First Impressions | The Shape of Water

Guillermo del Toro is a director whose work I’ve always enjoyed.  Although I need to revisit Mimic, Blade II and his Hellboy Duology are among the better comic book adaptations.  His had made some artsy films, but until now I hadn’t watched any of them.  The Shape of Water is artsy, but showcases del Toro’s love of classic monsters and practical suits.

                Set in the early 60’s, the film revolves around Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins), a mute cleaning woman who works the night shift at a government facility.  An outsider, her only friends are Zelda (Octavia Spencer), a co-worker who translates sign for her, and her starving artist neighbor, Giles (Richard Jenkins).  Life seems normal, but one night a strange water-filled tube is brought into one of the facilities lab.  The tube contains a humanoid creature (Doug Jones) which was captured in the Amazon by a military team lead by Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon).  Curiosity awakes within Elisa, and she attempts to communicate with him.  Building slowly, communication turns to friendship, and friendship blossoms into romance.

                At its core, The Shape of Water essentially is an unofficial reimagining of The Creature From The Black Lagoon.  In that film, the creature becomes infatuated with the female lead and attempts to kidnap her.  He’s injured and presumed dead, but returns and is captured in the sequel.  Shape builds off these concepts, adding in elements of Beauty & the Beast as the infatuation becomes mutual.  Like the Disney version, our lovers are both outsiders, one because of his appearance and the other because of an attribute others might find off-putting (Belle is well-read while Elisa is mute).  This mutual perspective gives the two-common ground, allowing them to slowly bond.  Elisa identifies with the Creature, feeling his pain and seeing the Human in the Inhuman.

                The special effects department delivered when it comes to the monster effects.  The suit is amazing, remonstrant of both The Gillman and Abe Sapien.  While it appears to have some minor CGI touchups—mainly around the eyes—I can’t remember the last time I saw a practical suit executed this well; Hellboy II would be my guess.  It only looked off during the dream dance, but considering the fantastical nature of the scene, it could be intentional.  Speaking of which, that scene caught me off guard in a positive way.  At first I thought a plot twist was coming, but when the scene shifted and music began to play, I knew it was in her mind.  It comes out of nowhere, but I had a smile on my face the entire time.

                While always great, del Toro’s direction was top tier.  His love for the material and genre shine through.  No camera angle or shot length felt out of place, the tech elements are handled with care, and he coerced great performances from his main cast.  The director is considered a film’s author according to auteur theory.  With all the elements executed greatly, I’m not surprised del Toro won the Golden Globe.  It’s well deserved, as is the Oscar nomination that followed.  I don’t expect him to win, but it’s enough to be nominated. 

                The main cast delivered excellent performances.  Sally Hawkins had the difficult task of conveying her character purely through body language and facial expressions, but the Oscar nominee succeeded.  Without uttering a single word, the audience understands her thoughts and motivations, and we root for her.  Richard Jenkins is great as her artistic neighbor, reacting how anyone in their right mind would when thrust into this situation by a friend.  He’s also closeted, which plays a part in his subplot.  Without giving spoilers, it shapes how he reacts to situations involving the Civil Rights movement—he’s pro—and it ultimately why he agrees to aid The Creature.  Octavia Spender had me rolling with laughter.  Her facial expressions and delivery were well-timed.  Future comic relief actors should take notes from this performance.  From what I’ve gathered, her character is comparable to one she played in The Help, so much so that it feels like she was transplanted.  If so, it’s a minor example of typecasting, but one that works to the film’s advantage.

                Michael Shannon is detestable.  Although we understand his motivation and the stress that comes with his occupation, he is irredeemable.  It’d be one thing if he was purely the antagonist because of his job, as there’d be room for partial likeability.  In place of that, Strickland is also sexist.  It’s never stated blatantly, but it’s heavily implied through his actions and words (ex: not wanting his wife to make love sounds and his rape implication towards Elisa).  He’s a man who always needs to be in control, and by the third act things have spiraled far from that.  It burns at Strickland, driving him over the edge.  A nice bit of subtly is that two of his fingers—reattached following an early fight with The Creature—turn black as the plot progresses.  As his world unravels and he rots, so do his fingers.  I knew he would rip them off before the climax, and even with that knowledge I cringed when it happened.  Thank you sound department; you did your job properly.   

Doug Jones plays the Creature, delivering another excellent suit performance.  He is to practical suits what Andy Serkis is to motion capture.  Since he had no dialogue, his entire performance is based on body language and animal vocalizations.  While a handicap, like his co-star Jones manages to convey an effective performance, one that pulls at the audience’s emotions.  He is literally a fish out of water, in a world that he doesn’t understand and would never accept him, and we sympathize.

The film contains a subplot related to the Cold War.  The military’s plans for The Creature connect to their goal of beating the Soviets.  The Red’s aim to acquire the creature, or eliminate it if they cannot.  Without giving spoilers, this conflict tugs at one of the characters.  In the end, he must choose between his love for Science and his love for the Motherland.

All around, The Shape of Water is a well-crafted film.  The acting, direction, cinematography and romantic score are top tier, and it’s a feast for the senses, one I cannot wait to revisit once it hits Blu-ray.  While I normally am not in favor of it, if this film sweeps the Oscars I won’t mind.  The film is that great.

1/22/2018 Vlog Diet Update, Razzie Nominations.

Theater Experience | Kill Bill Volume 1

Another year begins, and with it another round of Temeku Cinema’s Flashback showings.  The manager selected an excellent way to begin with the first half of Quentin Tarantino’s martial arts epic, Kill Bill Volume 1.  While it wasn’t the first of Tarantino’s older films I managed to see on the big screen---that honor goes to my favorite QT film, Pulp Fiction—the number two spot is fitting considering this was the film that introduced me to Tarantino. 

                I caught the Saturday showing.  I originally planned on seeing it Friday after work, but opted out after careful deliberation (I’m still dealing with the last effects of a cold).  I showed up over an hour prior to show time, as arriving late is a pet peeve of mine—it gives me high anxiety—and I didn’t want the show to sell out.  This second worry was misplaced, as this was the smallest audience I’ve seen since I’ve attended Temeku’s showings.  Maybe it’s another symptom of January.  The ticket was free, as I used one of the two I won during trivia back in October when I saw Halloween. 

                Like always, Trvia was fun.  Most of the questions were obvious to film buffs—release date, assassin code names, etc.—but it helped set the mood.  I did attempt to answer the last question and raised my hand before the manager finished speaking, but sitting in the back row played against me.  I didn’t notice if I raised my hand before the person who was called on, but if seated closer I probably would have been noticed better (for those wondering, the question was what film was Tarantino filming when the inspiration for Kill Bill struck). 

                While I agree with one of my contemporary’s assertion that a great film you can watch and enjoy anywhere, there is something about watching a film you enjoy on the big screen that home viewing cannot replicate.   It allows one to further appreciate the technical aspects.  Like Pulp Fiction before it, this viewing did just that.  Giddiness welled up inside me as the film played.  From the anime depiction of O-Ren’s origin to Hanzo’s argument with his assistant—which drew forth the most noticeable rise from my fellow movie goers—I savored each moment as they rolled out onto the screen.  I admired the cinematography, choreography and practical effects work of the end battle already, but seeing it unfold on a larger screen amplified said enjoyment.  It was also exciting to hear the score emanating from a louder source. 

                If this viewing had any negative, it was my fellow movie goers.  Like I mentioned before, the crowd was small compared to past viewings.  While not necessarily bad, they hardly gave an audible reaction.  At times, I felt like I was the only one laughing at Tarantino’s one-liners.  Maybe it was because I sat in the last row, or those in attendance were too spread out for noise to carry well.  Either way, it did negatively impact the experience, even if only slightly.

                Despite this one negative, I toughly enjoyed myself and clicked another film off the Theater Experience list.  Hopefully next January Temeku shows Volume 2, as it’d be a shame to watch one half but not the other.  If not, I’ll have to wait for New Beverly to show The Whole Bloody Affair again.  As for Temeku, February’s film is John Carpenter’s The Thing.  I’ve missed several past showings over scheduling conflicts, but this is one I won’t be passing up.

First Impressions | War for the Planet of the Apes

I’ve loved the Planet of the Apes series since childhood.  First catching the films on AMC, I was drawn into the depicted world, where Ape has usurped Man for dominance.  Since then, Fox has rebooted the series twice.  Tim Burton’s attempt was flawed, but fun.  Rise of the Planet of the Apes was a decent starter, but it possessed several problems—how do you not know a female ape is pregnant!  Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is where the series caught fire again, as it was the best entry in the series since Escape.  A third film had much to follow, especially if was going to be the concluding entry in a trilogy.  While not perfect, the film succeeded in its purpose, and I’m still debating whether I like it or Dawn better overall. 

                Following in its predecessor’s wake, War for the Planet of the Apes picks up several years later. Ceaser’s troop has managed to avoid the Human military, although there have been engagements—the film opens with one.  Ceaser wants his people to live in peace, which puts him at odds with the Colonel (Woody Harrelson).  Our antagonist, the Colonel’s goal is to wipe the Apes out to ensure humanities survival, but not for the expected reason.  His reason is the Simian Flu.  While mentioned only in passing in the previous film, here it becomes important, almost a McGuffin.  The Flu not only increases the intelligence of Apes—which we see with Ceaser’s group and a new character called Bad Ape, who can also speak—but it decreases intelligence in Humans, robbing the infected of speech and higher cognitive functions.  This alone would be enough motivation, but it’s personal for the Colonel, as his son was affected and he euthanized him.

                While I wasn’t a fan of the flu concept when Rise was originally released—it came off as unnecessary—it’s grown on me, mainly in the context of a trilogy.  It’s a better explanation for why Human’s revert to a primitive state than the one given in Boule’s novel, which can be summed up as “The Ape took my house…I feel…odd now…banana good.” 

                A handful of Apes side with the Humans to ensure their survival.  Labeled Donkeys—a reference so obvious I don’t even have to spell it out—they are looked down upon by their masters, but are treated far better than Ape prisoners.  While I don’t see it as such, it wouldn’t surprise me if others viewed this as a comment on “Race Traitors.”  The Apes series has commented openly on real world issues before, so it wouldn’t be new.  If it was intentional, the payoff was expected.

Although War is in the title, there isn’t many fighting scenes as one would expect; most of the shooting is contained in two battle scenes, one during the opening and one in the third act.  While disappointing—I know one of my contemporaries was—it didn’t bother me.  Perhaps my friends review tempered my expectations, softening the blow when I finally viewed the film.  The film is short on action, but there is conflict, a struggle for survival between the Apes and Humans. One side wishes to exist in peace while the other strives to maintain the Evolutionary Status Quo.  The virus McGuffin heightens and presses the issue.  Like Rise, this makes the title metaphorical, but the execution is improved.

Part of the third act reminds me of The Great Escape.  Like the pow’s, the Apes are trapped in a camp, and their escape method involves a tunnel.  While they succeed where the Human’s failed, upon reflection it did seem too easy.  While the ending battle allows for some leeway, before that how did they manage to keep it hush hush?  One would think sentries would be keener.

                Ceaser’s arc concludes with this film.  We witnessed his birth and uprising, followed by his attempt to bridge interspecies peace.  He continues that goal to an extent here, but with age Ceaser’s has grown a slightly nihilistic view.  While he isn’t entirely without hope, it is fading.  Even though he is dead, Koba haunts Ceaser; in several scenes, hallucinations taught the Ape leader, showing the audience how Ceaser has fallen since we last saw him.  In the end, the past cannot be fully forgotten.  He has encountered well-meaning Humans, but he cannot forgive Mankind’s collective actions, even if he will not hold it against everyone.  In a way, Koba won.

                While I prefer practical effect, the Motion Capture was excellent.  While good before, the computer rendering has been taken further, perfected in comparison to the previous films.  I was blown away by how realistic the rendering has become.  If this is the future of Motion Capture, I might not mind its further use, even if my preference for makeup and suits remains.  Andy Serkis, Steve Zahn, and the rest of the cast gave great performances, complimenting the post rendering.  There’s talk in the film community of Serkis receiving an Academy Award nomination for Acting.  Some might argue that his work is more effect than acting—especially considering it can be tweaked in post even more than a normal performance can—I wouldn’t have an issue if it happened.  Even with post rendering, it is still a performance, as Serkis works off the other actors on set.  If given, hopefully it allows for the creation of a new awards category, one that honors Motion Capture and Voice Work. 

                The human cast is decent to meh.  Woody Harrelson is the lone exception.  He has a presence, holding the audience’s attention whenever he’s on screen, even if he’s not speaking.  The Colonel’s backstory monologue is the zenith of Harrelson’s performance.  The audience believes in every word he speaks.  Even though we don’t condone his methods, we understand his twisted logic.  I haven’t seen much of Harrelson’s past work, but if this is any indication I must dig into his filmography.   

                Matt Reeves returned to the director’s chair, handling the job well and allowing for technical and visionary continuity.  He handled the technical elements with care, and got decent performances from the actors.  His direction is one of the reasons I find it difficult to pick between Dawn and War.  I’m familiar with the two films he directed prior to entering the Apes series—Let Me in and Cloverfield respectively—but I haven’t watched them.  I will correct that sometime in future. 

                While not for everyone, War for the Planet of the Apes is a well-made film.  The story is engaging, the villain is relatable yet cruel, Motion Capture is perfected, and it concludes Ceaser’s story on a somber note.

Literature Review | Song of Susannah (Dark Tower VI)

   

     Another step closer to the Tower, but will it fall?  Published in 2004, Song of Susannah is the sixth entry in the Dark Tower series, and the shortest one since Drawing of the Three.  Picking up where Wolves left off, Susannah and Mia have crossed through the Cave Door, taking Black 13 with them.  This presents a problem for Roland and the Tet, as they counted on the Bend’s magic to manipulate the door.  Luckily the Manni also possess the ability to open the door, through a complicated, taxing ritual.  With their door open, the Tet must split up.  Finding Susannah and protecting her from the Crimson King’s minions is critical, but protecting Calvin Tower from Balazar is even more so.  If he caves, the Rose falls, and Discordia calls.
King’s wording is consistent, the prose a continuation of the previous novel.  The chapters are called Stanzas, tying in with the novel’s title.  After the character’s split up, the arrangement is logical, allowing the plot the flow smoothly while allowing some suspense to build.
The opening chapter begins with a literal bang, as one of the Beams shatters.  This breaking caused what Roland calls a Beamquake.  They don’t happen often, but when one occurs, the land within the Beam’s path is devastated; fortunately for the Tet, it wasn’t Shardik’s beam that broke.  Roland claims to have witnessed a quake following Gilliad’s destruction, although he doesn’t elaborate on specific details.  This quake answers why Farson and his men seemly vanish from the story following this point.  Their purpose serves, Flagg and the King left them to their fate, although this is a theory on my part.  Beamquakes flesh out the Breaker concept.  With Wolves we knew the King had breakers, and now we know exactly what results from their work, although it is poultry compared to their ultimate goal.
From Mia we also learn further details on the fate of the Calla children.  After being seized, they are transported to a town miles beyond the river.  There they are laid upon tables and devices are placed on their heads.  While the process is unseen, King gives enough detail for the Constant Reader’s imagination to fill in the blanks, and it’s not pretty.  Given the choice, I’d rather be dead than Roont.
Wolves introduced King himself as a character, and Song further fleshes this concept.  While King writes the books, he didn’t create the characters or their adventures.  He is merely a scribe, typing the words as they blow through him; if anyone is the true author, it’s Ka or Gan.  This concept is meta, but also Lovecraftian, bearing similarity to the origin of the dreaded Necronomicon.  King hears the voice of Gan just as the Mad Arab dreamed of Cthulhu.  Each wrote based on these visions.  King’s writings put his life in peril, as the Crimson King has tried several times to dispose of him.  The Coda hits that it may eventually be successful.
    While it might not be every Tower fan’s cup of tea, for me it suits the series semi-meta nature, especially when multiple-worlds are considered.  King pokes fun at himself several times throughout the novel, although one does come off as self-effacement.  There’s only a few aspects that feel off.  19 is important, but that fact seemingly comes out of nowhere, although timing and location could explain that.  Perhaps the number doesn’t have cosmic importance in Oz or Lud, outside of Blaine the Paine.  I also wonder if Calvin Tower and Balazar—since they exist in the same world as King—learn they are characters in a novel.  Balazar especially, considering how notorious he is.  Perhaps he’s dead by that point.
    While I have several small problems, Song of Susannah is still an entertaining read, setting up the final act nicely.  The Last Battle approaches.  Load your guns, and blow the horn. 

Undertaker Streak A Thon | Triple H 9 0

First Impressions | Aguirre the wrath of god

                As many of you know, I am a history buff.  It’s always fascinated me and was my favorite subject in school.  With that in mind, it might surprise you that I haven’t seen this film until now.

                Directed by Werner Herzog, Aguirre, the Wrath of God is a 1972 historical drama, loosely based on the title character’s 16^th-century expedition.  Under orders to find The Legendary El Dorado, Aguirre seizes control of his party, forcing his subordinates further and further into the unexplored jungle, facing floods, hostile natives, and ration shortages.  This leads to low morale, madness, and tragedy.  While in real life his men eventually mutinied against him, film Aguirre ends things alone, monologuing in his madness. 

                Herzog shot the film on a $300,000 budget, and at times it’s noticeable, as nothing overly elaborate—with one minor exception—occurs on-screen.  While this could be a potential negative, it forced Herzog to concentrate on the film’s technical elements and Aguirre’s characterization.  From what I’ve gathered, Herzog didn’t rehearse, stage or storyboard the scenes beforehand, framing each shot spontaneously on-location.  Combined with the budget, this gives the film a dirty, raw feeling; while not the same, I’d compare it to Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s quasi-documentary look.

                This was the first film Herzog made with Klaus Kinski, beginning a professional relationship that lasted fifteen years.  While Kinski was not the easiest actor to get along with due to his frantic behavior, Herzog always managed to get excellent performances out of him, and Aguirre is no exception.  From the beginning, the audience is inside Aguirre’s head, knowing what he’s thinking without Kinski even having to utter a word.  By the time he usurps command, we know how things will end for him.  Not surprisingly, the pair disagreed over how Aguirre should behave during the last scene, with Kinski wanting his madness to be expressed theatrically; in essence, he wanted to go Nic Cage.  Wanting the scene to be restrained, Herzog let Kinski play the scene his way for over an hour.  When he was too exhausted to continue, the director got his way.

                The rest of the cast is nothing to run home about, ranging from decent to meh.  Del Negro’s monk is the closest thing to a memorable side character, mainly because he’s at odds with Aguirre in several scenes.  The flute-playing native comes close, but his only story purpose is his gimmick.  From what I’ve gathered, the actor was mentally challenged and hard to work with because he scared easily.  I don’t like to use the phrase “he’s playing himself,” but in this case, it’d fit.

                Like it or hate it, this is definitely a film cinema buffs should watch once.  It’s an excellent example of how a genius and creativity can overcome budget constraints, and how one performance can carry a film.  It’s easy to see how Herzog built a career in Aguirre’s wake, and how the film inspired many, including Francis Ford Coppola while making Apocalypse Now.  Now I have an image of Kinski yelling a certain Colonel’s dialogue running through my head.

Literature Review | Wolves of the Calla (Dark Tower V)

“Mister, we deal in lead.”  Published in 2003, Wolves of the Calla is the fifth entry in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, and the first entry in a trilogy that makes up its closing salvo. 

Picking up not long after Wizard & Glass, Roland & company continue along the Path of the Beam, on their way to Thunderclap and beyond.  Near the border, the Ka-tet find themselves in Calla Bryn Sturgis, a farming community similar to the Barony of Mejis.  The Calla beseech the Gunslingers for aid, as once a generation Wolves descend upon them, kidnapping children for their masters in Thunderclap.  A new ally also awaits them:  Callahan, the priest from Salam’ Lot.  While he has recovered somewhat from Barlow’s influence, he now possesses one piece of Maerlyn’s Rainbow, and he fears the dark power it possesses.  Roland agrees to help the Calla and the priest, but the Tet is dealing with their own internal issues, as Susannah is pregnant with a demon baby—brought forth by her actions in The Waste Lands—and her fragile mind has brought forth another personality, Mia, who could birth at any time.  To further complicate matters, The Rose is in danger, and the Tet must find a way to purchase the corner plot, lest it face the plow and the Tower falls.

Roland was inspired by Sergio Leone’s Dollar Trilogy, and King’s love of the genre continues, as Wolves is heavily influence by The Magnificent Seven.  The basic plot is the same, with the action shifted to Mid-world and the Ka-tet replacing McQueen and company.  King’s pop culture references continue with the title Wolves, as their design resembles Marvel’s Dr. Doom—a fact Eddie and Jake muse over—and their wield weapons similar to lightsabers.  Meta to the audience, within the story’s world it is our first hint about what our heroes could expect in Thunderclap; if the Wolves’ masters can make fiction reality, what else can they pull out? 

                Being the first entry that King wrote following his near-fatal van accident, the prose style shifts slightly.  While it pales in comparison to its immediate predecessor and Gunslinger Revised, it is still a page-turner, and I enjoyed it more during this second read through than I did when I read through the series for the first time in 2010.  Amazing how years can advance one's perspective on art.

Like it’s predecessor’s, Wolves expands on Mid-world’s lore.  Not only do we see how gunslingers behave when aiding people cold--but Roland is given an official title:  dinh.  It marks him both as the Tet’s leader and the last of Eld’s original line.  Roland also muses on The Battle of Jericho hill, allowing the audience a deeper glimpse into the White’s final battle and the deaths of his old mates, Alain and Cuthbert.  Without giving specifics away, their ends are fitting, especially given how Roland is when we first meet him.  This entry also introduces Todash, a state of being where one is essentially in between levels of the tower.  While they can’t directly interact with another level, individuals there sense their presence and they can view actions as they progress.  Another nuance is added to the Tower Beams, as it is revealed that the Crimson King is attempting to destroy them with the aid of Breakers, humans with extraordinary psychic abilities.  Not much is revealed about the Breakers, but their existence is connected to the raids.

                Callahan’s introduction while odd felt natural.  His ultimate fate in Salem’s Lot was fitting for his character arc, but compared to the others it felt open-ended.  His new backstory continues off from that ending, explained to the audience in pieces over the course of several chapters.  Not wanting to spoil everything, I’ll keep this brief:  following his confrontation with Barlow, Callahan ended up in New York City.  He made friends but discovered the blood transfer had left him with the ability to spot Vampires, a glow around the head being the giveaway.  He began to kill them, an action that eventually attracted the attention of the Low-men, rat-like servants of the Crimson King first introduced in Hearts in Atlantis. While he evades them for a while, eventually Callahan is cornered and attempts suicide.  Like Jake before him, death transports him into Roland’s world.  While he no longer considers himself a priest, Callahan carries himself as one far better than he did in the Lot, although he does curse on occasion.  His experiences have begun to restore his faith, but I wouldn’t put my money on him being a match for Barlow yet.

                Another bend of Maerlyn’s Rainbow appears, one far more dangerous than the Grapefruit Roland and company encountered.  Dark as a shadow, Black 13 is the last Bend numerically, and the most feared by those who believe the Eld Legends.  Like Pink, it can send one’s mind Todash, although the sensation is much stronger.  It can also open up tears in reality, allowing one to cross between levels of the Tower, into any when and where.  While useful, it is costly, as one must contend with 13’s devious behavior and dark temperament.  Eddie learns this firsthand, and it’s why Callahan wishes to be rid of the Bend.  In a flashback, Randall Flagg handles the Bend in an offhand manner, as if its power were of no concern.  While odd from most perspectives to a servant of the Crimson King—he who “rules” the Dark Tower—it is but a trinket.

                Mia—Mother in the High Speech—is an interesting addition to the series.  The previous two novels hinted that Susannah Dean was pregnant following her tussle with the Speaking Demon, so it becoming a major plot issue wasn’t a surprise.  Susannah’s mental state is another matter.  While some might label it a flaw, it works, especially once Detta Walker's cameos are factored in.  The Drawing healed her, but the original damage remains, and the Demon seed took advantage.  Mia isn’t written deeply, but she didn’t have to be.  She is maternal instinct given form; her motivation and objective is clear.  It’s her existence and its implications that provide drama.

                Jake faces his own conundrum.  Although he has been through much—two deaths and his sanity fracturing—causing him to grow mentally, he is still a child.  As such, he approaches things with a mixed mindset.  We see this contrast play out through his friendship with Benny Slightman the Younger.  While he might be older than Jake, he is still innocent, as Mid-world has yet to jade his mindset.  Jake’s problem arises when he begins to suspect someone in the Calla is a traitor.  While this is important information—especially considering he possesses the Touch—Jake doesn’t wish to get anyone in trouble, in case the information is incorrect.  He also doesn’t wish to go against Roland’s wishes, as it’ll thrust him into his manhood test.

                In addition to the Wolves and his Tet problems, Roland has a physical ailment to deal with, although admittedly it comes out of nowhere.  The Gunslinger is battling arthritis, what he refers to as The Dry Twist.  It’s bad in his right hip, but he dreads the day when it reaches his left hand.  While an out of left field development, it works and heightens the Gunslinger’s dilemma.  Things were grave when the Lobstrocities crippled his dominate hand—although Eddie and Susannah have balanced things out—but if Roland’s off-hand stiffens, he’ll be unable to shoot; a demilitarized Gunslinger.  The expression is old, but Roland is working on borrowed time, heightening the drama and Roland’s need to reach the Tower.

                The Epilogue contains the novel’s largest, most divisive reveal:  the introduction of Stephen King as a character.  That’s right, King placed himself in his Magnum Opus.  While it might seem self-indulgent, it makes sense in a weird way.  There are different planes of existence, one for each level of the tower.  Who’s to say King cannot exist in one—preferably the bottom level.  Plus, a previous entry hinted at King’s existence, as Eddie compared something he saw to a scene from Kubrick’s adaptation of the Shinning.  We still have two novels to traverse through so this element will be expanded upon. 

King dedicated the novel to Frank Muller, the actor who recorded the audiobooks for the first four novels.  King listened to all four during the pre-writing stage, to reacquaint himself with the world and get in the right mindset.  Muller was set to record Wolves’ audiobook too but suffered a tragic motorcycle accident before work began.  King organized a fund for Muller’s medical expenses, donating profits from the audiobook’s sale.  He sadly passed away in 2008.

While not perfect, Wolves of the Calla is a decent addition to the Dark Tower series.  It advances the plot, expands the mythos and sprinkles in the right amount of drama as the endgame nears.  Commala come-ka; The Rose calls, and the Crimson King advances, with the Eld to meet him.

First Impressions | Coco

Like many of you, I grew up on Disney’s animated films.  While some have aged better than others, I still get Nostalgic enjoyment whenever the urge to watch one arises.  Despite this, I have been lazy when it comes to watching their newer films.  Bolt and Up I enjoyed in the theater, while Tangled and Princes & the Frog are still on my to watch list.  However, when I saw the trailer for Coco I knew it was one I had to watch in the theater.  Being from a Mexican family—on my father’s side—might play a part in my initial interest, but it alone does not summarize my enjoyment.

            Set in a small Mexican village, Coco is the story of a boy named Miguel.  Miguel loves music, but comes from a family of cobblers who despise the art because his guitarist great-great-grandfather abandoned the family; this disdain is so great that Miguel can’t even glance at a musician without his grandmother pulling off her sandal and committing assault.  Dia de Muertos arrives, and while setting up the family shrine Miguel learns who his grandfather could be:  his idol, Ernesto De La Cruz.  This discovery eventually lands Miguel in the world of the dead, where he must acquire his family’s blessing or remain there forever. 

            Like all Pixar films, the animation is beautiful.  From the character designs to the backgrounds, the team did their research.  Some might find it basic to use skeletons to represent the dead, but I find it logical considering the holiday associates itself with skull imagery.  Most—myself included—think of facepaint first, and the animators referenced this in their designs, small details included. 

While I have never been to a Muertos celebration—unless one counts Mass—the celebration appeared accurate from what little I know.  Now, I do want to research the celebration further, especially its native roots.  That said, how Pixar integrated the spirits of the dead was interesting.  Minor spoiler, but the dead only exist in their ethereal plane as long as the living remember them.  This remembrance allows them to crossover during the celebration, but only if their pictures are placed in their family shrine.  If no one living remembers them, they weaken and vanish.  “Death for the Dead.”  I wasn’t expecting this plot development, making it a pleasant surprise.  It adds the right amount of drama during the film’s second half as Hector—our Deuteragonist—is in danger of fading away.  At the risk of major spoilers, all I’ll say is that it’s tied into the film’s title.  I don’t know about all of you, but going into this viewing I was questioning the significance, and that continued as the film progressed. 

            The ensemble cast voice their roles well.  While I don’t recognize many voices, the ones I did made me smile.  Benjamin Bratt was perfect as de la Cruz, his voice equal parts charm and charisma; one can easily see why his character was loved in life.  Without spoiling anything, it also adds a finishing touch to the third act.  Cheech Marin is always fun to hear, even if his role is a pithy cameo. 

            Given the subject matter, I wasn’t surprised the main theme was family, mainly its importance.  Mexicans—and Hispanics in general—highly value the unit, and this came across well.  From the post backstory scene to the credits, we see this family’s interactions and their love and concern for one another shines through.  While they might not always get along—what family does—they are there for each other, no matter what.

Traditionalism vs Individuality is a secondary theme, interwoven with the first.  Miguel and his family—mainly his grandmother—are at odds with the boys musical leanings, and this conflict carries the plot forward.  Miguel wishes to follow his heart and live his dream while Grandma wants to keep her family safe and homogenized, which given the family’s backstory is understandable.  We sympathize with both sides but ultimately side with Miguel and his struggle.  He has an uphill battle against in both worlds, but he’s persistent, and persistence pays off.   Miguel is the film's heart, and without him, it wouldn’t work as well. 

With a run-time of 109 minutes, the film is well paced.  At no time was I bored, as Miguel’s plight drew me in, and I found the characters he interacted with fascinating, even though a majority of them are brief and one-dimensional.  The humor worked, and like always Pixar threw in a few for the adults.  The knuckles one, in particular, popped the audience superbly.  According to a co-worker, an interview she watched claimed one part was a shot at Trump.  While it could be interpreted as such, I don’t get that out the scene.  While it satirizes custom’s policies and officials, the humor is generalized, and thus less likely to age the joke as quickly.  The only celebrity mentioned by name is Lucha Legend El Santo, which being a wrestling fan garnered a smile and pop from me. 

If you’re a fan of Pixar’s film, definitely watch this one. While some might compare it to Book of Life, I don’t.  While both films revolve around Mexican culture and the ethereal plane, both plots and goals are different; any similarities I chalk up to culture, and both having Cheech Marin.  

First Impressions | Bright

       What happens when the Dungeon Master has too many ideas and decides to write a screenplay?  We get films like this.
Bright is a 2017 fantasy crime film produced by Netflix.  Taking place in a modern world where magic exists, Humans live alongside Orcs, Elves and other fantastical creatures.  While the how is never touched upon, one can infer this world had a LOTR-style past at one point, and this is the modern result.  Will Smith plays Daryl Ward, a veteran LAPD officer returning to duty after being on the wrong end of a shootout.  Joel Edgerton plays Jakoby, his partner and the forces first active Orc officer.  This distinction carries a two-way stigma, as Jakoby isn’t trusted by his fellow officers and other Orcs despise him.  While on patrol, the pair stumble across a female Elf in the possession of a Magic Wand, a rare item of immense power; as Jakoby puts it, “It’s like a nuclear weapon that grants wishes.”   With vatos, Orcs and a Dark Elf after them, the pair must keep the wand safe as they transverse the streets, as each of their enemies have nefarious intentions.
I was interested in the film the moment I saw the trailer.  The idea was interesting, so it could be a fun time.  I’ve also always enjoyed Will Smith as an actor—even if the overall film is subpar—and being a fantasy fan, I can’t help but pop for the general idea.  Going in, I kept my expectations low, as my colleges had mixed reactions:  some loved it and some thought the film was meh.  After watching it myself, Bright was decent.  The leads had a great repour—it’s obvious the pair work together, but aren’t friends—the action is competently shot, and the story had me invested.  That said, there were several elements that an additional draft could have improved.  The Dark Lord plot is mentioned early on, but the prophecy bit comes out of nowhere, feeling tacked on.  Many of the jokes drew out a chuckle, but several had my eyebrows raised, although I concede they fit the moment in context.

           Race relations is one of the film’s topics, and its allegorical analysis range from subtle to in-your-face blatant.  Set in Los Angeles, Orcs stand-in for African-Americans.  While some are mentioned to have money from sports—a play on certain ethnicities dominated different games—the Orcs we see are thugs, tagging walls and planning murder.  Gang initiation is brought up in the form of Blooding; a hold-over from medieval Orc heritage, but the real-world parallel is obvious.  Jakoby isn’t Blooded, so his own race scorns him.  Human’s view Orcs as animalistic brutes—which could be heavy handed, but matches most depictions of the race—and mistrust them, including Jakoby.  This hatred stems from a war two millennia ago, when they sided with the Dark Lord.  While asinine to judge one’s character based on the actions of one’s ancestors, Human nature is not always wise.  The police brutality scene is where I draw the line.  While I see what the filmmakers were attempting to get across, with how the scene is staged and edited it’s far to blatant.  We get it:  some cops use excessive force and get away with it.  Subtly please.

                Class is also touched upon with the elves—although we do get a brief race moment with the Federal one.  The Elves are portrayed as obscenely rich, spending their days shopping.  They live in their own gated community, which Ward and Jakoby pass through early on.  Although a play on how snobbishly Elves are portrayed as at times, it’s obvious they are an allegory for Hollywood’s elite, with Elf Town standing in for Beverly Hills.  An argument could also be made that they’re a play on the “Jews own everything” stereotype, but it’s thin.

              The Acting ranges from good to serviceable.  Smith and Edgerton are the highlights, carrying the film.  They share an interesting chemistry, a must for a great buddy film.  Rapace is alright as the dark-elf Leilah, but she’s one-note; like film Darth Maul, she’s evil because she’s evil.  She does allow for an interesting role reversal, as the elf is our villain and an orc is one hero.  Edgar Ramirez doesn’t have much interesting to say as Federal Elf Kandomere, but he has a presence; Ramirez feels like he walked straight off the set of The Lord of the Rings, swapping in his armor for a business suit.  Lucy Fry is the film’s weak link.  While she does ok as Tikka, I cared for her character mostly because the story demanded I do; although she did have moments; a few times I was reminded of LeeLoo, mainly because of her strange bond with Jakoby (spoiler:  it goes nowhere).

           The visual and make-up effects were good; with a $90 Million budget, they better be!  The Orc and Elf designs were typical, but fresh enough to be aesthetically pleasing.  I did like that each Orc had different skin markings and fang length.  CGI was used for magical scenes, but it didn’t appear cartoony or half-rendered.  I’ve seen better, but I’ve also seen much, much worse.  

          While he gets flack for Suicide Squad, David Ayer directed Bright well.  He made sure his actors weren’t wooden, and his camera shots made logistical sense.

                While flawed, Bright is a film I can see myself re-watching.  While not my favorite released in 2017, it’s easily in the conversation.  There’s already talk of a sequel, which I’m anticipating.  Hopefully the filmmakers learned, and the sequel does more of what worked and tone down what didn’t.  It’d also be nice to explore how Earth’s been impacted by the existence of magic and Tolkien fodder.  Oh, the possibilities.    

Comic Review | Darth Vader # 9

Greetings fellow Star Wars fans, it is I, MAR.  Another Vader issue has dropped, and I can safely say I called the fight.

                When last we left the temple, Jocasta Nu had given into her irritation, making her presence known to the Grand Inquisitor, who she now holds at Saber point.  The two exchange banter, with the Inquisitor revealing to Jocasta that he is a former Jedi and that he now serves the Emperor.  Before the archivist can deliver a blow, he activates his weapon, instigating a duel.  While it only lasts four pages, we gain some insight into Grand’s mind.  He despises the Jedi Order, as he never felt comfortable with them or their interpretation of the Force.  In his words, “I always felt that something was being denied me.  Now, at last, that void has been filled with the purity of the Dark Side.”   We also learn that Grand has a personal vendetta against Jocasta, as he loathed her for repeatedly denying his achieve requests, even though it was her job.  

As expected, the Grand Inquisitor easily wins the duel, but his follow-up is interrupted by Darth Vader.  As we learned several issues back, The Emperor wants Jocasta alive, for the time being, a wish he only disclosed to his apprentice.  Without this knowledge, the Inquisitor questions Vader’s rationale and loyalty, logical given his perspective.  The Sith simply brushes him off, his words punctuating their superior-subordinate relationship.  “I do not require your trust, Grand Inquisitor.  Only your obedience.”  Jocasta manages to escape, but like a slasher-movie villain, Vader tails her.   The archivist manages to fully wipe the archive memory, a move which will make future comics and novels interesting, especially when it comes to Luke’s post-ROTJ search.  

Speaking of interesting, the droid that greeting Jocasta in issue 08 plays a pivotal role information wise.  Equipped with scanners, he recognizes Vader’s signature, referring to the former-Jedi by his true name. This revelation rightly worries Jocasta.  As a Knight, Anakin was powerful; as a Sith, he could—and would—be even more so.  With controlled fury, the Sith Lord dismantles the droid by hand; while I’m sure Force Grip could have sufficed, considering the droid countered saber throw, Vader is being cautious.  Before he reaches Jocasta, a large plasma blast fires his way.  Although he deflects, the energies momentum knocks the Sith Lord off his feet.  The blasts source?  A large rife Jocasta was custodian off, one that feeds off her lightsaber, and by extension, her Kyber Crystal.  While I was certain Vader would have an easy time defeating Jocasta, as he outclasses her with both the Force and Lightsaber combat, now I’m not so certain.  While we know the Sith will survive this encounter, the outcome is still hazy.  Jocasta could still escape, although I believe she will be captured or killed.















Issue #9 was excellent.  While the pace was quick at several points—necessitating the use of many panels—the story wasn’t shortchanged.  Although minor, Grand’s character development was intriguing, and part of me wonders if he’ll end up killing Jocasta before Vader captures her.  If so, I know the Emperor’s reaction will be classic.

Movie Review | The Hateful Eight

There’s not many contemporary directors that haven’t made a bad film.  While I enjoy the later works of Ridley Scott and Tim Burton, they are shadows when compared to Alien and Beetlejuice.  Quintin Tarantino is my one exception.  Some of his films are better than others, but I wouldn’t call any terrible.

                I was first introduced to Tarantino by Kill Bill.  Before then, I’d heard his name only in passing.  His love letter to 70’s martial arts exploitation films created a fan, and my adoration grew with each subsequent film.  Django Unchained was the first I saw in theaters.  While a little overlong in places, I didn’t have major issues.  When I heard about his next film, my interested was more than peaked, especially when I heard it was another period piece.  Sadly, I didn’t get to watch it in theaters—a fact I retroactively kick myself for—but when I did finally watch, I savored.

                Released in 2015, The Hateful Eight is a western thriller, and Tarantino’s eighth film (yes, Kill Bill only counts as one).  Set in Wyoming a decade following the Civil War, the film revolves around a group of strangers stranded in a haberdashery by a blizzard.  Two of the strangers are famous bounty hunters, with one bringing in an infamous outlaw to hang.  As the film progresses, The Hangman begins to suspect that not everyone there is trustworthy.  The tension and paranoia build, leading to a gory climax.

                The first time I watched the film, I noticed a vague similarity to John Carpenter’s The Thing.  Both films revolve around a group of strangers isolated by nature who are slowly gripped by mistrust and paranoia.  Kurt Russell stars in both, and at one point disarms several characters out of self-preservation.  Ennio Morricone also scored both films, with his compositions completing each one’s tone.  According to Tarantino, this similarity is intentional, as it was his way of deconstructing how he felt when first watching The Thing, albeit with his usual flair. 

                The acting is great all around.  The supporting cast perform well, even though most of the characters are nothing.  Samuel L Jackson, Kurt Russell and Michael Madsen give performances we’ve come to expect, especially in a Tarantino film.  Bruce Dern is alright as Col Smithers, and Damián Bichir is intentionally awkward as Senor Bob, leading to chuckle worthy moments.  Tim Roth steals his scenes as the delightfully foppish Oswaldo Mobray.  Although subtle by comparison, Jennifer Jason Leigh gives the best performance as Daisy, ranging from sympathetic to detestable.  Russell means to see her hang, but they have an interesting relationship, backed by the pairs chemistry.  It’s not romantic, but at times borders on an old married couple.  Quintin cast Leigh because he needed a great actress in the role; he made the perfect choice. 

                Daisy plays a guitar in one scene, which was loaned to the production by the Martin Guitar Museum.  Six stunt replicas were built for the ending moment, but none were used.  Due to a misunderstanding, Kurt Russell grabbed and destroyed the antique before he could be stopped.  Leighs shocked reaction in the final film is from this take, explaining its authenticity.  The Martin Museum no longer loans guitars to film shoots. 

                While the film is long, Fred Raskin’s editing paces it well.  The opening credits and a later drive scene drag, but they allow the audience to take in the setting and its accompanying isolation.  We know our characters are snowbound, and if anything goes awry there’s no help coming.  It’s all on them.  Morricone’s score compliments this feeling, allowing the tension to build as the plot progresses.  Tarantino claimed some of the compositions are unused compositions from The Thing; if so, it was wise for Morricone to use them here, as they fit. 

                Courtney Hoffman handled wardrobe.  Having worked on Django Unchained, she was the obvious choice for another period piece, allowing a sense of aesthetic continuity.  The costumes feel like a natural forward progression from Django. 

                If there’s any aspect I’m not a fan of, it’s Major Warren’s story.  While it serves a purpose in allowing the Major to kill Col Smithers—even though he baited him—it undermines the preceding moment.  Tarantino had stoked tension between the two, built on animosity from the Civil War.  They were close to blows, but dinner conversation and a shared history brought the pair together.  They had a tender moment of brotherhood, and it deteriorated into typical Tarantino fodder.  While the resulting scene is entertaining, it could have been more, although Tarantino would have had to alter one following plot element. 

                The film contains Tarantino’s usual tropes:  long-takes, language, explicit violence—effects handled by The Walking Dead’s Greg Nicotero—Red Apple Tobacco, and non-linier story telling.  This last aspect is especially important, as the third act contains a twist that necessitates a flashback.  Knowing Tarantino, I should have seen part of this twist coming, but it surprised me during my first viewing.  It leads to a tense, gory ending.  While it might not please everyone, not all endings should be happy.  It’s the ending the film deserved and earned.

                While not my favorite entry in his filmography—that honor currently goes to Pulp Fiction—The Hateful Eight is close.  While made more for entertainment, it’s a great example of how the elements of mis-en-scene blend together to form an excellent film.  4 cups of well water coffee out of 5.