21ST CENTURY ANIMÉ: The Films of Makoto Shinkai

WRITER’S NOTE: The following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian in late-2022 and throughout 2023. 

Other Worlds (1999) 

An effective and engaging black-and-white montage about a young man and woman who question whether their relationship will work or not. At just 90 seconds in length—and in spite its rough animation—animé director Makato Shinkai’s trademarks (from his editing style to character close ups) are on full display here. Plus, it makes great use of music from “Satie: Gymnopédie No. 1.” 

She and Her Cat: Their Standing Points (1999) 

That same year, Shinkai made this five-minute short (animated entirely in monochrome) about a pet cat and its female owner. A melancholic tale of romance and the change of seasons, told from the titular feline’s point of view, this detailed and captivating short is an immersive precursor to the career of one of our most original and daring voices in animé this century. 

Voices of a Distant Star (2002) 

Shinkai’s 25-minute short from 2002 is a genre-bending drama that combines a contemporary coming-of-age story with futuristic sci-fi. Centered on a long-distance relationship, including a teenage girl who takes part in an outer space mission, some of the character animation and designs are a little off-putting. But the concept is intriguing, as are themes of memory, missed opportunities, and time. This short helped set a template for the metaphysical and ambitious trademarks that would shape the young director’s career to come. It had never been seen by Western audiences until it debuted on the Blu-ray editions of Shinkai’s film, 5 Centimeters Per Second, in recent years. 

Egao (2003) 

This two-and-a-half music video for artist Hiromi Iwasaki’s song, Egao, centers on a girl and her pet hamster. (The artist must have been inspired by She and Her Cat.) Colorful, bright, and quietly emotional, this short also highlights themes of loneliness and companionship. 

The Place Promised In Our Early Days (2004) 

Set in an alternate post-war Japan, three teenage friends (Hiroki, Takuya, and Sayuri) plan to build an aircraft to someday visit a mysterious tower that connects directly to the sky. Years later, the tower ignites, and one of the friends (Sayuri) may be the only one to stop Earth from becoming an alternate dimension. 

The directorial feature film debut of Shinkai, The Place Promised In Our Early Days contemplates dreams of the past, how things could have been, and what could be in an ever-changing world. It takes some cues from Shinkai’s previous short, Voices From a Distant Star (space stations, long-distance relationships), and visually predates a subsequent Shinkai project (breathtaking sky views, the passage of time, romanticism). 

More importantly, this is a slow-burning drama about loneliness, as well as fear and hope. Featuring strong characters, a political undercurrent, violin and train track motifs, and a breathless climax, Place Promised is a daring sci-fi piece that blurs the line—at least for one character—between what is real and what is a dream, as well as persevering over time. 

5 Centimeters Per Second (2007) 

Told in three vignettes, this 63-minute feature follows two young adults as they grapple with love, memories, missed opportunities, and heartache. Using the speed of falling cherry blossoms as a visual metaphor (and where the film’s title comes from), the stories follow Takaki and Akari as they communicate through letters and text messages while navigating new cities, schools, relationships, work, and life. (Trains, rocket ships, snow, and even the passage of time itself, serve as other forms of visual poetry.) And yet, they struggle with sharing their true feelings for each other. 

Filled with captivating scenery, atmospheric sound and editing, a beautiful score, and melancholic emotion, 5 Centimeters Per Second: A Chain of Short Stories About Their Distance is an amazing and moving work of art. Not to mention a high point in Makato Shinkai’s distinct career. It’s also a rare occasion where a series of shorts (or so it seems) collectively and brilliantly work in feature film format. And as a bittersweet coming-of-age drama, it’s a rare piece of animé that, according to its writer-director, doesn’t rely on elements of fantasy or science-fiction. 

Children Who Chase Lost Voices (2011) 

Shinkai sort of when against type with this story of a teenage girl who lives with her widowed and workaholic mother, but still coping with the recent loss of her father. The young Asuna spends most of her time alone, doing housework, and listening to her father’s crystal radio. One day, strange and inexplicable radio signals and messages lead her into a world where monsters roam and where the dead can be brought back to life—but at a terrible cost.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices From Deep Below starts out well enough, with compelling character arcs (including the mysterious Shen, stray cat Mimi, and substitute school teacher Mr. Morisaki, with his own hidden motives), breathtaking images of the stars and cosmos, familial relationships set against a mythological backdrop, and a heart-pounding score. It also displays strong themes of life, loss, death, grief, and resurrection. (The English dub is exceptional.) 

The thing is, the film does so through a Gnostic—and often pessimistic—worldview, and through some violent and grotesque imagery. Especially during its second half, it also borrows heavily from previous Studio Ghibli entries like Castle in the Sky, Princess Mononoke, and Tales From Earthsea, making the film seem more like a knockoff than an original story. It goes to show that some story beats are not worth chasing more than once. 

The Garden of Words (2013) 

A young high schooler strikes up a relationship with an older woman when he skips school one rainy day to do some sketching in the city garden. That’s the basic premise of Makoto Shinkai’s 45-minute drama, declared by some as one of the most beautifully animated films ever made. And it’s easy to see why. 

The animation of nature, weather, and sketching is meticulous and fitting for the story’s visual poetry involving rain, loneliness, and mystery. The character arcs of aspiring shoemaker Takao and the not-quite-mature Yukimo are compelling and layered, as they represent two strangers in their own worlds but share feelings of loneliness and uncertainty. And Daisuke Kashiwa’s score is melancholic and introspective. 

The thing is, none of those elements can make up for the fact that Takao is 15 and Yukimo is 27. While the story doesn’t feature anything graphic, some scenes (including a foot-measuring bit) are nevertheless problematic—a fact that, to be fair, is brought up by at least one brutally honest character. (The English dub, sadly, features a few harsh profanities, including one f-bomb.) Yes, the garden is lovely, but it’s better to walk in it with maturity over fleeting emotions. 

Someone’s Gaze (2013) 

Released the same year as The Garden of Words, this seven-minute short was part of the “Proud Future Theater” collection when it screened during that year’s festival circuit. A bittersweet portrait of parent-child relationships, Someone’s Gaze is a profound and moving story (set in the future?) about loneliness and companionship, centered on a young woman, her father, and their pet cat. One of Shinkai’s best. 

Cross Road (2014) 

A quick, 2-minute montage that could easily be adapted and expanded into a feature film, Cross Road follows a boy and girl whose lives intersect as they each prepare for their college entrance exams. The short predates 2016’s Your Name. as far as intercut storylines, but Cross Road is more about two people who want to get out of their hometowns and out into the world. Effectively set to Nagi Yanagi’s music track of the same name. 

Your Name. (2016) 

Makoto Shinkai's breakout feature is an impressionistic and challenging coming-of-age feature. Your Name. follows a teenage boy in Tokyo and a teenage girl in Itomori (a.k.a. Hida) who miraculously switch bodies at random, with a strange comet apparently at the center of it. Part of Your Name. consists of a series of montages (the prologue feels like a music video), as main characters Mitsuha and Taki learn about each other, lay down ground rules to protect their lifestyles (easier said than done), and ultimately look for each other, despite being separated in more ways than one. 

State-of-the-art animé and an ambitious story of memory, time, fate, and human connection, have made this film a standout in recent years (including IMDb's "Top 250"). Shinkai reveals jaw-dropping plot twists halfway through, where the film is at its strongest. It also integrates real-life natural disasters from Japan's recent history (a trademark Shinkai would revisit for his next films). At the same time, Your Name. represents Eastern spirituality and philosophy, not to mention secular views regarding changing the past and the future. Even the writer-director reportedly considered the final film to be "incomplete [and] unbalanced."

Weathering With You (2019) 

In this coming-of-age story, a teenage boy named Hodaka runs away to Tokyo (where it apparently rains all the time), finds work at a small magazine editing company, and meets and falls for a teenage girl named Hira, who has the miraculous ability to control the weather and bring sunshine. Talk about a fish out of water, or a stranger in a strange land, so to speak. Shinkai continues his ambitious filmmaking with sharp montage editing, deep themes (some centered around adolescent romance), and state-of-the-art production design. 

Unlike his previous film, Weathering of You deals with more mature subject matter, including economic struggles, sexuality (i.e., some references to prostitution are present, as are other suggestive references and images), secrets, spirituality (New Age philosophy?), and scenes of drinking, smoking, and gunplay. J.D. Salinger's acclaimed and controversial novel, The Catcher in the Rye, even makes an appearance. So while the film is amazing to look at, its overall story shines a light on characters searching for meaning and purpose, but going about it in rebellious and/or illegal ways.

Suzume (2022) 

Another ambitious and incredible animé feature from Shinkai, Suzume follows the titular high school teenager who discovers doors around Japan that bring forth destruction. Along the way, she meets a mysterious young man, named Souta, on his own quest to find the same doors, as well as a mischievous cat that curses the heroic Souta by turning him into a toy chair. 

This latter element is one of many subversive choices throughout this surprising and gripping coming-of-age story, which opens with a bang and never lets go. (At least one later scene carries a genuine sense of vertigo.) Apparently set during the COVID-19 pandemic, Suzume is also a cross country road trip adventure about friendship, geographical history, connection (Shinkai's films feature characters interacting on, or habitually using, social media), sacrifice, and reconciliation. The attention-to-detail and personality in the animation is superb, and the score by Radwimps and Kazuma Jinnouchi is an emotional roller-coaster--fitting for such a genre-bending piece. 

A few references to older Studio Ghibli films are peppered throughout, including the same track from the opening credits of Kiki's Delivery Service. Plus, the imagery of a little girl in a mysterious field, as well as forgotten communities in ruins (a reflection of real-life natural disasters that have occurred in Japan) and glimpses of a spiritual dimension, are poetic, powerful, and profound. A standout film released in North America in 2023. 

REVIEW: “The Boy and the Heron” (2023)

Teaser poster for Japan release in July 2023

Hayao Miyazaki has, on more than one occasion, declared he would retire from making anime feature films. In 2013, he publicly made it official. Or so he thought. You see, Miyazaki almost always manages to go back on that statement and deliver more brilliant projects through his company Studio Ghibli. The Boy and the Heron may be his most ambitious and personal film to date. Having been in development and production since 2017, it's the one film I've been anticipating all year, out of any other theatrical release. 

When it premiered in Japanese movie theaters back in July (under the original title, How Do You Live?), Ghibli did the unthinkable: they didn’t release any trailers or interviews or marketing in general, other than one mysterious poster. Word-of-mouth has since ranged from mixed reactions to many immediately hailing Miyazaki’s latest as another masterpiece. Personally, I wanted to know as little about it going in. But, being the avid IMDb user that I am, I couldn’t resist certain spoiler-free articles or photos online. But only a little, I think.) Then, when the first trailer for the North American release premiered (along with the announcement that the film would be screened in IMAX, a first for Ghibli), my jaw dropped. It was different than what I was expecting, but I was still excited. 

The film’s summary is as follows. Traumatized by the death of his mother during the Second World War and now living with his father and pregnant stepmother in the countryside, a lonely boy named Mahito encounters a mysterious and mischievous gray heron that soon leads him on a journey to a fantastical world to find the boy’s deceased mother, who may still be alive. 

According to director Guillermo del Toro, while presenting the film at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival, The Boy and the Heron (a title that actually makes more poetic sense in retrospect) has a different tempo than Miyazaki’s previous work. Filled with quiet drama and empathy, you can’t really predict where this story (organically constructed and executed) is going to go. Nevertheless, this independently-produced feature (another first for Ghibli) will test the patience of some viewers, especially during the first half-hour of its 124-minute runtime (hence, one reason for the PG-13 rating in the U.S.). 

Poster for the North American release in December 2023

Mahito’s name means, “sincere one.” Ironic, considering the story’s themes of deception and truth. That being said, it’s hard to tell what is real and what isn’t. But it is thoroughly engrossing and stays with you. Some of the animation is expressionistic, particularly the harrowing opening sequence (which reminds me of Isao Takahata’s Tale of the Princess Kaguya), while the heron itself possesses freaky human teeth. As for the aforementioned realm, is it “a kingdom free from malice,” or just a dream/fantasy that isn’t what it seems (like Alice falling down the rabbit hole)? Is it a choice between eternity and the world? Being stuck in the past versus looking ahead to the future? Either way, this is a story about new beginnings, the challenges of letting go of escapism and creation, and dealing with reality. 

A few story elements recall previous Miyazaki/Ghibli entries (My Neighbor Totoro and Grave of the Fireflies, for example) and even Makato Shinkai’s 2013 entry, Children Who Chase Lost Voices. But for the most part, this is different than anything Miyazaki has ever done before. This time, his trademark of flight is expressed through birds, while images of paper creatures, melting bodies, and glowing doorways will leave you speechless. 

With a great and moving score by longtime collaborator Joe Hisaishi, The Boy and the Heron is a contemplative piece of cinema, if not one of Miyazaki's greatest. It’s certainly one of his most enigmatic, and an undeniable masterpiece. If not the reported swan song of his filmography (again), it could itself be a new beginning, from one generation to the next. 

EXTENDED REVIEW: "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse" (2023)

Courtesy Sony 2023

WRITER'S NOTE: The following was originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian on June 4, 2023. 

Once in a blue moon, an animated feature comes along that changes the course of the medium moving forward. Walt Disney did this several times, with his inaugural Snow White (1937), followed by Fantasia (1940) and One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), to name a few. UPA experimented with different techniques for their countless short films, including Gerald McBoing Boing (1950). And let's not forget the cutting-edge animation combined with live-action in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), the stop-motion effects of The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), and the computer animation of Pixar's Toy Story (1995). 

On the flip side, there are two kinds of superhero films (and films in general): those that follow a conventional and/or predictable narrative, and those that are subversive and take unexpected detours. Most films land under the former category. But Sony Animation's Spider-Verse franchise isn't most films. If 2018's Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse represented a living comic-book (blending 2D and 3D effects), then the 2023 follow-up, Across the Spider-Verse, blows the roof off of the entire animation medium. Watching this explosion of color, creativity, imagination, artistry, and a powerful story, I can't help but wonder how many screenplay drafts and concept art the filmmakers went through to get to the final cut. 

More importantly, this darker chapter never sacrifices its beating heart under all the spectacle. And believe me, there's a lot of insane spectacle, not to mention several frenetic, mind-blowing action sequences that happen fast. (The film is not recommended for audiences with photo-sensitivities and epilepsy.) Standout new characters include a "Mumbattan" (Mumbai and Manhattan combined) resident Pavitr Prabhakar (voiced by Karan Soni), British punk rocker Hobie Brown (voiced by Daniel Kaluuya), and Peter B. Parker's infant daughter Mayday. The pregnant Jessica Drew (voiced by Issa Rae) is also cool. 

Courtesy Sony 2023

But Across the Spider-Verse is really about the continuing stories of teenagers Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore) and Gwen Stacy (voiced by Hailee Steinfeld), each struggling back in their own dimensions and trying to make sense of their respective realities, secret identities, and responsibilities. But when a mysterious supervillain, known as the Spot (voiced by Jason Schwartzman), shows up in Miles' world and Miles soon discovers a portal to a multiverse where literally every version of Spider-Man lives (including the pessimistic and futuristic Miguel O'Hara, voiced by Oscar Isaac) . . . Let's just say we're in for a wild ride. (And this is only the first-half of a reported two-part story arc a la Infinity War and Endgame, complete with a gut-punch of a cliffhanger. Beyond the Spider-Verse is scheduled for release next spring.)

The story also emphasizes how difficult being a parent can be (whether we're talking about Captain Stacy, or Jefferson Davis and Rio Morales), and just as well for being part of an immigrant family (Miles is Afro-Latino). Other themes include fate, destiny, disappointment, and the consequences of certain choices and/or mistakes. "I can do all these things," laments one character, "and I can't help the people I love the most." I also found a familiar theme that unintentionally calls back to 1989's Batman: does the villain make the hero, or does the hero make the villain? 

The folks at Sony Animation have really outdone themselves by creating new software and technology to further blend the mediums of hand-drawn and computer animation, given the film's highly-ambitious and complicated narrative. And there are, no doubt, clever appearances galore, as well as powerful hero moments. This is proof that animation is not only art, but also very cinematic and deep. (Did I mention dope as well?) For younger kids, however, this isn't a recommended pic due to its heavy drama, knuckle-punching action, and surprising language choices. Parents should also be aware of a couple of blink-and-you'll-miss-them images related to LGBTQ topics (a poster over a bedroom door reads, "Protect Trans Kids," and a Pride pin is on an officer's jacket). This makes me wonder if there's some kind of agenda going on underneath all this. (Read more about these elements here.) For everyone else, this will most likely be one of 2023's standout pics by the end of the year.

REVIEW COLLECTION: The Nolan Files, Part II

WRITER'S NOTE: The following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian in July of 2023. The Dark Knight Rises is not included, as that's in a category of its own. (Read more here.) 

Courtesy WB 2010

Inception (2010) 

On the heels of the blockbuster success that was The Dark Knight, Christopher Nolan opened the decade with an original concept he had been developing for ten years: a heist thriller set inside people's dreams. Leonardo DiCaprio (in his first major box-office release since Titanic) leads an all-star cast, as expert thief Cobb, who accepts a job offer to clear his criminal record and reunite with his family. For this mission, instead of stealing an idea from his subject's conscience, he has to plant one inside the mind of a wealthy businessman's son. 

The film is a visual marvel, but almost always maintains a level of grounded if heightened reality. (Standout sequences include a gravity-defying hallway fight, and a freight train coming out of nowhere on a raining street.) The narrative is complex and unconventional, with layers upon layers of story and worldbuilding (including dreams-within-dreams, and dreams-withing-dreams-within-dreams), including some trippy origami effects. And Hans Zimmer's composition, "Time," just may be his most unforgettable score in a Nolan feature. 

Inception shares a few things in common with Paul Thomas Anderson's ensemble epic, Magnolia, in that two ideas are being told: one about the aforementioned central mission; the other, a more personal and tragic story, regarding Cobb's past emotional baggage and unethical choices. This includes the cost of manipulation, being out of touch with reality, and wanting to come back to it. Plus, the bruising symbolism of trains (with depressing references to suicide) and dreams/ideas collapsing (a la the Tower of Babel) culminate in a cautionary tale that says not every "leap of faith" is beneficial or constructive. This is a deep, immersive, and bleak experience. Prepare to have your mind blown in more ways than one.

Courtesy Paramount 2014

Interstellar (2014) 

Transitioning from a superhero tentpole to an epic science-fiction adventure is no easy feet. But Christopher Nolan managed to do just that with this mesmerizing and haunting pick. At the height of a career resurgence, Matthew McConaughey plays Cooper, a widowed father, engineer, and former pilot, who lives with his family in a dust bowl community on earth. One day, he's called in by mysterious agents to headline a special mission into space to find possible new planets for the remaining residents of a dying earth. As the film's tagline reads, "Mankind was born on earth. It was never meant to die here." 

One of several films this decade to revive interest in the space race (along with Gravity and The Martian), Interstellar predicts a future that tries to rewrite (or, "correct") NASA's lunar landings of the 20th Century, while also being inspired by the real-life U.S. Dust Bowl of the 1930s. The narrative and tone recalls previous genre staples like 2001: A Space Odyssey and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. 

This is an ambitious feature with incredible realism, immersive worldbuilding, and stunning imagery (cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema shot some incredible footage with state-of-the-art IMAX camera). The sight of the eponymous black hole is cutting-edge (consultant and physicist Kip Thorne reportedly provided the mathematics to the visual effects team, and in turn wrote an entire thesis on their results). Composer Hans Zimmer created one of his most distinct and unconventional film scores; instead of typical strings and horns, Zimmer used church organs. The result is both mysterious and wondrous). 

Maybe the overall film is a little pretentious, not to mention secular and scientific. But it's also an emotional and provocative journey that illustrates life on earth versus life "in the stars." At its center is a profound and heartbreaking story about a father and daughter across years. As Cooper tells us, "Once you're a parent, you're the ghost of your children's future." Wow. 

Courtesy WB 2017

Dunkirk (2017) 

In the second-half of the decade, Nolan turned his attention to the war genre with this true story of the evacuation of 400,000 men on the beaches of Dunkirk during World War II. Not since Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket, Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line, and Clint Eastwood's Letters From Iwo Jima, has the genre been given such a radical approach. 

Dunkirk intercuts three stories at once, each in different time durations: spitfire pilots in the air (1 hour), civilians in rescue boats at sea (1 day), and the aforementioned soldiers on land (1 week). Each segment is shot in stunning IMAX, with thousands of extras and real period aircrafts. 

While performances in Nolan's films are generally superb, they more often go underappreciated. Dunkirk features some of his best, including Mark Rylance as a determined civilian charting one of the rescuing lifeboats, Tom Hardy as a spitfire pilot (with half of his face is covered for most of the film, yet emoting so much through his eyes), Cillian Murphy as a traumatized officer, and Fionn Whitehead (in an impressive debut) as a young soldier. Some of them are strong examples of ordinary people (not just those in the armed forces) giving their lives for others. 

Released the same year as Joe Wright's compelling biopic about Winston Churchill (Darkest Hour), Dunkirk is gripping, powerful, and poetic. It may just be Nolan's greatest cinematic achievement to date. It's arguably his most hopeful. 

TRIVIAL FACT: Years ago, I ranked Sam Mendes' WWI drama 1917 (also a great film) as one of the best of the decade. In retrospect, Nolan's bold and ambitious WWII feature stands strongest. (Filmmaker Damien Chazelle regards it as one of the greatest films he's ever seen.) 

Courtesy WB 2020

Tenet (2020) 

It's incredible that, within the span of two decades, Christopher Nolan has gone from directing low-budget psychological thrillers to large-scale blockbusters. Tenet marks his fifth feature to use IMAX technology, and is his most complex and complicated film to date. The plot, this time, centers around the concept of time inversion. (That is, time reversal, not travel. There's a difference.) 

The film wastes no time getting right into action, as the mysterious Protagonist (a commanding John David Washington) survives a near-death experience and soon accepts a race-against-the-clock mission--teaming up with Robert Pattinson and Elizabeth Debecki--to stop a potential nuclear Holocaust. In short, it's international espionage, but with metaphysics. 

While it's not for everybody (again, the plot is very hard to follow, and there are harsh elements of abusive power), there's no denying that Tenet is an edge-of-your-seat experience, with flooring and explosive IMAX photography, booming surround sound (including Ludwig Gorannson's nail-biting score), and mind-blowing practical effects that truly make you wonder, "How did they do that?!?" Highlights include a major stunt involving a 747 plane, a high-octane chase across a speeding highway, and an inverted fight sequence in a secure hallway. And just wait until the climax!

Scheduled for release in 2020, this was one of several theatrical releases that was postponed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Many had hoped this would be the film to bring audiences back into theaters, until it underperformed. Movie theaters wouldn't see another major hit until Sony/Marvel's Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021) and Paramount's long-awaited Tom Cruise-starring sequel Top Gun: Maverick (2022). (Reportedly, Cruise loved Nolan's film as well.) I can't think of any other film that has been made like this before, whether it's actually brilliant or just pretentious. 

TRIVIAL FACT: This marks only the third time (after 2000's Memento and 2006's The Prestige) in which a song plays over the end credits of a Nolan film. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: The Indiana Jones Chronicles

WRITER'S NOTE: The following Raiders review was originally posted on May 3, 2020. The Crystal Skull excerpt was originally posted on November 10, 2020. The others were written exclusively for this post. 

Courtesy Paramount 1981

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) 

When one looks back at the most popular films of the last quarter of the 20th century, the growing trend of box-office hits from that period onward is arguably thanks to two men: Steven Spielberg and George Lucas. 

Having both studied film in the 1960s before making it big with such revered blockbusters as Jaws and Star Wars, it was only a matter of time before they both collaborated on a film. They were reportedly on vacation simultaneously in the late-1970s, as Lucas's "space opera" exceeded even his wildest expectations, while Spielberg experienced his first financial disaster (1979's war comedy 1941). The latter had always wanted to make a James Bond film, but Lucas had a better suggestion: a story about an archeologist who searches the globe for artifacts long lost for thousands of years. The character was named Indiana Jones (after Lucas's own dog, no joke), the artifact was the Ark of the Covenant (as described in the Book of Genesis), and, as Star Wars was an homage to sci-fi matinee serials of the 1940s, Raiders of the Lost Ark (released in 1981) would echo the adventure serials of that same period, but with more sophistication. 

Considered one of the best Hollywood scripts ever produced (courtesy Lawrence Kasdan, Lucas, and Philip Kaufman), Raiders has easily identifiable villains (common in serials), dangerous and unpredictable situations, some intense pre-PG-13-level violence, and one of the most unforgettable opening sequences of any film (Jones running from a giant boulder never ceases to excite). The same goes for the film's many iconic lines ("Why'd it have to be snakes?"), stunts (i.e., dangling under a speeding truck), and scary special effects (melting faces, anybody?)

And the best part? Harrison Ford is at his charismatic best as the daring explorer, who never seems to catch a break but always carries such swag. And we love him for it. Meanwhile, Karen Allen's Marion Ravenwood is far from a damsel in distress--to be fair, she does mildly fit the bill, but only just--and can clearly stand up for herself. Now there's a strong and sassy heroine, if ever there was one. If anything, Raiders is proof that you can make a great film for popcorn thrills, especially if there's genuine quality and investment along for the ride. It remains one of the best in cinema history.

Courtesy Paramount 1984

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) 

There are very few times throughout cinema where certain movies have significantly changed the industry, for better or worse. In terms of marketing and age-appropriateness, that trend arguably started in 1984, when two movies (produced by Spielberg) were released during the summer and were each met with both box-office success and controversy. One of them was a second installment in the Indiana Jones series. 

Most people may not realize that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is actually a prequel to Raiders, set one year before Dr. Jones' trek to Delih in that first film. In Doom, he gets caught up in an adventure in India with a wimpy nightclub singer (Kate Capshaw) and an orphaned street kid (Ke Huy Quan, in his screen debut) to find and retrieve a collection of sacred stones and kidnapped children from an evil voodoo cult. 

If anything, this second film (along with Gremlins) is responsible for the creation of the PG-13 rating, after several parents and critics argued about the dark subject matter and high levels of violence. Chief among these elements is the infamous scene where one character gets his heart ripped out of his chest. Add to that some ritualistic sacrifices, blood offerings, child enslavement, brief sexual banter, some gross-out moments involving an unlikely dinner and a tunnel of insects, and some outdated stereotypes and cultural insensitivities. Even Speilberg and Lucas admitted years later that they went too far--hence, why they made a third Indy film five years later. (More on that in a bit.) 

Temple of Doom does have its moments, including a break-necking mine car chase sequence, and a jaw-dropping bridge faceoff. It remains a distinct franchise entry for sure. Indy and Short Round even reunited nearly thirty years later, when Ford presented the Best Picture Academy Award to the A24-produced multiverse genre-bender Everything Everywhere All At Once, in which Quan gave a Best Supporting Actor-winning comeback performance after being away from the screen for decades. 

Courtesy Paramount 1989

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) 

According to IMDb, there were two reasons that George Lucas and Steven Spielberg made a third Indiana Jones film: to fulfill an obligation they made for three movies, and to make up for the criticisms they received regarding Temple of Doom. In a back-to-basics approach, Lucas and Spielberg set the third film as a quest for the Holy Grail, but more specifically as a reunion between Indy and his estranged father, Professor Henry Jones Sr. (played by the original James Bond, Sean Connery). 

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade still ranks as the second best in the series (after Raiders). It's always a treat watching the chemistry between Ford and Connery, as well as John Rhys-Davies' return as Sala. It also helps that an immersive prologue of Indy's backstory when he was younger (played by the late River Phoenix), when he was a boy scout, when he first cracked a whip, and how he got the scar on his chin. (This segment may have inspired the television spinoff series, The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, in the early-1990s.) 

What also makes this a worthy third entry, despite its dialogue-driven "X marks the spot" treasure hunt, is how faith and redemption play a significant role, both spiritually and emotionally. If Raiders had a love story between Indy and Marion Ravenwood, and Temple of Doom represented a dark escapist trek, then The Last Crusade took on a more familial and mature arc, with both Jones's reconnecting and re-understanding each other. 

But that doesn't mean the film is devoid of thrills. Plenty of exciting action and globetrotting still abounds, with one cringe-worthy sequence involving rats, and another featuring one of the scariest visual effects ever put to film. Overall, as we've seen up to this point, there are film trilogies that start out spectacularly, but then lose some of their luster (or most of it) when they get to a second chapter. And then, a third installment arrives and redeems the series. This is exactly how the Indiana Jones series came full circle--and off into the sunset--by the end of the decade. 

Courtesy Paramount 2008

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008) 

In the early-2000s, George Lucas had completed his Star Wars prequel trilogy, with 2002's Episode II: Attack of the Clones and 2005's Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Lucas retired from directing after that (quite a strong way to cap a directing career, if you ask me), but continued to produced and act as a consultant on various Lucasfilm and ILM productions, including a fourth Indiana Jones adventure. 

With Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Harrison Ford returned as the famed archaeologist on a mission (this time in the late-1950s, during Cold War paranoia) to return an ancient artifact to a lost city of gold, and encountering space aliens along the way (hmm). Karen Allen's return as Marion Ravenwood (fan service in retrospect), Cate Blanchett as a hammy Russian baddy, John Hurt as a schizophrenic professor, and Shia LaBeouf as a young street kid, were welcome additions. It was also a return to the blockbuster subgenre for Spielberg, who had been spending most of the decade experimenting with darker, more mature, feature films, specifically in science-fiction (2001's A.I.: Artificial Intelligence, 2002's Minority Report, 2005's War of the Worlds), as well as historical drama (the 2001 miniseries Band of Brothers, 2005's Munich).

While it received generally good reviews, had some exciting action sequences (that motorcycle chase was impressive), and was one of the top-grossing films of the year, Crystal Skull is regarded by many fans as a weak entry, what with its overreliance on CGI and silly, unbelievable action. (Surviving a nuclear explosion in a refrigerator? Yeah, right.) And with it's mesh of sci-fi into adventure, it suffers the same way the Star Wars prequels did. This would mark the last time that Spielberg directed an Indiana Jones film. 

I will say this: two consistent things that have made this series entertaining (good installments and not-so-good) are Ford's committed performance (the actor has stated that this is his favorite screen character) and the iconic music of John Williams. The latter will reportedly be presenting his final film composition for the fifth and final installment, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. 

Courtesy Disney 2023

REVIEW: "The Flash" (2023)

In my 2021 review of Zack Snyder's Justice League, I mentioned how time has a unique effect on cinema. The same can be said for anticipation. 

Lately, Warner Bros and DC have been struggling through a series of starts, misfires, restarts, etc. Recent titles Black Adam and Shazam! Fury of the Gods have fallen short, while other entries like The Suicide Squad, Joker, and The Batman broke the mold on how unconventional comic-book-based movies could be--but with graphic results (for lack of a better word). A feature film about The Flash has been a long time coming. And after several script rewrites, different directors, and a pandemic, the first solo outing for the Scarlett Speedster finally arrives courtesy It director Andy Muschietti. The result is one of the year's most anticipated and polarizing releases. 

Public and legal issues surrounding star Ezra Miller since 2022 (including accusations of burglary, assault, sexual misconduct, and other disturbing behavior) have apparently turned many audience members off since the film's release this month, already resulting in one of 2023's biggest financial disappointments. This, despite Warner Bros Discovery CEO David Zaslav stating that the film itself is "the best superhero movie [he's] ever seen." To the actor's credit, Miller (who identifies as nonbinary, and has made only one public appearance during the film's premiere) has reportedly been making steps towards improve and ownership, and I can only hope those steps will progress from there. 

Michael Keaton in The Flash (courtesy WB 2023)

It's otherwise a sad situation, because Miller is awesome as Barry Allen, in a narrative that has the crime lab employee travelling back in time to prevent his late mother's death and personal trauma, but, in turn, altering the entire multiverse. Plus, the action is full-throttle and jaw-dropping. Granted, some of the CGI is uncanny and poor, with various sequences that resemble video games (including one weird and disturbing bit involving hospital babies). A few other moments in this unpredictable storyline will also likely throw some viewers off a la Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness. 

But the real star of The Flash is Michael Keaton, in a long-awaited return as an older Bruce Wayne from Tim Burton's Batman duology (1989's Batman and 1992's Batman Returns). The man still has it ("You wanna get nuts? Let's get nuts!") and is an absolute blast-from-the-past to watch every time he's on screen, including an awesome sequence in Russia when he gets back in the batsuit. And the sight of the Batcave--nostalgic yet slightly modified--and references to Danny Elfman's original score from Burton's films had me grinning with glee. Equally great is Sasha Calle's breakout role as Kara Zor-El a.k.a. Supergirl, who is both a powerful and fearless figure. Like Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman and Halle Bailey as Ariel (The Little Mermaid), you feel like you're watching a star-in-the-making. 

Sasha Calle in The Flash (courtesy WB 2023) 

I won't say which ones, but there are several mind-blowing cameo appearances (and even time-travelling studio/company logos during the opening credits) that connect to the larger DC Universe, including unmade properties that never truly saw the light of day. 

But the film really works in its more grounded and human moments, whether Barry is interacting with his younger teenage self, or with different versions of Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck appears as well), with Kara, or with reporter and potential love interest Iris West (Kiersey Clemons reprises her brief role from The Snyder Cut). Its themes range from the consequences of one's actions, to accepting tragedies and/or scars that make us, no matter how much we want to change them ("Not every problem has a solution"). So while The Flash isn't a great movie, it does emotionally balance elements of comedy, action, suspense, and drama in a very entertaining way. Overall, it reminds me of what the DC Universe can and should be. 

When it works, that is. 

REVIEW COLLECTION: Pixar Filmography, Volume 5 -- 2020 Visions

WRITER'S NOTE: The following reviews were originally posted on my Instagram page @be.kerian in June of 2023 (with the exception of Lightyear, which was posted July 4, 2022). 

Courtesy Disney 2020

Onward (2020) 

Having successfully made a Pixar feature about monsters in college, Monsters University director Dan Scanlon presented an original fantasy-adventure-comedy that took mystical worlds and creatures and put them in a contemporary setting. But Onward really centers on two elf brothers who use a magical wizard staff to bring their late father back to life to spend one day with him. The siblings soon get literally half of what they expected before embarking on a cross-country quest.

MCU pros Tom Holland and Chris Pratt are perfectly cast as siblings Ian and Barley, respectively, as they drive around in a VW (known as Guenivere), encounter a warrior-turned-hostess Manticore (voiced by Octavia Spencer) and some biker fairies, and spend what little time they have with the father that Ian never knew (an impressive feat of character animation that's a cross between the anthropomorphic pants from Dr. Seuss's What Was I Scared Of, and the road-trip comedy Weekend at Bernies). 

Despite a few crude elements, the film highlights familial themes and the life-affirming role of surrogate father figures ("I never had a father, but I always had you"). It's a poignant message in an overall fun and entertaining movie. 

TRIVIAL FACT: This was the last Pixar feature to get a theatrical release before the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic. The studio's next three films (despite initial theatrical engagements) were released exclusively on the Disney+ streaming service. 

Courtesy Disney 2020

Soul (2020) 

Pete Docter has made some of Pixar's most unforgettable films, from closet-hiding critters in Monsters, Inc., to floating houses in Up and personified emotions in Inside Out. But none have been more ambitious or creative as his 2020 feature about a music teacher (and aspiring jazz musician) who ends up in a coma and in a metaphysical world known as "The Great Before". 

The studio really branched out with a story that shines a light on the African-American experience, as the eponymous Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx) takes up mentoring a "lost soul" known as "22" (voiced by Tina Fey), resulting in a twist that leads both on a journey of self-discovery and rediscovery. 

This engrossing and brilliantly-written story is a visual feast, with many clever, surreal, and surprising sight gags and elements. It's imagery is thematically-driven, with a strong emphasis on lighting, photorealism, and unique hand‐drawn techniques, proving what animation, art, and cinema in general, are capable of. And the score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (with jazz arrangements by Jon Batiste) is unlike anything heard on screen before.

While the film's worldview can sometimes be mystical and/or tribal, Soul does highlight characters who learn to live life as opposed to skipping it; both Joe and 22 dwell a lot on moments of rejection and failure throughout their own existences, before recognizing various life moments and connections that stick with them the most (no different than Russell the boy scout shared with Carl Frederickson in Up). It's an amazing kaleidoscope of music, imagery, story, and life.

Courtesy Disney 2021

Luca (2021) 

The second of Pixar's exclusive releases on Disney+, Luca tells a literal fish-out-of-water story about two sea monsters (one, shy and introverted; the other, daring and mischievous) who sneak away from their undersea homes and discover a seaside town on the Italian Riviera. (If Disney's The Little Mermaid and Hayao Miyazaki's Ponyo come to mind, as far as similar narrative beats, you're not wrong.) 

Director Enrico Casarosa (who also made the wonderful 2011 short, La Luna) uses the same character designs to tell a fun-looking-if-passive story about two young characters who discover the world. It's an enjoyable love letter to Casarosa's home country. The film's animation style is also, in part, a wonderful homage to Studio Ghibli films like Kiki's Delivery Service and Porco Rosso. (The seaside town is named "Portorosso." Get it?) 

As for the voice cast, Jacob Trembley (as the titular Luca) and Jack Dylan Grazer (as the free-going Alberto) make a terrific duo. I also enjoyed Emma Berman as the feisty Giulia, and Maya Rudolph and Jim Gaffigan as Luca's parents. And the eye-popping illustrations over the end credits are icing on the cake. But as far as the film's themes go, while it does highlight genuine child friendships and underdogs, it also sometimes paints adults as careless antagonists, with adolescent disobedience, some macabre fish humor, and conventional prejudices (and perceived agendas?) thrown in. More discerning parents and/or families may want to say, "Silencio Bruno," to this one. 

TRIVIAL FACT: Jacob Tremblay went on to voice another famous sea creature: Ariel's fish friend Flounder in 2023's live-action Little Mermaid.

Courtesy Disney 2022

Turning Red (2022) 

Pixar is no stranger to taking risks. But no film has, perhaps, had more edge or pushed the envelope of computer animated storytelling like Turning Red. Essentially a coming-of-age fantasy-comedy, the story centers on 13-year-old Mei, a Toronto native (and only child of Chinese immigrant parents) who begins going through adolescent changes, especially when she magically turns into a giant red panda whenever her emotions are high. 

First-time feature-length director Domee Shi (who previously made the Oscar-winning Pixar short Bao) and her team created a semiautobiography that draws upon Eastern family traditions (including spirituality and mysticism), the pressures of living up to expectations, and millennial obsessions over boy bands (the story is set in 2002). The titular Mei's fourth wall narration is clever (a first for Pixar?), and the character designs are distinctly cartoony and caricatured. A few thematic comparisons could also be drawn from Isao Takahata's animé masterpiece, Only Yesterday, and Judy Blume's beloved YA novel, Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret. 

With that teenage demographic in mind, Turning Red is not really a film for children, not just because of its complicated family dynamics (including overbearing parents and teenage angst). More specifically, it embraces hot-button issues like menstruation (with a few references to tampons). Plus, while Mei's posse of friends may be genuinely supportive and endearing, they can also be as rebellious as her; one of the film's subplots involves the girls lying to their parents and friends to get concert tickets to see a popular boy band. 

To its credit, the story does show the harsh consequences of giving into emotional rage, popularity and materialism, as well as the importance of friendship, accountability, and family. But its not enough to shake off its occasionally-crass attitude and mystical worldview. As Mei declares to her stern mother, "I'm 13! Deal with it!" Adolescence can be a beast, that's true. But it's shouldn't be taken lightly. 

Courtesy Disney 2022

Lightyear (2022) 

Full disclosure: this is not another sequel to Toy Story, but rather a spinoff about the character that inspired the Buzz Lighyear action figure. Nevertheless, there was bound to be a mixed reception, which Lightyear has been getting for more reasons than one. 

First, the good news. The film looks and sounds great. Pixar has certainly come a long way in the last 30 years. And it shows in the visual designs of this story's central planet, its robots (I couldn't help but think of the various hardware and characters from WALL*E), and elements of dust, smoke, and light. While Tim Allen will always be the GOAT Buzz, former Captain America Chris Evans does an admirable job of making the role his own, despite the writer's recycling dialogue from the original TS series. 

The film's story follows the intergalactic space-ranger on a years-long mission to get his colony off a marooned planet and back home. There are worthwhile themes of teamwork, embracing and learning from one's mistakes, and staying true to one's goals and beliefs, no matter how long it takes. Lightyear also has some brilliant moments of comedy and a few terrific new characters, like the scene-stealing robotic feline SOX (voiced by Pixar veteran Peter Sohn) and the determined rookie ranger Izzy (voiced by Keke Palmer). 

One element that has stirred controversy, however, is a brief-but-very-present same-sex kiss. While a few of Pixar's previous films have had very subtle references to such characters (including Finding Dory, Toy Story 4, and Onward), Lightyear seems to put its own subplot front and center--and apparently as a direct response to Florida's recent banning of LGBTQ education in public grade schools. Sounds like a political agenda within a film marketed to kids and families. The goal should've been to tell an entertaining story and save such discussions for a different outlet, of which there are several. Those elements notwithstanding, Lightyear is a rollicking space adventure. But only time will tell if it holds up to infinity and beyond.

Courtesy Disney 2023

Elemental (2023) 

CGI has certainly come a long way since the 1980s, when characters, environments, and various other effects resembled little more than plasticine. The data has become so significant that even the tiniest details and nuances can be so believable. Which brings us to Pixar's latest fantasy. Going one step further from Inside Out's anthropomorphic emotions, Elemental tells a compelling immigrant story in the guise of an animated adventure that personifies various elements, including fire, water, air, and land. (Imagine Captain Planet and the Planeteers in a more quirky and imaginative setting.) 

There's a lot to like about Peter Sohn's second full-length feature as a director (following 2015's incredible and moving The Good Dinosaur). The eponymous Element City is a sight to behold, while the script offers many clever visual gags and puns. Leah Lewis is very engaging as the fiery Ember. Thomas Newman's score is evocative. And, aside from the evocative story of an immigrant family growing up and struggling in a new place, what may start out silly soon blossoms into a genuine, heart-tugging romance between Ember and the water city inspector Wade (voiced by Mamoudou Athie). 

Where the film gets watered down (or fades) is in its middling environmentalist subplot during the second act. Add to that some passive appearances by LGBTQ characters, and a central love story that puts this into certified romcom territory, and Elemental is not really a film for younger or more discerning viewers, no matter how creative or clever it looks. 

TRIVIAL FACT: In a first since 2018, the film is preceded by a short sequel to 2009's Up (titled, Carl's Date), in which the elderly and widowed Carl Frederickson (Ed Asner, in his final screen credit) wrestles with dating again, even while getting advice from talking canine Dug.