the little boy Laurie babysits and tries to protect.

These mysteries and mythologies about Michael would carry into several sequels, beginning with the 1981 movie, which finds Michael stalking Laurie in a hospital further into the same night as the first film, followed by the anthology (and Michael Myers-less) piece Season of the Witch (1982). Curtis returned for the 20th anniversary sequel Halloween: H20 (1998), and made a brief cameo in the poorly-received and disappointing Halloween: Resurrection (2002), before musician Rob Zombie put his own twisted and violent spin on the franchise with two films (from 2007 and 2009, respectfully).

Since the 1978 original, Carpenter went on to helm other classic horror features like 1980's The Fog and 1983's adaptation of Stephen King's Christine. He also worked on several films with actor Kurt Russell (including Escape From New York, The Thing, and Big Trouble in Little China), and even helped actor Jeff Bridges nab a Best Actor Oscar nomination for 1984's Starman. But he hadn't directed a feature film since 2010's little-seen The Ward with Amber Heard.

John Carpenter and Jamie Lee Curtis behind the scenes of 2018's Halloween

So when director David Gordon Green (whose resume includes various genres of film) and co-writer Danny McBride (a comic actor whom Green directed in films like Pineapple Express) approached Carpenter with their vision for a new Halloween, he gave his approval, for one, due to the new story's homage to the original film while standing on its own, and written as if the sequels made since 1978 had never happened. Curtis (who shares a co-producing credit with Carpenter and Get Out producer Jason Blum) was reportedly just as floored, and was excited about how Laurie Strode was written: as an older woman, struggling with PTSD, and who has been preparing for Michael Myers' return.

Death has come to your little town, Sheriff. You can either ignore it or you can help me stop it.
~Sam Loomis, Halloween (1978)

Many critics and viewers (including Carpenter and Curtis) have been calling the latest film the best since the original. And it is, agreeably, effective and electrifying, with dashes of genuine and unexpected humor thrown in. There are even many clever homages to the original film, but with a twist. (One such scene had the audience at the screening I attended clapping and cheering.) Despite some stereotypical horror conventions thrown in, many have considered this a strong film in the current #MeToo movement, what with Strode's character arc, as well as that of her daughter Karen (Judy Greer), who believes she's lost her childhood because Laurie has tried to prepare her to face evil in the world, and granddaughter Allyson (a breakout Andi Matichak), who grows concerned and possibly sympathetic of her grandmother. And the story effectively handles trauma and tragedy and how these three generations of family have been affected by it and handle it, even as two investigative journalists (and a questionable psychiatrist) try to understand Laurie's connection to Myers, and particularly Michael's motivations and emotions (if any). "There's nothing to learn," claims Laurie at one point, implying that nothing can be gained from "evil Incarnate".

That being said, the film does walk quite a dreaded balance between humanity and violence. And Michael's killing spree in this story is as violent and gruesome as it's, perhaps, ever been. While the original film relied more on psychological terror and screams, the new installment is bloody and graphic with various types of stabbings, head smashes, and butchery. We mustn't forget this is, first and foremost, a slasher film.

"There's a reason we're supposed to be afraid of this thing," says local sheriff Frank Hawkins (Will Patton). Afraid, yes. But, like Laurie Strode (who's certainly come a long way here), we can be prepared to face it and fight it. But that is far from a recommendation for viewing this film.

REVIEW: "Ghostbusters" or, THE Classic Scary Comedy

There's no denying that Ghostbusters (the 1984 original film, directed by Ivan Reitman and written by two of the film's stars, Dan Ackroyd and Harold Ramis) is a classic comedy. Even more, it's an unprecedented culmination of comedy, improvisation, horror, science-fiction, and special-effects. After all, Reitman, Ackroyd, and Ramis, along with Bill Murray and Rick Moranis, have been involved with some of the most acclaimed comedy films and T.V. shows of the era, including "Saturday Night Live" (1975-present), "SCTV" (1976-1981), Animal House (1978), The Blues Brothers (1980), Caddyshack (1980), National Lampoon's Vacation (1983), Stripes (1981), and Trading Places (1983). This marked the first time they've all worked together on the same project.

In essence, Ghostbusters is unquestionably the quintessential film to effectively balance improv comedy and special effects, further paving the way for future films like Men In Black (1997) and most of the films in the Marvel Universe. It's quirky characters remain iconic, from the carefree Peter Venkman (the always-ingenious Murray) to fascination-fanatic Ray Stantz (the always-intellectual Ackroyd); the Twinkie-loving, plays-it-straight Egon Spengler (the professor-like Ramis); new-recruit Winston (Ernie Hudson); motormouth Lewis Tully (80s/90s dad Moranis); the beautiful Dana Berret (Ellen Ripley herself, Sigourney Weaver); and deadpan receptionist Janine (Annie Potts). And who could forget those Ghostbuster jumpsuits, complete with the now-famous ghost logo and proton packs? Not to mention the various iconic lines and moments, many of which were reportedly ad-libbed by Murray.

The screenplay went through several drafts before arriving to the finished film that fans and critics know today. (This video brilliantly examines the initial script to the finished product, including the film's premise and designing principle, which could have gone several creative and bizarre ways.) But the concept remained the same throughout: four men as parapsychologists hunt ghosts in New York City. In the end, it became a "going-into-business" story that Reitman stated should be grounded in a familiar reality. The script even uses real-world newspapers and real-life figures to make the story more relatable. Yes, it's set in the 1980s with T.V. tubes and all. But it still holds up.

"Why worry? Each of us is wearing an unlicensed nuclear accelerator on his back."

Said characters (minus Winston, who would join later) start out as university parapsychologists who are soon fired for being, of all things, unprofessional, and decide to set up their unique business: catching and entrapping the paranormal and all things that go bump-in-the-night. And their timing couldn't be more impeccable, as their business oddly begins to boom, and as EPA reps get angrily concerned and residents begin to get possessed by dark forces, including evil minions who are awaiting the coming of a destructive force, which eventually takes the Godzilla-like form of a corporate mascot. "Well, there's something you don't see every day," says Venkman, during the climactic showdown.

Yes, this film is a comedy. It's as scary as it is funny, and not meant to be taken seriously. And yes, it's a movie. But even so. When writing these film reviews, I always try to keep a discerning perspective in tact (as my mission statement for this blog will tell you). And that's certainly no different in the case of comedy, as it is for horror or any other genre, as well as when it comes to movies for families and/or children. Especially when you really consider this film's handling of spirituality and other related references, which seem to focus more on Old Testament-type destruction and "Sumerian, not Babylonian" havoc, including the fact that many of these characters are occasionally clueless when it comes to dealing with the supernatural. As PluggedIn writer Paul Asey concluded in his retrospective review of the film, "I'm just saying we should all think through what we're watching, no matter how goofy."

"$UCCESSFU! FILMS" SERIES: "Mission Impossible"--Cruise Control

The Mission: Impossible film franchise has gained a lot of growing traction over the last two decades since Tom Cruise first dangled from a vault ceiling in 1996. One thing the films have subsequently become known for is their practical stuntwork, not to mention Cruise's fearless and daring dedication to such. Love him or hate him, you can't deny that Cruise is a fully-committed action star. (He co-produced all of the films as well.) Here is a look back at some of the signature moments (and brief reviews of each of the films themselves) in this series.

Mission: Impossible (1996)
If there is one image that summarizes (and has come to define) this franchise, it would have to be the aforementioned moment of Cruise dangling from the ceiling of a CIA vault by wire, inches from the ground, with stakes literally hanging in the balance. Director Brian de Palma's 1996 film adaptation of the 1960s TV series definitely captures the mystery and caper escapades of the era, but in the modern world. On the other hand, it's also a convoluted and stylized plot, and it even polarized original members of the show's cast. Nevertheless, it did have some impressive action and swagger to spare, including a climactic helicopter/train sequence. And that closing-credits rendition of the show's theme (originated by composer Lalo Schifrin) is a kicker!

Mission: Impossible 2 (2000)
This second film, helmed by action veteran John Woo, is an overboard in over-the-top action, fights and explosions. Oh, and motorcycles. But it does have a few impressive set pieces. The opening shot of Cruise climbing (and hanging one-handed off of) the cliffs of Moab in Utah redefines death-defying. He insisted on not using a safety net, with only wires (erased in post-production) to secure him. Cruise also let a knife come inches from his own eye socket. Plus, then-infamous heavy metal-rap band Limp Bizkit did contribute their own version of the show's theme impressively, titled "Take A Look Around." (That electric guitar riff, man!)

Mission: Impossible III (2006)
J.J. Abrams took over directing duties for this third outing (and his own directorial debut), which was arguably the first time the franchise was heading in a better, more team-oriented, direction. It was also a very menacing film with a truly menacing and torturing villain (the late brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman). Standout sequences include Cruise jumping from a corporate building in Shanghai, which was good, but the ultimate shot in this film is Cruise running from an adversary jet's rocket, only to be impacted by its blast against a commercial car.

Mission: Impossible--Ghost Protocol (2011)
Now this is how you make an action-packed blockbuster and package it as popcorn entertainment. Animation veteran Brad Bird made an impressive debut with this best-in-the-series feature as a terrorist plot points the blame to the remaining IMF members (including Cruise, Simon Pegg, Jeremy Renner, and Paula Patton), leading them to various locations as Russia and Dubai, India. The now-famous scene where Cruise literally climbs the Burj Kaliji in Dubai (one of many scenes filmed with IMAX cameras) is a showcase in high-stakes thrills and vertigo.

Mission: Impossible--Rogue Nation (2015)
As if the Burj Kaliji wasn't enough, Cruise tops himself by dangling outside of an A700 plane in the opening sequence of this fifth film, written and helmed by Christopher McQuarrie. This marked the first time that the villanous Syndicate organization (made famous in the original TV show) made its appearance in the films, and the intensity level is amped up, both in the action (i.e., Cruise holding his breath under water for several minutes and driving a motorcycle without a helmet during a high-speed chase) and character emotion departments.

Mission: Impossible--Fallout (2018)
It's easy to take note of the practical and daring action sequences (hang on for the 360-degree helicopter drop and the aero plane jump) in this sixth M:I film, again helmed by McQuarrie. What makes this film stand out more, perhaps, are its personal stakes and character motives, in terms of what is considered "for the greater good" after a former adversary escapes custody. The result is an operatic mystery-suspense action-thriller with edge-of-your-seat unpredictability, an electrifying and haunting score, incredible sound design, and a story that questions those giving orders, the belief that some missions are not a choice, and choices in walking away or not. The emotional weight and complexities do make the film convoluted at times. Still, it stands as big, epic, and grand, in the best sense of those words.

ESSAY: 2018 in Film or, Add and Don't Just Follow the Conversation

It goes without saying that we're more than halfway through the year now, and there have been many, many blockbuster releases(I'm looking at you, Avengers: Infinity War), franchise follow-ups (Incredibles, Deadpool, and Jurassic World sequels), and superhero outings (all hail the king, Black Panther!), and many acclaimed features that debuted at the Sundance and Cannes film festivals.

We're now in that part of the year when the industry begins looking at films that may likely be released to various accolades and advanced Oscar acclaim. Take the Toronto International Film Festival (which runs September 6-16), for instance, where the latest feature films from directors Bradley Cooper (the musical remake A Star Is Born), Damien Chazelle (the Neil Armstrong biopic First Man, starring Ryan Gosling), Barry Jenkins (an adaptation of James Baldwin's If Beale Street Could Talk), and David Lowery (The Old Man & the Gun, reportedly the last film featuring screen legend Robert Redford) will have their premiere. 

Lately, my philosophy on film has been to primarily focus on what interests me, which films speak to me personally, and which of these said films have, in the end, universal or timeless/ageless appeal, as opposed to those films that the industry and critical population merely say are the best. (Cases in point on the latter: Paul Schader's religious drama First Reformed, Boots Riley's satirical and absurd dark comedy Sorry To Bother You, and Spike Lee's controversial KKK drama BlacKkKlansman.) Because if you just go with what said population says (going with the flow, like I used to), you're not really standing apart from what others are saying and not sparking unique conversation. 

The late critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert were unique
in their critiques and observations of film

My point: don't just add to the conversation. Focus on what you believe is interesting, what speaks to you personally, and which stories, in the end, have a timeless and universal appeal. Also, don't do it for the sake of pride or ego, but with confidence. 

Lastly, the films that have stood out to me this year (and a common theme I've been observing) have spoken about being raised in today's ever-growing, ever-changing, and unpredictable world, as well as the fears and approaches in helping children in this day and age. These standout films, so far, include: Black Panther, Christopher Robin, Eighth Grade, I Can Only Imagine, Isle of Dogs, Leave No Trace, A Quiet Place, and Won't You Be My Neighbor? (Watch for my end-of-the-year lists coming soon.) 

ESSAY: "Why Do We Fall?": A Cine-Thematic Retrospect of "The Dark Knight Trilogy"

When director Christopher Nolan set out to reboot the Batman franchise in the early 2000s, the words "series" or, let alone, "trilogy" were things he didn't want on his mind. Just the origin story that he and co-writer David Goyer were looking to make.

From the beginning, Nolan (whose previous credits include the critically-acclaimed thrillers Following [1998], Memento [2000], and Insomnia [2002]) and company established grounding a comic book icon (and his alter ego, Bruce Wayne) in reality. What that required (unlike a majority of the original films from the late-1980s through the 1990s) was real investment in the characters, their dilemmas, and their conflicts. Therefore, we, the audience, become invested in the human drama, the intensity, the emotion, and the tragedy displayed onscreen. (Look at this impressive trailer if you don't believe me.)

"What do you fear?"
Batman Begins (released in 2005) is done in the style of a hero's journey, like an ancient ninja/samurai legend, as a young Bruce Wayne (a incredibly-cast Christian Bale) goes from watching his parents murdered in front of his eyes to travelling the world to better understand how the criminal underworld (i.e., that of the corrupt Gotham City) works. "This is a world that you never understand," one mob boss tells him, "and you always fear what you don't understand."

Bruce eventually gets some answers in the form of a vigilante organization known as the League of Shadows, headed by the mysterious Ra's al Ghul. When Bruce learns that their worldview involves killing the citizens of Gotham City, as well as an apparent lack of empathy, compassion and redemption, he refuses and becomes their enemy, and vows to serve justice instead of revenge, and to do so through the persona of a particular symbol.

"People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy, and I can't do that as Bruce Wayne. As a man, I'm flesh and blood. I could be ignored, I could be destroyed. But as a symbol, I can be incorruptible, I can be everlasting."

The origin story of Bruce Wayne had never been expressed to such an extent onscreen, especially for the first-half of this film's running time, long before he puts on the famous cape and cowl. And his motivation for doing what he does is clear, from when he witnesses the horrible death of his parents (a tragedy he blames himself for, because of his fears) to his failed attempt to settle the score years later to when he begins to understand that justice and revenge are not the same thing. The motivations of his allies are made clear as well, including his butler Alfred (who grows concerned for the billionaire playboy), detective Jim Gordon (a beacon among dirty cops), childhood friend Rachel Dawes (now a defensive and determined District Attorney), and Applied Sciences head Lucius Fox (who supplies Wayne with all the resources he'll need in his mission).

Speaking of resources, the weapons and gadgetry at Bruce's disposal (while, perhaps, not fully believable) are very plausible. From the military suit, to "memory cloth" used for his cape, to an urban assault tank used as the Batmobile, Bruce incorporates these resources into what he fears the most, being bats ("It's time my enemies shared my dread"). On the opposite end, one of his new adversaries, Dr. Jonathan Crane, uses that same element against various people, but in the form of the masked Scarecrow (think Pennywise as a psychological hallucination).

When Bruce returns, he puts on a new facade that makes one wonder who actually returned: Bruce Wayne and his alter ego, or Batman and his alter ego? As one character tells him, "Your real face is the one criminals now fear." Even more, it's a question from not only his allies but also the citizens and criminals of Gotham (whom he almost always tries to stay or get one step ahead of) if the Caped Crusader's motivations are personal or more than that. He's even seen by some as an untrustworthy character, in terms of taking the law into his own hands. (Remember the scene in the original 1989 film, between Michael Keaton and Kim Basinger?)

One of the strengths of the brilliantly-made Batman Begins (2005) is that it stands on its own with an equally-brilliant three-act structure (although one video describes it, instead, as having a four-act structure), while leaving the door open for a sense of continuation and not the conventional sequel bait that plagues so many franchises these days. (Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale did the same thing with the original Back to the Future in 1985.) In other words, while the film's ending signals potential hope for the restoration of Gotham, there's also the potential for "escalation" to come into the picture, ending with the Joker's calling card, and therefore what Wayne's/Batman's actions will potentially cause.

"You've changed things. Forever."
If Batman Begins is the Act 1 origin story and hero's journey of Bruce Wayne's fears, his moral code, and his mission to restore Gotham City from criminality, then The Dark Knight (2008) is the Act 2 flip side of the same coin, showcasing an ultimate adversary's anarchic attempts to reveal Batman's moral code and influence as a weakness (and to push masked vigilante and his allies to a breaking point).

Set one year later, the crime world of Gotham is afraid to meet at night, thanks to the new presence and influence of the Caped Crusader. In the mean time, Lt. Jim Gordan helps lead the local police, while the new District Attorney Harvey Dent (also known as the "White Knight") is on a fast track to clean up the city. This convinces Bruce Wayne (who considers Dent "the face of Gotham's bright future") that his days as the masked vigilante may be coming to an end. In other words, has Gotham City become a better place? Can it become a better place?

And then, the psychopathic villain, known only as the Joker, unleashes his reign of destruction and anarchy on the city. While taken for granted at first, as things in Gotham start shaping up, it's not until things start getting "serious" that the role of power gets twisted and toyed with.

Bruce and Alfred discuss this moral dilemma in a scene that perhaps sums up the theme of the film.

Bruce: "I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. They've crossed the line."
Alfred: "You crossed the line first, sir. You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation. And in their desperation, they turned to a man [the Joker] they didn't fully understand."
Bruce: "Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. We just need to figure out what he's after."
Alfred: "With all due respect, Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don't fully understand either. . . . Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. [Even criminals assume that's what the Joker's in it for.] They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

Even Alfred's Burma story of government officials who try to gain respect of tribal leaders "with precious stones" is similar to how Batman tries to gain the loyalty of Gotham City.

(l-r) Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, and Gary Oldman

Penned by Nolan (along with brother Jonathan, as well as Goyer), The Dark Knight stands more in the guise of a crime-thriller a la Michael Mann than a mere superhero film. This is a story of three men (Batman, Dent, Gordon) against an unstoppable foe (the Joker), and the latter's goal of pushing these men, and eventually others, to a moral breaking point and bringing them down to his level. "To them, you're just a freak, like me," he tells Batman. This expands the first film's theme of people taking matters into their own hands, whether out of desperation, vengeance, or without reason. Says one mobster, "You got rules. The Joker, he's got no rules."

Obviously, the performance that people remember the most here is the late Heath Ledger as the Joker. (And understandably so.) Contrary to Jack Nicholson's iconic, over-the-top, playful and frightening interpretation, Ledger's version is diabolical, unpredictable, menacing, nihilistic, and an embodiment of unapologetic evil. (Check out this thought-provoking YouTube video analysis.) But that reason alone (which may have been the biggest aspect in the film's initially-overhyped release in 2008) shouldn't overshadow the film's other compelling and underappreciated aspects, both from a filmmaking and philosophical standpoint.

This film is more ensemble-driven, thought-provoking, riveting, and menacing. It may be the deepest, bleakest film based on a comic book character ever made. It's also darker, more violent, and even palpable at times, with such emphasis on the Joker's presence and mayhem (an echo of Nicholson's dominance in the 1989 original).

Like Ra's al Ghul in Begins, the Joker sees Batman's moral code as a "weakness," a "joke." Has Batman really made Gotham "a better place," or has he only added fuel to the fire? The Joker also believes that the very people Batman is trying to protect will turn against him, and that they (the people) will kill each other (by chaos). Take the climactic sequence involving the two ferries, for instance, which pit two groups of humanity against each other and force each other to make the difficult choice as to who will live and who will die. It's a lot of heft, for sure, but it ultimately shows "people ready to believe in good." But the Joker's intentions prove much deeper than that, as it's already been implied he's not merely after money or world domination or to beat the so-called "heroes" of the day (or, in this case, night). In fact, he tells Batman, "You didn't think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you" (my emphasis).

This underlying spiritual aspect and philosophical theme also carries into the underappreciated but important character arc of Harvey Dent, from his idealism as a hopeful District Attorney to his downfall as the villainous Two-Face. Aaron Eckhart's equally-underappreciated performance shows Dent initially as the most ideal hope for the future of Gotham ("a hero with a face"), as well as his subtle ambiguity. Rachel Dawes, Bruce's childhood friend and the Gotham assistant DA, represents Bruce's (and Dent's) hope for a normal life and a promising future, despite her belief that "the day won't come when [Bruce will] no longer need Batman." Dent also represents two sides of the same coin, much like Batman and the Joker, and he becomes the tragic figure in the end (even intensely holding a family at hostage), echoing Ra's al Ghul's belief (and common theme throughout this series) that Gotham cannot (nor ever) be saved. The same goes for the misguided belief that no one can be trusted in this gray world ("You can't rely on anyone these days, you got to do everything yourself"). But Dent makes this former belief personal, saying he can't be saved from what he's become nor from what he's lost. "You think I want to escape from this? There is no escape from this!"

Bruce Wayne even comes to a sense of his own limitations, such as not enduring guilt over people's deaths, the safety of loved ones, the idea of being an outlaw and, perhaps, being more than a hero. Gordon (a perfect Gary Oldman) and Dent clearly show their faith in the Caped Crusader, despite what the general public comes to believe. "I was meant to inspire good, not madness, not death," he tells Alfred during a moment of sorrow and regret. But for Wayne, he gets moral reasoning not just from Alfred ("Things are always going to get worse before they get better"), but also from Lucius Fox ("At what cost? This is too much power for one man"), and, in the end, makes the difficult choice that no one else can: becoming the hunted so that the City can endure. Bale is still as imposing and vulnerable as ever.

The score by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard (who collaborated on the first film), particularly for the Clown Prince of Crime, echoes John Williams' score for Jaws, in terms of sensing when the villain is present, whether we see him or not. The opening crime heist showcases the Joker's unpredictability, and his psychotic mind, illustrating the theme that this is a character nobody fully understands, like that of the crime world. This sequence also implies that even criminals used to believe in something. One question that resurfaces later is whether those who represent criminality or misguided power really deserve to die. (Again, look at the ferry sequence.)

It's a film for intellectual and action-crime-oriented filmgoers, and for people who love movies, with all its spiritual, ethical, and political undertones. Even more fascinating are what each character's actions are motivated by. Batman's are by choice, Dent's are by chance, a lawyer's, out of revealing the secret identity of Batman; and the Joker's, because he just does. Talk about "letting the clown out of the box".
And because Batman is accused of the deaths of many people; in the end, he takes the blame for said deaths for what he believes is the greater good of the city ("I'm whoever Gotham needs me to be"). Perhaps no film in recent memory illustrates the flaws and frailties of humanity quite like this one does. These are characters who have flawed personalities, who are pushed (or tempted) to the point of chaos. The late Roger Ebert described The Dark Knight as "a haunted film that leaps beyond its origins and becomes an engrossing tragedy."

Many consider it one of the best comic-book movies ever made as well as the best of Nolan's Batman films. I can agree, in terms of its grand scale, visceral and operatic thrills, and complex themes revolving around an entire city and not just a masked defender. On the other hand, the film carries a void that, in a way, ends hopelessly.

Fortunately, the series didn't end there. The third film (released in 2012) would represent the Act 3 negative impact and pain of the horrific tragedies of a once-ideal hero.

Anne Hathaway ("I'm adaptable.") 

"There's a storm coming."
The Dark Knight Rises opens eight years after the tragic events of Harvey Dent, when Gordon and the Batman endured Dent's reputation by building a lie to ensure Gotham's survival, and hope for the future. Wayne is older, but more bruised and battered as Gordon is secretive and guilt-stricken. Gotham has, at least on the surface, become a city that no longer needs Batman, and have branded him an enemy, which Bruce took upon himself. But beneath the facade (or, in this case, the sewers of Gotham, and later cracking ice) lies a secret terrorist organization, led by a masked mercenary known as Bane, that begins to bubble up. The first scene between Gordon and Batman sums up the film and the events to come.

Gordon: "We were in this together. And then you were gone."
Wayne (masked): "The Batman wasn't needed anymore. We won."
Gordon: "I started a lie. And now this evil rises, from where we tried to bury it. The Batman has to come back."
Wayne: "What if he doesn't exist anymore?"
Gordon: "He must. He must."

While the themes of Begins and Knight were fear and chaos, respectfully, the theme of Rises is pain, like that of a ghost coming back to haunt our main characters (or a ghost of something they're running from). Even the score sounds like a(n ethereal) ghost.

The questioning of whether the Batman is needed or not seems confirmed, at least by Alfred who doesn't believe so. Look at the scene where he pleads with Bruce not to go through with it anymore, even going so far as to reveal the truth about Rachel Dawes to Bruce. "Maybe it's time we all ought to stop trying to outsmart the truth and let it have its day." Alfred even confesses that he never wanted Bruce to return to Gotham in the first place (and anticipated some potential failures), and instead has been fantasizing about how they could have moved on in their lives. "I knew there was nothing here for you but pain and tragedy." Otherwise, Bruce would've never helped try to bring hope back to Gotham.

Even Bruce's own lifestyle becomes questioned, as the stock market and everything around him (including, maybe, his own facade) begins to crumble, even as he tries to keep his resources and allies out of the wrong hands. He does still have a few allies, including Lucius Fox, as well as a young ideal cop named John Blake (an excellent Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Wayne Enterprises board member Miranda Tate (the incredible Marion Cotillard), and the ambiguous cat burglar Selina Kyle (a scene-stealing Anne Hathaway). Most of these characters (Bane included) represent figures in masks, much to intriguing effect, and even imply the idea of children born in tragedies.

The film's emphasis on economics and welfare is rampant throughout, with echoes of Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities," from the aforementioned stock exchange to sewers of work for the desperate and homeless to Bane's overall hostile and physical takeover of Gotham, not to mention his deceptive view of himself as "necessary evil". Tom Hardy is certainly imposing and intimidating as the masked mercenary, with his clawed-figured breathing mask, Victorian-era coat, and liberation of Gotham into a wasteland by using hope to "poison" the souls of its citizens. (Consider the 9/11-esque imagery of policemen going down into the tunnels.) But his voice is the most interesting and unexpected. (Hardy was inspired by real-life English-born bare-knuckle fighter Barley Gorman for the character's voice.)

If the film has a weakness, it may be in the character of Miranda Tate, who arguably proves a questionable and mysterious character throughout. "You have to invest if you want to restore balance to the world," she tells Bruce. There are times where her character doesn't really work (neither does her romance with Wayne, including an unnecessary love scene), at least until her true character is revealed, showcasing Cotillard's stellar and sharp range. Bruce's ambiguous relationship with Selina Kyle, in the mean time, works much better, and proves one of the best and most complex relationships in a comic-book-related movie.

The thematic imagery of climbing out of a pit (much like the well Bruce fell in as a child) comes full circle here. With a rousing chant composed by (once again) Zimmer, Bruce embarks on stopping Bane's plot of not just breaking Gotham's city and people, but their spirits as well. Selina's early views of this (and her reactions) foreshadow the horrors she knows are to come, and which she herself tries to escape from. "There's more to you than that," argues Bruce.

Like Inception (Nolan's incredible sci-fi caper from 2010), I initially thought The Dark Knight Rises ended on a cheap note. In retrospect, that turns out to be a smart trick on the filmmakers' parts, including Goyer's and the brothers Nolan (who conceived and wrote the script). Watch the reactions and actions of Gordon, Blake, Alfred, and aircraft technicians, as well as references to a string of pearls missing and a new signal in place. The series (at least Nolan's interpretation) is, therefore, complete. But, like the first two films, Rises has a sense of continuation and possibility. Again, smart moves.

"Oh, boy, you are in for a show tonight, son!"
Nolan and company have done a brilliant job in grounding these films (particularly Knight and Rises) in reality. From real sets to location shoots to state-of-the-art IMAX footage and minimal CGI (techniques he would use in his later films Interstellar [2014] and Dunkirk [2017]), the results phenomenal, expertly made, and thoroughly gripping. That goes just as well for Nolan's experimental domino effect of intensity and spontaneity in action and dialogue for various cinematic moments. Did I mention Wayne operates out of an underground warehouse, and from a penthouse (as Wayne Manor is apparently under reconstruction) in The Dark Knight?

That being said, it's worth noting a few standout sequences in this franchise, including the Dark Knight's first appearance in Begins, the Tumbler's roller-coaster public debut (which Gordon drives later), the opening sequences of central villains (the Joker's bank heist in Knight, Bane's aerial takeover in Rises), Batman and the Joker's iconic interrogation (a halfway mark for the trilogy?), the Bat aircraft's appearances in Rises, the football stadium chillingly intercut with "The Star Spangled Banner," Batman fighting Bane in broad daylight, and what may be the single greatest action sequence in the history of cinema (or, at least in the 21st Century): the semi-truck chase (and actual flip) and the debut of the Batpod (also a halfway mark in this trilogy).

It's also worth noting the impeccable casting in each of these films, which helped transcend that a comic-book movie could cross genres and simply be great movies. Christian Bale. Michael Caine. Marion Cottiard. Aaron Eckhart. Morgan Freeman. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Meggie Gyllenhaal. Tom Hardy. Anne Hathaway. Katie Holmes. Heath Ledger. Liam Neeson. Gary Oldman. Ken Watanabe.

Another relevant (and timely) theme throughout these films is that Batman represents more than a name and a man and a mysterious figure. He's a symbol, an ideal for something more: that anyone can be a hero. Other characters may be misguided in their own journeys, including the League of Shadows (what they and Bane consider "necessary") as well as Harvey Dent ("You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain"), and Batman does tend to use some questionable methods in the process. He may not "have the luxury of friends," as he initially claims, and yet he tries to maintain a higher moral code, going so far as to never killing his adversaries (a noble act on his part, for sure).

These films did culminate into what eventually became known as The Dark Knight Trilogy. In retrospect, Nolan and company created a three-film structure that not only works stronger altogether than as individual films (much like Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy). These films have also further redefined what tentpole movies are, especially comic-book-based or superhero-related, a feat later seen in films like Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Logan (2017), and now Black Panther (2018). They could even be an alternative to our current trend in cinematic universes courtesy Marvel and DC.