We Are Never Going to Get a Justice League Movie

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We just aren’t. It’s never going to happen, deal with it. Warner Brothers certainly seems to disagree: the opening weekend success of Man of Steel has them absolutely bullish on a Justice League movie and supposedly David Goyer has been given the go ahead to start working on the script. To them, the new Superman movie can serve as the first step down the path to making DC’s equivalent of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).

This optimism is expected from a business perspective, but creatively it makes me wonder if they actually bother to watch the movie they just put out. Because to me, Man of Steel not only won’t be able to feed into a Justice League film, it likely killed off the possibility of that project ever happening.

Look, Justice League was always going to be a bit harder of a sell than The Avengers. For all their superpowers, Marvel’s heroes are for the most part relatively mortal (give or take an invincible rage monster or two) and were designed with interaction in mind. DC’s heavy hitters are…not. Of the seven characters most likely to fill out the JL roster1, only three of them are human. Discounting the guy with alien-granted ‘do anything’ jewelry and the one who can outrun death and we’re left with only Batman as the only typical ‘grounded’ hero, for definitions of grounded that include “owns dozens of tanks, stealth jets, and a monitoring system that would make PRISM wet its pants.” Relatability, then, becomes the watchword, and while blending these characters into an engrossing story isn’t impossible, it’s still a task with a built-in handicap.

Of course even apart from the script, every superhero blockbuster must inevitably erupt into action sequences, and it’s here that Man of Steel should be the final nail in Justice League’s coffin. Ensemble action movies need to allow every member of the team get something unique to do in a fight. This is vital: it lets each character show the audience what makes them special enough to be worth caring about. Obviously some characters can be more effective than others when push comes to shove; in The Avengers, Hawkeye and Black Widow took down a couple dozen aliens combined while Thor and Hulk were blasting entire leviathans and Iron Man nuked a full armada. But even there, the two unpowered Avengers each fulfilled a specific tactical role and contributed to what was very much a team victory.

In contrast, we’re one movie into what Warner Bros hopes will become it’s “DCCU”2 and I’m already seeing some disparities in strength and scale of DC’s heroes that make Hawkeye v. Hulk look like a fair fight. Take Batman. In the comics Bruce Wayne can be shown outthinking and outmaneuvering villains with enough skill to put him on an even playing field with Kryptonians and metahumans. In a Man of Steel world however? Batman would be flattened and killed before he could even draw a batarang. MoS’s fight scenes are astonishing, the purest depiction of superhumans just letting loose on each other we’ve yet seen. But in upping the bar for superpowered throwdowns to a point where brawls inflict $700 billion dollars of damage in minutes, Warner Bros has created a world that is incapable of supporting characters like Batman, no matter how many Wayne Industries satellites they want to toss into their scripts. The way they’ve translated Superman’s abilities onto the big screen puts him so far out of Batman’s league that the Dark Knight’s presence alongside him would shatter all suspensions of disbelief.3

Just for the sake of argument however, let’s say the Batman Problem is solved. Maybe DC gives him a crazy battlesuit, or even cuts him out entirely4. Then we’re left with a team of Superman-level heroes, which has its own problem. Namely, you have a whole team of characters as powerful as Superman. As well-done as Man of Steel’s action was, the fights were so grand in scope and lasted so long that after a while a sense of ‘action fatigue’ set in.  And that was what happened when one god-like entity throws down. Multiply that by seven and the result would be an overload of spectacle. There’s a limit to how much audiences can process at once and if MoS is the baseline then unleashing the full Justice League would result in action that is either incomprehensibly busy or exhausting to watch. When everything is epic and over-sized, nothing is actually special.

So DC and Warner Brothers are left deciding between having the most lopsided roster since Angel Summoner & BMX Bandit or an overwhelming – and by extension, bland – group of gods. They can’t scale down Superman after Man of Steel without appearing to be moving backwards. They don’t even have an obvious option for a villain for their heroes to be fighting against.5 And so I’m calling it: bye bye Justice League. The idea of you had a good run, but it’s time to throw in the towel.

Oh well, there’s always the cartoon…

1: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern (hopefully anyone but Hal Jordan), Martian Manhunter, and Aquaman. The first five would pretty much be locks, substitute Hawkman/woman, Cyborg, or Plastic as needed. Or Vibe if they’re f*cking with us.

2: Working title

3: This would only be made more obvious when Batman is inevitably one of the two main characters. People can still argue Hawkeye’s general usefulness but he also received the least screentime of his team.

4: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

5: They had Darkseid, but Marvel preemptive introduction of Thanos into the MCU is an ingenous way to ensure DC’s best option would be constantly compared against his own knockoff.

It's Not Superman, It's You: Why Superman's Not Boring

"Somewhere, in our darkest night, we made up the story of a man who will never let us down."-Grant Morrison

Deciding what to write about is a difficult process. Sometimes you start with an idea but can't develop it enough to finish. Other times there's a big treatise in your head that needs to be pondered for just a bit longer. Hours can while away as you struggle to come up with a topic, any topic.

And then there are days when Cracked posts an article about how you can't make a great movie about Superman and multiple people ask for your opinion on the matter. So strap in, it's Superman Day.

Ironically, despite being a "comic guy" I've never actually been that big of a fan of Superman. While not to the extent his critics would want you to believe, Clark Kent is still a relatively straight-shooting, honorable guy, and while his nobility doesn't cheapen the character it does deny him the shades of grey that add nuance to characters like Batman or John Stewart.1 Couple that with an overpowered set of abilities relative to his Justice League coworkers and a truly dreadful rogues gallery and we're left with a superhero that I never gravitated toward.

But if Superman's far from my favorite hero, he's certainly not a bad one. The central point of the Cracked article, and one I hear again and again when talking with friends, is that Superman is "boring". And that's not true. Superman is not an intrinsically uninteresting character. It's just that writers, when given such a powerful being, too often go for empty spectacle instead of exploring what it is that makes Superman great.

Going back to the Cracked article that prompted this post, the author Soren Bowie (who is for the most part an entertaining read) makes some excellent points about the major pitfalls in writing an engaging Superman tale. But his thesis, that "there's only one way to make a great Superman movie, and that's to make a movie about someone other than Superman", is wrong, and it's because many of his starting premises are flawed. First, he states that Superman, and other epic and extremely strong characters, have nowhere interesting to go with their arcs. The lack of any real threat or challenge to them means that they are never forced to change and evolve for the better and makes them hard to relate to. Of the three angles used in the article, this is the weakest link. For starters despite being the most prominent member of DC's heroes, Superman isn't even the most powerful character within his own universe (Martian Manhunter and Captain Marvel2 immediately jumping to mind). But on a deeper level, this line of reasoning implies that overcoming physical obstacles is the only way for heroes to prove their strength as characters. This is not only overly simplistic, it ignores the fact that what makes Superman exceptional has never been his battles against supervillains but his struggle to temper his power and abilities against his own moral code.

Superman is a superior being, not only to humans but to most of his fellow superheroes. Yet rather than use his powers for his own gain or to rule over our more primitive society, he instead became a man who works tirelessly not only to defend us, but to inspire us to become better ourselves. This contrast between his natural 'outsiderness' and his embrace of humanity is simple to understand, but the way he strikes a balance between those two traits is constantly evolving. This internal conflict in turn is reflected in both of Superman's two non-awful villains: Brainiac is exactly the type of cold, conquering alien threat that some fear Superman could become and Lex Luthor is a man willing to turn his back on his own species in order to be elevated above them. Both of those are paths Clark could have walked but didn't; instead he chose to inspire us.

All-Star Superman #10

Which brings us to the article's second point: that since Superman is defined by having the potential to be unstoppable were it not for his ironclad set of values, when films (frequently) choose to have him lose his powers he no longer has a compelling hook. The thing is though, the option to just start wrecking shit isn't something unique to Superman. Hal Jordan almost eliminated the entire Green Lantern Corps once, Tony Stark shoved his friends into an extra-dimensional Guantanamo because Mr. Fantastic ran some numbers, and there are one-shots where Batman just decides to kill everyone.

I absolutely agree that having Superman get temporarily depowered is bad storytelling, but that's just because it's been overused to death. It happens to every superhero and it's always used in the same way: to show that even without powers Clark Kent (or Bruce Wayne, Wally West, Thor, etc.) is still going to try and help those they can. It's a cliche, and depowering Superman doesn't lessen him any more than it would to other heroes. No one argues that a powerless Peter Parker gets to ignore "great responsibility" every time he loses "great power" is acting up again.

Of course Soren's final point, the one that forms the bedrock of his stance that a good Superman movie isn't actually about him, is that Superman stories are at their most interesting when they tackle the fallibility of their hero. Painting a portrait of what one friend described as "a Superman version of The Wire", the article describes how Superman, rather than acting as a positive force in the world, is a source of constant disappointment and false hope as he fails to save everyone. Every minute he spends stopping a speeding train is a minute where he can't catch a crashing plane or stop a gang war from hurting innocent civilians. Worse, no amount of superheroism can stop systemic problems like world hunger or disease. Therefore, a proper Superman story would focus as much about the world responding to his presence, first with adulation then despair, as it does the hero himself.

Look, I absolutely agree that Superman can't save everyone, and that him coming to terms with that fact is an important aspect of his character. But that's just it: he does face it. Everyday. So much of the Cracked article seems to overlook the fact that Superman isn't just an invincible symbol in a bright blue suit. Underneath the cape there is a person wielding that power, and how Clark reacts under the strain of his mantle is just as important as how others react to him. You can tell a great, engaging story about the political and societal upheavals that the existence of Superman would create3. But you can't overlook that there is still a character at the heart of those stories, and it's the character that makes them compelling.

There's a great Superman issue in Garth Ennis' Hitman4 where the Man of Steel randomly flies by the titular assassin and the two chat. Superman's in a bit of a funk: while rescuing the crew of an exploding space shuttle, he wasn't able to save one of the astronauts. In and of itself this would be standard stuff; what makes it memorable is the reason Clark takes this death so personally.

Hitman #34

To me, this moment encapsulates the internal nuances of Superman's persona. Clark knows that he can't save everyone and that we can't expect him to. What stings him isn't that he failed, it's that Superman failed. The fact that he has been placed upon pedestal doesn't take away from Superman's complexity but strengthens it, constantly motivating Clark to strive to live up to the standards that have been set for him. It's no less an impossible task than Batman's quest to eradicate crime in all its forms. But Superman works towards it anyways, in the hopes that doing so will lead to others following in his path.

Sadly, struggling to uphold a set of ideals and providing a role model for the masses isn't exactly cinematic, which is why film executives find it easier to just have Superman punch Zod in the face a bunch of times. It remains to be seen whether Zack Snyder's upcoming Man of Steel will prove to be the Superman movie fans have been waiting for or if, like Superman Returns before it, a fundamental misinterpretation of the character will leave it a bland, dull mess of a movie. But even if this newest installment on the silver screen fails it doesn't mean that Superman as a character is flawed. It just gives us something to strive for the next time.


1: The Green Lantern one, unless snarking at Fox News counts as a superpower.
2: Technically "Shazam" in the New 52 butI'm ignoring that. Like almost everything in the New 52
3: See, Red Son
4: Given Ennis' typical attitude towards superheros, the fact he treats Superman with such respect speak volumes by itself

Michael Bay and...Nuance?: Tone in Pain & Gain

The year is 1994. It's Miami (because of course it's Florida). Three body-building friends with no money and a warped concept of the American Dream decide to kidnap a rich asshole who works out at their gym. They have a plan. Things don't go smoothly. And for 40 minutes, Pain & Gain is the funniest film of the year.

The latest film from Michael Bay, Pain & Gain is a passion project for the director, who has wanted to make this "small" movie for years. And it's clear why: the film's plot is chock full of misplaced bravado, disastrously over-the-top scheming, and oozes 'attitude' from every pore. In short, subject matter right up Bay's alley. Yet what makes Pain & Gain work so well is that the director manages to reign in his own chaotic visual style. The editing still jumps from shot to shot with abandon, the colors remain garishly vibrant, and the camerawork once again is defined by its kinetic movement. But if Michael Bay retains his signature touches, here they're used to tell an actual story instead of a CGI-cutscene, resulting in what is the director's best narrative work since Bad Boys (admittedly, not a high bar).

He is buoyed by some tremendous performances by his talented cast. Mark Wahlberg's ringleader, Daniel Lugo, is the film's magnetically compelling center, the actor's playful charisma successfully disguising the utter psychopath hiding beneath the surface. Meanwhile, Tony Shaloub does great work as the businessman the criminal trio targets: despite having done nothing wrong, Shaloub comes across as such an asshole that we understand why no one would miss him. But the true star of the show is Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Really. Portraying an actual character for once, rather than just an intimidating build, Johnson is cast surprisingly against type as a well-meaning but overly trusting co-conspirator. His born-again ex-con finds himself constantly torn between his love of Jesus and love of cocaine, a struggle which is both hilarious and, at times, genuinely touching.

The end result is an exhilarating ride as we follow a stupid get-rich-quick scheme perpetrateded by even stupider criminals. And for the first half of the film, Pain & Gain seems to be a spectacular absurdist comedy. But around the time that Lugo and co. attempt to rid themselves of a now-penniless Shaloub, a sneaking thought entered into my head: They actually did these things to a guy. And at that moment, my film experience took a disturbing turn that it never fully recovered from.

 

Pain & Gain is based closely on a true story, and this is simultaneously its greatest strength and its eventual downfall. On one hand, the sheer absurdity of the real-life events ironically work to ground the film, creating a world where the audience is willing to go along with anything. In a late scene, Johnson waves to neighbors as he grills pairs of human hands and the words "This is still based on true events" are thrust onto the screen. It is blunt, crude, and deeply unsettling; it also is one of the film's biggest laughs.

Ultimately, however, the knowledge that I wasn't watching a hijinks-filled caper but an embellished version of real-life crimes gnawed at me as the film went on. To Bay's credit, this seems to be part of his point. By casting people like Wahlberg and Johnson, the audience is pre-inclined to align themselves with them, and early scenes play up the trio's bumbling earnestness in order to make us root for them. But then their amorality accelerates, more and more unspeakable acts are committed, and I felt uncomfortable watching the action onscreen. More than that, I felt complicit. It's a bold move for the film to take, and in the end it doesn't quite work as well as the film wants it too. What it did do though is make me think about myself as an audience member and how I approach film, which means that Michael Bay has made the most thought-provoking movie I've seen this year. Again, really.

Pain & Gain is far from a perfect film. Many of Bay's second-act attempts at comedy are played so earnestly that it undercuts the guilt-inducing tone he's just managed to establish. There is also an insane overabundance of voice-over narration throughout the movie (When a random stripper gets a V.O. backstory I thought the film was parodying itself. Instead, it kept introducing even more narrators). But if it's not a great film, then Pain & Gain is just shy of great. It's entertaining as hell until it isn't. And "until it isn't" manages to be the most interesting part.

The Best Stupidity of G.I. Joe 2

I just came back from watching G.I. Joe: Retaliation, the sequel to the 2009 film the world was craving for. Guys, it is dumb. It is dumb as hell. But it is the best type of dumb, the type that emerges from a perfect storm of poor decisions and baffling plot choices that comes all the way back around to be laughably entertaining.

Thus, in lieu of an actual review, my five absolute favorite dumb moments of G.I. Joe: Retailiation:
(oh, spoilers below if you care)

5. The G.I. Joe team becomes convinced that the President of the United States has been replaced by a doppelganger because he has started saying "Sort of" instead of "Kind of". This is discovered by analyzing every public statement he has given in the past several months using computers from the '90s that they found in an abandoned rec center.

4. They confirm the President is an imposter by running his hair through a portable DNA scanner disguised as a tube of lipstick. Which they built using leftover parts. From '90s computers. That they found in an abandoned rec center.

3. Cobra Commander activates his doomsday weapon by pressing a button in a briefcase. If the exact same button is pressed a second time, it not only stops the launch but causes all seven of his billion-dollar satellites to EXPLODE. No lock is put on this briefcase.

2. At the start of the movie, COBRA frames the by having Storm Shadow (the white, evil ninja) dress up as Snake Eyes (the black, good ninja) and assassinate the President of Pakistan. This is literally step one of their plan in the movie; making the world think Snake Eyes killed a world leader is vital. And yet, rather than just, temporarily, use swords with black hilts (you know, the type Snake Eye would use) Storm Shadow uses his same swords and just puts slide-on black covers over the ends. You guys, there's committing to a costume and then there's this.

1. When the imposter President makes a joke about North Korea, "Kim Jong Il" throws his arms out and acts totally offended like the US had just the violated Bro Code.

"What'd I do? C'mon guys, that's really uncalled for."

The Shifting Realities of Following TV

Last week, TV critic Alan Sepinwall wrote a piece questioning if we're reaching the point where audiences are faced with the prospect of too many quality television shows being aired. Too much good TV? Absurd, I said! No one complains that about too many books, or too many quality movies. Besides, in the current television landscape (where there exist four separate pawn-shop series, where a NASA-founded channel now assigns an entire night of the week to wedding shows, and where a broadcast network at one point devoted 1/3rd of their prime-time line-up to procedurals distingusihed from each other mostly by how they arranged the letters S, C, and I in their titles) we should be delighted at all of the options for well-written TV that we have at our disposal.

But then I thought about how I stopped watching The Americans after the pilot episode. How I have yet to get into Bob's Burgers despite it's critical acclaim and prescence of H. Jon Benjamin. How every new series that gets recommended to me gets added to the end of an ever-increasing mental list. And I realize Sepinwall may be right.

Calling the fact there are so many high-quality series on television right now a "problem" isn't exactly accurate. It's a fact that celebrates the possibilities and variety that can be found in the medium, and TV afficianados should rightly cheer whenever a new great series emerges. However we have finally reached the point where, for the first time, there are so many good shows that it has become impractical for one person to see them all. And that means that TV critics (both amateur and professional) need to accept a few things.

For a long time TV followers have been able to get away with being a completionist lot. There were X number of 'must-see' shows, and for the most part that number was small enough that those who wanted to could stay completely caught up. Now however, that possibility no longer exists. Where before the limited number of channels capped the number of series that aired (with a new show unable to premiere until another was canceled), the growth in original cable programming ensures that more series get made each year, any of which could establish themselves as yet another 'must-see'. At the same time serialized plots have wormed their way into even the most episodic sitcoms, making it harder and harder to skip out on any given episode. Thus, TV fans are now being forced to choose between which series to follow, an experience that's a bit of a rude awakening.

So we're going to have to come to terms with not being able to watch everything. Fine, we'll adapt. Unfortunately even as TV viewers will have to adjust their expectations, certain aspects of current television analysis and fandom punish this approach. The proliferation of internet reviews, many of which review series episode-by-episode, have done wonders for promoting critical discussions about the medium. The most obvious downside however, is that spoilers are everywhere. It has become difficult enough to dodge leaked plot twists for shows you are only a couple of episodes behind on. Yet when it comes to completed series one just hasn't gotten to yet, it's even worse. The conclusion of The Sopranos is already The Sixth Sense of TV endings in terms of ubiquity, and you can bet that when Mad Men ends next year the fate of Don will become equally entrenched in pop culture. I don't believe that being spoiled on certain points is an inherently bad thing (I knew the endings of Se7en, Fight Club, Oldboy, and The Usual Suspects before I saw them and still consider them amongst my favorite films). But it does change the viewing experience, and so people are encouraged to embrace the 'need to see everything now' mindset in order to ensure their sense of surprise.

One other big factor that needs to be acknowledged is that the fan engagement and discussions around certain series really do make them a higher priority to watch "live". In general, a show that focuses on plot and action over character stands to lose as viewers stop pushing themselves to keep up with every series. Lost was a phenomenal series that made its 'as-watched' discussion a big part of its appeal and experience. The trade-off is that its legacy is less clear; a friend of mine who just watched the series remarked that he greatly enjoyed the show, but was saddened that most of the debates and conversations he wanted to have about the show had already occurred years before. Contrast this with series like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel, which have less constant narrative momentum but allow new viewers to engage in their own debates and analyses almost a decade after their they ended.

I'm not saying that dodging spoilers or prioritizing plot-heavy shows is the best way to juggle the glut of great series we find ourselves with today. There's no clear answer to how best to watch shows, not one that fits everyone in a medium as personally engaging as television. But these are exactly the issues that audiences must face as TV evolves and expands. It's not just television that is changing; how we watch it is going to have to change too.

Disney Re-watch Part 2

Part of the fun of re-watching old Disney films is that I get to pick up on things I'd never quite noticed before. For example, they got to call people 'jackasses' in Pinocchio, something that would never fly in today's environment. More importantly however, I've come to realize that the world of Disney has a system of government that appears to be based on one simple thing: can you talk to and/or command animals? If you can, congratulations! You're a princess! One would think there are better ways to set up a monarchy, but then again I'd expect King Triton would just lightning bolt the first timid shrimp that suggested forming a republic.

Moving on to more specific thoughts...

Pinocchio
I mentioned above that some of the language Disney got away with in this movie surprised me. That's not the only thing that makes Pinocchio a product of its times: it notably lacks the karmic retributions that are so prevalent in most children's fare. Stromboli attempts to kidnap Pinocchio as an indentured servant, the fox and cat duo lead him astray twice (though really, after the first time that's on Pinocchio for not learning anything) and the coachman runs a horrifying magical slave market. While our hero escapes all of these foes, none of them are ever brought to justice and remain free to prey on others. It's a jarring disconnect from pretty much any modern Disney tale (and it's a bit ironic here, seeing as Pinocchio is all about acting good so that good things will happen to him). And yet I think this attitude works very well here. I'm not saying the villain has to win (as much as some of my favorite films may seem to dispute that theory), but not spending time on the bad guys' comeuppance is a refreshing change of pace and it allows the story to focus solely on Pinocchio and his adventures.

Also getting off scot-free: Gepetto, cat-kicker

Of course one of the reasons that the story works out this way is that the film's based on a series of serial stories. As a result, Pinocchio is far more episodic than an organic whole. The movie can be essentially divided into four distinct sections, all of which are introduced abruptly. The final act literally starts with a note that reads 'BTW, a whale ate Gepetto :p' Even Pinocchio's lie-lengthened nose is only mentioned in a single scene, and even there it's not actually utilized. Still, all of these different mini-arcs give Pinocchio a good amount of variety and it's definitely an enjoyable lark.

Sleeping Beauty
Story-wise this film isn't exactly a cinematic triumph. Running only 76 minutes, Sleeping Beauty's plot still manages to feel simplistic and padded. The motives of the villainess never go beyond "she's EVIL", potentially interesting dynamics and conflict between the two kings and Prince Philip are cut short, and Princess Aurora herself is around for less than 1/4th of the picture. Instead, the three good fairies are put front and center and their role is...problematic.

For the first two-thirds of the movie, pretty much everything bad that happens is these three's fault. Maleficent only curses Aurora in the first place after the blue fairy provokes and insults her. They spend sixteen years in hiding only to prove too impatient to wait another two hours before casting spells, a move that brings about the princess' discovery and spindle-prick. Then, in order to stall for time rather than admit their failings, they curse the entire kingdom with their own slumber spell. I can't underscore how awful a plan that is: it's not only a shortsighted and drastic solution with no end in sight, but because of it they almost miss learning about their only chance at a cure. And yet in the third act, the the fairies' competence level is suddenly boosted to a perplexing degree. During the final confrontation their spells are so strong that they seem to barely need Phillip's help in slaying Maleficent at all, a move that sadly undercuts the heroism of the film's male lead and serves as a fittingly frustrating capstone to the trio's scattershot characterization.

What Sleeping Beauty does have going for it though, is that it's absolutely beautiful to look at. The animation is a wonderful blend of stylized, storybookesque backgrounds mixed with smooth and fluid characters, giving the film a unique look as Aurora and the others dance through a series of fantastically-drawn sets. The effective "look" of the movie also proves exactly why Maleficent has become the poster child for Disney villains. While her personality may be cliche, her horned cowl, flowing cloak, and regal posture is a strikingly effective character design that is as ominous as it is elegant. Plus, dragon. Dragons are awesome.

Snow White
Looked at with a critical eye, the plot of Snow White isn't actually any more complicated than that of Sleeping Beauty. If anything, this movie (whose story only spans about 36 hours!) might have even more filler. But it doesn't feel that way, and it's because each of Snow White's many interludes is different and charming by itself. Sure Snow fleeing through the woods, the forest creatures cleaning the house, and the dwarves washing their hands for dinner each take around five minutes, but they manage to stand alone as distinct 'silly symphonies' that also manage to work into the greater plot. Snow White also wastes no time getting started: we've met Snow, the Prince, the Queen, and had an assassination attempt and flight within the first ten minutes. It's not all great: the animation of the human characters mostly is distractingly creepy (especially the Prince) and "Someday my Prince Will Come" terrible and overrated. But it is charming and funny, and holds up not just as an animation landmark, but also a genuinely good movie.

The Little Mermaid
This movie, more than any other in this batch, is where my memory diverged the most from what's in the film. Ursala has stood out in my mind as being one of the better Disney villains, but upon a rewatch I was surprised to discover that her character and motivations are very simple and under-developed: the awesomeness of "Poor Unfortunate Souls" had led me to oversell a relatively average antagonist. Even weirder, while I remembered the fish Flounder, I had completely forgotten about the seagull Ariel deals with despite the fact he's extremely relevant to the plot while Flounder mostly just swims around nearby things.

Considering it hasn't been that long since I'd rewatched The Little Mermaid, I'm a bit surprised at how much of it felt new to me. The songs are famous enough but I'd overlooked how phenomenal the score is as well, and how atypically proactive Eric is as a prince, taking in random shipwreck victims into his home (and risking his life and a messy succession dispute in order to save a dog). But these things are exactly the point of this project: to rediscover things.

Comic Panel of the Week (March 13)

Thor #365

This is part of a three-issue story where Thor gets turned into a frog by Loki, then leads a band of  Central Park frogs against an army of rats. Also involved is a sewer-dweller who controls alligators Pied Piper style and the revelation that one of the other frogs is also a transformed human.

God I love comics.

Disney Movies, Take Two

Blessed with free time and a library of VHS tapes, I've been re-watching some "classic" Disney animated movies. Will Young Me's opinions agree with Adult Me's? My findings so far:

Pocahontas: Awful. Absolutely terrible, and an unfortunate choice to start this project. It has two great songs, "Colors of the Wind" and "Savages". But the rest of the film is just so boooooring even getting to go "Hey, it's Christian Bale!" can't save it. Let us speak of it no more.

Hercules: There, that's better. It's slower to get started than I remember; after a great opening prologue that introduces the gods and explains why Hercules is on Earth the story drags for a while while as it goes through the same motions as an Superman origin. But by the time Meg and the Hydra appear Hercules finds its groove, with good music, a great villain in James Brooks' Hades, and a plot that manages to throw in some nice twists to the cliche "true heroism is about character, not strength" message. It justifies it's place in my Disney Top Ten.

Tarzan: Tarzan has the opposite problem of Hercules. It's first half-hour forms an excellent short film on its own, with some beautiful animation and a great use of music coming together to tell a touching story about an outsider's quest to prove himself to the group. Then Jane, her father, and Clayton show up and while the movie doesn't become bad it also never reaches its early heights. In trying to tell essentially an entirely different story in 2/3rds the time, Tarzan fails to fully develop either Clayton's threat or Tarzan and Jane's relationship. It's an okay film, but I won't be hurrying to return to it any time soon. I had also forgotten that this was not actually a musical. I knew Phil Collins did the score, but since none of the characters sing large chunks of the film essentially become music videos and as a decidedly non-Collins fan I could take or leave most of these.

Hunchback of Notre Dame: Up until a few years ago I had forgotten virtually everything about this film except that I didn't care for it. Then I came across the clip of "Hellfire", understood that this movie is a massive tonal departure from most Disney films, and finally watched it last month. It makes sense why young me was left ambivalent about Hunchback: despite its trappings, it's not a kids movie. At all. What it is though, is spectacular.

Hunchback is dark, opening with a murder and ending with a visual representation of damnation with some persecution, attempted immolation, and sexual extortion thrown in along the way. But though the story is somber it's also very well-told. Esmeralda is one of Disney's stronger female non-leads, her relationship with Phoebus is well-developed and Frollo is a magnificently unhinged villain who's all the more frightening because he represents a real-life style threat. I was also impressed with how the film dealt with Quasimodo/Esmeralda. While I've heard some criticisms about how the movie undercuts its message by having the girl go to the handsome man over the deformed one, the film makes it clear Quasi's infatuation is one-sided, and Esmeralda never leads him on. If anything, Hunchback manages to serve as a great rebuttal to the 'Nice Guy' trope.

There are moments when the film doesn't quite hold together as smoothly as I would like, struggling to balance its story's ambition and complexity against making it accessible to a younger audience. But for the most part Hunchback soars, and I found myself wanting to race past the comic-relief gargoyle scenes (which sometimes feel as though they were awkwardly added in a fourth draft when someone realized kids would be horrified by the film otherwise) to get back to the main plot.

Oh, and the songs are good to :)

Marvel, DC, and Addressing The Problem With Superheroes

I was going over the list of comics currently I follow the other day when I noticed something that surprised me: most of them were Marvel books. Given the quality of stories Marvel and DC are putting out right now I guess that makes perfect sense. Marvel's done a good job at cultivating a crop of very talented writers like Johnathan Hickman, Jason Aaron, and Matt Fraction, and the company's recent Marvel Now initiative is giving them the opportunity to explore some new and ambitious ideas. DC, in contrast, is now 18 months into their "New 52" and with a few exceptions it's going about as smoothly as one might expect of a drastic and desperate move dripping of editorial mandate.

But even if the current runs of New Avengers, Hawkeye, and Thor, God of Thunder are leagues ahead of any of DC's non-Scott Snyder output, I still continue to think of myself more of a DC guy than a Marvel one. It's not just because of the characters -- Batman may be the best superhero out there but Captain America and Spider-Man aren't exactly slouches either. Instead, it's because I think at its core DC's characters are better suited to the cyclical nature of the comics medium, whether the company actually realizes this or not.

While companies like Image and Dark Horse have become established players in the comics industry, when it comes to superheroes DC and Marvel still dominate the market. And as much as the two companies have tended to mimic and/or blatantly rip off each other over the years, they also possess some fundamental differences. When DC started making superheroes, their characters existed mostly in isolation from one another. As a result, the heroes in their stories tended to be more archetypal. Superman is not just another flying hero: he is the Flying Hero, defending his world from the superhuman forces that threaten it. Over time some of them intermingled and formed groups like the Justice Society of America, but those interactions were treated as a Big Deal, and when the continuity errors that arose from each series working on its own resulted in the establishment of the multiverse that was a Bigger Deal.

Marvel, in contrast, was built in the '60s and in many ways stood as a response to DC's style. For one thing, the company's creations were part of a unified world from the outset; seeing Green Lantern decide to take down Two-Face is rather odd but in Marvel's New York it's common to have The Falcon accidentally run into Daredevil or assist Iron Man. But more importantly Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and the other Marvel pioneers chose to highlight the human issues and struggles their superpowered creations would face. Spider-Man was an empowered crimefighter but he was also a teenager struggling to balance his school, home and costumed life, and the Fantastic Four dealt with the same sort of family bickering the readers would, albeit while simultaneous fighting Doctor Doom. At times these attempts to develop their characters veered into soap-opera, but overall Marvel put more effort into humanizing their heroes and trying to make them relatable.

On the surface then, it would seem that Marvel's strategy should put it into the lead. After all, who doesn't like well-developed characters? Unfortunately, there exists one massive flaw at the center of the superhero comic genre: it's always stuck in the second act. Sure some creator-owned heroes or minor characters can get a satisfying payoff to their stories. But characters like Superman or the Hulk are too popular for their companies to let come to an end, and so their tales can never actually reach a conclusion. Writers can still tell great stories with even the longest-running superheroes. Yet any major change to the status quo can and likely will just be retconned later, resulting in long-term narratives that are choppy when they should be smooth and organic.

And it is here that Marvel's efforts to keep their heroes grounded actually comes back to bite them. The more you try and make a superhero realistic, the more frustrating it is when that hero is faced with a never-ending number of setbacks that stop them from achieving any real resolution. The sheer longevity of most mainstream superheroes only adds to this problem. Audiences grumble all the time that shows like The Office have run out of ideas and are going in circles. That series will have 200 episodes; Spider-Man has starred in over 1,000 comics by now, and that number doubles when you include all of the other comics he appears in. Having Peter Parker continue to face essentially the same problems he has had since the '60s (rather than deciding that, if he's truly that worried about putting his loved ones in danger, there's a thousand different ways he could fight crime without roaming New York in a mask) only serves to call attention to his stories' fictional nature, and the editorial constraints that ensure that the reader will never see any real change.

Of course DC has to deal with these same issues. It's not as though Bruce Wayne is going to suddenly exchange his cowl for some therapy sessions. But the difference in how DC approaches its characters minimizes how problematic this narrative repetition is. If Marvel's heroes highlight their humanity, DC's lean closer towards gods and archetypes, which makes it easier to fit them into cyclical and modular comic stories. Whenever Hal Jordan fights Sinestro or Batman tracks down the Riddler, the specific plot and context is important and can be quite compelling. But ultimately their battle boils down to something primal, a contest between clashing wills and ideals. Because of this, DC's storytelling emulates the mythologies of old to a degree. The characters have a multitude of adventures and challenges, but the specific ordering of each event can be somewhat fluid; what matters is the essence of the story, not the details.

The strength of this attitude can be seen in the popularity of DC's "Elseworld" series, which take place outside the company's main continuity. Marvel has several alternate universe books and "What If" one-shots, but with the exception of their Ultimate Universe these books are mostly novelties. On the other hand, some of DC's most popular storylines are ones that technically never take place. The Dark Knight Returns. Red Son. All-Star Superman. Kingdom Come. Each of these works benefit greatly from the reader's knowledge of the characters' history and continuity. What makes them work however, is how these stories stay true to the core and ideal of their heroes even as they approach them from a new angle.

At the end of the day it's still the strength of the story and the writing that matters. I love and enjoy well-done Marvel plotlines and turn a cold shoulder to muddled and contrived DC ones (again, see most of the New 52). But as superheroes become bigger part of mainstream pop culture, it's important to look at the medium they first sprang from, and to understand the challenge in balancing the demand for more stories with the (often competing) demand for good ones.

Panel of the Week (March 6)

Hawkeye #3

What Time Is It? (Time to talk about ADVENTURE TIME!)

This is the time of year where cable TV dramas tend to enter a period of doldrums. Most "prestige" dramas have either just ended (Downton Abbey), haven't begun yet (Mad Men, Game of Thrones), or can't string three consecutive good episodes together to save their life (Walking Dead). Luckily for lovers of quality television everywhere, there is one standout cable show that is not only airing new episodes right now, but is getting better and better by the year. I speak of course, about Adventure Time!

Currently in its fifth season, Adventure Time follows best friends Jake (the dog) and Finn (the human) as they adventure throughout the land of Ooo. Of course Jake is a mutant talking shapeshifter, Finn has an obsession with swords, and Ooo is a world populated by Candy Kingdoms, Vampire Queens, partying bears who live inside a monster's belly, and a surprisingly large number of fully-manned D&Desque dungeons.

Suffice to say, the show can be a bit odd.

Adventure Time's style of humor tends towards the absurdist. Bizarre catch-phrases and visual non-sequitors abound but the zany antics are grounded by how easily all the characters accept their world's strangeness as perfectly normal. Finn and Jake approach every problem with the same commitment and zeal, whether they're starting an uprising in hell through a political freestyle rap or just trying to help a fellow snail-bro get some ladies. Throughout everything, the varied landscape of Ooo does wonders to provide the show with an inherent flexibility: week to week one never knows just what type of episode they'll get.

Weird? Yes. But never boring.

Yet while Adventure Time exults in its crazy setting to make "rule of fun" plots, underneath all the wackiness is a startling level of growth and development for its characters. As the show has gone on, initially one-note side characters have received rich and frequently tragic backstories; jerkish vampire Marceline has slowly come to embrace some friends after centuries of being lonely and betrayed, while its revealed that the villainous Ice King has been slowly driven insane and senile by the magic that kept him alive. Meanwhile, Jake entered into a long-term relationship that's been going strong for years and recently became a father

But no character's evolution has been as impressive as Finn's. At the outset, Finn was your typical rpg adventurer, fighting evil because it was evil and always charging ahead towards the next challenge. Adventure Time, however, has let Finn age in real-time, and in the process the show serves as a nuanced coming-of-age story for the boy. Over the years Finn has suffered heartbreak, started dating, learned to feel empathy for his enemies, and slowly matured into a thoughtful hero one ten-minute segment at a time. This growth is anchored by a spectacular voice performance by actor Jeremy Shada, who is aging along with his character and does an amazing job at getting the viewer inside Finn's head.

Of course, since Adventure Time is primarily a children's show the storytelling mostly leans towards the lighter side. But in recent seasons the writers have done a fantastic job at layering darker themes for older viewers within the subtext at the edges of the series. The wacky and magical land of Ooo is eventually revealed to be Earth millenia after a 'Great Mushroom War', making Finn not just the only human around, but possibly the last of his kind. The episode "I Remember You" becomes a metaphor for losing a parent to dementia, while still being an episode told half in jam session-style song. And then there's the world of Fiona and Cake. Gender-swapped versions of the cast, these characters originated in a one-of episode that was ultimately revealed to be a fan-fiction invention of the Ice King's. But the idea proved so popular that they've already been brought back again, and the second episode "Bad Little Boy" takes advantage of the nested-story concept to tell a story begging for metafictional analysis.

...and once I start talking about Adventure Time's meta-commentary on itself I should probably stop. I don't mean to oversell the series; it's not as though the next The Wire is secretly airing on Cartoon Network. But Adventure Time is a fantastically enjoyable comedy that also has a surprising level of depth and pathos. The stories it tells can be simple, but the show uses these simple tales as building blocks to create something truly unique. Adventure Time proves that a series doesn't need to be dark and gritty in order to be compelling and dramatic, and its that attitude that makes it one of the best shows on the air.

Panel of the Week (Feb 27)

A-Babies vs X-Babies

The Oscars are tomorrow? Super!

The Oscars are tomorrow, and by now you've heard my picks, critics' picks and even a dog's picks. But you know whose opinions haven't been heard yet? Superheroes', that's whose! After exhaustive research, I am happy to be able to present which of the nominees some of our caped friends would be rooting for:

Superman

Lincoln: A story about defending men's rights and freedoms that has a classical sort of prestige to it and features a character "clothed with immense power" struggling to balance doing the right thing without overstepping his bounds. Gee, I wonder why that sounds familiar...

Guy Gardner (Green Lantern)

Django Unchained: You just know that Guy Gardner's a big Tarrantino fan. Stylized and excessive violence with some surprising hidden depths? Toss in a dose of historcial justice and you've got yourself a winner!

Batman, the goddamn

Silver Linings Playbook: Sure Bruce was snarking at all of the plot contrivances. But underneath the cowl he's nodding in approval at Pat committing to his own sort of process and therapy as a means of getting past a tragedy. Plus, even after dealing with Arkham inmates for years there's a part of Bruce that still wants to believe Playbook's message that the mentally disturbed can get better.

Spider-Man

Argo: It's a slick, funny, and well-made thriller, and Peter Parker's just the type to geek out about which parts are historically accurate and which aren't. It's a film where trickery and smarts win out. And it's a film where, after years of annomynity, the hero eventually gets to be credited for his good works.

Captain America

Zero Dark Thirty: A movie about precision, dedication, and avenging America against those who strike at it. Cap won't agree with everything he sees in the film, but he'd be fascinated by it all the same.

Ralph Dibny (Elongated Man)

Amour: For one thing, Ralph's one of the few heroes who would actually go see a two-and-a-half hour foreign film. But he's also the hero who'd most appreciate the depth of love on display here, and sadly be best able to recognize how losing a loved one can shatter a world.

Aquaman

Life of Pi: This movie's about as ocean-centric as you'll get in a film not directed by James Cameron. Besides, Arthur Curry has a soft spot for anything that, despite technically being a contender, is mostly forgotten and overlooked by everyone.

Captain Marvel

Beasts of the Southern Wild: Child with a sense of optimism and wonder and a maturity beyond her age? Check. Building a community/family unit around oneself? Check. Magic? Check-ish. If Billy Batson actually saw Beasts he'd relate to it in an instant.

Wolverine

Les Miserables: Just like Jean Valjean, Logan is constantly troubled by his past, has a nasty habit of women dying on him, and tends to take young girls under his wing. While he didn't personally fight in the French Revolution, Wolverine's taken up arms in pretty much any other conflict you can think of and given his anti-authority bent it's pretty clear he isn't rooting for the bourgeois. Really the resemblance is uncanny...

Miscellaneous Oscar thoughts

By now I feel I've written plenty of thoughts about the nine films up for the biggest prize at this weekend's Oscars. As for predictions, everyone and their grandmother is doing those and none of mine really deviate from the general chorus.* My two biggest hunches: Seth McFarlene won't be nearly as bad as everyone expects (I mean think about it, is he likely to be that much worse than an out-dated Billy Crystal or a stoned James Franco?) and Jessica Chastain could pull an upset (controversial film aside, she's given at least 4 Oscar-worthy performances in the last 18 months).

So instead than focus on the movies that are going to be mentioned on stage on Sunday, here are some of the ones who won't be honored but should be. A few of my Oscar wishes are:

• That Moonrise Kingdom had gotten a Best Picture nod. It's a great film that's teeming with Wes Anderson-ness without ever feeling overly quirky. Unfortunately, it's likely that if Moonrise had made it in it would have been at the expense of either Silver Linings Playbook or Beasts of the Southern Wild.
• Looper had gotten recognized for Best Original Screenplay. Even aside from the fact it succeeds in making a time travel plotline that actually holds up to scrutiny, Johnson's film uses its sci-fi premise to craft a compelling story about consequences and owning up to one's choices. In contrast, Flight, a nominated film that also shares this theme, has a strong opening act followed by 110 minutes of storytelling that could be generously described as awful. 
• As I touched on when talking about his film, I'd have loved to see Dwight Henry get acknowledged for Best Supporting Actor.
• Ditto Jean-Louis Trintignant for Best Actor.
• The Grey, for anything. Alright, maybe it's not Oscar-worthy when compared to the other nominees. But it is a film that was utterly ignored and should have gotten some recognition before falling into the vast sea of forgotten gems. A deceptive marketing campaign made it look like just another entry into the improbable recent winter subgenre of 'Liam Neeson being badass', one in which most of the films are interchangeable (see also Statham, Jason, entire filmography of). Instead, The Grey manages to be a shockingly serious and at times soul-crushing dark man vs. wild story, containing heavy meditations on death and a bleak exploration of faith (or lack thereof) and survival. People expecting a wolf-punching action movie were disappointed but the rest of us got a film that was much more powerful, and it deserved better than being left in the February dumping ground.

*For the record, I'm guessing the main awards go down something like this:
Picture: Argo
Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis
Actress: Lawrence
Supporting Actor: De Niro
Supporting Actress: Hathaway
Director: Speilberg 
Of these I'm least confident about Spielberg (his biggest real competition wasn't nominated but many voters could try to snub him to make up for it) and the Supporting Actor race (Tommy Lee Jones or Arkin could be spoilers, it's a stacked slate).

Comic Panel of the Week (Feb 20)

 The Four respond to an enemy base:

 

Planetary #14

Oscar-down #1: Beasts of the Southern Wild

(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4, #3, #2)

#1: Beasts of the Southern Wild

Why it should be lower:
   Maybe some people don't like adorable children??? Also, a few of the film's episodic interludes don't stand up as strongly as the rest. The FEMA section is a bit too blunt, the journey to the floating bar too odd. 

Why it doesn't matter:
   With his feature, director Benh Zeitlin has created an extraordinary film. Story-wise Beasts of the Southern Wild is not especially unique: the ravaging of the Bathtub is intertwined with the more personal sickness and impending loss of Hushpuppy's father in a way that is effective if not innovative. But execution is everything, and the style and zeal with which Zeitlin approaches his material feels strikingly original. The Bathtub is a world completely alien to my own experience and yet it emerges here fully realized, showing the setting's squalor but also the vibrancy and camaraderie that keeps the community tied to it. Beasts is visually gorgeous whether its depicting devastation or celebration. On top of that, the movie has a wonderful fable-like quality about it that blends the magic and the mundane to create a beautiful lyrical flow. Plus: aurochs!!! I'm not even sure Ice Age had aurochs.

Well, not the Fox one anyway

   And I haven't even gotten to Quvenzhané Wallis yet. To say that the young girl steals the film would be an understatement: she is Beasts' heart and soul. In a role that requires her to be both childlike and mature beyond her years, Wallis' Hushpuppy shines with an infectious enthusiasm for life. She is effortlessly charming, and as the audience views the Bathtub through her eyes the youth's fundamental optimism and joy inevitably rubs off on them. But what makes Wallis so special is how she manages to let her fierce sense of resolve constantly peek through her more lighthearted exterior. Hushpuppy is defiant to the end, first in the face of losing the Bathtub and later in refusing to be set adrift by her father's passing. It's a performance that comes out of nowhere to be both captivating and inspiring. The only problem with how good Wallis is is that it has overshadowed the other powerful work done by Dwight Henry. Another 'non-actor', he plays Hushpuppy's father as a harsh and uncompromising patriarch, but one we can empathize with as a man desperate to prepare his daughter for the hardships ahead in the best (if flawed) way he can. Together the two have a fantastic dynamic, one full of real pain and love.

   Beasts of the Southern Wild is heartwarming and heartbreaking, breathtaking and intimate. It is not a perfect film and at points is rough around the edges. But going to seeing it was as moving experience as I had at the theater last year, and while it is highly unlikely to win next Sunday, it deserves all of the recognition it can get.

Oscar-down #2: Silver Linings Playbook

(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4, #3)

#2: Silver Linings Playbook

Why it should be higher:
   I was always confident that Bradley Cooper had a lot of talent (beyond just playing characters I want to punch in the face), but its great to finally see him have an opportunity to put his range on display. The same goes for Jennifer Lawrence; I've been less impressed by her more recent performances (X-Men, Hunger Games) but here she again proves why she's a rising star. Silver Linings Playbook works because both actors take the challenging roles they've been given and absolutely commit to them, with Cooper and JLaw's tremendous chemistry erasing all my reservations about the age difference between the pair. Together they provide the movie with a powerful emotional spine, making the audience deeply invested in Pat and Tiffany's budding relationship.
   The movie also happens to be funny. Really funny. But beneath the humor there's a sense of cold honesty about the characters and their relationships. Parts of the film lack this feeling (we'll get to that), but at Playbook's best it touches upon the character's bonds and issues in a way that feels real. Take Pat's dynamic with his parents and brother. They're as conflicted about Pat's situation as he is, backing him up while still forcefully pushing back. His dealings with his brother in particular are a nice blend of support, awkwardness, and some genuine ragging on Pat's quirks. In short, they act like a family in a way that feels natural and refreshing.

Why it isn't:
   That sense of honest truth is largely abandoned by Silver Linings Playbook in the home stretch, where the film embraces all the rom-com formulas it had previously taken pains to avoid. Everything I said about Argo feeling "movie-y" is even more on display here. This is a film where the characters get together and arbitraily construct narrative stakes for the final act with 20 minutes left to go, and its use of a climactic dance competition isn't exactly breaking new ground (though one of Russel's tweaks to the trope does generate one of the film's biggest laughs). More problematic is the sudden shift that occurs in Bradley Cooper's Pat. After a late revelation he transforms very abruptly, instantly becoming a man who for all appearances is perfectly fine. It all comes together too quickly to form a standard happy ending, one whose overwhelming sweetness rings a bit hollow in light of what came before.
   None of this changes the fact that Silver Linings Playbook is an infectiously enjoyable film, a joy to watch even if the movie cheats a little at the end. It's just that in the end, Playbook isn't quite as strong an experience as the remaining nominee...

Oscar-down #3: Argo

(Will ranks his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4)

#3: Argo

   The CIA is forced to create a fake movie in order to smuggle six Americans out of a hostile Iran.

Why this should be higher:
   Go back a decade and tell people that Ben Affleck would become a top-shelf director and you'd be laughed out of the room. And yet here we are, with Argo being the former critical punching bag's third acclaimed film (and first taking place outside of Boston!). It helps that the story he's working from is fascinating; the way Canada and the CIA used an elaborate fake movie as a cover is one of those great "so crazy, it must be true" tales. The outlandish nature of the operation lets the film get in some excellent jokes about both the plan's ridiculousness and the bizarre way in which the Hollywood operates, making Argo not only suspenseful but surprisingly funny.
   But if the film's basis is sound, its direction is what manages to elevate it above the pack. Affleck wonderfully recreates the 1970s setting, establishing a realistic world while mostly avoiding reverting to the decade's stock cliches. While lacking the action scenes of Gone Baby Gone or the Town, Argo  keeps the tension high with its tight plotting and relentless forward momentum. It's suspenseful and gripping, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats even when they know he everything will ultimately turn out.

Why it isn't:
   Its third act morphs a bit too heavily into a typical Hollywood thriller. Obviously every film takes some liberties with true stories in order to adapt them for the screen. But Mendez and the embassy staffers can't just walk onto the plane, they have to be stopped for extra screenings AND the CIA has to race to get their tickets approved AND the Hollywood office almost misses a key phone call AND there's a chase on the tarmac. The sheer number of last-minute obstacles screams of fabricated tension and breaks one's suspension of disbelief.
   Of course being reminded of a film's "movieness" isn't a deal-breaker (as another nominated film will show). No, the main reason Argo isn't higher is that for whatever reason it just doesn't stick with me as much as the remaining two nominees did. It's a solid and highly entertaining caper flick, but in the end it's also a bit forgettable.

Ocean's Three

Oscar-down #4: Les Miserables

(Will ranks his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5)

#4: Les Miserables

   Escaped convict Jean Valjean tries to make a redemptive life for himself while dodging the pursuit of the tenacious Javert. Also, there's some singing.

Why it should be higher:
   I went into this film having never seen the stage play Les Miserables, never read the book, never heard any songs not named "I Dreamed a Dream", and knowing nothing of the plot beyond 'Javert hunts Valjean'. I left the theater understanding why legions of fans have flocked to this material for decades. Les Mis' story is grand, expansive, and gripping, but it's the strength of its music that elevates the work to another level. The songs of Les Miserables are wonderful, great pieces that play up the scope of what you're watching while letting you into the minds and souls of the characters.

   Praising performances in these films is beginning to get repetitive so I'll keep it brief: they're great, phenomenal, amazing, insert synonym of your choice here. In a powerhouse cast Anne Hathaway manages to steal the show, delivering a performance so raw and affecting that she makes you forget how underwritten of a character she is asked to play. But pretty much everyone has already written about the cast's talents so instead let's talk about Russell Crowe. Several critics seemed to find him and his voice the film's weakest link. He's not. Sure Crowe's 'pub' singing pitch is different from those of Hugh Jackman and the others, but that's a good thing. It makes sense for Javert to be more direct than flashy, and Crowe's performance works well to humanize the zealot officer.

Why it isn't:
   Look, the film major in me could rant all day about the directing choices Tom Hooper made and why they hold the film back nine times out of ten. Here's a much better (if lengthy) explanation of Les Mis' central visual problem than I could give but if you want the bullet points: I hope you like jittery close-ups because Hooper shoots every important scene with them. There are moments in which that style works perfectly ("I Dreamed a Dream", *tuberculosis cough*), but the rest of the time it's a questionable choice whose repetition calls attention to itself.

   I mentioned above that my only vague inklings if Les Mis' story concerned Jean Valjean's unjust imprisonment and Javert's unyielding pursuit of him. The actual plot has a lot more going on than just the cat-and-mouse game between these two characters. Unfortunately, none of the other threads are nearly as interesting. The film's second half deals with an ultimately doomed revolution of idealistic students, but its hard to care about their plight in anything more than a general sense. Les Mis spends doesn't establish the motives for the rebels beyond 'France has a lot of inequality', banking heavily on the audience's historical knowledge to fill in the gaps and make them empathize with Marius' band. That might work if the event in question was the well-known French Revolution but instead the film covers a much more minor and unreported revolt. As a result, viewers are removed from the students' justification for their outrage and the group comes across as more fool-hardy than noble (There were many moments where they reminded me of some of the more irritating crusaders of my own liberal arts alma matter: a band of well-off youth who take up a cause for 'social justice' but then, in Marius' case at least, run back to their lives of wealth and privilege as soon as they face real consequence and struggle). Meanwhile, a pair of innkeepers played by Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter constantly intrude into the proceedings; intended as comic relief showing how opportunists continue on and evolve with the times, they take up too much screentime for too little gain.

"Wait, we'll get shoot at? Screw it, I'll just post some flyers in the quad."

   Also, as good as the performances may be the actors are frequently better than the characters they are called to play. Marius and Cosette's love-at-first-sight plot hits almost all of that trope's worst cliches and never once did I either believe or care about their connection. And considering how much the specter of Fantine hangs over the proceedings her character is exceedingly one-note, with an arc that goes martyr -> still a martyr -> actual angelic being.
   So why, given how much I just ripped into the film, is Les Miserables even this high? Because when the movie works it simply swept me away. Hathaway's painfully raw rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" is one of my favorite scenes of the year, and the stories of Javert, Valjean, and spurned Eponine are genuinely engaging and tragic. For all its faults, Les Miserables rises above the sum of its parts and tells a truly epic and emotional story.