“They say we’re in danger/But I disagree,” coos The xx’s Oliver Sim on “Dangerous,” the opening cut on the trio’s startling third album, I See You. The declaration feels at home within the song’s instrumentals, a thumping bassline and synthesized horns adding to the song’s triumphant defiance.
But the sentiment is unexpected from The xx, made up of bassist Sim, guitarist and vocalist Romy Madley Croft and drummer/producer Jamie xx (real name Jamie Smith). The band’s self-titled debut LP and its lackluster sophomore effort, Coexist, thrived on understatement, a reflection of the group’s quiet, goth-like demeanor. Even when Croft declared her love on Coexist’s “Angels,” the song’s emotions seemed fragile, almost wary of exposure.
On I See You, the band comes out of its shell. Bolstered by a more expansive sonic palette from Smith (still making waves after the release of his solo project, In Colour), The xx have found a new confidence and just a tiny bit of swagger. Its sound is still hushed, but more lively, and the melodic and instrumental interplay between them has never felt more exhilarating.
The album is the most accessible of their career, a result of the group opening themselves up to their audience and each other. Recent profiles paint a portrait of a band reinvigorated after faltering and nearly falling apart. The trio splintered after 2012, unsure of their direction following the release of Coexist (an album that, while decently reviewed, felt like a distinct disappointment). Croft and Sim’s appearances on In Colour, three years later, was the first glimpse of the three working together since.
They reunited for I See You,a result of the band opening up to each other and to new musical possibilities. Sampling plays a prominent role, with cycled audio clips frequently adding to Sim’s or Croft’s live instrumentals. Smith has become a master producer, and he brings some of his newfound sonic expansiveness to tracks like lead single “On Hold.” As Sim and Croft trade notes on a failing relationship, the beat convulses and breathes, crescendoing into a fast tempo punctuated by a Hall & Oates sample. It is more experimental and electronic than most of the band’s previous material, but its fearlessness is its defining attribute.
The production lends itself to The xx’s trademark emotional intimacy. “Violent Noise” echoes robotic dance textures, creating an unnerving, pulsing vacuum. Croft reaches delivers the album’s vocal apex on the heartbreaking “Performance.” “When you saw me leaving/Did you think I had a place to go?” she asks in hushed tones, in an open admission of insecurity. “I’ll put on a performance/So you won’t see my heart break.” Smith incorporates strings into the arrangement, pushing the song upward before giving way to the broken quiet of Croft’s voice.
The record gradually shifts, placing a lens squarely on the members of the band and their relationships. On “Replica,” the band pledges their love for one another. “I’ll be your mirror,” Croft cries, reaffirming the band’s friendship and honesty. This is where the album is at its most powerful, inviting the listener to experience the band as people first and musicians second.
For all of their past insecurity, I See You represents a remarkable transition for The xx. Beaten down by doubts, they have emerged triumphant, with the bravery to be themselves. “I’ll take it out on you,” Croft and Sim declare during the album’s closer, “Test Me.” The moment is one of catharsis: the trio is more open with each other, and their audience, than they’ve ever been.
Winter break is something every student looks forward to experiencing. But those who left Eugene in December quickly found out that getting back to school in the snow is a special kind of hell. Most of Oregon reached sub-freezing temperatures and snow caused crippling traffic issues throughout Portland. Snow covered Eugene and even led to canceled classes on Jan. 9, as both the Portland and Eugene airports lost their collective minds.
As a result, my time spent at home in the Bay Area was extended; my flight back to school was canceled three times over five days. By Sunday night (a few hours before classes were scheduled to start) the Silicon Valley felt a bit like a prison.
Movies, naturally, provided some entertainment. But few films I watched over the break were able to communicate how frustrating it can be to have travel plans fall through. The same is true across the majority of movies.
Too often, character’s get from point A to point B via a montage or visual effect, with little regard for detail. Indiana Jones’ famous flights across the world were reduced to a red line on a map. In Chef, writer-director Jon Favreau distills a cross-country road trip to a series of comedic vignettes. Superheroes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe sort of just fly wherever they are needed.
In short, it’s frustrating to see so many films gloss over the troubles you can encounter while traveling, especially after facing numerous delays in the real world.
Of course, it’s easy to argue that any film that gets bogged down in the details of everyday life would be, in the plainest terms, boring as hell. There’s a reason writers and directors omit scenes of characters fixing a broken tire, using a restroom or brushing teeth. If an action does not serve a dramatic or comedic purpose, it usually doesn’t belong in a movie.
But that doesn’t mean films can’t find joy or drama in the act of travel itself. In fact, groups of films designed almost entirely to poke fun at the possible misfortunes of a vacation or a trip home. In particular, writer-director John Hughes’ Planes, Trains and Automobiles represents the best example of a comedy able to make laughs out of a disaster-ridden trip home.
The film, starring Steve Martin as a cynical and high-strung marketing executive, and John Candy as an outgoing and overly-positive shower curtain ring salesman, follows the pair of comedic giants over three days as Martin attempts to make a long odyssey home from New York City to Chicago. Along the way, flights get canceled, rental cars are ludicrously set aflame, and the two men gradually bond over their shared misadventures.
Hughes, who previously limited his directorial work to teen movies, mines Murphy’s law for great comedy; everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. Steve Martin and John Candy have unexpectedly great chemistry, and the two of them milk every single moment for laughs. It’s hilarious to watch everything fall apart for them.
But the film is noteworthy beyond its hilarity. The set pieces on display are completely ridiculous. But in the context of canceled flights and constant Northwest snowfall, Planes, Trains and Automobiles emerges as one of the few films that focus on the minutiae of travel in the best way possible. As maddening as it can be not to get back to school on time, it’s impossible not to laugh at a movie that understands that frustration.
Pablo Larraín’s Jackie wants its audiences to think it has a lot on its mind. Featuring striking imagery and a series of adept performances, the story, which follows the titular Kennedy matriarch in the days immediately before and after the JFK assassination, takes a contemplative approach to the traditional biopic formula. Its themes reveal themselves slowly to the audience, often relying on its convincing acting (especially from Natalie Portman in the lead role) to suggest emotional subtext.
In short, many of the elements needed for an introspective, masterful film are here, which is why it’s a shame that the resulting work is an almost complete misfire. While well-meaning and made with visual grace, the film is written, performed and crafted with very little subtlety, forcing its meaning onto its audience like a hammer on a thematic nail.
The plot falls directly into the conventions of Oscar bait filmography. In the aftermath of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, Jackie Kennedy invites a journalist (Billy Crudup) to her residence to write a profile detailing the First Lady’s struggle following her husband’s death. These scenes are intermixed with flashbacks to the days before and after the assassination, as Bobby Kennedy (Peter Sarsgaard) moderates the transfer of power to Lyndon B. Johnson and his clan. Meanwhile, Jackie insists upon an extravagant procession for her husband, as she sinks further into mindless grief.
Even on paper, the outline above is far from unique. Countless other biopics share similar narratives, almost beat for beat. Jackie stands apart mostly because of the historical figure it chooses to follow (and her gender), and its choice to construct her post-mortem journey primarily as an internal psychological battle. In this regard, Portman rises to the challenge. Her performance is electrifying when the film follows her in Jackie’s quiet, solitary moments. Larraín holds her face in close-up for much of the film, rarely tearing away from her emotional horror.
Portman is less convincing in scenes when she is forced to impersonate Mrs. Kennedy, down to her mannerisms and voice. Try as she might, the Oscar-winning actress cannot sell Jackie’s accent, opting instead for a whispery New England lilt that sounds authentic half the time.
Other times, the Kennedy aura is completely absent. The result is a performance that feels incomplete and pressured, as if Portman was constrained by the legacy of Jackie herself. Other performances, especially that of John Carroll Lynch as Lyndon B. Johnson, are completely miscalculated and toothless.
But the film’s greatest weakness lies in Noah Oppenheim’s screenplay, which shifts radically between silent emotional moments and overwrought explanatory monologues. Oppenheim, best known for penning cinematic adaptations of young adult fiction, relies on symbolism and emotional undertones so basic that the film’s artful intentions are difficult to take seriously.
Jackie and the supporting cast of characters literally explain their deepest fears and desires among themselves in unnatural lines. An example: “I believe that the characters we read about on the page end up being more real than the men who stand beside us.” If that doesn’t induce a groan by itself, Larraín pulls in with an extreme close-up to accentuate each and every word.
It’s a shame that Jackie, with all of the talent involved both in front and behind the camera, fails to offer anything unique. Even in the film’s most harrowing moments, it’s impossible to shake the feeling that absolutely none of this is new, or particularly impressive. Portman gives it her all, but the writing and lack of nuanced thematic material hinders this biopic from start to finish.
With the release of a new Star Wars film, the Emerald has enlisted four writers to offer their views on the film. The response from critics so far has been mixed, so we decided to offer a multi-take review for the first Star Wars side story, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.
Mathew Brock, associate arts and culture editor; Dana Alston, Emerald film critic; Franklin Lewis, arts and culture reporter; and Zach Price, arts and culture reporter, each have a different background with the Star Wars franchise, and they offer their respective opinions of the film below.
Mathew Brock’s Take — Star Wars Aficionado
Rogue One is one of the best Star Wars films to date and should be considered a pinnacle of the franchise alongside the original trilogy. It certainly blows away the three Lucas prequels and stands on its own better than The Force Awakens. It’s the prequel that we deserved as opposed to the hit or miss trilogy we received.
Best of all, it proves Disney’s plan to offer us with spin off films every other year is a good one and that a story set in the Star Wars universe, but not necessarily connected to the main story, can work well.
As someone who has delved deep into the Star Wars expanded universe, Rogue One is everything I could have wanted, showcasing aspects of the franchise we haven’t seen in the films before. It shows the darker, more militant and tragic side of the rebellion and does a good job framing the events of A New Hope.
The film’s depiction of The Force and the spiritual aspect behind it is presented in a new way through the feats of a blind force user (not a Jedi) named Chirrut Imwe. The reprogrammed Imperial droid K-2SO steals every scene it’s in and manages to redeem droids everywhere after they were relegated to little more than comic relief in the prequel trilogy.
The environments are finely detailed and the fights, both on land and in space, are put together excellently. The story does progress a little too fast at times and there are a lot of characters to keep track of, but each story arc is resolved fairly satisfactory in a way that’s reminiscent of a true war movie.
The cameos are on point too, with characters from the original trilogy fitting well into the story and staying true to both their original and Expanded Universe personas. Even characters from the animated series and recent novels appear subtly in the background.
Rogue One is a prequel done right and is a fantastic example of what is to come. The best Star Wars media have always been relegated to comics, books and games of the Expanded Universe, but now we have a set platform for those stories to unfold on the big screen.
Dana’s Take — Star Wars lover and Emerald film critic
Is there any chance Rogue One, the first in Disney’s planned series of Star Wars standalone films, won’t be successful? The series’ financial success seems inevitable. Whether its quality will hold up is another story.
Rogue One is at least earnest, if limited, in its attempts to change the formula, delivering the whimsy and humor of a typical Star Wars film while still introducing darker, more violent concepts into the franchise. Unfortunately, even at its best moments, it’s difficult to shake a general lack of authenticity emanating from the screen.
This movie exists, first and foremost, to make money. If only that was easier to ignore.
The story, which acts as a narrative bridge between the prequel and original trilogies, follows a ragtag group of Rebel soldiers on their quest to capture the plans to the infamous Death Star. The cast of characters is diverse, likable and thoroughly underused. Most of them only get one or two chances at the spotlight before the film ends. This group of fine, capable actors deserve better than what they are given.
Meanwhile, director Gareth Edwards appears to have been hired simply to produce a sellable product. His style is so indistinct here that the film fails to create a lasting visual impression, despite some crisp imagery from cinematographer Greig Fraser. Screenwriters Chris Weitz and Tony Gilroy don’t offer much help. Expository dialogue is ever-present and often clumsy, and several story beats play directly against logic.
But the film’s biggest narrative mishap has more to do with its conception. Rogue One‘s story is forever beholden to the stories that will follow, and therefore cannot stand alone. At its worst, it feels more like a small cog in a great machine than a self-contained spin-off, keen to satisfy first, and challenge its audience later.
Luckily, Rogue One is remarkably dark for a Star Wars film, and its greatest strength is its ability to make dire subjects (the cost of war chief among them) fit into the franchise. Death and destruction are very prudent elements here, and several battle sequences pack some additional punch as a result. Despite how inconsequential the film really is, watching people die in the Star Wars universe is still jarring.
Unfortunately, that commitment to darkness is the only truly notable element over the film’s two-and-a-half hours. The rest has been thoroughly explored before, in other blockbusters. Time will tell if that lack of variety sinks the Star Wars ship. For now, it’s easier to just pay for a ticket to have fun at the movies.
Franklin’s Take — Casual Star Wars Fan
Rogue One’s brilliance is how the film offers something for everyone. It incorporates aspects of a classic summer action flick: a clear-cut good vs evil struggle, big explosions and plenty of CGI; however, complex characters and a diverse cast help Rouge One distinguish itself from a typical action movie.
The writers favor action and intrigue over reflective or romantic moments, which help move the plot along and engulf the audience in a way previous instalments of Star Wars can no longer do. This emphasis is somewhat due to the 21st century technology available to the production team as they can enhance and refine the special effects in the older episodes. But even compared to last year’s, The Force Awakens, Rogue One relies more on raw battle scenes and the internal power struggles within both sides. For this, hats off go to the writers for recognizing what audiences wanted out of a fresh take on Star Wars.
Felicity Jones plays an inspiring and confident heroine with decent support from sidekick Diego Luna, but K-2SO really ties the Rebel main character group together as a wittier, more useful version of C3PO (gold-colored droid featured prominently in the original episodes, and briefly seen in The Force Awakens). Voiced by Alan Tudyk, K-2SO is a reprogramed Imperial droid whose resourcefulness and dry sense of humor come in handy time and time again, both for the sake of the characters and the integrity of the movie.
What the movie nails particularly well is the toxic political structure of the Imperials. Known for his villainous roles, Ben Mendelsohn fails to disappoint as he mixes the perfect amount of swagger, arrogance and ruthlessness into his role as commander of the Death Star project. Sprinkle in solid performances by other outlaws and Imperials, and of course, the reappearance of Darth Vader, and it adds up to an excellent force of evil entities.
Rogue One is what a modern Star Wars movie should look like.
Zach Price’s take — Proud owner of a Jedi robe
Not sequentially connected to the plot of last year’s JJ Abrams film, Rogue One takes place between Star Wars Episodes III and IV. Rogue One follows the story of Gin Erso (Felicity Jones), who is the daughter of the man tasked with engineering the infamous planet destroyer, the Death Star.
After teaming up with Rebel Alliance Captain Cassian Andor, she sets out to find rebel extremist Saw Gerrera (Forest Whitaker) in hopes of finding information of her father’s whereabouts. Luckily, Forest Whitaker’s appearance is short lived. After relaying a message from a defected Imperial pilot, Gerrera is killed after the Death Star blasts a nearby city. Whitaker’s casting seems like the studio reached for a big name that just doesn’t land.
Adding a blind warrior and a heavily armed mercenary to their team, Erso and Andor head to the rebel headquarters to relay a message from her father. After learning that her father put a flaw in the Death Star’s plans, Gin tries to convince the Rebellion leaders that they must send its army to retrieve the plans from an Imperial base. She delivers a somewhat awkward speech to the council trying to inspire them to act on this newfound information.
Felicity Jones’ performance is only marred by her character’s shockingly quick transformation from someone who has no interest in the Rebellion to a leader of a small fleet of troops.
The final sequence makes the whole movie. With X-wing fighters flying past your nose and the Death Star beams shooting from the ceiling, the final battle scene made paying extra for the 3-D worth it. The ending will have you itching to watch Episode IV as soon as you get home. Overall, Rogue One, much like The Force Awakens, played it safe. There were no mind- shattering reveals or unexpected plot twists, but the film told a story that everyone knew the ending to as best as it could. Good acting, excellent visuals and intense battle scenes made this movie entertaining for casual and die-hard fans alike.
It’s Academy Awards season yet again, and that means there are plenty of fine films competing for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences’ attention. Several of the front-runners have already made their way to theaters; many more will be released over the next month. With winter break now in full swing, here are six must-see Oscar contenders in theaters now.
Moonlight (In theaters)
Masculinity. Pride. Sexuality. Race. Few films have managed to talk about these subjects in a meaningful way, but Moonlight handles all of them with such grace and care that it’s impossible to deny the film’s power. It follows Chiron, a young black man living in a drug-addled Miami, through three stages of his life as he attempts to accept his own homosexuality. Few movies are this understanding and free of judgment, even if it’s technical shortcomings sometimes betray its artful intentions. It’s a slow, contemplative, beautiful film and it is an absolute must-watch for moviegoers everywhere.
In 2014, Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash sent audiences into a paranoid frenzy with a frenetic and personal portrait of a drummer taught and tortured by a tyrannical instructor. Now, Chazelle has followed that film with La La Land, a musical written for the screen as a love letter to a cinematic era long since past. Starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling as struggling Hollywood artists, the film promises joy to audiences lucky enough to fall into its rhythm. The film currently sits at the top of the Oscar front-runner rumor mill, and early impressions suggest the possibility of an instant classic.
Watch the trailer here:
Manchester by the Sea (In theaters)
Playwright and filmmaker Kenneth Lonergan, whose previous writing credits include the violently extravagant Gangs of New York, continues his New England-rooted filmography with Manchester by the Sea, a family drama starring Casey Affleck and Michele Williams. The film deals with topics of grief and responsibility and the importance of family, while offering Affleck and Williams a stage to showcase their talents in front of the camera. Supremely understated or deeply personal, Manchester by the Sea is simply a must-see.
Watch the trailer here:
Fences (In theaters Dec. 16)
Denzel Washington and Viola Davis are two of the greatest actors working in film today. With Fences, Washington will make his directional debut, adapting a Pulitzer Prize-winning play by August Wilson and making a serious case for the actor’s strength behind the camera. Wilson has stated for years that he would only allowed a film adaptation of the play if an African-American directed it. After a 2010 Broadway revival, in which Washington and Davis both starred, Washington reportedly jumped at the chance to direct the film. Early reception has been overwhelmingly positive, and both lead actors are expected to be in the Oscar conversation.
Watch the trailer here:
Silence (In theaters Dec. 23)
Martin Scorsese’s passion project, about two Portuguese Jesuit missionaries sent to Japan in the 17th century, took more than two decades to produce. The result is a film with almost unholy levels of hype, but early buzz suggests that it’s well deserved. Starring Andrew Garfield, Adam Driver and Liam Neeson, Silence follows its two main protagonists as they search for their mentor, who renounces his religion after long periods of persecution and torture. The narrative questions the true definition of faith, and acts as a continuation of Scorsese’s faith-based filmography, which includes the highly controversial Last Temptation of Christ.
When video game mega-publisher Activision announced its intention to release a Call of Duty game every year (between a rotation of three development studios), it was easy to be apprehensive. While some installments made decent attempts to shake up the series’ formula, it was still hard to see how Infinity Ward, Treyarch and Sledgehammer Games were going to keep interest at a fever pitch year after year. 2014’s Advanced Warfare and last year’s Black Ops III were at least decently successful in this regard, but uncertainty still remained.
With Infinity Ward’s Infinite Warfare, it appears those doubts were unfortunately deserved. By moving the game’s setting into the distant future, the Call of Duty franchise now rests in science fiction. The developer clearly hoped to breathe some fresh air into the shooter franchise and revitalize its fans. But despite mechanically sound gameplay and a decent attempt at a coherent narrative, Infinite Warfare can’t escape its own unoriginality.
At least the setting is new. The game’s storyline follows Captain Nick Reyes of the Special Combat Air Recon (SCAR) who uses the soldiers and pilots under his command to fight against the sinister Rear Admiral Salen Koch (Game of Thrones’ Kit Harrington) of the fanatical Settlement Defense Front (SDF) separatist group. At the game’s start, the SDF launches an all-out assault on Earth, leading to a violent and intense battle for the solar system. Once the player gains control of their own warship, the Redemption, it is up to them how to fight the good fight.
That all sounds perfectly fine for a shooter’s narrative, even if the sci-fi action gets unnecessarily frenetic during some segments. But even by Call of Duty standards, the campaign is severely lackluster. Part of the problem lies in the expectations surrounding the franchise’s single-player experiences. While the series focuses on firefights, immersive blockbuster set pieces have always been a highlight, especially in early installments like the original Modern Warfare. Infinite Warfare is no exception, offering a variety of first-person chase sequences and close calls that are clearly intended to accelerate the player’s heart rate.
But when you’ve avoided three or four burning spaceships and berserk robotic fiends in a row, the repetition of these moments becomes unavoidably distracting. At some points, the simple act of walking around a corner becomes a countdown to yet another jump scare or on-rails “Hollywood” sequence. It would be fine, but these sequences prevent the player from actually controlling the game. It’s hard to truly praise the gameplay when the actual shooting only occurs for five or ten minutes at a time.
The multiplayer, while mostly sound, doesn’t do much to offset the campaign’s disappointment. Most of the classic Call of Duty modes are there, and Infinity Ward does a decent job of overhauling the tried-and-true class system in place since the franchise’s early days. But the game still suffers from an overwhelming familiarity, to the point of boredom at the very prospect of playing it. It’s hard to have much fun when even the multiplayer matches can be boiled down to a by-the-numbers formula.
And while some of Infinity Ward’s changes are admirable and laudable, Infinite Warfare is still at its best when it just allows its players to shoot bad guys. So maybe the problem with Call of Duty isn’t overfamiliarity with the series’ gameplay formulas, but that the franchise itself is overcrowded. Time will tell if Activision’s one-game-per-year schedule will make or break the CoD brand. For now, all we get is more of the same.
John Hughes imitators have found a lot of work over the years. While a decent “teen film” is never a bad thing, few offered more than laughs. Juno, from 2007, countered its emotional storyline with witty dialogue; too bad that dialogue never seemed completely genuine. Easy A served as a popular introduction of Emma Stone to the mainstream, but it was a comedy with very little on its mind. Few of these films have taken the time and emotional care to look at the world through these young people’s eyes like The Breakfast Club or Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
Enter The Edge of Seventeen, the debut feature from writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig. At once heartbreaking, hilarious and comforting, it is a rare, resonant film that works within its genre while doing what it can to expand and critique it. There aren’t many surprises, but few films are this understanding or heartfelt.
Craig owes much of her success behind the camera to her cast. Hailee Steinfeld, who rose to prominence at the age of 14 after her Oscar-nominated turn in True Grit, plays Nadine, a 17-year-old high schooler constantly at odds with life itself. Since the death of her father, her family has felt splintered apart. Her mother Mona (Kyra Sedgwick) hangs over the house like a suffocating raincloud, while her brother Darian (Blake Jenner) is successful, cool and everything Nadine isn’t. Since elementary school, she’s relied on the presence of her best friend Krista (Haley Lu Richardson) to keep her sane. That changes when Nadine walks into Darian’s room one morning and catches Krista in his bed. Cue the drama.
None of this sounds particularly funny or original. It’s The Edge of Seventeen’s greatest weakness. To a large extent, very little of this story is unexplored territory, with boy crushes, awkward dates and abundant, sass-filled dialogue. But there’s also plenty to love here. The film’s cinematography, shot by Doug Emmett, is fairly unremarkable but deserves note for its ability to pull warmth and understated beauty from suburban, everyday images.
But the film’s towering achievement is its commitment to grounded, believable encounters and conversations, a feature that consistently defies expectations. None of the characters are perfect, and it shows. Nadine’s history teacher (Woody Harrelson) is her frequent confidant, but he often seems keen to spar with his student rather than offering guidance or comfort. Darian is a constant thorn in Nadine’s side, and his annoyingly nonchalant attitude makes it easy to understand why. Nadine also has an admirer named Edwin (Hayden Szeto) whose acute awkwardness provides plenty to cringe about. Even Nadine herself, with her constant complaints and sarcasm, is distinctly unlikeable at times.
And yet, isn’t that the point? Whether or not the audience comes to like every one of these characters immediately doesn’t really matter, as each one carries any number of flaws. What is important is that each of them feels fundamentally real. To this end, Craig’s script does an excellent job giving each one of them chances to shine. Even in a film that exists from Nadine’s perspective, none of the people around her seem tertiary or static.
While the film begins and ends on a note familiar to fans of the teen genre, plenty of the film’s beats explore heavy, emotional territory. And in these moments, The Edge of Seventeen is simply terrific, offering a funny, relatable portrait of youth. By the time the credits roll, it stands tall as one of the year’s very best films.
Watch the trailer for The Edge of Seventeen below:
Chiron is withdrawn and quiet. Nicknamed “Little,” he flees from confrontation, terrified of being chased and beaten by his peers. Who can blame him? Other children, and his own drug-addled mother (Naomie Harris) abuse him. Juan (Mahershala Ali), a local hustler, offers protection and understanding. He predicts Little will make his own path in life. Later, Little (Alex Hibbert) sits at the dinner table and asks, “What’s a faggot?” He only seeks to understand how he has been labeled.
Moonlightfollows Chiron through three periods in his young life, and rejects all labels. Instead, writer-director Barry Jenkins seeks only to understand Chiron’s struggle to find himself and to come to terms with his own identity as a gay black man. There is no judgment; only openness to difference. It is a remarkable breath of fresh air and emotionally devastating. Aided by magnificent performances, it overcomes occasional clumsiness with great grace in its intentions, and offers a look at what it means to be masculine in the modern world.
Masculinity is at the heart of this story, hanging over Chiron’s world and drawing a curtain over what he truly feels. The film’s three chapters, separated by several years and each labeled “Little,” “Chiron” and “Black” after Chiron’s subsequent identifiers, depict his native Miami (and later Atlanta) as unforgiving, intolerant suburban metropolises. Chiron finds solace from his tormentors in his only friend, Kevin (played in adulthood by Andre Holland). Their relationship holds great meaning, and their conversations dance around unspoken desires and memories. When Chiron, called “Black” in adulthood (Trevante Rhodes) finally lays himself bare in the film’s last moments, Moonlight’s power is important and undeniable.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the film’s technical aspects, which suffer from a visual and aural palette seemingly designed only to maximize the film’s loftiness. Cinematographer James Laxton alternates between roaming, handheld shots and static, artfully framed portraits and landscapes. It’s a mix that demonstrates great skill but seems at odds with the narrative’s personal nature.
Jenkins regularly dabbles in the surreal, with dream sequences that display plenty of visual splendor but offer little in terms of thematic heft. The musical score further hampers the film, with swelling, self-serious violins intended to lift the film to artful but pretentious heights. These elements create distance between the audience and Moonlight’s themes, rather than fostering a connection between them.
The narrative’s execution is also problematic, if laudable in its intentions. By separating Chiron’s upbringing into a series of defining moments, Jenkins draws a significant amount of emotion and meaning from the story. But this comes with the sacrifice of authenticity; the plot appears distinctly design to maximize feeling, rather than completely genuine. As uncommon as these themes and subjects are in cinema, the film’s structure is anything but unique, and it shows.
But despite it’s flaws, Moonlight’s heart is undoubtedly in the right place. It tackles subjects too often ignored in film, with a careful, well-meaning hand. At its best, it acts as a connection to those who are misunderstood, and gives voice to the hardships and lives of those who feel suffocated by the world’s gaze. Rarely has there been an attempt to critique masculinity and queerness so openly, and with such fearlessness.
Which is why the film’s heavy-handed cinematic tendencies seem so ill-advised. Too often, Jenkins erects barriers between Chiron and the audience. But in Moonlight’s best moments, those barriers seem to melt away, and we’re left with pure connection and truth. It reminds us why we go to the movies.
J.K. Rowling’s wizarding world captivated audiences young and old for decades with the Harry Potter series. The film adaptations, starting with Chris Colombus’ Sorcerer’s Stone, became the second highest grossing film series in history, with over $7.8 billion in tickets sold at the box office. Perhaps more remarkable was the film’s consistent level of quality; all eight of Harry’s onscreen adventures were great movies and avoided the pitfalls of so many other adaptations of young adult literature.
Now, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them has arrived, with all of the series’ past successes looming large behind it. Based on a spin-off book published in 2001, the film is the first of a planned prequel series helmed by returning director David Yates and penned by Rowling herself. And while returning to the world of magic is exhilarating and nostalgic, Fantastic Beasts’ head-scratching story decisions and messy final act will leave many unsatisfied.
Rowling’s screenplay follows an eccentric young British wizard named Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) who visits New York with a suitcase full of… well, fantastic beasts, hoping to find them a new home. Naturally, all hell breaks loose when he accidentally switches cases with a muggle (called a “No-Maj” by American wizards) who promptly loses control on the case’s contents and haphazardly releases several of them into the city.
Scamander teams up with a recently demoted auror (Katherine Waterston) and the No-Maj himself (Dan Fogler) to recover the creatures before they wreck havoc. Meanwhile, the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) races to discover the cause behind several mysterious, destructive accidents throughout the city.
Describing this narrative without using the word “overstuffed” would be disingenuous. Rowling tries to shoehorn in far too many subplots, to the point at which the twists near the end (and there are a few) become thoroughly predictable. In the most egregious example, one character’s actions become more and more unhinged, so that the character’s identity as the true villain of the story in the final 10 minutes isn’t even surprising.
Rowling writes herself into corners pretty consistently as well. The result is a final act that seems to exist only to tie up the film’s numerous loose ends. It does so in a pretty unsatisfying manner. One change in a character’s future is reduced to a single line of dialogue in the final scene, a choice that feels at once lazy and half-assed.
The film really shines, however, when it treats the audience to peeks into the American wizarding world. The Harry Potter series is already known for its visual extravagance, and while Yates’ commitment to muted realism hinders some of the wonder, Rowling’s imagination is still on full display here. Scamander’s suitcase, which is really a gigantic complex used to house his creatures, is a wonderful creation, as are the titular beasts themselves. Yates and Rowling build a series of exciting set pieces around them to great effect.
But these sights and sounds will be infinitely more interesting to those who are already fans of the universe. That’s an issue when the narrative is this weak. Try as it might, Fantastic Beasts and its filmmakers can’t seem to escape the clichés and pitfalls of the Hollywood blockbuster. The result is a beautiful, but distinctly flawed distraction, and a substantial waste of potential. Mischief mismanaged.
Laughter is the best medicine, and people are in need of a prescription. With the results of the election looming large weeks after they occurred, many are looking for a reason to laugh, and avoid any talk of politics. Movies are a natural resource; theater attendance reportedly spiked the weekend of Nov. 8, as thousands flocked to escape from the stress of the week.
Ironically, films about American elections (and American politics in general) seem to reflect the need for good-natured escapism. Over the past century, political comedy became a genre in its own right. Classics like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and The Candidate reflected many of the public’s anxieties regarding the governing process by treating that process as laughable and corrupt.
Mr. Smith remains the best example. The plot follows Jimmy Stewart as a distinctly unqualified junior senator who, in between a series of hilarious mishaps and misunderstandings, uncovers a conspiracy that links a crooked senator to organized crime. While altogether inconsequential (the cliches of 1930’s Hollywood wouldn’t allow for anything more than a happy ending), it exemplifies the power and draw of political comedy. It’s funny, but it has a lot on its mind, and in an era dominated by the Great Depression, war and New Deal bureaucracy, the public welcomed it with open arms.
More recent political comedies poke fun at the modern campaign process. In 2008, Swing Vote imagined a scenario in which the presidential election came down to a single man named Bud, played by Kevin Costner, who knows almost nothing about the hot-button issues. The media misinterprets his lack of knowledge, and as a result, the two candidates constantly betray their own ideas in order to appeal to Bud’s “beliefs.”
Another election-based satire, The Campaign, stars Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis as competing candidates whose campaigns become embroiled in increasingly outlandish PR nightmares. In one scene, Ferrell’s character struggles to recite the Lord’s Prayer in an effort to win the religious vote.
These films take the idea of politics without ideals and pile on the laughs. Others, like 1972’s The Candidate, are more harshly accusatory. Written by a former speechwriter for senator Eugene McCarthy, the award-winning screenplay focuses on Bill McKay (Robert Redford), a young politician and governor’s son campaigning for a Senate seat in a race thought to be impossible to win. That changes when the nominee’s advisors gradually modify his campaign message to be more and more generic, a strategy that garners more support among voters, but limits any talk of actual legislation.
McKay wins in a shocking upset, but the realization of his campaigns negligence toward real issues continues to weigh on him. In the film’s final (and most famous) scene, he pulls his campaign manager aside and asks him, “What do we do now?” He never receives an answer.
It is a question that has hung over thousands of Americans in light of Donald Trump’s stunning victory. Recent headlines paint a portrait of a president-elect unprepared for the job ahead of him. Other articles reported an increase in protests and hate crimes following the election. An air of uncertainty hangs in the air throughout the country.
Movies remain a popular escape mechanism from the reality of post-election America. And political satire is proof of film’s ability to turn even the most frightening or stressful realities into comedy. If politics is really a circus, then at least film lets us laugh along with them.
