2/6/14: The Worst Trip He’s Ever Been On (Oscar Bait, Part 6)

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Academy Award Nominee, Academy Awards, action films, Barkhad Abdi, based on a book, based on a true story, Best Picture nominee, Best Supporting Actor nominee, Captain Phillips, cinema, film reviews, films, hijacking, hostages, lifeboat, Movies, Muse, Navy SEALS, Paul Greengrass, poverty, Somali pirates, Somalia, The Bourne Supremacy, The Bourne Ultimatum, Tom Hanks

My Oscar quest continues with the third Best Picture nominee: Captain Phillips. How did this stack up against American Hustle and 12 Years a Slave? How Hanksian does Mr. Hanks get? Do we get the best Supporting Actor performance of the year here? Read on for my 8 cents.

At what point does instinct kick in and override one’s natural fear or paralysis in a dangerous situation? Will our natural, primal selves always jump to the forefront when our lives are in danger or is that a pump that needs to be constantly primed? What about when we’re responsible for the lives of others? At what point does our psyche separate the need to fulfill one’s duty with the inherent need to survive? And what happens to our “normal” selves if we do manage to make it past the crisis? Is there ever an easy way to return to the “same-old-same-old” after that?

Paul Greengrass’ Captain Phillips (2013) has several things on its plate but this notion of personal sacrifice in the face of turmoil is certainly one of them. Almost as vital (perhaps more so, depending on how you look at it), however, is a storytelling-related issue: what factors truly make someone a “villain” versus a “victim of circumstance”? When a “bad guy” looks in the mirror, does he see a “bad guy” looking back or is that notion only reserved for whoever is directly opposing him? The film makes a pointed and very powerful assertion: if we could truly look behind the scenes and see the various factors at play in any conflict or confrontation, it would become very difficult to assign any measure of blame. This is heady stuff, particularly in a film about Somali pirates capturing an American ship. That the film manages to place this notion in the forefront of audiences’ minds while still being a rip-snortingly tense action film gives a pretty good notion as to why Captain Phillips found itself on the year-end shortlist.

Captain Phillips is the true story of the 2009 hijacking of the Maersk Alabama, a U.S. cargo ship captained by the titular individual (played by Tom Hanks). We see a little of his family life (loving wife, grown kids) and a little of his work ethic (stern but friendly boss, detail-oriented) before he’s taken command of the Alabama and set sail. While on the open seas, the ship strays from the safer, more packed sea routes and into an area patrolled by Somali pirates. Sure enough, Phillips and his crew end up in the crosshairs of Muse (Barkhad Abdi) and his pirate crew. After a thrilling cat-and-mouse chase, the pirates board the Maersk Alabama, forcing Phillips to use all of his wits, charm and nautical knowledge to keep his crew safe and defuse the situation. Once the U.S. Navy and the Seals get involved, however, the whole enterprise becomes even more dangerous and convoluted, hurtling everyone towards a potentially explosive and violent end.

In order to get a sense of the overall feel of Captain Phillips, it helps to examine director Greengrass’ other films: he was the man behind The Bourne Supremacy (2004) and The Bourne Ultimatum (2007), as well as the 9/11 film United 93 (2006) and the Matt Damon-starring action film Green Zone (2010). In most of these films, Greengrass combines a keen sense of action and tension (much of which unfolds so quickly that it seems to be happening in real-time) with subtle (sometimes, not so much) critiques of the U.S. war/espionage complex. While Captain Phillips only touches briefly on the war aspect (the battleship that intervenes and the Seal team) and not at all on the espionage side, American policies end up being a key part of the rationale behind the actual attack. At one point, Muse tells Phillips that he and the other pirates are actually fishermen but foreign commercial fishermen have emptied their seas, leaving them with no way to earn a livelihood.

In fact, this idea that the Somali pirates are not, in effect, terrorists but rather normal human beings put in a completely untenable position, is the aspect of Captain Phillips that truly sets it apart. Imagine if Die Hard went out of its way to establish the terrorists as fundamentally decent people who need to hold their hostages in order to provide for their families. In a typical Hollywood film, this tact would naturally lead one to assume that the John McClane character would, by default, need to become the bad guy. Captain Phillips upends this notion by making the captive captain just as much of a down-to-earth guy as the desperate pirates. The pirates are hijacking the ship because a local Somali warlord will gun down their families if they don’t: Phillips is doing everything he can to keep he and his crew safe, so that they can return to their own families. If there are any real “bad guys” in the film, they’re probably the foreign fishing interests that have conspired to create this situation in the first place.

In fact, my biggest overall complaint about Captain Phillips is that the film doesn’t spend nearly enough time with the Somalis: more scenes from their village or the pirate mother-ship would have fleshed out their characters even more and given ample opportunity to contrast their lives with the American crew. As it is, the film plays as more of a fast-paced action film, bookended by mundane opening and emotional finale. There nothings inherently wrong with that approach: in many ways, Captain Phillips is the smartest action film to come out in quite some time, perhaps ever. If one were to cut out all of the non-hijacking related footage, you would be left with an extremely lean, mean, tough little film, something that’s definitely closer in feel to the Bourne films.

As such, however, the film provides me with a bit of a head-scratcher: is a film that is, essentially, an action film (even if an extremely well-made action film) really the best film of the year? Since the film seems to lean much heavier on the action versus the dramatic sequences, I certainly feel it’s fair to characterize it as such. I’ve only seen three of the nominees, thus far, but Captain Phillips certainly doesn’t seem like a better overall film than 12 Years a Slave, even if it’s undeniably more fun. Hanks, in particular, struck me as slightly off. At first, I was rather annoyed with his performance: it seemed too “Hanksian,” at the beginning, an impression not helped by the tediously expository dialogue. Note to screenwriters: as a rule, married couples don’t usually take the time to remind each other that they have children, especially grown children, unless they’re really trying to let the audience know. In fact, the script often felt like it got in the way of Captain Phillips truly taking off: much of the non-action scenes have the same overly expository feel of the opening, as if the filmmakers wanted to make sure that the audience didn’t miss any pertinent information. It’s an obvious, if slightly irritating trick, and it makes the film’s Best Adapted Screenplay nomination feel a bit odd.

Much has also been made of the fact that golden boy Tom Hanks was snubbed on a Best Actor nod, despite being such a massive presence in the film. To be honest, this made a lot of sense to me: Hanks’ performance gets steadily better and more emotional as the film progresses, culminating in a pretty powerful moment at the end, but there’s a lot of dead air there, too. In particular, much of his performance in the film’s first third seems forced and…well…”Hanksian.” Things get radically better once he ends up on the lifeboat with the four pirates but it’s (occasionally) a slog to get there.

What makes complete sense, however, is newcomer Barkhad Abdi, as Muse the defacto pirate captain. Abdi is a revelation, an actor so natural and subtle, yet so gifted at communicating small emotions with just his eyes and face, that he (essentially) wipes the floor with everyone else, including Hanks. Abdi’s performance never seemed like acting and he had a number of truly heartbreaking moments. I’ve only seen three of the five nominated Best Supporting Actor performances but Abdi’s is easily the best, completely outshining Fassbinder in 12 Years and edging out Cooper’s perm in American Hustle by virtue of its searing honesty.

Ultimately, I wanted more of Abdi’s Muse. The film may be about the things that happened to Captain Phillips but it strains to be so much more. With more of an emphasis on the pirates’ home-life (this is the rare film that could have been at least 30-45 minutes longer than it actually was), Captain Phillips may have been a complete classic. As it stands, however, Greengrass and company have managed to craft one absolutely thrilling action film with just enough of a socially conscious heart to stand out from the pack. Is it the best film of the year? Probably not. Is it good enough to be considered? Absolutely.

1/20/14: Oscar Bait, Part 1

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Academy Awards, Ahmed Hassan, Best Feature Documentary nominee, Blackwater, cinema, covert military action, Dirty Wars, documentaries, documentary, Egyptian revolution, Film, Film festival, Hosni Mubarak, Jehane Noujaim, Jeremy Scahill, JSOC, Khalid Abdalla, Magdy Ashour, Middle East, military, Movies, Muslim Brotherhood, Netflix, Oscar nominee, plausible deniability, political struggle, regimes, Rick Rowley, scandals, Somalia, Tahrir Square, The Kite Runner, The Square

Since another four films were viewed on Monday, I figure that we might as well split the day into two, especially since two of the films are current Best Feature Documentary nominees. I must admit that I’ve seen none of the Academy Award nominees, thus far, so the two documentaries below will represent my first foray into this year’s awards season. Better late than never, I suppose!

As far as I’m concerned, one of the best compliments that can be paid a documentary is that the viewer learns something organically rather than being force-fed information or a viewpoint. If I can be entertained and swept up in a story while still learning something or having my current viewpoint challenged…well, let’s just say that makes me a pretty happy guy. As such, I was damn happy about The Square.

Taking place between January 2011 and July 2013, The Square documents the Egyptian civil unrest that led to the ouster of two separate rulers and the upending of decades of oppression. By choosing to focus on a small handful of protesters, all of whom end up interacting with each other, the filmmakers take a very big event and manage to distill it down into a much more personal struggle. Ahmed Hassan, the first revolutionary we’re introduced to in the film, becomes a de facto hero, of sorts, serving as rallying cry for the change so desperately needed in Egypt. His character even goes through an arc from optimistic and brimming with passion to hesitant and reserved to angry and vengeful and back to hopeful and optimistic again. Magdy Ashour, a devout member of the Muslim Brotherhood, also goes through a pretty dramatic arc throughout the film, wavering from unabashed devotion to the Brotherhood to later condemning it before swaying back to support it again. Magdy’s story is much more tragic than Ahmed’s, in many ways, since Magdy is torn by not only the politics of the area but the religious strife, as well. We also spend quite a bit of time with Khalid Abdalla, the handsome star of The Kite Runner, who returns to his homeland of Egypt to throw himself headfirst into the protests.

And headfirst is, indeed, a pretty accurate way to describe the whole film. Once it’s off and running, The Square rarely pauses for breath or reflection: it has several hundred years worth of conflict to document in just over 90 minutes, after all. The approach is thrilling and the access seems (to me, at least) pretty unprecedented. There were several times during the film where I became so caught up in the first-person view of the protests that I almost felt like I was there, particularly during the terrible moments where the government lashes out at the gathered protesters.

The Square runs viewers through a well-organized, clear timeline of the tumultuous 2+ years detailed here. We begin with the ouster of Mubarak, see the results of the army assuming control of the country, the installation of the Muslim Brotherhood into power and their subsequent ouster due to another round of heated protests. There are a lot of factors to consider as far as the protests and fighting go but I felt that The Square laid them all out pretty clearly. The clear emphasis is on the protesters, as it should be, but we also spend some time with the army and the Muslim Brotherhood, particularly as it relates to Magdy. One of the most chilling moments in the entire film is the one where an army officer flashes a wicked grin at the filmmakers and explains that they have absolutely no idea of who actually controls the country. It’s a small, quiet moment in a film that’s often bustling with activity and emotion but it put icicles through my spine.

As a documentary, The Square is very well-crafted. I was initially a bit hesitant, since I felt that the opening seemed a little rehearsed and insincere. In short order, however, I was hooked and just as caught up in the events as any fictional narrative film. Like many Westerners, I was aware of the broad strokes of the situation (Mubarak gone, army in control, Morsi in control, Morsi gone) but had absolutely no clue as to the actual repercussions of those living there. I was most struck by how universal the actual protest was: once we’re on the ground in Tahrir Square, it’s not hard to squint our eyes and see echoes of the Occupy Movement that (briefly) swept North America.

There are two moments in the film that really stuck with, moments that I’ll probably think a lot about in the future. After the military announces that Morsi has been replaced and that there will be a new round of elections, Ahmed gleefully pledges to keep protesting and encouraging others to do the same until the people get the government that THEY want, not the one forced on them. “Our lives are now to be lived in the streets,” he says, and I really believe him. I know, for a fact, that Ahmed will continue to protest and fight for what he believes in and, strangely enough, that gives me just the slightest bit of hope regarding the world. He won’t back down: why should we?

There’s another moment, however, that I found just as powerful. Towards the end, Khalid mentions that no one will really know if the revolution has succeeded for decades; they must wait and see if their work has all been for naught. The people will continue to question and fight, however: “They’re not looking for a leader,” he says, “they’re looking for a conscience.” If that’s not a universal sentiment, I don’t know what is.

I will begin by saying that Dirty Wars is definitely not for everyone. There are many who might compare this film to like-minded conspiracy docs (many of which seem to be available on Netflix) or propaganda pieces. It definitely expresses a particular viewpoint, a viewpoint that many Americans will, no doubt, take umbrage with. Luckily, I’m not here to discuss politics, conspiracy theories or political motivations: anyone who wants to know my political views is welcome to buy me a cup of coffee sometime and discuss them. My main concerns with Dirty Wars as a documentary are: Is it well-made? Is it informative? Does it attempt balance or is there a clear bias? And, perhaps most importantly, is it entertaining?

My first impression of the film is that the narrator, journalist Jeremy Scahill, comes across as more than a little pretentious. This is an impression that will later be reinforced by the film itself: there’s quite a bit of pretension to go around. There’s definitely a sense that Scahill and director Rick Rowley know that they’re telling an important story: hell, we know that, too. Similar to retro genre films that slavishly ape the look of older films without imitating the content or feel, however, Dirty Wars knows that it’s important and doesn’t want the audience to ever forget the fact. From Scahill’s hushed narration (which gets old fast) to the occasionally ominous cinematography and score, Dirty Wars is a film that projects such a serious air that it’s occasionally difficult to take it completely serious. Which is a shame, since there’s nothing light about the subject whatsoever.

Scahill, the journalist who originally broke the Blackwater scandal in Iraq, focuses his attention on the covert military actions run by the U.S. in not only Afghanistan and the Middle East but around the world. He uncovers plenty of damning evidence and stumbles across the super-secretive Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) some time before it would later become famous for the successful military strike that killed Osama bin Laden. There are a number of interesting interviews, although the majority of the U.S. military figures involved tow the same professional line that one could find by watching a Good Morning America interview with the same.

Ultimately, my ambivalence towards Dirty Wars has nothing to do with the subject: nothing I saw changed my original viewpoint in any way, although there were a few moments that seemed to confirm things I’d often suspected. There were even a couple of moments that I found particularly powerful, such as the assertion by one official, regarding the JSOC, that “we’ve created one helluva hammer: now this hammer will spend a lifetime looking for a nail.” That certainly gives you something to think about. I was also enthralled by Scahill’s trip to Somalia, where he interviewed several local warlords. One, a particularly nasty character who also happened to be a U.S. ally, made the chilling assertion that “America are great war masters…they are great teachers.” Terrifying, especially when delivered with a lazy smile.

More than anything, I just found Scahill to be a bit too self-important and pretentious. There seemed to be a constant attempt to strive for greater and greater significance: I would rather find the significance than be told it’s there. By the hundredth or so time that Scahill whispered the equivalent of “I was in over my head and the walls were closing in,” I wanted to toss him a fedora and a bottle of scotch and tell him to just get on with it.