The Theory of Everything - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

The Theory of Everything   

Starring Eddie Redmayne, Felicity Jones, Charlie Cox, Simon McBurney, David Thewlis, and Emily Watson

Directed by James Marsh

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 123 minutes

Genre: Biography/Drama

Opens November 14th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

The Theory of Everything showcases Stephen Hawking in an unfamiliar way for most people: as a young, ambitious, extraordinarily intelligent man who falls in love and lives a blissful, remarkable life with multiple children. Only when the story falls into the recognizable part of the narrative does the film become a different specimen, exploring Hawking's experience with ALS and how his wife grows increasingly distressed with her own life while trying to balance his inability to work within his own. The performances at the heart of the film define the effectiveness of James Marsh's vision: Eddie Redmayne is a dead ringer for Hawking and delivers arguably the most pitch-perfect performance of the year, while Felicity Jones provides a sustained, nuanced, and humanistic performance that underlies the tragedy of Jane Hawking and her undertakings as a wife, mother, and student. They are extraordinary and compassionate characters that elevate the occasionally melodramatic material into a universally affecting, beautiful piece of work.

The story starts with Stephen Hawking's (Eddie Redmayne) studies in England during his college years. He's clearly the brightest of his year who carries plenty of quirks, making him a man that connects with some and puts off others. Yet he spots a lovely woman named Jane (Felicity Jones) at a party one night and eventually asks her to a dance, where they share their first kiss and spur their everlasting love. Jane is starkly different from Stephen, namely in that she believes in God while he believes in science, something that he stands by and points to analytical proof as a means of explaining his beliefs. Yet she argues that they are just that: mere beliefs that rely on the basis of scientific findings by men, much like his claim that religion was created by man. Jane proves to be an intelligent counterpart in Stephen's eyes due to his respect for her work; she studies ancient poetry and cultures with both seemingly having no idea about how the other does the work they do. There's something about the compassion that they show for one another that makes his growing struggle with a terminal disease all the more tragic.

Hawking is given two years to live and considered a lost cause in the doctor's eyes. His brain function won't actually be affected by ALS, meaning that he will be just as intelligent as ever, but his motor functions and ability to speak and communicate with others will be hindered permanently. Whereas many biopics would overload the audience with Hawking's struggles, Marsh's film tenderly examines the ramifications of such a devastating disease on both the person affected and their loved one. The story uses this dual balance to great emotional effect: Jane's story is given equal weight as she acts as a co-lead alongside Stephen. Her exploration of self alongside her husband's deteriorating physique remains the more affecting and resonant story in terms of its tragedy. Take for instance, a beautifully embattled scene where she takes up a camping trip with a close friend, Jonathan (Charlie Cox). They go with her children for a getaway while Stephen stays at home with a caretaker; as Jane looks at Jonathan putting together the tent and seeing the children's excitement, the camera lingers on her face. Her pain pushes through her façade as she realizes that Stephen will never be capable of such actions.

Their love pushes them through turmoil, tragedy, and the likes of which no couple should ever have to see. There are certain ideas on display that connect to other prestige players in 2014: Interstellar's lofty ideas surrounding space travel and the effect of relativity and The Imitation Game's look at ambition and the way a person attempts to overcome tragedy in their personal life come to mind. Director James Marsh has the ability to explore grand ideas with a deeply personal touch: his documentary Man on Wire is a towering achievement that plays like a heist film with a charming real-life lead, while his subdued 2013 thriller Shadow Dancer delivers strong performances alongside a detached, harsh view of British society. He tells his most compassionate tale here, with the help of Jóhann Jóhannsson's delicately layered score and Benoît Delhomme's lusciously intricate cinematography. Redmayne's transformation is undeniably the finest work of his young career and recalls other brilliant, transformative works like Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot and Leonardo DiCaprio in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?; it will receive Oscar attention this February, as will Jones. While their story uses minor familiarity in its conversations surrounding love, its juxtaposition alongside Hawking's real-life ideas make the film a unique, emotionally ravishing romance.

Rosewater - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Rosewater  

Dir: Jon Stewart

Starring: Gael García Bernal, Kim Bodnia, Haluk Bilginer, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Dimitri Leonidas, and Golshifteh Farahani

103 Minutes

Rated R

Maziar Bahari is an Iranian born journalist who was arrested in Iran for unjustified crimes while covering the 2009 elections for Newsweek magazine. Bahari was thrown into prison, accused and interrogated for being a foreign infiltrator, and beaten for 118 days. The film, adapted for the screen from Bahari’s memoir “And Then They Came For Me: A Family’s Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival”, is directed by well known comedian and political satirist Jon Stewart who was the host of “The Daily Show”.  “Rosewater” marks Stewart’s first directorial offering, and the results are personal, intriguing, and rather accomplished.

Bahari (Gael García Bernal) awakens in his old room in his mother’s home with a group of men standing in wait to search his possession and interrogate him for crimes against Iran. Bahari, living in London and reporting for Newsweek, is only home to cover the elections, which have split the country into two factions of opposition for two different candidates. Bahari, having temporarily employed a politically driven taxi driver named Davood (Dimitri Leonidas) to drive him around Iran, trudges through the streets on a motorcycle. Iran is in conflict after the results of the election, leading to an uprising and conflict in the streets. Bahari videotapes an encounter and sends it to a foreign news source, which leads to his arrest.

Stewart has made a career off mocking political figures and the news agencies that cover them. With “Rosewater” Stewart is decidedly more serious, crafting a film that takes a deeply personal look at Bahari’s imprisonment and the past that shaped his ultimate motivational strength to persevere. The film begins with an expanded look at the culture of Iran and the depiction of how Bahari is different than other Iranian people, less traditional and perhaps more westernized. A scene of Bahari enjoying “The Sopranos” or being introduced to Leonard Cohen by his sister further reiterates the difference. Stewart gives these scenes a natural pacing, quickly moving through environments and establishing the tone of the film while also supplying comedic touches that fit nicely into the narrative. Situations swiftly turn serious as Bahari is imprisoned, interrogated by a man Bahari nicknames Rosewater, an excellent performance from Kim Bodnia, because of the fragrance he wears. Stewart’s best work happens here, intimately taking the viewer into the suffocating cell where Bahari will spend months. In this time he is blindfolded and lead forcefully throughout the prison, interviewed and inanely accused by Rosewater, and offered supporting guidance by visions of his deceased father (Haluk Bilginer) and sister (Golshifteh Farahani), who were also imprisoned. Stewart evokes a spectator perspective here, assisted by the skilled lens of cinematographer Bobby Bukowski, "Rosewater" shines during this section.

While the story moves with ease there are a few choices that restrain the overall potential of the film. Gael García Bernal is a fine actor but feels somewhat miscast for this role. The tone shifts just when the film seems to be finding its stride, many times maintaining a safe approach during aggressive scenes, which restrains the emotional connection. There are also moments when undermining comedy is employed at the wrong time. Still, “Rosewater” is a good first feature for Jon Stewart who proves a skillful filmmaker willing to make purposeful and personal stories.

Monte’s Rating

3.50 out of 5.00

Beyond the Lights - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Beyond the Lights  

Starring Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Nate Parker, Minnie Driver, Danny Glover, and Richard Colson Baker

Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 116 minutes

Genre: Drama

Opens November 14th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Beyond the Lights takes a biting look at women within the music industry, crafting a story about a girl who must sell away her talents in exchange for making it in show business. The film opens in England in the late 1980s with a struggling mother looking for a proper place to get her daughter, Noni, a haircut. She's going to be in the talent show at her school the next day and she simply has no idea what to do with all of that craziness happening on her child's head. The next day, Noni performs a beautiful rendition of "Blackbird" in front of the gathered crowd, who are impressed, but the judges give the award to the prettier (and whiter) girl while awarding Noni second place. Her mother tells her to destroy the trophy and never accept defeat; second place isn't good enough and shouldn't be, and the judges made a mistake not giving her first place. It's a harsh message, but one that underlies a strong current in the film: that of a controlling mother who pushes her daughter to extremes to be successful.

The story makes a drastic, unsettling cut to current day, where Noni (Gugu Mbatha-Raw, best known from her tremendous work in this year's Belle) is dancing in scantily clad clothing in a music video where she sings about sex. She has a wig that makes her seem even more seductive, and she's accepting an award for her collaboration with recording partner/forced boyfriend, Kid Culprit (Richard Colson Baker). Her life would seem great if we didn't realize that her talents were being subdued. Her mother (Minnie Driver) still acts as her agent and encourages her to continue this sell-out of a career; her solo album will come around in due time when she gets the proper exposure. Noni cannot stand living like this any longer, though, and on the atypical night that she decides to drink champagne, she attempts to kill herself by jumping off the ledge of her hotel balcony. A police officer, Kaz (Nate Parker), enters her room when she doesn't respond and sees her sitting there. He saves her life and the story leap frogs from there, using their romance as a spring board for conflict as Kaz pursues a career in politics while Noni attempts to turn her career around.

Few films attempt to tackle the music industry like Beyond the Lights, and that's a commendable achievement regardless of its sporadic effectiveness. The first half resonates far more strongly than the second, as the story falls into melodramatic, overly simplistic romantic tropes that don't fully mesh with the inventiveness and thematic consistency on display previously. This is Gina Prince-Bythewood's first film since 2008's The Secret Life of Bees, so her return to the camera provides us with some stark social commentary within its mixed-race protagonist and her struggle in a world that associates her work with soulless, auto-tuned garbage. Mbatha-Raw's performance contains remarkable subtleties that demonstrate her ability to speak past her words. Take, for instance, a moment when she talks with Kid in his trailer and her body language speaks to her uncomfortableness around such an abrasive, idiotic man. Parker's performance allows him to explore a character trapped in a world obsessed with public image, asking him to behave rationally and without a sense of personal satisfaction. He wants love as much as Noni, and their determination to find their own paths to happiness works on an emotional level. The film's inconsistent and plays it safe in its conclusion, but it works powerfully when speaking to the testaments of these characters' struggles.

Dumb and Dumber To - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Dumb and Dumber To  

Starring Jim Carrey, Jeff Daniels, Rob Riggle, Laurie Holden, Kathleen Turner, and Rachel Melvin

Directed by Bobby and Peter Farrelly

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 110 minutes

Genre: Comedy

Opens November 14th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Dumb and Dumber To arrives 20 years after the original film from the Farrelly Brothers, bringing back Jeff Daniels and Jim Carrey in the leads as titular idiots Harry and Lloyd. In 2014, the landscape of everyone's careers looks far different than before: the Farrelly Brothers started their career with Dumb and Dumber and have since made hits (There's Something About Mary, Me, Myself, & Irene) and misses (Stuck on You, Fever Pitch). Their careers have hit a standstill and a return to the concept that put them on the scene feels like a necessary route. Daniels and Carrey have each had strangely unique trajectories, with the former positing himself as a capable lead actor in The Newsroom while the latter made iconic comedies in the late '90s and early 2000's before his career hit an impasse. All of these careers interweave into a narrative that feels painfully familiar to the first film but introduces enough new laughs and nostalgia to make the trip enjoyable while it lasts. Afterwards, though, your brain will probably feel as hollow as Harry and Lloyd's.

The story picks up with Lloyd Christmas (Jim Carrey) sitting outside a psychiatric hospital in a wheelchair and unkempt beard. He hasn't spoken in twenty years, and Harry Dunne (Jeff Daniels) has visited him every week for the past thousand weeks. After all, they are still best friends, even if Lloyd has let his best years go past him. Turns out it has all been a prank, though, and both of them are beyond impressed that it lasted as long as it did. If it would've only gone five or ten years, it simply wouldn't have had the same impact. The story then has the characters move through the settings of the first film, observe what has changed, and spurs another narrative that feels all too similar structurally to its predecessor: the characters carry a package around the country while people who want said package chase after them, leading to misunderstandings, deaths, and everything else that could feel like familiar plot points. This time, though, the guys talk with their high school romance, Fraida Flecher (Kathleen Turner), who reveals that she had a daughter 20+ years ago after Harry reads a letter that she left at his parents' house. Thinking the daughter must be his, the men trek across country to meet her at the Ken Convention (a spoof on TED Talks) in El Paso.

There's some impressively inventive humor on display, particularly in timeliness and sly turns on recognizable jokes from the first film. Harry's roommate, for instance, cooks meth but Harry thinks he's just a great scientist who has made a rock candy that has people coming from all over the country; it's a set-up that recalls Breaking Bad's homemade cooking and accentuates just how moronic these men can be. A joke about comedic timing shows the grasp that the Farrelly Brothers and Co. have on how to time a joke. Yet there are some strange edits that miss the mark on timing: a joke about Fraida's old back tattoo has the camera zoom in on her young physique in a flashback, only for the next shot to jarringly cut to an open shot with all of the characters before they look at her tattoo. Wouldn't a quick jump to the new tattoo have been more effective? There are some terrific jokes at the Ken Convention itself as Harry is mistaken for an award-winning scientist, and a hilariously quiet punch at new food fusion places as Lloyd and Harry's presumed daughter, Penny (Rachel Melvin), eat at a Chinese-Mexican restaurant while Penny eats a tortilla chip with chopsticks. It's absurd, oddly effective humor.

Yet for every joke that makes intelligent social critiques, there's a backwards-minded, offensive retort relating to race or gender. If I recall correctly, Harry and Lloyd were not nearly as offensively racist or sexist in the original film as they are here; they have seemingly gotten more mean-spirited and spiteful as the years have gone along, losing a lot of their likability in exchange for bitterness. A joke regarding Harry's adoptive parents makes a joke about them being Asian-Americans; while that doesn't seem as harmful as it could have been, the fact that the scenes make a joke of Lloyd laughing at how they speak is horribly unfunny. Another moment when Lloyd makes a quip about women not being able to be scientists but instead deserving to be housewives feels grating and serious to the character. He's attempting to make small talk, but instead offends others and humiliates himself. Despite many of those focusing on Carrey's character, he's the better actor for the work here; Daniels feels as if his career has taken away his ability to pull off slapstick humor, and much of his work feels exaggerated and silent film-esque. The Farrelly Bros. deliver a film that will undoubtedly please fans of the original, and provides substantial laughs. Yet Dumb and Dumber To, ultimately, feels unnecessary and far more off-putting than it should.

Dumb and Dumber To - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Dumb and Dumber To

Directed by Peter and Bobby Farrelly

Starring Jim Carrey, Jeff Daniels, Kathleen Turner and Laurie Holden

From Universal Pictures and Red Granite Pictures

Rated PG-13

110 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

In the closing credits of Dumber and Dumber To, the long-gestating sequel to the 1994 comedy smash, the film shows split screens of the two movies together, just in case the new one left you wanting more. And it will.

The split-screens also highlight a glaring flaw in the sequel: everything that happens in Dumb and Dumber is given a do-over or update in the new entry. Looking at just the plot points, each film is mostly identical. Here’s a synopsis for both: after duping a blind kid with a bird, two Rhode Island idiots take a cross-country road trip in a ridiculous car with a murderous henchman to return a package to a woman that will likely be a romantic interest to one of them. Along the way they violently prank each other, abuse mustard, dress in absurd costumes, dream about ninjas and are saved by undercover cops. In many ways, this is more remake than sequel.

It begins 20 years after the events of the original film, because that’s how long it’s actually been. Lloyd Christmas (Jim Carrey) is in a mental hospital and Harry Dunne (Jeff Daniels) makes occasional visits to change his diapers and empty his waterbed-sized urine bag. Lloyd eventually snaps out of it and the two IQ-deficient men head off to find Harry a kidney before he kicks the bucket.

Their search leads them back to their old apartment, the blind bird boy (played by the same kid, now grown up), and eventually to Harry’s Asian parents, where he receives a decade’s worth of mail — Lloyd: “Look, Harry, you were accepted to Arizona State!” They end up at the house of an old conquest, Fraida Felcher (Kathleen Turner), who reveals that she had Harry’s daughter 20 years earlier. The daughter is now in El Paso at a tech conference unveiling a billion-dollar idea that brings out the worst in her stepmother (Laurie Holden), who looks so much like the original’s Mary Swanson (Lauren Holly) it kept throwing me out of the movie.

Now, could any movie live up to the original Dumb and Dumber? Not likely, which is why a lot of what happens here gets a pass. But I did expect the sequel to be original, and it rarely is. Much of what happens is call-and-response from the original film. The peppers-in-the-burger gag has been replaced with a fireworks-in-the-bedroom gag. Lloyd tearing a ninja’s heart from his chest and putting it in a doggy back has been swapped out with him snatching a man’s testicles off with a leather whip. In both films, the men comically abuse the package in their care — here they punt it in a game of football.

All of this would be more tolerable, if it were more organic and pure, like the original’s thunderous arrival. But it all feels forced and stretched. And poor Daniels, he was so genuinely earnest and dopey in the original. Here he seems out of his element and confused at Harry’s stupid tone. Some of the jokes just fall flat, including a long sequence that requires Lloyd to stick his hand in awful places on an a deaf octogenarian or a bit with Mama June from TV’s Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. The TV mom, prone to dating child molesters, imploded on arrival — not a laugh in the entire audience.

The comedy does hit some home runs, though, including a bombshell that relates to an envelope’s return address and Stephen Hawking-like scientist uttering a very unscientific sentence using his electronic voice assist. Carrey, so rubbery and goofy in the original, brings it all back here as Lloyd. It’s sometimes hard to remember Carrey’s physical comedy, but this will take you back. He has a bit where he orders two hot dogs, sloppily eats the sausage and then uses the buns as napkins. It’s a very Jerry Lewis moment, but it’s silly and stupid in just the right amounts. Carrey also has one of the best context-free quotes of the movie: “That douchebag stole our hearse!” What he doesn’t know is where the hearse actually went.

Dumb and Dumber To is not the sequel we deserved — and it reveals the continuous story failures of writer-director team Peter and Bobby Farrelly, two mummies from the ‘90s — but it is a sequel that we should have expected. It’s not great, although there are moments of stupid brilliance.

Laggies - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Laggies  

Starring Keira Knightley, Chloë Grace Moretz, Sam Rockwell, Mark Webber, Ellie Kemper, and Jeff Garlin

Directed by Lynn Shelton

Rated R

Run Time: 99 minutes

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Opens November 7th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Laggies is the latest film from director Lynn Shelton, one of the most unique voices in the business today. I was a huge fan of her work Your Sister's Sister; I thought it was a nuanced approach to characters and advanced mumblecore as a genre of storytelling to a stronger, more narratively grounded level. Here, she uses a more renowned cast alongside a more familiar plot and delivery, but that does not take away from the characters on display or the slight affecting moments in the script. Her writer, Andrea Siegel, crafts a story about a quarter-life crisis (which I suppose is now a thing) through the lens of a woman that clearly has not grown up and decided what to be when she's an adult. It feels similar in thematic tone to Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha (a stronger, more individualized vision), even if it falls into familiar romantic tropes through unconventional means. The performances all-around are terrific, particularly from Knightley and Rockwell, and they elevate the material to enjoyable heights.

Megan (Keira Knightley) is an admirably aimless woman who got a degree from a university a few years ago but doesn't know what to do with herself. She works at her father's (Jeff Garlin) law firm, where she spins a sign outside and then heads home to her long-time boyfriend, Anthony (Mark Webber). They've lived a happy life since being deemed high school sweethearts, and her friend's (Ellie Kemper) recent marriage reminds Anthony that he needs to take a step forward in their relationship. He effectively proposes and, taken aback, Megan tells him she needs a little time and that she's heading to a seminar to fix up her life. In reality, though, she moves in with Annika (Chloë Grace Moretz), a high schooler that Megan bought alcohol for after her friend's wedding. They bonded, Annika likes to take advantage of her, and things develop a bit more strongly. Their friendship grows, and it becomes even more complicated once Megan's divorce lawyer of a father, Craig (Sam Rockwell), comes into the picture. Her mother (Gretchen Mol) models now and is out of the picture, so her family life is a bit dysfunctional.

Shelton's films always pride themselves on their eccentric characters and their means of establishing their own in a world full of interesting individuals. It's fitting, then, that she (along with Siegel) crafts a compelling narrative surrounding Megan and her attempt to solve her life. If that means finding out what truly makes her happy in both her life goals and romance, then so be it. Knightley is terrific in the lead, flaunting her American accent with relative ease and showing her versatility and resilience in the wake of a role that could have made her grating and exaggerated. She feels sincere and makes the situations arising out of her character's mistakes feel authentic; it's a real person making these fragile choices, not a scripted individual. Rockwell is always a pleasant presence on film, and he's dynamic and lively here. There's something about the succinct manner in his delivery that feels earnest. Moretz is strong when the role requires it, but more often than not she is a catalyst for the film's supporting actions. There's even an atypical airport scene near the film's conclusion that allows two characters to look introspectively on one another that challenges the notion of everything being explained perfectly for a romance in the tumultuous environment of air commerce. Laggies uses these elements to increasingly effective measures, making for an affecting, pleasant comedy about finding oneself in a world that feels, at once, both daunting and promising.

Interstellar - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Interstellar  

Starring Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, Michael Caine, Casey Affleck and John Lithgow

Directed by Christopher Nolan

From Warner Bros. Pictures, Syncopy and Paramount Pictures

Rated PG-13

169 minutes

By Monte Yazzie of The Coda Films

There are movies and then there are Christopher Nolan movies. Nolan, whose career catalog has been nothing short of impressive, attempts to accomplish one of the most ambitious visionary feats of recent years with “Interstellar”. This film is an experience in the fullest terms; visually beautiful to watch, awe-inspiringly composed, and bursting at the narrative seams with thematic theoretical wonders. “Interstellar” is a film whose ambitiousness will ultimately become its Achilles heel, though in a film so passionately composed, it’s a minor concern for the film enthusiast this film is intended for.

Earth is dying and the last of humanity lives as farmers to produce food for a dwindling existence. A former pilot named Cooper lives with his family in a small town. With the help of his daughter Murph (Mackenzie Foy) Cooper discovers coordinates that lead him to a group of explorers heading a mission into deep space, beyond our galaxy, to find a habitable planet to save mankind.

Nolan composes a distinct vision of the future. A bleak outlook and regretful remembrances occupy an Earth that is searching for any glimmer of hope. This is found through a wormhole near the rings of Saturn with coordinates received from an unknown source that is guiding the explorers. The script is ingenious with mounting theories that drive the film from plausible to implausible positions, a rift at times that Nolan traverses with ease and other times tumbles messily into. It’s the kind of obstacle that in lesser hands would derail a film, however Nolan recovers and continues to charge forth towards further ambitious expanses. Nolan builds events towards near epic standards with such ease and simplicity of design. In one scene the sheen of a spacecraft floating across a gorgeously rendered backdrop of Saturn’s atmosphere is accommodated by Hans Zimmer’s equally moving score. This all escalates gradually, giving the journey into uncharted territory a grandiose quality without looking overdone. It’s a brilliant design.

Just as all the best science fiction, there is an underlying message being proposed. Nolan discusses regret throughout. Difficult choices, necessary choices, and selfish choices all compose a collection of people who understand that the right decisions, both individual and communal, could have been made in the past to prevent the current state. There is a constant connection with the elements as well, represented through layers of wind blown soil, pummeling water, and flashes of fire, these elements seemingly betraying humanity by displaying their dominating destructive force on life.

The cast, as in most of Nolan’s films, is great. McConaughey is the consummate heroic figure, self-sacrificing to a fault and emotionally motivated for the greater good. The script spends time building his character as a devoted family man with subtle emotional touches initially, but as the film charges into space the relationship between his family is slightly stilted and relinquished to a few, albeit touching, moments. One might defend this portrayal as another character facet by Nolan to display the nature of a father willing to attempt impossible feats to save his family, but the emotional influence is lost until the final act. Mackenzie Foy, who portrays young Murph, is quite excellent. As is Jessica Chastain, who portrays older Murph with a maturity that is strong willed though bruised by the abandonment felt by her father. There are also nice turns by Michael Caine and Anne Hathaway accommodating another reflective father and daughter story.

“Interstellar” has minor difficulties living up to its lofty ambitions, however it is still an exceptional vision unmatched by other films in recent memory. Christopher Nolan confidently crafts an intricately beautiful and seemingly uncompromised work of science fiction.

Monte’s Rating 4.00 out of 5.00

Interstellar - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Interstellar

Starring Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, Michael Caine, Casey Affleck and John Lithgow

Directed by Christopher Nolan

From Warner Bros. Pictures, Syncopy and Paramount Pictures

Rated PG-13

169 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

In the great cathedral of space, no one can hear you scream, but the cosmic organs are imbued with an acoustic majesty all their own. Their thundering choruses leap and swirl to an audience of stars, supernovas, nebulas and that little speck of shivering matter we call mankind.

Christopher Nolan’s bravely beautiful Interstellar establishes humanity’s insignificance, the universe’s vastness, and how human exploration will one day narrow the margins between them. The film obliquely dabbles with religion, philosophy, science, quantum physics, and Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, all under the umbrella of an adventurous space opera, emphasis on the word opera — the music is exceptional.

In the near-future, the environment is scorched to the point of collapse. Water is scarce, dust chokes out anything living, and civilization is forced to take evolutionary steps backward to hack out a meager existence in devastated farmlands. We are plopped into the dusty haze of a farm run by former NASA test pilot Cooper (Matthew McConaughey). He’s a corn farmer, because everyone is — it’s the only crop that will grow in the planet’s temperamental weather. We catch a glimpse of the dinner table: corn on the cob, corn salad, cornbread, and creamed corn. We don’t see breakfast, but my bet is on cornflakes.

After a fluctuating gravity field is discovered in his plucky daughter Murphy’s bedroom, Cooper is sent bolting into the dust and desert for answers. He ends up finding a secret NASA base intent on launching a rescue mission into deep space to discover a new world, fresh water or the answer to a world-saving proof that has stumped a mathematician played by Michael Caine. As luck would have it, the mission is short a commander. Cooper’s truck disappears into his farm’s dust at the same time the film cuts to a similar shot of a rocket blasting white smoke as it breaks free from Earth’s atmosphere. Off we go!

The first stop is to Saturn, where a quantum anomaly might turn out to be a wormhole to another uncharted area of the universe. NASA knows the anomaly leads somewhere; a dozen astronauts in a dozen different ships were sent through years earlier and three are still relaying information back. Cooper and his fellow astronauts (including Wes Bentley and Anne Hathaway) buckle up and start spiraling toward the anomaly, which is itself a gateway to the rest of the film, a gateway I will peer into but not spoil further.

Nolan has made some of the most important blockbusters of the 21st century, and he outdoes himself here with rocketships, time travel, black holes, desolate planets, twirling space stations and enough big ideas to stroke the edges of Stanley Kubrick’s all-but-untouchable 2001: A Space Odyssey. Like that picture, Interstellar is only half interested in its human characters, instead committing itself to the grander mission of human achievement, a cerebral journey into the nature of space travel and the galaxy’s dreadful expanse. It’s a theme repeated over and over again as Cooper’s tiny-by-comparison ship glides past Milky Ways, dwarf stars and rocky planetoids. In one exceptional shot — made exponentially better when rendered on IMAX’s huge screens — the ship is represented as a single pixel as it cuts across the face of Saturn. That kind of scale is not only accurate, it’s terrifying.

Nolan is an astoundingly perceptive director, but an awful cinematographer and editor. (Hoyte Van Hoytema and Lee Smith are his actual cinematographer and editor, respectively.) The editing cuts too frequently to unwanted angles or confusing perspectives; it is frustrating to see a film of this caliber struggle with the basics, and yet it does repeatedly. The cinematography is also noticeably sub-par in parts. It’s as if they didn’t get enough coverage during initial photography, and then winged it all later when the film was being edited. The rocket launch isn’t even shown until the rocket is in orbit, the spaceship is only photographed from one annoying down-the-nose GoPro-like angle, and dialogue is shot using a stale set of alternating medium shots, like this is some kind of flat Lifetime movie. I will give Nolan credit for using lots of in-camera tricks (as opposed to green screen and CGI), but the nuts and bolts of the film’s mechanical bits are wobbly and unstable. It’s a complaint that is still echoing from his Dark Knight days.

And one more gripe before switching gears: the science is little wonky. Well, a lot wonky. It renders the Theory of Relativity into a plot device with about as much nuance as an episode of Scooby Doo. The film’s big revelation — Caine’s mystical proof — is never explained enough to take it seriously. And then the plot holes: How would a planet with 2 feet of water pooled on its surface be able to sustain waves as tall as the Rocky Mountains? Doesn’t time-bending only work on things traveling the speed of light or near the speed of light? What’s the point of that Indian drone that crash lands near the cornfield? Why wouldn’t Anne Hathaway’s character have aged more after another character tinkers with a black hole? What does the proof even solve? And what’s the purpose of robots as clunky as 2001’s monolith? Remember when Neil deGrasse Tyson picked apart Gravity? With Interstellar he might have to nuke it from orbit, just to be safe.

Now that I’ve sniped at the science, let me reiterate something: Interstellar is a phenomenal movie about adventure, love, family and the reaches of the human spirit. It doesn’t portray science or space accurately because it doesn’t have to. It’s real quest is to take us into the emotional cosmos of a father separated by space and time from his daughter. The story came about after Jonathan Nolan grew interested in time travel, but not the theory as much as the scenario in which the theory is discussed. In science books, the Theory of Relativity is often framed in a diagram of a person on a train platform watching as a train, traveling the speed of light, carries another person away into the great beyond. Interstellar has two people (Murphy and Cooper), a platform (earth) and a convincing train (a rocket) and it uses that model to weave a compelling space drama that will suck you into its eternal void of deep space.

Interstellar has its Speilbergian moments, and its Kubrickian moments, and some very quintessential Nolan moments, including a scene of Cooper, gone for hours on a strange planet, asking how much real time — relatively speaking — has elapsed while he was away. “23 years,” a now-graying astronaut says. There’s also a brilliantly choreographed scene of a spaceship docking with another ship under the most extreme circumstances. The music is pumping, the camera is whirling around the ship and Cooper is fighting as hard as he can to save himself and the human race — this is Interstellar firing on all cylinders.

Scores are rarely noteworthy enough to get detailed mentions in reviews, but Hans Zimmer’s score is the rare exception. Zimmer’s electric organs, booming bass and hypnotic swells are just perfect. The music is comparable to the 1982 Philip Glass soundtrack in Godfrey Reggio’s art picture Koyaanisqatsi, itself a film about the limits of man and the unbalancing of the earth. Zimmer’s music, occasionally full of bombast and broad salvos of sound, can also quietly punctuated the dialogue, including Caine’s great recital of Dylan Thomas’ line, “Do not go gentle into that good night,” or when Cooper paws through the dry soil and ponders, “We once looked up and wondered at our place in the stars, now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt.”

Interstellar is not without its scientific failings, but looking at what it accomplishes and what it invokes within us, it is likely to go down as one of the great science fiction movies of this generation. It has scope, it has grand ideas and it has a story large enough that it can be seen from Jupiter, which was probably the point all along.

Interstellar - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Interstellar

 

Starring Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, Jessica Chastain, Michael Caine, Casey Affleck, Wes Bentley, John Lithgow, Topher Grace, and Matt Damon

Directed by Christopher Nolan

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 169 minutes

Genre: Sci-Fi/Adventure

Opens November 5th (in IMAX); November 7th (nationwide)

 

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

 

Interstellar, Christopher Nolan's 169-minute magnum opus, opens in dread and closes in hope. His film is a towering epic that encapsulates the dawn of a new time for mankind, one in which the perseverance of the human spirit will never let up in the wake of a daunting future. As a culmination of the director's impressively rich filmography, his latest endeavor emphasizes the themes that have emerged in other films only at the surface. Here, they resonate through every scene and create a brilliant vision of a futuristic Earth ravaged by a careless destruction of resources and stubborn humanity. Coming to mind after viewing, I can only think of a few science fiction narratives that have brought together the epic vastness of space alongside human emotion and concepts of spirituality: 2001: A Space Odyssey is the most obvious choice, but Robert Zemeckis's underrated Contact also cuts to that core. What Nolan has achieved is something most directors strive for as their final film. He's made a definitive feature that brings together all of his works into a wholly inventive, bleak, and tragic vision, one backed by remarkable performances and a beautiful, lush cinematography and unnerving score.

Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) is a former astronaut turned farmer, living with his father-in-law (John Lithgow) and his own children, Murph and Tom (played as adults by Jessica Chastain and Casey Affleck, respectively). Cooper was never able to break the stratosphere while flying his craft, and now he grows corn since wheat is no longer an option. The world is rationed poorly and must sustain itself in any way possible, but a conversation with Murph's principal about his children's future provides the audience with all of the world-building needed. This is a futuristic Earth that doesn't have flying cars or advanced technology or anything we usually see in dystopias; instead, we have a world that views those as evils that burn through resources and don't benefit the masses. It's a depressing landscape considering the meals eaten (all corn based) and the constant threat of life faced by huge, town-encompassing dust storms that slowly sneak over the horizon. Everything changes, though, when Coop discovers a strong gravitational pull in his house that leads him on a wild goose chase to coordinates that expose the inner workings of space exploration.

Cooper's reconciliation with his old Professor Brand (Michael Caine) and his teaming with astronauts Amelia (Brand's daughter, played by Anne Hathaway), Doyle (Wes Bentley), and Romilly (David Gyasi) lead him on a journey to a wormhole near the dark part of Saturn. Here, they might reach the possibilities of space travel and discover inhabitable planets with sustainable resources to create new life. Ultimately, though, the journey revolves around Cooper's resilience to rekindle his relationship with his daughter, who hated him for leaving, along with his balance of saving the human race or missing the opportunity to ever return home. These are bold, empowered ideas that Nolan tackles viciously alongside his screenwriting brother, Jonathan. Conversations surround relativity, anti-gravity, wormholes, our linear view of time, and other lofty, over-our-head concepts that most viewers will not understand in the slightest. I'm sure the film's naysayers will arise out of their inability to understand its heady ideas (a rightful belief) or the "glaring loopholes" that arise out of its own world-building and the inexplicable nature of its groundings of theoretical notions. Yet that makes the film such a visionary achievement: it has this distinct vision of a future where humanity condemns the wastefulness of space travel while also needing it to survive, leading to discoveries never conceived before.

As an epic, the film rightfully grounds its story in a warm center that I believed wholeheartedly: the feeling of being human. Love, fear, nostalgia, regret; most of the emotions that arise in the film are melancholic and wistful. One of the planets that the astronauts discover has time pass as 7 years for every hour spent there in human time. If they head there, their journey is changed forever. There's a scene that floored me emotionally and left me in tears when I can usually stay strong during films, and it happened only an hour in. Once that hit, my investment in the film was undeniable and its power unmatched. McConaughey's performance is underappreciated with how dynamic it is as a catalyst for the film's central emotion, and it's one of his finest in this career self-resurgence. Hathaway's performance is strong and grounded, too, particularly as her and Chastain emerge above the typically female-light Nolan roles and become powerful, versatile characters that make human mistakes and also have a stake in the long-term actions of the film's discoveries. It becomes grating, then, when Hathaway's Amelia has a scene in which her emotions overrule her clear intelligence and she's scapegoated for it, despite the fact that Cooper does the exact same thing in regards to saving his family. It hinders an otherwise powerful dynamic between the two characters. There's also a heartwrenching scene with Gyasi's Romilly that provides nuance and understatement within the epicness of the film.

That might be the most defining element of Interstellar: its ability to showcase the smallness of human emotion within the epic, endless frame of deep space. What better way to showcase that grandness than in IMAX, as Nolan once again returns to the form with a new cinematographer, Hoyte Van Hoytema (after his long-time collaborator Wally Pfister left for his directorial debut), and provides roughly forty minutes worth of footage in the gorgeous format. The film's jump between the two aspect ratios has the larger scope scenes envelop the audience and hold a grip on our field of vision in a way that's unrivaled. The score, in particular, reemphasizes that notion of being grasped by the film, with Hans Zimmer's beautifully old-fashioned and manipulative music guiding the audience down the rabbit hole. I'm more accepting of Nolan's methods than many critics, which arguably attests to my subjectivity in praising the film. It's an effort unlike any other I've seen on this big of a scale: an $160 million independent vision with the big budget necessary to draw in a worldwide audience. Nolan is one of the few working directors that has not made a bad film in his 20-year filmography, a testament to his distinct and sweeping visions. He does it again with Interstellar, the most gorgeously rendered science fiction epic in modern memory and one of the grandest, strongest visions of 2014.

Revenge of the Green Dragons - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Revenge of the Green Dragons  

Starring Justin Chon, Kevin Wu, Harry Shum Jr., Ray Liotta, Jin Auyeung, and Shuya Chang

Directed by Wai-keung Lau and Andrew Loo

Rated R

Run Time: 94 minutes

Genre: Action/Crime

Opens November 7th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Revenge of the Green Dragons has been publicly endorsed by Martin Scorsese and described as a film in the vein of Mean Streets. Oh, how pretentious that makes it seem. While Green Dragons attempts to look at a particular ethnic group of immigrants in New York attempting to make it in a world of crime, the film fails to socially comment on Chinese Americans and the influx of gangs in Queens during the 1980s and 1990s. Instead, it revels in deplorable acts of violence and avoids subtlety at all costs, preferring to dole out its themes in the first five minutes and letting the rest of the film shock and disgust. It's not particularly thought-provoking once it gets past its initial set-up, involving immigrants forced into different families as children if they did not arrive with their parents. That's how the story introduces its protagonist, Sonny (Justin Chon), who interacts with his newfound brother, Steven (Kevin Wu), during his early years before growing into a neighborhood divided by six gangs.

These criminal groups are described in narration with derogatory names associated with all but one: the Green Dragons. They run the city and commit senseless acts of violence to do whatever it takes to make it in New York. Paul Wong (Harry Shum Jr., of Glee fame) stands as the face of the Dragons in their pursuit of control of the city. What other motivations they have are hard to decipher, but they will stop at nothing to get what is seemingly theirs. That means that everything must be solved with violence! Directors Wai-keung Lau and Andrew Loo revel in the film's brutal action sequences, mostly involving numbing assaults or guns shooting multiple times into a person's body and head. It's the kind of violence that personally makes me nauseous, especially when considering how repetitive and wholly unnecessary the lingering shots of blood and loss of human life are. I find it particularly unnerving and chilling to see women put in such perilous situations when they only serve the misogynistic views of the central male figures. When the film is full of characters that commit such senseless acts and are defined by their murderous actions, how can we identify with anyone?

Sonny stands as that figure, and the film relies on his believability as a protagonist. He's brought into this world when Steven is pushed to that moment, but how does that come about? Let's just say it involves a men's room interaction that involves a man committing a excruciatingly disgusting act while other men prepare to kill a defenseless man on the ground. Who is he, you ask? The story doesn't care about him or his importance, only about how repulsive the scene can be. It's generally senseless filmmaking that prefers stylizing death scenes rather than defining characters or their situations. Revenge of the Green Dragons deserves credit for its initial ambition, particularly since Chinese actors rarely get this amount of screen time. It's shameful, then, that their roles cannot be insightful or intuitive like classics surrounding Chinese Americans (Chan is Missing comes to mind as a piece of remarkable filmmaking). Genre overwhelms the narrative and American actors like Ray Liotta inhabit the film if only to collect a paycheck. The film is derivative, gruesomely violent, and repetitive.

Elsa and Fred - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Elsa & Fred  

Starring Shirley MacLaine, Christopher Plummer, Marcia Gay Harden, Scott Bakula, Chris Noth, and Wendell Pierce

Directed by Michael Radford

Rated PG-13

Run Time: 94 minutes

Genre: Comedy/Romance

Opens November 7th (at Harkins Shea)

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Shirley MacLaine and Christopher Plummer, two acting legends, deliver committed, sporadically affecting performances in Elsa & Fred. Their talents are squandered by material that starts off as overly trite and lifeless, crafting characters out of bloated dialogue and overly exaggerated actions, but it turns into something oddly more sincere and wholesome in its second half. MacLaine and Plummer fill the roles of elderly widows who find themselves yearning for love in a world that doesn't respect their wishes to be happy. Family members ask why they should worry about finding romance when they are so old; according to them, what's the point? That's the heart of Michael Radford's film, along with themes surrounding loves built on lies and the drive for a person to be themselves and live out all of their fantasies when they know they may not have much time left. The two leads are exceptional when the moments arise, but they are few and far between. The film falls into romp territory and emphasizes lightness and wistful scenes rather than hard-hitting, revealing truths about the perseverance of the human spirit and the everlasting desire to be loved.

Elsa (Shirley MacLaine) is a teenager in the body of an old woman. She likes to drive fast, dance to her heart's desire, blast contemporary music, and fantasize about traveling to rome while reveling in her favorite film, La Dolce Vita (a marvelous, fantastical romance from Italian master Federico Fellini). Fred, meanwhile, is a crotchety old man who wants to sit in peace, watch TV, and not be bothered by anyone, including family. The only person he can tolerate is his doctor, who advocates for him to be more active and exercise but he hates the local parks. He's a curmudgeon ever since his wife died seven months ago. Elsa is a widow of over twenty years, and sure enough they live next to each other in a New Orleans apartment complex. They meet through peculiar means: Elsa hits Fred's son-in-law's (Chris Noth) car with hers while his grandson sees everything. Fred's daughter, Lydia (Marcia Gay Harden), wants her to pay $1500 for the damages, and one thing leads to another. They fancy each other, go on a few dates, and magic begins to happen.

The film is an English adaptation of the 2005 Spanish-language film of the same name. That might help explain the generally stagy, forced nature of the narrative, with many characters delivering monologues or exposing all of their backstory through long discussions. Show, don't tell. That's the essence of screenwriting and the film squanders that opportunity by instead providing the audience with every shred of detail and important information needed to understand the story. It's a simplistic romance that I've seen many other times, albeit with better supporting characters and less forced motivations for characters. Why do we need two scenes with MacLaine rocking out to hip-hop/pop music? An actress as talented as her shouldn't be degraded to such mindless asides. The two leads are phenomenally talented, and only rarely do we see those acting chops shine through. Radford's film, unfortunately, forces them to talk through their emotions rather than express them. Plummer's finest roles in his old age have been driven by longing and nostalgia; take a look at his Oscar winning supporting turn in Beginners. Elsa & Fred should strive for more innovative storytelling and more awakening looks at love in such a fragile, limited time span. Instead it falls on familiar tropes and misses the mark on its potential.

Monte Yazzie's Top 10 Horror Films

For a horror fanatic, asking them to pick their ten favorite horror films can be a difficult challenge. So today, here are ten of my personal favorites. Enjoy!  

By Monte Yazzie of  The Coda Films

An American Werewolf in London (Dir: John Landis)

“American Werewolf in London” was released in 1981, all that time and the werewolf transformation scene is still the special effects scene to beat. John Landis, coming off “The Blues Brothers” and “Animal House”, made this darkly comedic werewolf film into a standout genre film. Rick Baker’s Academy Award winning special effects steal much of the spotlight but the narrative is inventive and humorous while still levying a generous amount of gore and jump worthy scares.

Candyman (Dir: Bernard Rose)

The best movies stay with you because they evoke an emotion. Fear is a strong emotion and “Candyman” captured my fear. Whether the haunting score by Phillip Glass or the gothic poetry spoken by the monster, this movie directed by Bernard Rose stuck with me. Based on a story by Clive Barker, “Candyman” has all the misery and dread found in Barker’s work. As it is in most of Barker’s tales, the monster is the most complex character of the story.

Dawn of the Dead (Dir: George Romero)

First was “Night of the Living Dead”; the second was “Dawn of the Dead”. George Romero’s script is filled with satire and social commentary and the reflection of the emotions and attitudes of the time. In the current state of popular culture, where zombies are everywhere, Romero’s films are a direct influence for all of them. For Romero zombies have always been used for commentary, which makes it interesting to see how “Dawn of the Dead” still reflects many of the issues from the past in our present. Even though the 70’s are on clear external display, the undertones are inherently timeless.

Evil Dead 2 (Dir. Sam Raimi)

The first “Evil Dead” was a straightforward, low budget horror film. The second, still to its core a horror film, added a healthy dose of humor and unleashed the charisma of Bruce Campbell. Director Sam Raimi mixes slapstick and horror with ease, making it okay to laugh while our hero Ash is put through the ringer of horrible acts. Raimi’s style was patented here, a distinctive quality that can still be seen in nearly all of his films. Bruce Campbell’s manic comic acting turned the film into something lighthearted at times but it never stops being relentlessly horrific.

Kairo (Dir: Kiyoshi Kurosawa)

“Kairo” is a cautionary tale. In a technology fueled world people have isolated themselves to near zero communication. Instead using numerous forms of electronic communication to connect with the rest of the world. Suicide becomes rampant and the ghostly images of the recently deceased begin to communicate through technology. Horror films have always been used as social commentary; here the topics of depression and suicide are examined. Communication has changed to the extent that human interaction happens through artificial sentiments looking into the glow of a screen. How will this change people? “Kairo” may not offer scares that keep you up at night, but the questions offered might keep you thinking longer than expected.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (Dir: Werner Herzog)

Werner Herzog’s “Nosferatu the Vampyre” is a beautiful, dread-filled film. While holding many of the strengths of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 classic, Herzog embeds his patented designs throughout the film. From the use of nature that hints at something dangerous behind the scenic fronts, to the color that continuously expresses emotion with vivid and muted renditions, to Klaus Kinski’s pitch perfect performance of the character made famous by Max Shreck; this is more than just a run of the mill vampire film. In the hands of one of the great filmmakers, horror is made truly beautiful.

The Shining (Dir: Stanley Kubrick)

Stanley Kubrick has created some of films most revered works of art. “The Shining”, based off a Stephen King story, is in the horror hall of fame. Down every hallway and through every door of the labyrinth that is the Overlook Hotel Kubrick draws fear with subtle and deliberate imagery. Flooded elevators of blood and ghostly images are still effectively startling today. Not to mention the performance by Jack Nicholas, which can only be classified as iconic. “The Shining”, regardless of how many times I watch it, continues to stay with me long after the credits roll. That’s the mark of a true horror film.

Shivers (Dir: David Cronenberg)

“Shivers”, alternatively known as “They Came From Within”, is a low budget horror film from the bizarre and brilliant mind of David Cronenberg. This film displayed the skill that would be further implemented in his later work, but the effectiveness of “Shivers” is that it doesn’t utilize the typical genre characteristics to scare. The gore and violence happen relatively off screen and the special effects are used sparingly, instead Cronenberg focuses on the characters in the apartment and the uncontrolled threat of the parasites turning people into sex-crazed maniacs. Cronenberg has transitioned in his current work, away from the horror of the body and more into the horror of the mind, but the past has proven Cronenberg one of the most unique directors of our time.

Suspiria (Dir. Dario Argento)

I was fortunate enough to watch this film on a 35mm print with a crowd full of horror enthusiasts, some watching Dario Argento’s masterpiece for the first time. It was an experience to say the least. From the assaulting introduction complemented with a score by Goblin, the young American ballet student walks into a European school of horror. The unpleasant mood builds with nightmarish imagery with little concern about adhering to structure. Rendered with deep blues and bright reds, visceral gore, and innovative design, “Suspiria” is less a story and more an atmosphere. A genre spectacle conducted by a master of horror.

The Thing (Dir: John Carpenter)

“The Thing” is potentially one of the best genre remakes every made. From director John Carpenter, whose film catalog could have populated this list completely, “The Thing” is a benchmark of special effects wizardry from the hands of the great Rob Bottin. It’s also terrifying. Carpenter, having “Halloween” and “The Fog” underneath his belt, utilizes the isolated Antarctic research facility to portray a story where no one can be trusted. With tension filled scenes, Carpenter builds anxiety, shocks you with scare, and then follows it with a gory mutation whose effect still holds up thirty years later.

Here are ten more that could have easily made this list on a different day.

• Black Christmas
• Bride of Frankenstein
• Carnival of Souls
• The Devils Backbone
• Fright Night
• Halloween
• The Lost Boys
• Pieces
• Return of the Living Dead
• Rosemary’s Baby

Michael Clawson's Top 10 Horror Films

Top 10 Horror Films

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

1. The Thing — There’s an uneasy minimalism to John Carpenter’s The Thing. All that white nothingness stretching from one horizon to the other. It’s as if the universe was still booting up after the dawn of man, and Antarctica is the load screen. Something primal and terrifying hides within those white folds of snow, a fact that is confirmed in the opening moments as a stray dog wanders into an American research camp and introduces an alien, shape-shifting parasite to a group of very macho scientists. Like so many other horror movies, the men are free to run, but to where? They’re trapped inside their own nightmare as man after man is assimilated by the alien super-thing. The movie is marked by its intensity, in both its high-voltage special effects scenes and in its more jarring moments of stillness, like when a testy MacReady (Kurt Russell) must poke at blood samples with a red-hot wire to determine who’s human and who’s thing. Between the abstract musical score, a colorful cast of characters, tendon-snapping violence of the highest order, and the note-perfect ending, The Thing is one humdinger of a horror movie.

2. Alien — Horror and science fiction are perfectly linked — they’re both examinations of the unknown. Where one ends in death and gore, the other ends in discovery and technological fulfillment (or perhaps failure). Ridley Scott’s Alien is a marriage of the two, in more ways than one. It takes the wonder and awe of space and the terror of slimy evisceration and couples them in blasphemous splendor against the backdrop of a blue-collar workplace accident. The 1979 film is beautifully paced (the alien finally turns up halfway through the movie), claustrophobic as a straightjacket, and gloriously filmed using optical effects, miniatures, children posing as adults, goo and splatter, and sets that have altered space movies forever. There are just so many great scenes: warrant officer Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) learning her corporate monetary value from supercomputer MOTHER, the pinging proximity alert of ventilation-duct prey Dallas, that damned yellow cat (on a spaceship!) and, of course, John Hurt’s famous dinnertime snafu, which made an entire audience realize this: “In space no one can hear you scream, but in a movie theater everyone hears you vomiting in your popcorn bucket.”

3. Rosemary’s Baby — Want to make my skin crawl? Just show me old people and Satanists. By the time Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby presents us the seed of its creation — as geriatrics giddily exclaim “Hail Satan!” — we’ve already come to realize what’s happened, that a demonic presence has impregnated a hip young woman with the infant Antichrist. It’s intense stuff, but never as intense as the senior citizens who lurk around the mother’s apartment. The more they come over, with their smart-ass advice and evil aromatherapy, the tighter the noose gets around the Mia Farrow-starring horror picture. It’s an unsettling and claustrophobic movie, one that hardly passes a horror film today, but one that earned its stripes through its terrifying propositions.

4. Evil Dead — Modern horror is less about story and more about one-upmanship. While this aspect of the genre can stymie the creation of story-driven works, it can also produce some noteworthy gems such as Fede Alvarez’s 2013 remake of Sam Raimi’s cult-classic Evil Dead. While the original film has its charms, and low -budget quirks, I never quite understood the fanboy geekery that is thrown all over it, which is why I was so surprised when the remake stormed out of the gate with the vigor and intensity of a movie with a singular purpose: to one-up its namesake and predecessor. The remake took what we knew of the original film — skin-covered book, demonic cabin, tree rape, ultra violence — and cubed it. It’s not a perfect movie, and I was never quite sure if laughing was appropriate, but the updated Evil Dead is exactly what a horror movie should be, which is a thrill ride of stupid proportions. With needles in eyes, nails in shins, carvinging knifes in arms and an ocean of blood in the sky, this thrill ride outdid itself.

5. The Descent — Claustrophobia has never been visualized so accurately as it was in The Descent, Neil Marshall’s closing vice of a cave thriller. But what’s great about it is how suspenseful it all is even before the monsters — in this case, primal cave trolls who see with their ears — turn up to reign terror on our female spelunkers. Another interesting feature: the biggest threat isn’t the mutated creatures, but the characters’ best friends.

6. Texas Chainsaw Massacre — Modern horror films look for too much purpose in their stories. Grave sites are disturbed, curses are unknowingly released, ghosts are summoned, and with each scenario comes countless more rules. A chant will calm the spirits, a church will keep demons at bay, garlic will ward off vampires. These attributes work great for convoluted plots, but they don’t speak to the natural pulse of evil: nihilism. Because sometimes bad people just do bad things. And this is one of the many terrifying parts of Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chainsaw Massacre — its villains weren’t bound by any rules. They simply hacked through anything that managed to wander on their property, which is exactly what happens to the victims of Tobe Hooper’s horror classic. Of course, Leatherface is a recognizable here, but I think the most chilling scene is the dinner table sequence toward the end that is almost too much to stomach.

7. The Shining — It’s a horror classic for a reason, and still to this day it’s largely a mystery. Just two years ago a whole movie, Room 237, was made to try and dissect Stanley Kubrick film’s secrets. It didn’t present one; it presented four hypotheses. As the Torrance family settles in for a long winter at a deserted ski lodge, we settle in for a labyrinthine riddle that might suggest “dull boy” Jack is madman, a spirit from another life, a ghost, or the resort itself manifested as a human man meant to kill his own family. And everyone remembers where they were when they saw that elevator open and the flood of blood splash out. It’s a defining moment of the horror genre.

8. Let the Right One In — Original vampire movies are hard to come by, but this Swedish film did wonders when it was released in 2008, and then followed up later with a dopey American remake. The Swedish original was about a boy being drawn to his mysterious new neighbor, who has a creepy old man that does the devil’s bidding during late hours. It takes some time to catch up to this cerebral thriller, but the rewards are more than worth it.

9. Poltergeist — Steven Spielberg/Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist is a bag full of great ideas. Child-munching TVs, elastic doors, squeaky-voiced spiritual advisors, clown toys, maggot meat, worm steak … no idea is too silly in this very-serious horror film that doesn’t get a lot of credit for its inventive mechanics.

10. Dead Alive — Peter Jackson’s dopey zombie gorefest is just beautiful mayhem. And proof that horror should be funny, too. It features a man with a handheld lawnmower as he shoves it at people to make raspberry jam. That’s all there is to it.

Eric Forthun's Top 10 Horror Films

Top 10 Horror Films  

by Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Horror films have existed since the dawn of cinema: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Nosferatu, and The Phantom of the Opera are all highly influential films made when celluloid was just starting to develop into an art form. The genre has always had a big place in my heart, with so many films affecting me as a child (both as fun scares and nightmares) that I sought out others I generally wouldn't explore.

So when tasked with making a list of ten horror films that I deem the best (or my favorite, depending on how subjective I must make myself as a critic), I decided to make a chronological journey through ten great choices that build upon one another in some fashion. It's a different exploration, but it'll yield equally exciting results.

For being a horror film from 1931, one thing is definitive about Dracula: Bela Lugosi makes for a killer vampire. Shockingly, his performance still holds up today and stands as one of the most campy, fully crafted presentations of the titular night walker. Any black-and-white films that can use the haunting cinematography allowed by such a drained color palate, particularly in horror, deserve credit. While Dracula doesn't hold up as particularly terrifying, it earns a spot because of its undeniable influence and the impressionable, unforgettable lead performance. 1935's The Bride of Frankenstein deserves mention, too, because it provides us with one of the greatest scenes in the history of film: Frankenstein's monster's encounter with the blind hermit. It's a brilliant, thought-provoking, and everlasting scene. Humanity has never seemed so accepting and fragile.

Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, circa 1960, reinvents the wheel, killing its lead female in the first half hour and telling the story of Norman Bates in slow burning, methodical fashion. Hitchcock's film has some of the greatest cinematography of any horror film, and its fateful twist still packs a punch on every viewing. It's a stark piece of psychological horror, one of the first of its kind. Ridley Scott's Alien is a reminder of how gore and darkness can be dichotomized into brilliant scares, messing with its astronauts psychologically and scaring them to death. There are plenty of scenes that torture the viewer with their anticipation of a scare, and the film doesn't let up. It's terrifying and produced one of the greatest sequels ever made.

Wes Craven has made two wildly inventive horror films, each with their own unique merit. His first, A Nightmare on Elm Street, has one of those premises that is just too good: what if a psychopath could kill you in your dreams? You're at your most vulnerable when you're sleeping, so why not threaten that last shred of safety? Freddy Krueger is played thrillingly by Robert Englund, and the scares are bloody and satisfying. It's even more remarkable that Craven made Scream later in his career, a film that tears apart horror tropes and examines the self-aware nature of the modern generation. Nothing seems to surprise us anymore, but Scream kills off its advertised protagonist in the opening scene and tells a story that sparked another great satire in The Cabin in the Woods.

Every list made should probably include a Stanley Kubrick film, so it's a given that The Shining earns a spot. It's iconic because of just how enigmatic it is as a thematic story: what exactly plagues this family and what does Kubrick want his story to be about? I think that makes it all the more brilliant, and Nicholson's performance is simply one of the best in any horror film. Speaking of towering, spectacular performances, The Silence of the Lambs is one of the most eminently watchable horror films ever made and features Anthony Hopkins' infamous take on Hannibal Lecter. Jodie Foster is equally strong, and the film is tightly wound, sophisticated, and damn near perfect. It won Best Picture in 1991, and holds up better than almost any winner from the past thirty years.

As for outliers in the horror genre, I have an '80s oddball horror-comedy and a modern fairy tale of sorts. Evil Dead II is an improvement on its already excellent original, since it takes Bruce Campbell and Sam Raimi's story to new and absurdly entertaining levels. The film features Campbell's Ash fighting his own severed hand and it plays like a slapstick romp. It's just too classic. The other is from a modern expert in the genre, and it's not a horror film in the traditional sense: Pan's Labyrinth. Guillermo del Toro's gothic fairy tale parallels a young girl's journey into fantasy stories alongside her family's plight in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. It's poetic, powerful, and features the Pale Man, a horrendous, nightmarish invention that could only come from the mind of del Toro.

There are other films that could easily place on the list (like Halloween, or Videodrome, or...well you, get the idea), but I figured I'd narrow it to ten that I think encapsulate the breadth that horror can have. It can be cheesy, funny, bloody, heartfelt, inventive, gory, and many other things. But perhaps most important? It can scare the living daylights out of you.

Nightcrawler - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Nightcrawler

 

Starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Rene Russo, Bill Paxton, Riz Ahmed, and Michael Hyatt

Directed by Dan Gilroy

Rated R

Run Time: 117 minutes

Genre: Thriller/Crime

Opens October 31st

 

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Dan Gilroy's extraordinarily confident directorial debut Nightcrawler casts a powerful shadow over the landscape of Los Angeles media and the everlasting pursuit for the perfect story. Jake Gyllenhaal's lead performance is never less than gripping and unnerving, crafting a brilliant sociopath out of a man without much of an identity until he grabs a camera and begins to film crime scenes. Only then does his true, obsessive self emerge as the real world takes a back seat in favor of sensationalist storytelling. Gilroy's screenplay examines the way in which our country consumes media but, perhaps more importantly, how the media crafts its own stories surrounding material that may not be pertinent for everyday life. The film emphasizes that xenophobia and fear permeate the messages our media sends, telling the public that everything should be feared and that this world offers no sense of safety. Gyllenhaal's performance accentuates that thematic punch, providing us with an equally sensationalized, harrowing look at a videographer's pursuit for a bold story and the lengths to which a person will sacrifice themselves and their integrity to reach their goals.

Louis Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal) is first seen cutting a wired fence and filming his results, both seemingly illegal acts considering his demeanor. He doesn't strike the audience as a very trustworthy individual, particularly in the early moments when we see him committing increasingly reprehensible things, but he's charming. He speaks eloquently and assuredly, knows what he wants, and ensures that nothing will get in his way. That leads him on a pursuit to find a worthwhile job in photography, which eventually guides him toward filming for news outlets. He sees Joe Loder (Bill Paxton) filming a recent accident at breakneck speed, only moments after it has happened, and it amazes him. He buys a video camera after committing a deplorable act to do so, and his career begins. His first job takes him to Nina Romina (Rene Russo), a veteran of local news that likes his work ethic and wants to see more of his work. She asks where he gets his shots and he avoids many of the questions, like a mischievous child that's doing the right thing but won't say how he did it. He's slick and slimy, but oh my does he charm the socks off of these people.

Louis eventually needs help, so he puts out an ad and brings on an unpaid intern, Rick (Riz Ahmed). There's some sly commentary about internships and how they exploit the work force, which Louis thinks is inappropriate and unhelpful, but sure enough he jumps on the opportunity when he sees fit. That rascal. As Louis and Rick bond over crime scenes and become involved in darker and darker acts, the line in the sand starts to grow faint. Where does investigative journalism stop and criminal actions begin? Does breaking-and-entering under noble pretenses compensate for the crime committed? The film begs for answers to these strong questions and ultimately floors the audience with its message. The backdrop of Los Angeles, a notoriously divided community that's full of haves and have nots, allows for beautiful landscapes and harsh racial commentary from the local news affiliates. Rich white people don't want to see crimes in white neighborhoods unless they involve blacks or Hispanics. Simple as that. There's something frank about the way Gilroy presents his ideas, as they are matter-of-fact, fluid, but ultimately rigid and old-fashioned due to the people in charge of the media and its presentation of culture.

Gyllenhaal's performance is a career best and absolutely transformative. He's one of the strongest actors in Hollywood because he aggressively avoids typecasting or traditional roles. Opting for adventurous demonstrations of human character and the internal struggle many of us face, he's tackled some bold, expert roles in the past year: his mysterious, fidgety detective in Prisoners, his divided, haunted man in Enemy, and this manipulative, deranged power-monger and enigma. Louis is a character that runs mostly undefined in terms of his past and even his present, with the audience being unfamiliar with his family, past work experience, or even his traditional behavior. Yet we see the character crafted on screen and expressed through mannerisms and actions. It's brilliant acting. Russo and Paxton shine in their supporting roles, with the former in particular falling into the seemingly familiar role of fast-talking, do-whatever-it-takes newscaster only to become something more morally compelling altogether. Robert Elswit, Paul Thomas Anderson's longtime director of photography, provides some stunning, beautifully lit cinematography that captures the essence of Los Angeles and the haunt of the city. Nightcrawler is such a strikingly confident, articulately crafted work that it'll stand as an unforgettable, harsh takedown of media obsession and manipulation.

Force Majeure - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Force Majeure  

Starring Johannes Kuhnke, Lisa Loven Kongsli, Clara Wettergren, and VIncent Wettergren

Directed by Ruben Östlund

Rated R

Run Time: 118 minutes

Genre: Comedy/Drama

Opens October 31st

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

An avalanche pushes a marriage to its breaking point in Force Majeure, a witty, acerbic comedy about masculinity and familial life in the wake of a rash decision. Writer-director Ruben Östlund employs a detached, unwavering look at the disintegration of trust and long-lasting foundation within a married couple and the aftermath of a husband's self-preserving actions. In the wake of overly masculine heroes in superhero films and other blockbusters from major studios, it's wholly satisfying to see a stripped approach to what makes a man imperfect and how subversive his actions can be when compared to standard cinematic representations. The film's cinematography in particular uses long, unwavering takes to examine these characters and the growing sense of gender subversion. The central character is Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke), a man overly concerned with work while on a five-day vacation with his family at a French resort. It's winter, the weather is beautifully white and crisp, and Tomas' family cannot wait to explore the mountains around the resort and ski to their hearts' desire.

His wife, Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli), wants this vacation to be a means of bringing the family closer together, meaning that Tomas must put away his cell phone and spend as much time as needed with his kids. She feels isolated in these times while he attempts to make a living, but her life begins to crumble when an avalanche hits the resort. The shot is beautifully rendered by Östlund, captured with a green screen in the background and the image of an actual avalanche playing as the actors react to the natural disaster. It's remarkable how fluid and gripping the scene is, particularly as the mood changes from playful (as the family thinks it's a controlled avalanche) to terrified (as the avalanche threatens them) in a heartbeat. Yet what defines the film, and becomes the main catalyst for conflict, is Tomas' reaction to the moment, failing to seize the opportunity to save his kids but instead choosing to grab his phone and run inside as quickly as he can. His abandonment of family, and the moments afterward when everyone is okay and Tomas must confront the moment, is presented as both hilarious and horrifying.

Östlund's film provides the audience with these biting laughs, ones that provide commentary on the characters while also relying on situational comedy to lighten the tone. When Tomas lounges with a friend and drinks rather than spending time with his family, a woman approaches them and lets them know that her friends think Tomas is attractive. Flattered, the two men laugh and feel pleased, only for the woman to come back and awkwardly correct herself by saying they think the man next to him is attractive. The camera lingers on a single take for this whole scene, having it shift slowly from ego-boosting to painfully awkward. It's also one of the many subversive scenes on display, particularly as the film examines the crumbling hubris of a man defined by his strength as he sees it disappear before his eyes. Tomas' breakdown in the film's final half is remarkable, especially when demonstrated through the dichotomy between him and his wife. Both lead performances are stellar and allow the film to work as an emotional force of nature (hence the title). While Force Majeure may run a bit too long and painfully force the audience to watch long-winded scenes that analyze every single way a person could've handled such a situation, the film lingers and questions. That cannot be said about most films.

Camp X-Ray - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Camp X-Ray  

Starring Kristen Stewart, Peyman Moaadi, Lane Garrison, Joseph Julian Soria, and Julia Duffy

Directed by Peter Sattler

Rated R

Run Time: 112 minutes

Genre: Drama

Opens October 31st

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Guantanamo Bay has been a source of disagreement in the United States, particularly after its controversial, extended use during the War on Terror. Camp X-Ray, a film that attempts to dramatize life within the prison through the eyes of both a soldier and a detainee, opens with a man practicing seemingly illegal acts in a Middle Eastern country as the camera pans over many cell phones lying on a table. The man is then seen praying, only for him to be taken in that vulnerable moment by U.S. soldiers, eventually imprisoned in GTMO for eight years. This man is Ali (Peyman Moaadi), a relatively harmless individual that becomes treated like the terrorists involved the 9/11 attacks. He is not a prisoner, mind you, for that would be an inaccurate description and require a certain amount of rights that the U.S. government cannot allow. Rather, he is a detainee, meaning that he is denied most rights and can be treated as a threat to the United States. He lives a life of hell.

Enter Cole (Kristen Stewart), a newly deployed soldier whose first assignment seems to be far different than she was expecting. Upon arrival, the soldiers do not see the threats that they had previously heard about, instead seeing relatively normal human beings in captivity with no chance of escape. They live bleak lives and the soldiers understand that, but they must follow orders. Cole has left her life in a small town in hopes of finding more meaning and escaping her seemingly overbearing mother. Family becomes a necessity for motivation in a secluded life as a soldier, so by extension Cole distances herself from a potential chance at happiness. Nonetheless, she interacts with the other men in her platoon but notices that she doesn't exactly fall into a normal role. She's not the bombshell blonde that the other men go after, nor is she aggressive or manly enough to make the prisoners feel less threatened by her femininity. She spends much of her time handing them books, blacking out females in newspapers, and patrolling hallways repeatedly and thoroughly.

Cole and Ali's lives don't seem that far removed from one another, so naturally a bond occurs. They go through their rough patches, particularly as Ali sees her as an initial threat and Cole must follow protocol when needed. But their friendship lasts as a reminder of human compassion passing through any circumstance. The problem I have with Camp X-Ray, something that many have claimed as its strongest suit, is the embattled nature of Cole's demeanor and Stewart's performance in the lead. Her expressions fail to subtly explore the trappings of her character, proving her a mismatch for an acting talent as strong as Moaadi (best known for his outstanding work in Asghar Farhadi's masterpiece A Separation). I also never connected with the characters or the emotional heft of the film as much as I needed to appreciate such a gloomy, morbid look at wrongful imprisonment. Ali is compassionate and occasionally manipulative, but his conversations with Cole prove that a strong individual shines through his exterior. Writer-director Peter Sattler has an excellent idea at the forefront of his film, and it allows for minor social commentary, yet the film ultimately feels like a repetitive foray into themes that have been tackled more appropriately in other Iraq War-minded efforts. Camp X-Ray has admirable goals and lofty ideas surrounding the recent American conflicts, but it squanders interesting characters on a bloated running time and overly abstract dialogue.

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)  

Dir: Alejandro González Iñárritu

Starring: Michael Keaton, Naomi Watts, Emma Stone, Edward Norton, Zack Galifianakis, Andrea Riseborough, and Amy Ryan

119 Minutes

Rated R

By Monte Yazzie

Alejandro González Iñárritu’s body of work can easily be described as serious and downtrodden but also in moments exceptional and striking. From his first impressive feature “Amores Perros” into further serious and grim pieces “21 Grams” and “Babel”, Iñárritu is always commenting on something. “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)”, the most pleasurable of his catalog, discusses the meanings of art, the trappings of celebrity, and the power of performance through stunningly composed techniques, lovingly and confidently guided by Iñárritu.

Riggan Thomas (Michael Keaton) portrayed an iconic superhero known as Birdman; he was successful and beloved by fans. However, Riggan turned down the opportunity to continue the franchise, which grew to greater success, and he is now a washed up actor in desperate need for success and continued relevance. Riggan is the writer, director, and star of a play, a Raymond Carver story called “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”, that is nearing it’s opening night. Things are falling apart, Riggan is in debt, ridiculed by his recently rehabbed daughter (Emma Stone), and overshadowed by a Broadway star (Edward Norton) who takes an open role in the play. But most obvious, Riggan is tormented by self-doubt and the weight of his stress. Will this show save his career or permanently bury his celebrity.

"Birdman" is a movie where everything flows together seamlessly. The cinematography makes the film feel like one continuous shot without being distracting or frustrating to follow. The long takes are meticulously paced out and rehearsed, some lasting near ten minutes in length. They are technically impressive and completely immersing, bringing the viewer into the labyrinth of the back stage theater and in the most pertinent aspect making the viewer companion to Riggan’s slowly unraveling mentality. The motion of the camera is mesmerizing, moving into and out of the different perspectives. Emmanuel Lubezki is the director of photography and his skill behind the camera makes “Birdman” beautiful from frame to frame. The story accommodates the characters and the locations offer an authenticity for everything to exist harmoniously together. Watching the actors stroll around in the mazelike halls of the St. James Theater brings the story of the desperate and frantic characters to glorious realization.

This is simply put Michael Keaton’s best performance. From the first moment of screen time his performance only continues to soar. Riggan is haunted by his past, present, and future. He is a man looking to change an identity of regret but also desperately trying to remain relevant. There is an interesting portrayal of this theme that Iñárritu utilizes to display Riggan’s growing detachment. In his dressing room is a picture of his Birdman persona hanging on the wall; it talks to him squarely pointing out failures with forceful criticism. On the opposite wall is his vanity, brightly and beamingly exaggerating every day of growing age and compounded regret. Emma Stone is sublime as Riggan’s daughter Sam. She has a monologue that shifts from pity, to anger, to self-loathing, finally ending with sorrow. In one short scene she defines her entire character. Edward Norton is always interesting; here he is perfectly cast as the egotistical Broadway prodigy whose arrogant method approaches and consummate dedication to the art of the theater overshadow Riggan’s worth as director, writer and lead actor.

“Birdman” is a brilliant film filled with intricacy and idiosyncrasy. The cast is fantastic, especially Michael Keaton in a career performance. Even in the small moments when the narrative becomes knowingly pretentious and the techniques border on overuse, it never stops being fascinating to watch, a testament to the skilled guidance by director Alejandro González Iñárritu.

Monte's Rating 4.75 out of 5.00

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)  

Starring Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Zach Galifianakis, Amy Ryan and Naomi Watts

Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu

From Fox Searchlight

Rated R

119 minutes

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

What can only be compared to avant-garde jazz on psychotropic drugs, Birdman spazzes off the screen in a cacophony of hammered notes, false starts, odd tempos and syncopated rhythms. Somehow it finds a tune in this wall of noise. And what a strangely melodic tune it is.

Alejandro González Iñárritu’s film — the full title is Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) — is likely to be the most polarizing movie of the year, the Synecdoche, New York of 2014. If its nominated for a bunch of Academy Awards, like some early adopters are already suggesting, it will likely draw out a curious and varied crowd, half of which will walk out shrugging their shoulders. The other half will be on their hands and knees bowing to Birdman’s wacky eccentricities. Let the games begin.

First of all, it’s a stroke of genius. I’ve never seen anything like it. Only Charlie Kaufman’s scripts come to mind when grasping for comparisons, but even those fall short of this film’s brain-like three-dimensional matrix of neural pathways and firing synapses. It’s not just cerebral and existential; it’s densely written and perversely styled, a supernova within one man’s exploding psyche.

The film stars Michael Keaton as Riggan Thomson, a Broadway director, actor and writer who is carving a piece of himself into a play of literary hero Raymond Carver’s What We talk About When We Talk About Love. Many years before the events of the film, Riggan starred in a series of comic movies called Birdman, and now his professional career is spent playing into and against that unfortunately bombastic legacy. Fans and detractors of his work grow bored of the Carver play but perk up when someone mentions the unfilmed Birdman 4, which is about as likely as a Terry Gilliam’s forever-gestating Don Quixote movie.

Now, Keaton’s casting here is interesting. He was a successful ’80s actor until he was plucked out of the normal acting world and dropped into two Tim Burton Batman movies, which forever colored the rest of his career. He went through some down time, and he took some dud movies, but here he is playing what can only be described as “Michael Keaton on Broadway” in Iñárritu’s spiraling whirlwind of ideas. He’s mesmerizing, and also heart-wrenchingly honest. Truer performances have not yet come to pass.

As Riggan gets ready for his play, he interacts with members of the theater, including a maddeningly brilliant actor (Edward Norton), his daughter and personal assistant (Emma Stone), his lovely ex-wife (Amy Ryan) and his hovering attorney (Zach Galifianakis), who is desperate to get Martin “Score-seez” in the theater’s seats. As Riggan interacts with all these characters, he slowly starts to unravel as his alter-ego, the likely-imaginary, possibly-real Birdman starts to fight for space in his noggin. And as Riggan plays through different variations of his theater character, so does Birdman with Riggan.

The film seemingly takes place within one single day, but watch careful and you’ll see weeks whiz by in cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki’s careful presentation, which includes virtuosic long takes, seamless transitions, nifty editing tricks and silky-smooth Steadicam tracking shots. The camera seems to have no limit as it bobs in and out of dressings rooms, up and down narrow stairwells, onto roofs, effortlessly through audiences or, in a signature scene, through Times Square as Riggan streaks through in his tighty-white briefs. Notice all the mirrors and reflections — never once do you see the camera. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more special effects here than in the last Thor movie. Also of note is the score, which includes dizzying drumwork, some of which can be seen as the drummer appears in scenes as if he were an unseen siren on Birdman’s shores.

This is a brilliant movie, and it features two groundbreaking performances (Keaton and Norton) that are simply awe-inspiring. I did find the film rather hollow in sections. Riggan’s scattered brain, although ceaselessly provocative, would often circle back on itself, and while it seemed like the script was rocketing toward the sun, on reflection it was more likely static. It’s a difficult film, one that makes you dig for its treasures, one that will likely infuriate some viewers.

Birdman is quite simply a once-in-a-billion film. I’ve never seen anything like it, and likely won’t ever again. Even when it frustrated me to no end it was still captivating and hypnotic, and as lyrical as any song, as poetic as any poem and as cinematic as any film.

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) - Movie Review by Eric Forthun

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)Starring Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Naomi Watts, Zach Galifianakis, Andrea Riseborough, and Amy Ryan Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu

Rated R Run Time: 119 minutes Genre: Drama/Comedy

Opens October 24th

By Eric Forthun of Cinematic Shadows

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is a brilliant balancing act between theater and reality. The film is the latest from acclaimed Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu, best known for his challenging works like 21 Grams and Babel. Here, he brings together a masterful mix of competing ideas surrounding actors and their egos, the compulsive need for infusing on-stage work with reality, and the desperation of an older actor to achieve the proper fame he has always wanted. The result is a masterpiece about acting with a superb, endlessly riveting performance from Michael Keaton. It's a reminder of the talent that has been underneath some of his lesser work that he's done over the past decade to make money, and stands as a clearly personal work considering how close his character Riggan's career aligns with his own. Add in the brilliant cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (who won an Oscar last year for Gravity), who comprises the film to appear as a long continuous take, and the film becomes a magnetic, vibrant, and wholly inventive look at acting culture.

Riggan Thomson is an actor in his 50s looking for a way to revitalize his career. His superhero franchise Birdman stormed the box office twenty years ago and made him a star, but he turned down a fourth film in the franchise in hopes of finding truth in his work. Now, he is tormented by his past and wants to make a work that challenges him, so he makes it about love and aims for the best Broadway cast he can get. His venture into theater is a challenge, and his actors do not make his life easy: Laura (Andrea Riseborough) plays a love interest that is also having a relationship with Riggan off-stage, while Lesley (Naomi Watts) plays a woman that has an off-stage relationship with another actor, Mike (Edward Norton). Mike and Riggan butt heads because, let's face it, two strong personalities with distinct visions for the play won't mesh. Riggan's director and personal friend, Jake (Zach Galifianakis), thinks it's the best move for the play. This makes Riggan's life even more stressful, considering he is coping with his daughter Sam's (Emma Stone) recent suicide attempt.

Everything is about Riggan. That's defined his life for better and for worse. Mostly worse. His personal life is in shambles, his play is setting up to be a failure, and his past never lets up. Keaton brings a remarkable gravitas to every frame, having us walk around in his life and understand what makes him tick. The cinematography allows the film to work in those compulsively magnetic ways: the personable tracking shots that follow characters down corridors and around corners; the wide lens looks at the stage as they move into close-ups on a particular person; and the natural ability for the audience to examine a frame as the camera does not switch shots. This makes the film a special breed, combining the elements that make long, continuous takes so watchable (the spontaneity of the moment and the organic feel of the action) with the unpredictability of shot changing as the camera goes black and a new, longer take emerges. And the performances that emerge from that ingenuity are remarkable. Norton has always been a great character actor, and here he provides the best performance of his career as an arrogant, aggressive man that never knows when to stop acting and start living. His supporting performance could win him an Oscar, much like Keaton.

The other supporting performances, particularly from Stone, manage to shine through the Riggan-centered material. And Iñárritu's film doesn't just rely on transformative performances or seemingly gimmicky camera work to provide a punch. The commentary is stout and aware, attacking everyone from film turned stage actors to critics themselves. There's a brilliant showdown between a playwright critic, who tells Riggan that she will destroy his work because she hates everything he stands for, and Riggan himself, who believes that critics like her don't deserve to comment on their work and provide nothing to the world. It's cold, biting, and vicious, infusing the film with even more life. The scenes that balance between theater and reality work even stronger, whether that involves a standard conversation between Riggan and Mike or Riggan himself getting lost outside in his underwear before wandering onto his own stage during a show. Iñárritu himself has discussed how much he despises superhero films, and that much is evident. But what strikes me as so remarkable and unforgettable about the film is its mixture of innovative presentation, impeccable acting, and a focused, auteur vision. Birdman is extraordinarily entertaining, and a massive achievement in filmmaking.