UO Poetry Slam, a student organization dedicated to spoken word poetry, held its final poetry slam on Tuesday, Nov. 16 at Falling Sky Pizzeria & Public House. Named the UO Grand Slam, the event featured a variety of performances and readings from eight students at the University of Oregon.

The Grand Slam was one of several poetry slams that UO Poetry Slam holds throughout the year. Judged by five randomly selected audience members, the poets competed for a chance to represent the university at the 2017 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational, an international competition sponsored by the Association of College Unions International and held at the University of Illinois — Chicago. UO Poetry Slam competed in 2015 and 2016, finishing 24 out of 76 groups last year.

Founded in 2014 by UO students Alex Dang and Hannah Golden, UO Poetry Slam seeks to offer spaces for young writers and poets on the UO campus. Dang, who works as a professional spoken word poet, described the organization as “a community of writers.” In an interview, he said he hopes to foster a sense of camaraderie among its members, especially after reports of hate crimes and confrontations have surfaced throughout the country.

“I think a lot of people are trying to look towards community at this point.” Having the ability to discuss issues, Dang said, is an important part of any safe space.

The poems covered a wide range of topics, including feminism, self-identity and race. Highlights included an open “letter” to Donald Trump from UO political science major Wendy Roman, which celebrated Roman’s Mexican heritage in the face of some of Trump’s controversial comments regarding Hispanic people.

In fact, President-Elect Donald Trump dominated much of the night’s poetry.

One poem from student Sarah Hovet addressed her frustration and anger at Trump’s obscenity-filled language toward women and the hope that she would live to see a woman elected president. Her poem received snaps, applause and yelps of approval from the audience.

Dang identified a correlation between poetry slams and the desire to openly speak one’s mind, but also reaffirmed the organization’s goal of maintaining an open environment.

“Every slam tries to respect everybody’s opinion,” Dang said. “But every slam also says, ‘Freedom of speech does not mean freedom of accountability.’”

Portland-based poet David ‘Doc’ Luben acted as guest MC, overseeing the judging and performing several poems of his own. Luben’s poems focused on loneliness, suicide and mental illness, subject matter intense enough that Luben himself warned of its emotional intensity.

“We’re all talking about some dangerous, intense stuff up here,” Luben said. “If you want to talk to someone about anything that might be troubling or difficult, please just ask them first.” Dang coupled Luben’s request with a shout of encouragement. “Don’t be nice, be necessary!”

By the end of the night, Dang, Roman, and fellow students Analee Knock and Daniel Smith were selected to compete at CUPSI in April, 2017. UO Poetry Slam will continue to hold slams throughout the year. Head to the group’s Facebook page to learn more.

Watch a performance of Alex Dang’s “The Miracle” here:

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Animation is hard. Just ask Bryce Ballew, a digital arts major at the University of Oregon currently taking a class on the subject. “The first project I did … [took] about a week straight of work,” Ballew said. “It’s exhausting.”

But according to Ballew, the quality of the final product makes it worth the workload: “When you get it working well, it’s really rewarding. When it looks good, you know it, and it’s awesome.”

Thousands of animators around the world face the same phenomenon, especially in Hollywood. Large, high-budget hits like Kung-Fu Panda and Finding Nemo take years to create, even with teams of over 50 animators and entire production companies dedicated to the creation of animated films. Every year there are thousands of creations from unknown or independent filmmakers that fail to reach the big screen, denying creators the chance to display their work.

On Friday, Nov. 18, at Cinema 21 in Portland, the 18th Animation Show of Shows (ASOS) hopes to provide 16 films their shot at the spotlight. The program, presented by ACME Filmworks, a film distribution company focused on animation, features acclaimed animated short films from filmmakers around the world.

The films feature a wide variety of techniques, including hand-drawn, computer-generated and stop-motion animation. This year’s show includes selections from Belgium, Canada, France, Israel, Korea, Latvia, Norway, Russia, Scotland, the U.K. and the U.S.
There will be no shortage of talent on display. The filmmakers range from award-winning directors to talented independent auteurs.

For many of them, it will be the first time their films are played for a large audience. With this in mind, festival founder Ron Diamond hopes to attract as wide and diverse a crowd as possible.

“The show is [ultimately] intended for adults, but every [age group] ends up loving it,” Diamond said during a phone interview.

Diamond curates the program himself, which means most of the show’s appeal rests on his shoulders. He typically culls the 16 films from over a thousand potential selections throughout the year. This time, he settled on shorts like Ainslie Henderson’s stop-motion musical Stems and Patrick Osborne’s deeply emotional Pearl, which connects a father and daughter’s lives through music.

Diamond said the idea for the festival emerged after founding ACME Filmworks in 1990. ACME represented Diamond’s first attempt to “discover and nurture” new artistic talent, according to the company’s website.

In ACME’s early years, Diamond said he intended to bring “artists and animators to the forefront in advertising,” by showcasing animations and short films to various advertising agencies. “The ad agencies … really embraced that whole idea,” Diamond said. “They [said], ‘Yeah, I can build a commercial around that concept.”

Eventually, huge corporations like Coca-Cola, AT&T and Walt Disney began greenlighting productions based on ACME’s presentations.

It wasn’t until 1999 when Diamond decided to get the animators personally involved in the presentations. Those efforts began in earnest when he brought Mark Baker, an independent animator, out to visit Walt Disney Studios to showcase his short film, Jolly Roger.

The presentation was so well received that Diamond decided to put together a reel of short films and screen them for several studios and production companies, including Pixar and Dreamworks. “Everybody loved it,” Diamond said. “The response was so favorable that I thought, ‘You know, I should keep doing this.’ ”

As Diamond collected more and more films for his presentations, he eventually had enough material to show the animators’ work to an audience at large. This became ASOS.

Diamond admits that showcasing a wide variety of subjects and styles makes it impossible to win every person over.

“You don’t expect a home run on every single [film], in terms of the audience reaction,” he said. “In that regard, we’ve had a pretty high success rate … These are films that will stick in people’s memories for a very long time.”

This year, the selections often attach political messages to their distinct visual styles. Simon Cartwright’s Manoman is a highlight. Made with apeish marionettes, the ten-minute short follows a man who unwittingly creates a small, goblin-like version of himself. The man gets swept up in the demonic creature’s mischief, attacking bystanders and giving in to his violent instincts. Disturbing and eerie, the film offers a critique of masculinity and violence in an uncertain world and stands as an example of the ASOS’ thematic reach.

That same reach allows the show to receive a great deal of attention from the film industry at large, especially during awards season. Last year, Don Hertzfeldt’s World of Tomorrow and Konstantin Bronzit’s We Can’t Live Without Cosmos were screened for audiences at the festival. Both shorts were nominated for an Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film in 2015.

This only continued an already standing tradition; numerous films screened at ASOS have appeared on Oscar ballots, including the 2014 winner, Feast. But Diamond was quick to point out that the Academy Awards are far from the first thing on his mind.

“Our goal is to find great films,” he said. “Whether the film gets nominated for an Oscar [is just] icing on the cake.”

For Diamond, exposure for talented filmmakers and their creations is the ultimate goal. With ASOS in its 18th year, he hopes to provide a stage for films that will leave audiences and industry professionals equally charged.

Daniel Steinhart, assistant professor of Cinema Studies at UO, says the exposure film festivals provide to filmmakers and artists make them an essential part of the industry.
“If you’re working in the independent world [of cinema]… film festivals can be an important stepping stone to get distribution,” Steinhart said.

The numbers speak for themselves. In 2016, Fox Searchlight Pictures bought the distribution rights to Nate Parker’s Birth of a Nation for $17.5 million at Sundance Film Festival. Since its release, the film has garnered significant awards buzz. Other indie favorites, like the distinctly odd Swiss Army Man, made it to wide release after competing at Sundance.

Diamond hopes the filmmakers at ASOS find similar success. But most importantly, he hopes to prove how powerful animation can be. “These are [films] that everyone can relate to, during any stage of life,” Diamond said. “Tens of thousands of people are going to be excited by these shorts. And that’s really cool.”

Screenings of The Animation Show of Shows will take place at Cinema 21 in Portland through Nov. 24. Tickets are available for $9.75 at https://app.arts-people.com/index.php?show=69935.

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The upcoming release of Bleed For This tells the tale of Italian-American boxer Vinny Pazienza and his journey back to the ring after breaking his neck in a violent car accident. Emerald writers Zach Price and Dana Alston decided to take this opportunity to count down their favorite boxing movies, as well as some that they didn’t enjoy quite as much.

Zach’s picks: 

Despite it not being a full-length feature film, directors Leon Gast & Taylor Hackford’s 1996 documentary, When We Were Kings, takes on the epic heavyweight championship duel between George Foreman and Muhammad Ali in a way that is better than any script could be. With Ali recently coming off of a 3-year suspension for not enlisting in the draft, he challenged reigning world champ Foreman in a fight that was sponsored by the King of Zaire. Using a combination of interviews from people who saw the match live and hundreds of retro video clips, this film does a fantastic job of capturing the intensity of the infamous “Rumble in the Jungle.”

Next on the list, Antoine Fuqua’s 2015 film Southpaw. Jake Gyllenhaal portrays boxing champion Billy Hope, who — after his wife (Rachel McAdams) dies from a stray bullet fired during a post-match altercation with rival fighter Jordan Mains (Curtis Jackson) — loses his daughter to child services. There are plenty of cheesy parts to this movie, but when it comes down to one fight that can earn his daughter’s love back and gain respect in the boxing community, it’s impossible to not get caught up in the drama.

Topping my list is the 2010 film The Fighter, which sets Mark Wahlberg opposite Christian Bale in the tale of a boxing family from Southie, Boston. Director David O. Russell tells the true story of struggling fighter Mickey Ward (Wahlberg) and his brother Dicky Eklund (Bale), whose fall from promising up and comer to crack addict is filmed by an HBO documentary crew throughout the movie.

Like most boxing flicks, this one deals with issues far outside the ring, but it separates itself from the others by tackling the complex layers of deep-seeded family issues that the characters face. Along with the classic struggle and triumph of a sports movie, it presents the most accurate depiction of life in the slums of Southie since Good Will Hunting.

It wouldn’t be a top list if there wasn’t at least one dishonorable mention. So without further ado, I give you Real Steel (2011). The movie takes place in a future where robot droids have replaced humans as the top fighting entertainment. Hugh Jackman plays former boxer Charlie Kenton, who tries to win the love of his family back by turning an old sparring bot into a fighter. It’s flat out insulting that they marketed this as a boxing movie, when in fact, it’s two hours of mechanics trying to turn a piece of junk robot into a championship fighting machine.

In an effort to cover up the uninteresting backstory and plot, the film relies far too heavily on CGI and animation. If it weren’t for director Shawn Levy’s ability to create a driving plot out of thin air, this movie might have gone in the “unwatchables” category.

Dana’s picks:

Boxing films are usually a mixed bag. For every triumph, there’s a mediocre story that struggles to shake off the tropes of the genre. That’s not the case with Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull (1980). Less about the sport of boxing and more concerned with the violence of its participants, Scorsese’s portrait of fighter Jake LaMotta is at once visceral and heartbreaking. It helps that Robert De Niro’s performance is one of the greatest in cinematic history. This film is simply a masterpiece.

Ryan Coogler’s Creed doesn’t quite fall under the same umbrella, but it still deserves a spot on my list simply for its entertainment value. Starring Michael B. Jordan as Adonis Creed, the son of Rocky Balboa’s former nemesis-turned-friend, Creed is a worthy continuation of the Rocky franchise. It’s worth watching for the fight sequences alone. Coogler stages both with opposing sensibilities, opting for an expertly choreographed long take for one and rapid-fire cross cutting for another. It’s a triumphant film that proves that the boxing genre still has plenty of life.

Of course, any discussion of said genre would be incomplete without including the original Rocky (1976). Sylvester Stallone’s story of a working class fighter overcoming hardship in his native Philadelphia is universally loved. It’s easy to understand why. Watching our titular hero will himself to victory (or his definition of victory) is simply exhilarating. When he finally reaches the top of the staircase in the film’s most famous scene, it’s impossible not to cheer, and his joyful cries of “Adrian!” at the film’s end still produce plenty of tears.

It’s a shame that not every boxing movie can achieve the same level of quality. For every Rocky and Raging Bull, there are disasters like 2013’s Grudge Match. De Niro and Stallone star as two retired rival fighters whose bad blood leads to the organization of a final grudge match (hence the title). Watching two actors known for previously playing boxers fight in the same movie (an idea similarly explored in monstrosities like King Kong vs. Godzilla) belongs on a fan fiction forum. How it made its way to the big screen is worth being investigated, if only to bring those responsible to trial for crimes against humanity. Overkill? Hardly. Grudge Match is that boring, that stupid, and that bad.

Watch the trailer for Bleed For This, out Friday, below:

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In 2014, Respawn Entertainment’s sci-fi shooter Titanfall made waves for its unique blend of quality action and robot-dependent game mechanics. By giving players the ability to fight with gigantic weaponized mechs, the developer successfully created a new breed of multiplayer gaming; however, the game was inherently limited as a multiplayer-only affair. As exciting as the experience was, it lost its luster fairly quickly.

Perhaps that explains why the hype for the sequel seemed relatively subdued. With major franchises like Battlefield adding to the busy November calendar, it looked like Titanfall 2 would fail to compete and fall under the radar. Instead, the final product is so good that it should be impossible for gamers to ignore. Respawn’s sequel is a triumph, thanks to a newly added single-player campaign, fleshed out story, and a continuation of the multiplayer action that made the first game a success.

The campaign itself follows Jack Cooper, a lowly rifleman in the rebellious Militia fighting against the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation (IMC). Cooper dreams of piloting a Titan, sentient robotic suits of armor that stand several stories tall. But right before he completes his training (which basically amounts to a glorified tutorial), his unit is attacked, leaving him stranded on a distant planet with only a Titan named BT for company. In order to survive, the player must navigate Cooper and BT through swaths of IMC soldiers.

If this sounds like standard shooter fare, it is. Luckily, Respwan has fashioned a story worth exploring, with amusing banter between Cooper and his robotic companion that keeps the player invested:

BT: “Cooper, this weapon is an advanced design, and may give us a tactical advantage.”

Cooper: “I think someone’s in love.”

BT: “A human’s concept of love requires admiration, attraction, devotion and respect. Conclusion: I am 50 percent in love.”

While the plot is surprisingly functional, it is the gameplay that makes Titanfall 2 really shine. Each of the campaign’s chapters features unique game mechanics that significantly change the experience. In one level, players must navigate through a firefight on a gigantic assembly line. In another, time travel allows Cooper to traverse across seemingly broken passageways. The creativity on display in these environments is remarkable.

Even so, the campaign sometimes feels like an extended tutorial, used to gradually introduce the player to multiplayer concepts. While this is far from uncommon in the shooter genre, the campaign’s short length (which hovers around six hours) is also fairly disappointing. As intense as the action was, it’s rarely overwhelming, and many players will leave wanting more.

Luckily, Titanfall 2’s multiplayer suite more than makes up for its single-player shortcomings. Like most shooters, it includes standards like Capture the Flag and Team Deathmatch game modes. It also includes an option called Mixtape, which allows players to jump into a match with a random mode. Each type allows for exhilarating action and a decent amount of strategy.

Kills and particularly noteworthy performances on the battlefield earn points, which can be used to change characters and weaponry. The upgrade system is incredibly robust and is hefty enough to keep dedicated players involved for months. Titanfall 2‘s map design is also impressive. Discovering every nook and cranny in these labyrinths is a joy, even while dodging incoming gunfire.

All of this adds up to a game that has every right compete with other blockbuster holiday titles. By doubling down on its vision from the first Titanfall, Respawn Entertainment crafted an entertaining and remarkably deep package worth of any gamer’s time. Like the Titans themselves, this game deserves to walk among giants.

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Denis Villenueve’s Arrival opens with an emotional gut punch. While difficult to discuss without spoiling too much, it is effective at establishing Dr. Louise Brooks (Amy Adams) as the poignant center of this story. It’s also important in signaling to the audience the kind of film they are about to watch. Those expecting a sci-fi film mired in technical detail will be largely surprised at the narrative, based on a 1998 short story by Ted Chiang.

Using science fiction as a vehicle for emotional heft, Villenueve and screenwriter Eric Heisserer have made one of the most profound and timely films in recent memory.

The film follows Louise, a brilliant professor of languages at an unnamed university, as 12 unidentified objects float down from the stars. As they hover above the earth at random locations around the globe, worldwide panic is immediate. But when US Army Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) visits Louise to add her to a team of scientists (including Jeremy Renner as mathematician Ian Donnelly) to study the spacecraft’s inhabitants, she jumps at the chance.

Weber’s team joins an international coalition working together to understand the aliens’ purpose. With tensions high between governments, and some threatening premature retaliation against a perceived potential threat to humanity, Louise and Ian must race against a ticking clock to come to an understanding with the aliens.

On the surface, Arrival recalls typical science fiction tropes, more at home in a summer blockbuster than a restrained drama. But Villenueve deserves credit for creating an atmosphere that demands to be taken seriously. Shot with a grounded, unflinching touch by Brandon Young (of Selma fame), the film never overplays its hand. Instead, it offers slow-burning tension in the place of action or violence. Villenueve, best known for Prisoners and last year’s action thriller Sicario, takes advantage of the unknown. He deserves accolades for his restraint in revealing the mysteries in Louise’s story.

Much of Arrival’s success depends on Adams’ performance. Her portrait of Louise strikes a delicate balance between curiosity and determination, essential in every story about discovery. But Adams is careful never to hide Louise’s vulnerability, especially as she recalls painful memories throughout the film. It is a performance so magnetic that it’s impossible to look away. Adams should prepare for a busy awards season.

Beneath all the film’s technical and narrative achievements lay themes that make it unexpectedly timely. It’s no secret that recent political events revealed a great ideological divide in this country, probably larger than many expected. Protests were common over the past week, as well as calls for acceptance and comfort in an uncertain world.

Amid all of this, there is an urgent desire for heartfelt communication, and a need to heal the divide. It’s a reality that Arrival tackles head-on. As tensions over the aliens’ purpose rises, Weber severs ties with the other teams of scientists. Conflict and potential catastrophe emerge from this as both sides’ refuse to reach out, and the world faces a great struggle in its attempts to avoid war between nations.

Luckily, Villenueve ends on a note of optimism, imploring his audience to face the darkness with hope. It is a message that will resonate with many, to the point of tears. Louise fights through opposition, sadness and struggle by deciding to simply act. Right now, we all need her strength.

Watch the trailer for Arrival below:

The post Review: ‘Arrival’ is timely, powerful and deeply human appeared first on Emerald Media.

Mel Gibson has had a rough decade. Arrested in 2006 for driving under the influence and blacklisted from Hollywood for aggressively anti-Semitic remarks, the actor and director known for sweeping epics like Braveheart and Apocalypto effectively disappeared from the public’s conscious for close to 10 years.

Now, in 2016, he has re-emerged behind the camera with Hacksaw Ridge, a faith-based war film that seeks to reaffirm his status as one of Hollywood’s premiere directors. But while Gibson has taken great care in crafting his comeback, the result is far from impressive.

Based on the true story of Army medic Desmond Doss (played with earnest sincerity by Andrew Garfield), who famously refused to carry a weapon onto the battlefield in World War II’s Pacific campaign, the film is at least well-meaning in its adherence to Hollywood war film tradition.

Doss, who single-handedly saved 75 men during the battle of Hacksaw Ridge on the island of Okinawa, fights through a number of personal and legal battles to be able to serve as a “conscientious objector,” including physical intimidation from his commanding officers (Sam Worthington and Vince Vaughn). Meanwhile, Doss must contend with his alcoholic father (Hugo Weaving), a veteran of the First World War who still wrestles with his own demons.

Hacksaw Ridge’s portrait of Doss’ life before the war (which makes up the opening half of its running time) signals the first signs of trouble. In the hands of the right director, even hamfisted dialogue (of which this film includes a great deal) can carry powerful dramatic weight. Gibson chooses instead to heighten the melodrama, punctuating each moment with overwrought musical themes and holding every dramatic beat in extreme closeup. This film demands to be felt in every emotional fiber of the audience, but its self-seriousness is practically smothering.

Its themes are also crippled by a lack of symbolic moderation. Doss’s adherence to his faith-based principles in the face of war is admirable, but Gibson seems to demand more than our earthly respect. Several scenes frame Doss as a symbol of sainthood, with heavenly sunlight pouring down from the sky as he floats through the bloodied battlefield in slow motion. In one sequence, Doss bathes and washes away blood from his body in a groan-inducing symbolic baptism.

There is simply no attempt at nuance.

The battle sequences are at least a sight to behold once the film’s narrative reaches Okinawa. The violence onscreen is at once surreal and brutally realistic, capturing the absolute hell of battle. In these sequences, Gibson shines as a director, operating the rapid-fire pace of war while deftly juggling the personalities within Doss’s company. The sound design is equally impressive, accentuating the blasts of artillery shells and machine guns to great effect.

But Hacksaw Ridge struggles to reconcile its violence with Doss’s actions, especially during the film’s final minutes. When Doss and his fellow soldiers successfully take the titular ridge, Gibson captures the moment of the Japanese defeat in slow-motion shots of slaughter and suicide. To display the sacrifices of soldiers on both sides is one thing. To revel in the savage deaths of Japanese soldiers as a triumphant victory, complete with sweeping fanfare, is morally reprehensible and betrays the very nature of the film’s hero. It is quite simply one of the most misguided and offensive endings to a film in recent memory.

The true shame in all of this is Gibson’s failure to do Desmond Doss’ remarkable story any justice. Though made with impressive technical skill, Hacksaw Ridge does little to change Gibson’s persona thanks to its simplistic drama and mishandled thematic morality. So much for a comeback.

Watch the trailer for Hacksaw Ridge below:

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In the early days of the superhero movie craze (circa 2008), films like Iron Man and The Dark Knight offered an original thought: What if stories about masked vigilantes fighting crime and evil could offer action and drama in equal measures? These films relied on character relationships in tandem with groundbreaking special effects to overcome narrative flaws. It was an exciting mix that proved likable to both audiences and critics as the Marvel Cinematic Universe found with its continued success.

Fast forward to 2016, and that formula has begun to show its age and predictability. Look no further than Doctor Strange, the 14th film in Marvel’s everlasting media empire. The film features a story that borrows heavily from the now-many origin tales before it, and it’s easy to see the flaws in its technique.

Luckily, director Scott Derrickson surrounds the toothless plot with wondrous, kaleidoscopic visuals that give the audience plenty to absorb onscreen. The result is a combination of blockbuster narrative hackery and visual splendor that manages to succeed as a fine entry into the superhero canon despite its flaws.

Benedict Cumberbatch stars as Steven Strange, a brilliant but extremely arrogant neurosurgeon who prides himself in performing nearly impossible operations on patients whose cases are deemed hopeless. That all changes when he suffers a horrific accident that causes severe nerve damage to both of his hands, ending his career and spiraling him into depression.

As he scours the globe for possible treatments, his search leads him to the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton), a Celtic mystic who introduces Strange to the concept of magic and invites him to learn the ways of sorcery. Strange eventually learns to manipulate the astral plane and fight off magical threats to humanity, including Kaecilius (Mads Mikkelsen), a former apprentice of the Ancient One who attempts to open the dark dimension and surrender Earth to malevolent forces.

While the film’s lore and jargon may be inherently silly (welcome to the superhero genre), Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill keep the whole affair from getting too bogged down. There’s plenty of humor sprinkled throughout the film’s 115 minutes, with decently funny results. Highlights include the red Cloak of Levitation, which acts with a mind of its own and results in some quality slapstick, and Cumberbatch’s snobbishly awkward exchanges with other characters:

“People used to think I was funny.”

“Did they work for you?”

But it’s the film’s visual extravagance that elevates it above substandard blockbuster fare. Its battle sequences are masterpieces of puzzle-like environmental choreography. Buildings fold in on themselves, vehicles defy physics and sorcerers run along sideways hallways with regularity in set pieces that put Inception to shame. These sequences look so spectacular that the lameness of the film’s structure is almost avoidable.

Unfortunately, the film’s biggest flaws come from the film’s status as a Marvel movie. And more than some Marvel movies, this one moves along at a frantic pace. Moments that should tug at the heartstrings fall flat because of the filmmakers’ refusal to dwell. Characters are barely introduced (like Strange’s love interest Christine Palmer, played by Rachel McAdams) before they’re thrust into dramatic and emotional situations. The audience isn’t given enough time to relate to these characters’ troubles and relationships.

The result is a feeling that the film exists only to further the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a phenomenon that has become more inescapable as the universe continues to expand. With the 15th Marvel film on the horizon, it is unclear how these box office juggernauts will bring anything unique to the table. For now, we’re left with a fun but limited Doctor Strange.

Watch the trailer for Doctor Strange below:

The post Review: ‘Doctor Strange’ rescues a tired narrative with breathtaking visuals appeared first on Emerald Media.

Being a teenager is hard. Ask any teenager. High school forces many young adults to confront uncomfortable social situations, schoolwork and a seemingly endless list of responsibilities and outside pressures from their family and friends. To come of age in that environment is to try and figure out who you are, and for many, it’s a terrifying process.

Perhaps that’s why filmmakers like John Hughes, known for their sympathetic portraits of teenagers in high school and beyond, are so beloved. Hughes was a master at taking the problems many young people faced, seemingly insignificant to adults, and making them funny, watchable and always relatable.

Films like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off took a story of a kid skipping class and turned it into a madcap comedy that managed to be both hilarious and meaningful. Pretty in Pink offered a peek into a teenage girl’s clique-infested universe. These were films that never lost sight of the truth behind their humor.

It’s The Breakfast Club that remains Hughes’ most introspective work. Centered on a group of students forced to attend Saturday school for an entire day, Hughes actively tackled the subject of stereotypes by putting five stereotype-defining characters into a room and making them talk to one another. Much of the film’s 97 minutes is filled with dialogue, and the audience gets to actively watch a group of young people move past what others have come to expect from them, and instead come to understand each other.

Its ability to treat young adults respectfully and without judgment is its greatest strength.

Fast forward ten years and director Cameron Crowe would follow in Hughes’ empathetic footsteps with the romantic family drama Say Anything. In the film, Lloyd (John Cusack), an average student, falls for Diane (Ione Skye), the valedictorian. While the film’s overall quality is debatable, Crowe makes the pairing feel real, and the chemistry between them is undeniable. It is a movie that connects a subject that is rarely taken seriously (high school romance) to broader family drama. In Roger Ebert’s words, “[it is] a film that is really about something.”

Films like these appeal to teenagers not just because they are about teenagers; after all, Mean Girls claimed to offer commentary on high school social dynamics, but is better known for its quotable lines than being thematically interesting. The American Pie franchise follows a group of teenagers trying to get laid, but puts its characters in completely unrealistic positions simply for the resulting entertainment value (has anyone ever tried to have sex with a pie? Does that really happen?) There is no attempt to try and empathize with any of the people onscreen, and the result is a movie not about who these people are, but about making us laugh at them.

The best films in the genre are about teenagers, but don’t simplify their characters or their narratives as a result. Instead, like all great stories, they follow people that feel fundamentally real. Ferris Bueller may take a citywide parade by storm, but beneath the bravado lies a confused kid, terrified at the prospect of becoming a proper adult. Lloyd and Diane fall hopelessly in love like all great movie couples, but Diane must learn to confront her father’s flaws at the same time.

At their core, classic teen movies succeed because they desire to relate to their audiences and respect the young people they portray. It’s easy to laugh at these confused young adults, but their stories never fail to be poignant. That’s why we’re still talking about them, thirty years later. I’ll take that over a cheap laugh.

Inferno, the latest entry in the now-franchise of Dan Brown novel adaptations, wants desperately for its audience to have a good time. Tom Hanks (a.k.a. America’s stepdad) is right at home in a role that requires nothing but good-natured modesty and integrity to succeed. There’s a dastardly villain, a brilliant hero, endless chase sequences and a world-ending plot in play from the film’s overture.

In other words, on paper, director Ron Howard and veteran screenwriter David Koepp have been given everything they need to make a film that’s at least a little entertaining. And for the most part they succeed, at the expense of practically all common sense. Take this exchange between brilliant professor Robert Langdon (Hanks) and his companion Sienna Brooks (Felicity Jones):

Brooks: “I just don’t know if I’m on the right side.”

Langdon: “You are. Trust me.”

Brooks: “Alright. I believe you.”

Brooks doesn’t put much thought into her instant acceptance of Langdon’s word. Howard and Koepp argue that, for the sake of enjoyment, neither should you.

The film’s setup is at least forthright in its intention to have fun first and ask questions later. When professor Langdon wakes up in a hospital in Florence with a debilitating head wound and amnesia, he teams up with doctor and puzzle-solving prodigy Brooks to try and recover his memory.

As he begins to piece together the events from the two nights before, Langdon realizes he must race against time to prevent a billionaire madman (Ben Foster) from unleashing a deadly virus (called Inferno, based on Dante Alighieri’s Divine \Comedy) in a plan to prevent world overpopulation.

At its best, Inferno plays like a combination between National Treasure and The Hangover, complete with vague flashbacks sprinkled throughout the film’s running time. Langdon and Brooks frequently find themselves cornered by various government agencies (including the World Health Organization, which appears to have invested in military-grade weaponry at some point) and must escape via a secret passageway that only Langdon knows about.

Along the way, Langdon takes every opportunity to explain the history behind his surroundings, venturing into tangents regarding Dante’s romantic interests and the secrets of famous pieces of artwork.

The whole affair would be a lot more enjoyable if the filmmakers could settle on a tone. Instead, Howard and Koepp want the film to be lighthearted, somber and introspective all at once. The result is a muddled mess of a story and characters that seem to exist only to give Langdon an audience for his “believe-it-or-not” lectures.

And while the pace is purposefully quick, the film is shot and edited in a style so frenetic that it’s easy to be overloaded by the endless barrage of images onscreen. The first 30 seconds alone are a confusing mess, mostly because Howard’s average shot length hovers around one or two seconds. Bring on the headaches.

The film basically amounts to a great collection of wasted talent. There are a number of fine actors assembled here, but Felicity Jones deserves the most praise, if only because Brooks’ inherent weakness and reliance on her male counterparts requires great dramatic talent to overcome. The film displays little of her oft-discussed brilliance or intelligence. By the end, Brooks is simply a conduit through which the male characters act, and she shows little resistance to their bidding.

Her character’s unfortunate shallowness applies to virtually all of Inferno. The film may purposefully jettison complexity in search of thrills, but Ron Howard simply cannot overcome the story’s stupidity. Perhaps that’s for the best. After all, thinking is hard.

Watch the trailer for Inferno below:

Expectations are a tricky phenomenon to handle. People will tell you that the best way to read a book, listen to an album or watch a movie is to do so without any prior knowledge or forecast. Unfortunately, that’s nearly impossible to pull off, which is why the very thought of a sequel to 2014’s critically-panned Ouija is enough to incite groans. Horror sequels have a long history of mediocrity, and the return of explosion-maestro Michael Bay to the producing role isn’t enough to inspire much confidence.

It is a surprise, then, that Ouija: Origin of Evil isn’t terrible. Wielding a distinct visual palette and an acute ability to manipulate dramatic moments, director and co-writer Michael Flanagan has crafted a solidly entertaining and creepy horror film that exists free from the flaws of its predecessor. It does little new, but it accomplishes its earthly goals with style.

The film generates part of its success from a change in setting. The plot, which takes place in 1967 Los Angeles, follows Alice Zander (Elizabeth Reaser), a widow working out of her home as a fortune teller (and glorified scam artist) with her two daughters, teenager Paulina (Annalise Basso) and eight-year-old Doris (Lulu Wilson).

When Alice brings home a Ouija board to use as part of her next seance, Doris unwittingly makes contact with the “spirit world” and invites a presence into their home. The Zanders initially use Doris’ connection to the undead to improve their business. But as the otherworldly visitors become violent and begin to possess members of the family, the Zanders must enlist the help of a local priest (Henry Thomas) to protect themselves.

None of this is original; films that focus around the possession of young children live in the shadow of The Exorcist and have struggled for years to accomplish anything new with the concept. Luckily, Flanagan makes the most of his setting, working with director of photography Michael Fimognari to give the film a deliberately hazy look. The Zanders’ surroundings look and feel like the late ’60s and the filmmakers’ efforts to make it all appear authentic pay big dividends.

The opening 40-or-so minutes are well crafted and generate genuine suspense without relying on jump scares. Flanagan proves himself to be a talented visual choreographer. Origin of Evil features several sequences built around long, winding takes that are impressive from a purely aesthetic perspective. There are also a fair amount of laughs sprinkled into the film’s exposition, and the family members’ relationships to one another feel sincere.

As the plot progresses, Origin of Evil cannot escape the trappings of the genre and begins to rely on cliched, overwrought scare tactics. The rate of jump scares in the film’s final act is absurd; they appear with such frequency that the effect is one of sudden detachment. Flanagan gets needlessly lazy here, and every single scene begins to follow the same pattern (lower the volume, peek around a corner, see something scary).

It becomes impossible to remain absorbed in the proceedings when the techniques on display have been used in every horror movie ever.

The story is also frustrating in its insistence that every single mystery must be explained to its audience. There is a larger narrative at work, but by the end, very little is left to the imagination. It’s disheartening to see a film reveal so much in a genre that inherently relies on the unknown.

Thankfully, the final product succeeds in enough areas to be considered a quality distraction. Origin of Evil may amount to simple pastiche, but at least it’s reliable in its mission to creep people out.

Watch the trailer for Ouija: Origin of Evil here: