A-Babies vs X-Babies |
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
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:
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...
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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...
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
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:
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).
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.
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).
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Oscar-down #1: Beasts of the Southern Wild
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4, #3, #2)
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.
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.
#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 |
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.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Oscar-down #2: Silver Linings Playbook
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4, #3)
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...
#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...
Friday, February 15, 2013
Oscar-down #3: Argo
(Will ranks his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5, #4)
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.
#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 |
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Oscar-down #4: Les Miserables
(Will ranks his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7, #6, #5)
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.
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.
#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.
"Wait, we'll get shoot at? Screw it, I'll just post some flyers in the quad." |
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.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Comic Panel of the Week (Feb 13)
Oscar-down #5: Life of Pi
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9 #8 #7 #6)
Why it should be higher:
This film is BEAUTIFUL!!!
Absolutely gorgeous from top to bottom.
And that was in 2-D; from all accounts 3-D screenings are even more visually impressive.
The cinematography and effects blend perfectly together and made watching Life of Pi one of the best visual treats I've had in ages. Of particular note is the mostly CGI tiger, which is rendered so realistically that it becomes a seamlessly integrated and fascinating character in its own right. On top of its wonderful imagery is the story itself, which, while fitful in parts, is powerfully moving. The concept of faith forms the thematic spine of the film, but for most of the film it is tackled in a nuanced and evenhanded way. Whether Pi's religious convictions are true or false is given little weight; Life cares simply that he has belief.
Why it isn't:
Pi's journey at sea kind of just ends. Throughout the film we are given no sense of the lifeboat's relative position in the ocean putting us in Pi's shoes but resulting in the moment he reaches shore arrive very abruptly. Further, it's also directly preceded by a sequence in which Pi recommits himself to continuing on towards civilization instead of living his days alone on an uncharted isle. Being saved immediately afterwards is too pat a resolution.
The last third of Life of Pi also suffers from the film's framing device, in which an author interviews an adult Pi about his experiences. Where most of Pi is subtle in its exploration of spirituality, these scenes are direct and heavy-handed in attacking the topic, and a late-game reveal meant to give Pi's journey a darker subtext comes across as a jarring narrative swerve. Yet even ending with a whimper, Life of Pi remains a striking experience and one of my more pleasant surprises this year.
#5: Life of Pi
After a shipwreck leaves teenage Pi Patel marooned on a lifeboat, he must struggle to survive and remain sane while dealing with his fellow passenger, a Bengal tiger.Why it should be higher:
This film is BEAUTIFUL!!!
Screenshots... |
...don't do it... |
...any justice. |
Why it isn't:
Pi's journey at sea kind of just ends. Throughout the film we are given no sense of the lifeboat's relative position in the ocean putting us in Pi's shoes but resulting in the moment he reaches shore arrive very abruptly. Further, it's also directly preceded by a sequence in which Pi recommits himself to continuing on towards civilization instead of living his days alone on an uncharted isle. Being saved immediately afterwards is too pat a resolution.
The last third of Life of Pi also suffers from the film's framing device, in which an author interviews an adult Pi about his experiences. Where most of Pi is subtle in its exploration of spirituality, these scenes are direct and heavy-handed in attacking the topic, and a late-game reveal meant to give Pi's journey a darker subtext comes across as a jarring narrative swerve. Yet even ending with a whimper, Life of Pi remains a striking experience and one of my more pleasant surprises this year.
One more for the road. |
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Oscar-down #6: Zero Dark Thirty
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8, #7)
Why this should be higher:
Meticulous is the best word to describe Zero Dark Thirty. The characters spend a decade poring over every scrap of evidence that might even tangentially connect to their target. Key breakthroughs come from cross-referencing data from years earlier. And director Kathryn Bigelow crafts an exceedingly impressive and precise film, drawing together moments and characters spanning years and continents. Even her action/thriller sequences are shot with a striking sense of clarity and space; the concluding raid on Osama's Abbottabad home stands out as an impeccable sequence shot essentially in real-time.
The true strength of Zero Dark Thirty, however, is in its cold look at the moral quagmire surrounding the CIA's actions. Much has been made of the depiction torture in the film, with many decrying ZDT as both supporting its use and implying it was instrumental in finding bin Laden. In truth, whether such "enhanced interrogation" was a boon or hindrance is mostly left ambiguous; in later scenes CIA officers loudly bemoan their previous use of torture, but their ire is directed just as much at the increased oversight burdening them post-Abu Ghraib than at the practice itself. Instead, the position Bigelow adopts is more clinical and removed, presenting he choices and compromises America has made in the War on Terror plainly and bluntly and forcing the audience to consider whether such sacrifices are an acceptable price to pay.
Why it isn't:
Jessica Chastain gives a strong performance as Maya, the CIA officer at the heart of the operation (Maya being an amalgam of several real life operatives). But she's completely walled-off from the audience: we are never given a sense of her backstory, family, long-term goals, or even her full name. The one time it looks like we might get to see Maya interact outside of an office environment the scene is hijacked by the Mumbai bombings rather than character development. She is less a character than a cypher. Furthermore, in covering eight years of the hunt for Osama, ZDT runs into the problem that in many of these years nothing occurred except for a mounting sense of frustration.The first and last half-hours of the film are outstanding, but showing the breadth of the operation and all the false leads and dead ends that entails makes the film frequently loses steam.
Of course my biggest reservation about ZDT strikes more at the core of the film: what exactly is the message it is trying to convey? Between the torture, frequent mentions that al Queda's operations are continuing independently of Osama's leadership, and the mental and physical toll the hunt takes on Maya and her fellow operatives, the movie seems to argue that the whole operation wasn't worth the cost and that even success won't result in real change. While talking to a friend about why I'm colder to this film than most critics, he pointed out that Zero Dark Thirty was in production before Osama's death. Viewed in this light, it is far easier to argue that lack of closure is meant to be the main theme of the film; when they were first envisioning the project it was without a definitive conclusion.
But real life then intervened to give them an ending, one that works to the film's detriment. As mentioned above, the Abbottabad raid is tense, visceral, and wonderfully shot. It also, however, stands as a visual example of military efficiency and competence. As a result, the film's message becomes undercut significantly. ZDT's first two hours may filled with moral compromises, painful casualties, and a growing question of whether the hunt is worth the toll it's taking, but audiences leave the theater having just witnessed thirty minutes of thrilling action in which all objectives were met and no casualties incurred. The film ends on a note of accomplishment, and in the process muddies its own argument.
#6: Zero Dark Thirty
A dramatization of the CIA's manhunt of Osama bin Laden, Zero Dark Thirty depicts an operation that spanned a decade and ended with a SEAL team raid into Pakistan.Why this should be higher:
Meticulous is the best word to describe Zero Dark Thirty. The characters spend a decade poring over every scrap of evidence that might even tangentially connect to their target. Key breakthroughs come from cross-referencing data from years earlier. And director Kathryn Bigelow crafts an exceedingly impressive and precise film, drawing together moments and characters spanning years and continents. Even her action/thriller sequences are shot with a striking sense of clarity and space; the concluding raid on Osama's Abbottabad home stands out as an impeccable sequence shot essentially in real-time.
The true strength of Zero Dark Thirty, however, is in its cold look at the moral quagmire surrounding the CIA's actions. Much has been made of the depiction torture in the film, with many decrying ZDT as both supporting its use and implying it was instrumental in finding bin Laden. In truth, whether such "enhanced interrogation" was a boon or hindrance is mostly left ambiguous; in later scenes CIA officers loudly bemoan their previous use of torture, but their ire is directed just as much at the increased oversight burdening them post-Abu Ghraib than at the practice itself. Instead, the position Bigelow adopts is more clinical and removed, presenting he choices and compromises America has made in the War on Terror plainly and bluntly and forcing the audience to consider whether such sacrifices are an acceptable price to pay.
Why it isn't:
Jessica Chastain gives a strong performance as Maya, the CIA officer at the heart of the operation (Maya being an amalgam of several real life operatives). But she's completely walled-off from the audience: we are never given a sense of her backstory, family, long-term goals, or even her full name. The one time it looks like we might get to see Maya interact outside of an office environment the scene is hijacked by the Mumbai bombings rather than character development. She is less a character than a cypher. Furthermore, in covering eight years of the hunt for Osama, ZDT runs into the problem that in many of these years nothing occurred except for a mounting sense of frustration.The first and last half-hours of the film are outstanding, but showing the breadth of the operation and all the false leads and dead ends that entails makes the film frequently loses steam.
Of course my biggest reservation about ZDT strikes more at the core of the film: what exactly is the message it is trying to convey? Between the torture, frequent mentions that al Queda's operations are continuing independently of Osama's leadership, and the mental and physical toll the hunt takes on Maya and her fellow operatives, the movie seems to argue that the whole operation wasn't worth the cost and that even success won't result in real change. While talking to a friend about why I'm colder to this film than most critics, he pointed out that Zero Dark Thirty was in production before Osama's death. Viewed in this light, it is far easier to argue that lack of closure is meant to be the main theme of the film; when they were first envisioning the project it was without a definitive conclusion.
But real life then intervened to give them an ending, one that works to the film's detriment. As mentioned above, the Abbottabad raid is tense, visceral, and wonderfully shot. It also, however, stands as a visual example of military efficiency and competence. As a result, the film's message becomes undercut significantly. ZDT's first two hours may filled with moral compromises, painful casualties, and a growing question of whether the hunt is worth the toll it's taking, but audiences leave the theater having just witnessed thirty minutes of thrilling action in which all objectives were met and no casualties incurred. The film ends on a note of accomplishment, and in the process muddies its own argument.
Great scene. Wrong movie. |
Monday, February 11, 2013
Oscar-down #7: Django Unchained
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9, #8)
Why this should be higher:
If ever there was an actor born to recite Tarrantinoniain dialogue it's Waltz, who delivers his lengthy, twisty monologues with a pitch-perfect blend of playfulness and steely resolve. But even he is upstaged by some of his costars. Leonardo DiCaprio, taking his first supporting role in over a decade, is cast wonderfully against-type as a sadistic plantation owner whose twisted arrogance bubbles out from under a gentlemanly veneer. Meanwhile Samuel L. Jackson gives a daring performance as a hatred-fueled house slave, managing to become the most vile character in a film filled with monsters.
Quentin Tarrantino brings all of his usually stylized action and uniquely verbiose dialogue to bear in his newest work on Revenge. Some people chastise Tarrantino for being too over-the-top and exploitative, especially with regards to violence. These people are miss the point. Django Unchained certainly has moments of spectacular violence and cartoonish levels of bloodshed, including one of the most thrilling cinematic shootouts in years. But behind its pulpy take on spaghetti Westerns, Tarrantino's film presents a depiction of the realities of slavery more brutal and unflinching than most other directors would dare. Django makes you think about the violence its portraying, and the result is a movie not only entertaining, but uncomfortably reflective.
Why it isn't:
Still, Django stands as my 2nd least favorite Tarrantino film. For one thing the film runs 180 minutes, and it shows. I wanted to check my watch more often during this film than for any of the other nominees (and any other film period this year except for The Hobbit). Contributing to this problem is that Django is the most straight-forward film Tarrantino has ever made; there's no timeline trickery and with the exception of a few minor twists the general arc of the film can be predicted fairly early on. Thus while there are exciting action and dialogue setpieces, by the third hour the space between these moments tends to drag.
The film's other biggest problem is Django himself. Jamie Foxx gives a solid and restrained performance as the freed slave but the character frequently comes off as a bit too reserved. Normally I'm all for subtlety and nuance, but given the film's outlandish direction and characters, Django sometimes feels like he was dropped in from a different movie. The disconnect between Tarrantino's style and his subject matter can also make for some jarring tonal shifts. One scene may feature comical wordplay and Hollywood explosions, the next a slave being torn apart by dogs. Unlike Inglorious Basterds before it, Django never quite finds its middle ground between being an action-packed revenge flick and a movie highlighting historical atrocities, and as a result it doesn't fully work as either.
#7: Django Unchained
In a pre-Civil War South, freed slave Django (Jaime Foxx) partners with a German bounty hunter (Christoph Waltz) in order to rescue his wife from a vicious plantation owner.Why this should be higher:
If ever there was an actor born to recite Tarrantinoniain dialogue it's Waltz, who delivers his lengthy, twisty monologues with a pitch-perfect blend of playfulness and steely resolve. But even he is upstaged by some of his costars. Leonardo DiCaprio, taking his first supporting role in over a decade, is cast wonderfully against-type as a sadistic plantation owner whose twisted arrogance bubbles out from under a gentlemanly veneer. Meanwhile Samuel L. Jackson gives a daring performance as a hatred-fueled house slave, managing to become the most vile character in a film filled with monsters.
Give this man more villainous roles. Now. |
Why it isn't:
Still, Django stands as my 2nd least favorite Tarrantino film. For one thing the film runs 180 minutes, and it shows. I wanted to check my watch more often during this film than for any of the other nominees (and any other film period this year except for The Hobbit). Contributing to this problem is that Django is the most straight-forward film Tarrantino has ever made; there's no timeline trickery and with the exception of a few minor twists the general arc of the film can be predicted fairly early on. Thus while there are exciting action and dialogue setpieces, by the third hour the space between these moments tends to drag.
The film's other biggest problem is Django himself. Jamie Foxx gives a solid and restrained performance as the freed slave but the character frequently comes off as a bit too reserved. Normally I'm all for subtlety and nuance, but given the film's outlandish direction and characters, Django sometimes feels like he was dropped in from a different movie. The disconnect between Tarrantino's style and his subject matter can also make for some jarring tonal shifts. One scene may feature comical wordplay and Hollywood explosions, the next a slave being torn apart by dogs. Unlike Inglorious Basterds before it, Django never quite finds its middle ground between being an action-packed revenge flick and a movie highlighting historical atrocities, and as a result it doesn't fully work as either.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Oscar-down #8: Lincoln
(Will counts down his favorite Best Picture noms! #9)
Why this should be higher:
The acting in Lincoln is phenomenal from top to bottom. When Daniel Day-Lewis was cast as the lead in a Spielberg biopic his winning of an Oscar became a foregone conclusion, whether merited or not. But Day-Lewis earns all of the accolades he has received for his portrayal of the President, falling deep into the role of a man committed to his cause even as his self-doubt tears at him inside. The rest of the cast is a murder's row of character actors embracing their parts, no matter how small some of them may be. Particular standouts are James Spader as the party operative tasked with wrangling the needed votes, whether by legal means or not, Joseph Gordan-Levitt acting valiantly in the underwritten role of Robert Lincoln, and Jarad Harris pulling off a surprisingly effective Ulysses S. Grant. And Tommy Lee Jones...well he pretty much does a Tommy Lee Jones impression the entire time. But sometimes that's just what a film needs, and this is no exception.
In choosing to focus on such a specific and political aspect of Lincoln's Presidency, the film also succeeds at a tricky task: making legislative action interesting to watch. Centering Lincoln around the battle for the 13th amendment, an often glossed-over part of history, lets the film create a decent amount of suspense around the subject; we may now that the amendment passed, but not how. It also refuses to shy away from Abraham Lincoln's willingness to take draconian and extralegal measures when he felt there was a greater need, something that does much to make the often lionized figure more understandable and empathetic.
Why it isn't:
Unfortunately, every time Lincoln moves its focus away from the amendment's passage it seems to slow to a crawl. There are many subplots running throughout the film's two-and-a-half hour run time, and far too many of them center around Lincoln's family life. Lincoln's strained relationships with his son and wife do little to provide new insight into his character and pull away focus from the more compelling half of the film. Sally Field's Mary Todd Lincoln particularly suffers: her overblown hysterics rely too heavily on the audience's historical knowledge of the woman's mental troubles and eventually cause one to wince whenever she appears onscreen. The specificity of the slice of time Lincoln explores also can become a hindrance. The film's scope is focused, but also restricted, unable to fully draw on some of the other aspects of Lincoln's tenure like his Cabinet's internal struggles or a fully raging Civil War. As for the ending, yikes. In order to avoid taking the obvious path Lincoln instead takes a far inferior one, continuing for several maddeningly pointless scenes beyond it's natural conclusion.*
Lincoln is a fine film, but it never rises above what you'd expect it to be. Steven Spielberg remains an eminently talented director, but his most recent work does little to counter arguments he's now operating on auto-pilot. Lincoln is standard Spielberg in "prestige" mode.The camera captures sweeping visuals, the production design is gorgeous, the score is stirring. Yet we already know he's capable of doing that. We've seen it all before, and those hoping for something new or innovative will be left wanting. A better story and performances are the only things that distinguish this film from last year's mediocre War Horse; in both cases the style and direction is solid, polished, and unexciting.
Lincoln is a good film. It just could have been a great one.
*If, on the other hand, Lincoln had included an unannounced post-credits sequence that revealed Lincoln had faked hi death in order to better murder some vampires I think we'd all think of it as the apotheosis of the medium.
#8: Lincoln
Set at the start of 1965, Spielberg's Lincoln focuses on the 16th President's struggles to get Congress to swiftly pass the 13th amendment, formally abolishing slavery. Facing steep opposition from the Democrats and potential revolt from Republicans, Abraham Lincoln is forced to weigh his ideals against the prospect of peace.Why this should be higher:
The acting in Lincoln is phenomenal from top to bottom. When Daniel Day-Lewis was cast as the lead in a Spielberg biopic his winning of an Oscar became a foregone conclusion, whether merited or not. But Day-Lewis earns all of the accolades he has received for his portrayal of the President, falling deep into the role of a man committed to his cause even as his self-doubt tears at him inside. The rest of the cast is a murder's row of character actors embracing their parts, no matter how small some of them may be. Particular standouts are James Spader as the party operative tasked with wrangling the needed votes, whether by legal means or not, Joseph Gordan-Levitt acting valiantly in the underwritten role of Robert Lincoln, and Jarad Harris pulling off a surprisingly effective Ulysses S. Grant. And Tommy Lee Jones...well he pretty much does a Tommy Lee Jones impression the entire time. But sometimes that's just what a film needs, and this is no exception.
In choosing to focus on such a specific and political aspect of Lincoln's Presidency, the film also succeeds at a tricky task: making legislative action interesting to watch. Centering Lincoln around the battle for the 13th amendment, an often glossed-over part of history, lets the film create a decent amount of suspense around the subject; we may now that the amendment passed, but not how. It also refuses to shy away from Abraham Lincoln's willingness to take draconian and extralegal measures when he felt there was a greater need, something that does much to make the often lionized figure more understandable and empathetic.
Why it isn't:
Unfortunately, every time Lincoln moves its focus away from the amendment's passage it seems to slow to a crawl. There are many subplots running throughout the film's two-and-a-half hour run time, and far too many of them center around Lincoln's family life. Lincoln's strained relationships with his son and wife do little to provide new insight into his character and pull away focus from the more compelling half of the film. Sally Field's Mary Todd Lincoln particularly suffers: her overblown hysterics rely too heavily on the audience's historical knowledge of the woman's mental troubles and eventually cause one to wince whenever she appears onscreen. The specificity of the slice of time Lincoln explores also can become a hindrance. The film's scope is focused, but also restricted, unable to fully draw on some of the other aspects of Lincoln's tenure like his Cabinet's internal struggles or a fully raging Civil War. As for the ending, yikes. In order to avoid taking the obvious path Lincoln instead takes a far inferior one, continuing for several maddeningly pointless scenes beyond it's natural conclusion.*
Lincoln is a fine film, but it never rises above what you'd expect it to be. Steven Spielberg remains an eminently talented director, but his most recent work does little to counter arguments he's now operating on auto-pilot. Lincoln is standard Spielberg in "prestige" mode.The camera captures sweeping visuals, the production design is gorgeous, the score is stirring. Yet we already know he's capable of doing that. We've seen it all before, and those hoping for something new or innovative will be left wanting. A better story and performances are the only things that distinguish this film from last year's mediocre War Horse; in both cases the style and direction is solid, polished, and unexciting.
Lincoln is a good film. It just could have been a great one.
Seriously. Just end the f**king movie here. |
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Oscar-down #9: Amour
So, we're now right in the middle of Oscar season, the time every year when film fans argue incessantly about which pictures 'deserve' to win, tear apart any movie they don't like, and bitch about all the films the Academy ignored altogether, all while the rest of the world tries to remember if they've even heard of half of them. This year I managed once again to see all of the Best Picture nominees and right off the bat the competition is leagues better than last year's (whose field was so weak, Moneyball was in my top three). 2012's contenders are varied, comprehensible (no Malick), all enjoyable to at least some extent, and several surprising nomination choices have made this Oscar season widely competitive for once.
Anyway, I have some thoughts about these films. And since this is the internet, there is only one proper way to share them: list form!
For the next few days I'll be ranking the nine Best picture nominees based on how much I liked them. Just to be clear: this isn't meant to celebrate the "best" movie. Though I appreciate well-made films, ultimately this order is about how much I enjoyed the movies; more of a gut thing than a full critical analysis.
Anyway, let's start of with film #9...
#9: Amour
Amour is a film about love, death, and how us humans struggle to cope with both of these things. Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant play Anne and Georges, a retired elderly couple living on their own in a Parisian apartment. After Anne suffers a stroke that paralyzes half of her body, her and Georges are forced to deal with her new and worsening medical condition as both struggle with the lengths to which they would go for love.
Why this should be higher on the list:
Amour is brutally effective at depicting the haunting aura of helplessness and despair that hangs over Georges and Anne. With the exception of one brief early scene, the film never leaves the couple's small apartment, making effective use of space while playing up the pair's isolation. Director Michael Haneke shoots the movie primarily in long static shots; the length of each take and lack of stylistic flourishes does wonders to emphasize the roteness of Anne and Georges' routines and plays up how the new nightmare their life is slowly becoming could go on without end.
The film is also anchored by two powerful performances by Riva and Trintignant. There is a solemn restraint to both of their roles, and yet a sense of deep abiding love within both of them shines through. Amour is a raw film experience and the actors' chemistry and vulnerability are precisely what make the viewer care, and ultimately hurt, so much.
Why It Isn't:
Even as the minimalist direction of Amour lets the beautiful pain of the story work unimpeded, it often works against the film's sense of pacing. Shots and scenes become too drawn-out, sometimes hammering subtext into the audience's head and while at other points letting sequences run so long that the mind begins to wander.
But ultimately, the reason Amour is my least favorite of this year's nominees is actually a point in it's favor: it is a heavy, heavy film. While the film is undoubtedly effective and painfully honest, it can be difficult to get through and even harder to love. If anything the film is too real: while many tragic stories can still leave the audience uplifted, the ease at which one can see this scenario play out in their own lives or those of their loved ones made me leave the theater feeling utterly forlorn. This is not a knock on the film in any way: part of its intent is to shine an unflinching eye on how a stroke can tear lives apart. But if the film is successful at its goal, that does not make it enjoyable. Amour is brutal, Amour is beautiful, and I will likely never watch it again.
Anyway, I have some thoughts about these films. And since this is the internet, there is only one proper way to share them: list form!
For the next few days I'll be ranking the nine Best picture nominees based on how much I liked them. Just to be clear: this isn't meant to celebrate the "best" movie. Though I appreciate well-made films, ultimately this order is about how much I enjoyed the movies; more of a gut thing than a full critical analysis.
Anyway, let's start of with film #9...
#9: Amour
Amour is a film about love, death, and how us humans struggle to cope with both of these things. Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant play Anne and Georges, a retired elderly couple living on their own in a Parisian apartment. After Anne suffers a stroke that paralyzes half of her body, her and Georges are forced to deal with her new and worsening medical condition as both struggle with the lengths to which they would go for love.
Why this should be higher on the list:
Amour is brutally effective at depicting the haunting aura of helplessness and despair that hangs over Georges and Anne. With the exception of one brief early scene, the film never leaves the couple's small apartment, making effective use of space while playing up the pair's isolation. Director Michael Haneke shoots the movie primarily in long static shots; the length of each take and lack of stylistic flourishes does wonders to emphasize the roteness of Anne and Georges' routines and plays up how the new nightmare their life is slowly becoming could go on without end.
The film is also anchored by two powerful performances by Riva and Trintignant. There is a solemn restraint to both of their roles, and yet a sense of deep abiding love within both of them shines through. Amour is a raw film experience and the actors' chemistry and vulnerability are precisely what make the viewer care, and ultimately hurt, so much.
Why It Isn't:
Even as the minimalist direction of Amour lets the beautiful pain of the story work unimpeded, it often works against the film's sense of pacing. Shots and scenes become too drawn-out, sometimes hammering subtext into the audience's head and while at other points letting sequences run so long that the mind begins to wander.
Over 4 1/2 minutes are spent chasing this pigeon. Across two separate scenes. |
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Comic Panel of the Week (Feb 7)
House of Cards and a new type of "TV"
So Late last week Netflix released the first season of it's first real entry into 'prestige' television: House of Cards. Apart from Streaming services like Netflix getting into the original programming game, the big news about House it that all thirteen episodes were unleashed upon the internet at once. It's an interesting experiment in content distribution and while I'm not sure this model would work for every show for House the strategy was perfect.
A lot of the reservations people seemed to have about all thirteen of House of Cards' episodes being released at once centered around their fear of binge-viewing. Of course many people binge-view shows all the time, either to catch up on a program they've fallen behind on or enjoy a marathon of an old favorite. But this marks the first time a new series lends itself to, and even invites, the audience devouring it over a course of days or hours. And with new content comes the fear of dreaded Spoilers.
There were some fears that in order to avoid having surprises ruined for them by the earliest watchers, viewers would have to race through the series quickly themselves, a race that would leave many frustrated rather than enthralled. Luckily, those problems never came to light. Internet writers, by and large, were cautious about both the timing and detail of their reviews. Social media chatter about the series was relatively quiet as well (Though this is likely less out of respect than it is about how niche House of Cards is. For contrast, the ending of last week's New Girl was spread everywhere within hours). It remains to be seen if dodging spoilers will be as easy when Arrested Development, a massive and growing cult-hit, premieres out its new season under the same model this spring. But for now at least, Netflix's strategy avoids any major pitfalls.
In fact, I'd argue that House of Cards is exactly the type of show that benefits greatly from an all-at-once rollout. The first few episodes, while solid, are notably less engaging than the rest of the series though the potential for greatness is clear. Having the entire season available made me far more willing to keep moving through this slow patch and on to the next episode, where for shows airing on television I may have abandoned it after a couple of weeks deciding it wasn't for me (Sorry The Americans...). Furthermore, I got to set my own pace with the series, never feeling either rushed or in a state of painful anticipation. Over the weekend and into Monday I saw the first eight episodes, averaging about 2 a day, only to marathon through the last five in a period of twelve hours. This is exactly the sort of pacing most series strive for over the course of a season--steadily ramping up the plots and tension before it builds towards a race to the finale--but House of Cards' distribution lets the audience replicate that arc not just within the story but in how they choose to consume it
For all the unique release House of Cards was given its easy to forget sometimes that it is still a television show (albeit one not airing on television), with all of the structural quirks that the medium entails. Binge-viewing makes the few relatively stand-alone "breather" episodes stand out all the more and, perhaps in an effort to make Spoilers less dangerous, the finale doesn't quite feel climactic enough, ultimately working better as a teaser for season 2 than a decisive episode in its own right.* And yet these minor irritants are only to be expected. House of Cards and Netflix's treatment of it is breaking new ground in the medium, and it opens up some fascinating possibilities for the future.
*It is entirely possible my expectations were too high. The BBC House of Cards features one of the more memorable season finales I can remember.
A lot of the reservations people seemed to have about all thirteen of House of Cards' episodes being released at once centered around their fear of binge-viewing. Of course many people binge-view shows all the time, either to catch up on a program they've fallen behind on or enjoy a marathon of an old favorite. But this marks the first time a new series lends itself to, and even invites, the audience devouring it over a course of days or hours. And with new content comes the fear of dreaded Spoilers.
There were some fears that in order to avoid having surprises ruined for them by the earliest watchers, viewers would have to race through the series quickly themselves, a race that would leave many frustrated rather than enthralled. Luckily, those problems never came to light. Internet writers, by and large, were cautious about both the timing and detail of their reviews. Social media chatter about the series was relatively quiet as well (Though this is likely less out of respect than it is about how niche House of Cards is. For contrast, the ending of last week's New Girl was spread everywhere within hours). It remains to be seen if dodging spoilers will be as easy when Arrested Development, a massive and growing cult-hit, premieres out its new season under the same model this spring. But for now at least, Netflix's strategy avoids any major pitfalls.
In fact, I'd argue that House of Cards is exactly the type of show that benefits greatly from an all-at-once rollout. The first few episodes, while solid, are notably less engaging than the rest of the series though the potential for greatness is clear. Having the entire season available made me far more willing to keep moving through this slow patch and on to the next episode, where for shows airing on television I may have abandoned it after a couple of weeks deciding it wasn't for me (Sorry The Americans...). Furthermore, I got to set my own pace with the series, never feeling either rushed or in a state of painful anticipation. Over the weekend and into Monday I saw the first eight episodes, averaging about 2 a day, only to marathon through the last five in a period of twelve hours. This is exactly the sort of pacing most series strive for over the course of a season--steadily ramping up the plots and tension before it builds towards a race to the finale--but House of Cards' distribution lets the audience replicate that arc not just within the story but in how they choose to consume it
For all the unique release House of Cards was given its easy to forget sometimes that it is still a television show (albeit one not airing on television), with all of the structural quirks that the medium entails. Binge-viewing makes the few relatively stand-alone "breather" episodes stand out all the more and, perhaps in an effort to make Spoilers less dangerous, the finale doesn't quite feel climactic enough, ultimately working better as a teaser for season 2 than a decisive episode in its own right.* And yet these minor irritants are only to be expected. House of Cards and Netflix's treatment of it is breaking new ground in the medium, and it opens up some fascinating possibilities for the future.
*It is entirely possible my expectations were too high. The BBC House of Cards features one of the more memorable season finales I can remember.
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