2/25/14: Lost in Space (Oscar Bait, Part 9)

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2013 Academy Awards, 86th Annual Academy Awards, Academy Award Nominee, Alfonso Cuaron, All Is Lost, astronauts, auteur theory, Best Actress nominee, Best Cinematography winner, Best Director nominee, Best Film Editing winner, Best Original Score winner, Best Picture nominee, Best Sound Editing winner, Best Sound Mixing winner, Best Visual Effects winner, Children of Men, cinema, disaster films, Ed Harris, Emmanuel Lubezki, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, George Clooney, Gravity, lost in space, marooned, Movies, multiple Oscar winner, outer space, rescue mission, Sandra Bullock, sci-fi, space shuttle, special-effects extravaganza, thriller, trapped in space

My Oscar-prep viewing for the last week of February continued with Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity. Of all of the nominees, I was probably (initially) most excited to see this one, since I’m a huge fan of Cuaron’s previous film, the wonderfully dystopic Children of Men. After waiting seven years for a follow-up, how would Gravity stack up? And did it really earn all ten of its Oscar nominations? Read on, gentle readers…read on.

As a boy, my twin loves (above and beyond anything else that I loved) were dinosaurs and outer space. If there was a book about the subject(s), I read it. if there was a show or movie, I watched it. I’ve always been fascinated by huge, open expanses but my inability to swim has always rendered the deep-sea about as terrifying as diving into an active volcano. Space, however, was a different story. As frightening as the notion of all of that vast emptiness was, I never ceased to be fascinated and drawn to it. As time went on and I got older, my former obsession with dinosaurs gradually faded into my childhood, although I remember being fairly agog when I first saw Jurassic Park in the theater. My obsession with space, however, has never waned. If anything, I find myself more fascinated by it now then I ever was: we truly live in a glorious time for anyone who’s ever wondered about what might be “up there,” since we seem to get word of astounding new galactic discoveries on a fairly regular basis. If there’s one thing me and my boyhood self would agree on, it’s this: outer space is pretty damn amazing.

Interestingly enough, however, my lifelong love of space hasn’t really translated into a love of sci-fi films. I’ve found many, over the years, that I really enjoy and a few that I even love: 2001; Alien; The Black Hole; Event Horizon, to name a few. For the most part, however, I’m not really drawn to the space shoot-em-ups of stuff like Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica. I’m much more interested in low-key, intellectual films like Moon, Europa Report, 2001 and Solaris. Part of the appeal of space, to me, has always been the inherent mystery of it: the best sci-fi films manage to preserve this sense of mystery while still giving something to thrill along to.

Gravity could certainly be said to exist in the same company as the aforementioned “intelligent” sci-fi films, but it’s not quite the same thing. There is nothing lunk-headed or especially clumsy about the film but its heart is definitely more interested in action (sometimes so non-stop as to almost seem real-time) than it is in wonder or inquiry. There’s nothing wrong with this, mind you, but it immediately puts Gravity into a slightly different category and is one of the reasons why I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed after the whole thing was over.

Story-wise, Gravity is simplicity itself: Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) are American astronauts on a routine spacewalk when disaster strikes. The Russians have accidentally bombed one of their own satellites, which has caused deadly space debris to travel into the Americans’ vicinity. Too late to avoid the bombardment, Stone and Kowalski find themselves adrift in space, no contact with Earth and only their connecting tether keeping them from spinning away into the vastness of forever. Using every ounce of their strength, courage and cautious optimism, the two must do everything they can to make it back home, lest the far reaches of space become their frigid tomb.

In a nutshell, that’s pretty much it: just slightly over 90 minutes of Bullock trying desperately to get back home. In many respects, Gravity and All Is Lost (Redford stuck at sea on a sinking sailboat) are kindred spirits. Both are claustrophobic, quick-paced thrill rides that feature one protagonist (it’s no spoiler to say that Bullock spends the majority of the film alone), almost no supporting characters or additional actors and minimal locations. While I heartily enjoyed Gravity, I’ll have to give the edge here to All Is Lost for one very important reason: it didn’t dilute its impact with unnecessary emotional baggage. In All Is Lost, we end up knowing as little about Redford’s character as possible: he doesn’t even get a name. This isn’t to say that there’s no character information whatsoever: through a few small, subtle scenes, we find out enough about Redford’s character (wife and kids back home, well-to-do older man) to become invested in his struggle. At no time, however, does the film wring unnecessary mileage out of the emotional beats: they’re just there to humanize the character.

In Gravity, however, Ryan’s back-story directly influences her actions in the film and, at times, is used as the sole emotional ballast. For my money, this wasn’t the best way to humanize the character and, to be honest, had a bit of the opposite effect for me. At times, I found myself questioning Ryan’s actions: she would be unthinkingly swift and decisive one moment, curled in a fetal position and looking “lost” the next. While this might be a natural reaction for any normal person caught in the situation, it still had the effect of dragging down the film and injecting a maudlin, overly emotional tone that was at odds with the film’s more clinical inclinations. It’s almost as if Cuaron was unsure if the audience would be fully invested in the actual things happening to Bullock’s character (who the hell wouldn’t find being lost in space terrifying and thrilling?!), so he decided to hedge his bets by piling on a tragic back-story for her to overcome. It’s a reductive measure and, effectively, boils down Ryan’s entire experience in space to “overcoming personal adversity.” It’s equivalent to Ripley coming at the Mother Alien with the robot suit only to end up shaking hands and hugging it out. This is particularly puzzling since, aside from the too obvious back-story and some beats with Clooney’s character, there isn’t anything obvious about the actual film. This was a pretty big disappointment for me, since it seemed like a concession to what modern audiences expect from films, not what filmmakers actually intend. I keep wondering how amazing this film would have been as a non-stop, tightly-shot, A-B-C thriller and it makes the final product even more disappointing.

But, let’s be absolutely frank here: most people going to see Gravity won’t be going for the character development, the writing or anything of that nature: they’ll be going to experience a huge, eye-popping visual smorgasbord. And on that count, Gravity absolutely does not disappoint. In fact, I daresay that I really have no appropriate words to describe how utterly, sumptuously amazing the film looks. There isn’t one frame that didn’t look meticulously composed and I still have no idea whatsoever how many of the shots were achieved. As far as I can tell, Cuaron took a small crew into deep space and filmed: that’s about the best explanation I have for a lot of the film. The SFX are seamless, the space visuals are so stunning that I got teary-eyed (really) and the sound effects put you right in the thick of everything. If there’s one part of the filmmaking I didn’t care for, however, it would definitely have to be Steven Price’s intrusive, too-obvious score. Something more minimalist and  moody would have helped the film but I felt like the score tried to be too leading: I’m not a fan of hand-holding between filmmakers and the audience and the score was definitely that. As far as the technical awards and the Best Cinematography statue, however? There was simply no other film in the running after this one: even discussing other films’ effects as being equitable is absolutely ridiculous.

At the end of the day, perhaps my own unreasonable expectations led me to be disappointed by Gravity. Don’t get me wrong: I enjoyed most of the film as I was watching it (save for the overly emotional bits referenced above). I was even stunned at several points, especially that jaw-dropping opening. It was a fun, exquisitely crafted film with a rock-solid performance by Bullock (not Oscar worthy, IMHO, but damn close), a very Clooney-esque performance by George C and a totally awesome reference to my favorite scene in Jaws. It was also, unfortunately, a rather slight film, almost more of an effects exercise then anything else. I remember how much I found myself pondering and returning to Children of Men after I first saw it. After watching Gravity, my only thought was, “Damn: shoulda seen it in the theaters.” While Gravity was a good Cuaron film, it looks like I might have to wait another seven years for a great Cuaron film.

 

1/19/14: Jumping the Shark

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Abre Los Ojos, Agora, Alejandro Amenabar, ancient Egypt, Anthony C. Ferrante, auteur theory, B-movies, bad films, bad movies, character dramas, cheesy films, cinema, costume epic, disaster films, drama, Film, Film auteurs, historical drama, hurricane, Los Angeles, Movies, Rachel Weisz, Roman Empire, Sharknado, sharks, Snakes on a Plane, Syfy Channel, Tara Reid, The Asylum, The Others, Z-movies

We took care of the first half of our quadruple bill last time. This time around, let’s take a look at the final two: Agora and Sharknado. You’d think this would be an easy fight to predict. In many ways…you would be correct.

Sometimes, the weight of expectations for a particular film (or director, for that matter) can be a heavier burden than the actual film (or person) can bear. For every Wes Anderson, there’s a Tobe Hooper. For every Terry Gilliam, a Tarsem Singh. As someone who fully subscribes to the auteur theory of filmmaking, I have a tendency to stick with directors I admire, believing them to be less capable of disappointment than those that I don’t tend to idolize.

While I won’t claim to be his number-one super booster, I’ve always been a big fan of Alejandro Amenabar’s films. My first experience came with The Others (Amenabar’s English-language debut), a chilling, elegant Nicole Kidman chiller that managed to put a very fresh and grim spin on traditional ghost stories. Once hooked, I sought out Abre Los Ojos (later remade as the far inferior Tom Cruise vehicle Vanilla Sky), Thesis and The Sea Inside, which has to rank as one of the saddest films I’ve ever seen. I’ve always been impressed with Amenabar’s range, so when I heard that he was tackling an epic set in Roman Egypt, I was particularly excited. Alas, Agora would end up being my least favorite Amenabar film yet.

Were it not for the weight of expectations set by his other films, I might not have been so disappointed with Agora. For one thing, the film has a cheap look that seems to belie a tight budget. Rather than work within the constraints of this, however, the film constantly feels like it’s straining to be more than it can be. Imagine if Star Wars featured one spaceship or Lord of the Rings featured one Orc and you begin to get the idea. As the film progresses, there are some big setpieces that are actually handled very nicely, particularly the scene where the Christians rampage through the library, destroying everything in their path.

The acting, as a whole, is good but certainly nothing extraordinary. Rachel Weisz is quite good as Hypatia of Alexandria, the philosopher that serves not only as protagonist but also as moral center. In some ways, however, it almost feels as if Weisz plays her character as too driven, pounding away any of the subtle humanism of her character. The closest that we get to real human emotion from Hypatia is the jaw-dropping scene where she responds to a student’s public declaration of love with an equally public, if much more gynecological, gift. It’s not that Weisz is bad: quite to the contrary. My problem with her performance is that she, essentially, reduces Hypatia to a one-note character, even if that note is rather resonate.

Ultimately, the film boils down to an intense discussion on tolerance, most of which is related to the inherent conflict between the Christians, pagans and Jews of the era. It’s to the film’s intense credit that it never seems to choose a side. The Christians come off looking the worst, mostly because of their whole destruction of the famed Library of Alexandria but there’s plenty of blame to spread around to the pagans and Jews. Anti-Semitism makes up a large part of the conflict and it’s interesting to see how the film develops the idea that long-held prejudices can gradually grow until they’re unbeatable.

My final takeaway from the film, however, is how massively depressing and hopeless it ultimately is. We know that no one can stand against the tide of history but for over two hours, we get to witness Hypatia scorned, mocked, humiliated, assaulted, subjugated and marginalized. It’s giving nothing away to say that the film does not end happily, for any of the players. While it may be too long and rather disjointed, it’s the ultimate feeling of hopelessness that colors my experience of this film more than anything else. Here’s to hoping Amenabar’s next film, which is currently in pre-production and stars Ethan Hawke, finds the right balance of hope and hopelessness.

In 2006, a cheesy, completely self-aware B-movie managed to leave a mark (no matter how inconsequential) on the cultural landscape. This film featured production values that made SciFi Channel fare look like Lawrence of Arabia, more stupid action than you could shake a wiffle-ball bat at and Samuel L. Jackson uttering the soon-to-be immortal line, “I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!” Yes, the film was Snakes on a Plane and, for a brief moment, it was the talk of the town. Was the film any good? I personally disliked it but it obviously struck a chord with plenty of folks.

Fast forward seven years and we witness the attempted birth of another legend: Sharknado. Now, as far as concept goes, Sharknado features some pretty next-level kind of stuff. Essentially, a hurricane has swept over Los Angeles, flooding the area like cutting-room footage from Roland Emmerich’s home movies. Since just a hurricane, by itself, can’t possibly be bad enough, the storm picks up what must be every shark in the ocean and carries the teeth-with-fins around: we get to watch the cute little CGI critters fly around a funnel cloud like so much of Dorothy’s furniture in Kansas. This does, of course, beg the question: doesn’t getting carried around in hundred-mile-an-hour winds, miles above the earth (and away from any water) and then getting unceremoniously flung about cause any discomfort to the sharks at all? Truly nature’s killing machines!

Since this is, ostensibly, a horror film (I guess), the filmmakers know that we’re going to need a more ferocious monster than mere flying sharks to scare us. Therefore, they enlist the services of an obviously mentally unstable Tara Reid to really shake things up. When Tara first appears, reading her lines like a tent-revival preacher might speak tongues, I’ll admit that I was fascinated: had she been lobotomized? Was this actually like a real life version of The Sixth Sense and we would all come to realize that Tara Reid has been a ghost THIS WHOLE TIME? My fascination quickly turned to terror, however, as I realized that I would be spending the next 80 minutes desperately fearing the moment that she would pop up, jack-in-the-box style, to deliver pithy lines like “We need a bigger chopper,” all while projecting the aggressive confidence of one who has learned the best way to conceal medication under one’s tongue.

Let’s see, let’s see…what else do we get here? Well, we get an awful lot of violence for what is, technically, a PG-13 TV movie, although most of it is of the “There’s a CGI shark overlaid on my foot! Aargh…this must be pain I feel!” variety. There’s also a chopper pilot that wiggles his arms so much that I got seasick, which is a perfect complement to the driving scenes that feature more arm waving than a beauty pageant.

But who am I fooling? Anyone who walks into this steaming pile of cinema expecting 2001, much less Jaws, has rocks in their heads. The moment you see the “The Syfy Channel and The Asylum Presents…” hit the screen, there should be absolutely no doubt that you’ve booked a first-class cabin on the S.S. Caca. The only question that really matters is: is the movie fun? Is this a Megalodon-level of stupidity or a Master of Disguise-level of stupidity? Will this plumb the depths of Tromaville or just be another lame Clash of the Titans remake? This, friends and neighbors, should be the only concerning factor: is this movie a guaranteed good time?

Alas, at least as far as I’m concerned, it really isn’t. Snakes on a Plane at least had the benefit of featuring Samuel L. Jackson whereas the most we can say about Sharknado is that it features an obviously crazy Tara Reid stumbling through a performance that I’m sure she doesn’t even recall. There aren’t any badass or, to be honest, really likable characters to latch on to, which gives this something of the air of an anonymous ’80s slasher: many will die, few will care. Sharknado’s worst sin, however, the same sin that killed Snakes on a Plane, is its complete self-awareness. This isn’t an Ed Wood film or a cheesy ’80s actioner where the creators assumed they were making art: this is a modern film that deliberately sets out to imitate the inept, shoddy silliness of actual B-movies like Carnosaur and Galaxy of Terror. As such, nothing about the film feels authentic, which is kind of like trying to learn about history from an Old West re-enactment.

As an unabashed fan of Z-grade cinema, I really wanted to like Sharknado and, in all honesty, did find myself smiling a time or two. I also, unfortunately, spent a pretty fair amount of time looking at my watch. For a movie that runs less than 90 minutes and is supposed to be all about “fun fun fun,” this seems pretty unforgivable. Come to think of it, maybe being boring is a greater sin than being self-aware…especially if you’re an Asylum film.