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.