tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83297960279916635242024-03-08T16:19:35.334-08:00MindbloggingMichele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-4191859393331200902020-09-13T03:07:00.001-07:002020-09-13T03:07:40.015-07:00In a Lonely Place (1950)Although it has been described as one of the 100 best mystery films, for me In a Lonely Place place was one of Humphrey Bogart’s least famous movies. We meet Dixon Steele in a bar. We immediately see that Dixon is a man with a violent temper but a soft heart. He is kind to Charlie, the fading silent movie star, who was once famous and is now ignored and mocked by the industry patrons. He pays the man’s bar bills, banters with him and defends him with his fists, when the son-in-law of a big movie mogul tries to humiliate Charlie.
We can also understand why Dixon has almost become persona non grata in Hollywood. He hasn’t written his screen play in years. He ridicules the movers and shakers and he doesn’t want to play “the game“. He needs another hit,Much to the chagrin of his longtime agent, Mel.
Mel is kind hearted and loyal. He was with Dixon in his heyday and he is not about to abandon him now during a slump, but he kindly nudges Dixon to write, trying to rekindle the ambition he once had. Dixon sharp, scathing tongue tell us that he is still creative inside. His mind is always blazing. But setting that cognitive spark to paper is just not something he’s been interested in doing lately. Right now he is supposed to read a popular book and to write the screenplay for it. The job is a piece of cake, because he has Strict orders to follow the novel exactly and not deviated from it. So he should be able to write the script in his sleep. Clearly, the problem with that is they don’t need a first class author to mechanically turn a book into a script. They don’t want his talent or imagination.
As he enters the bar, the hat check girl is probably reading the very book that he supposed to convert to screen. She is a nobody to the Hollywood types that frequent the restaurant, but Dixon speaks to her pleasantly. She is certainly as interesting to him as the self-important, but dumb industry people that surround him.
The bar clears out after Dixon abrawls with the son-in-law of the big film producer. The fact that the bar owner doesn’t mind and the waiters are gracious to him establishes that Dixon has been good to them in the past. he may not have had a hit in years, but he is treated like a star by the restaurant workers and his sins forgiven, though the owner does ask him to take his fights outside
A fashionable actress, a former paramour, stops by Dixon’s table as she leaves. She seems successful enough not to need him, but she wants him.He gives her a brush off and she wonders if he antagonizes every woman or is it just her. He says that he was nice to her. She counters\ yes he was nice, but not nice to her. I am not sure what this means.
Later we hear that she filed a police report against him for domestic violence, but she later withdrew the charges. But in her interactions with him, where she doesn’t mention the abuse and wants to ingratiate herself, it’s hard to believe that there was physical violence. Did he treat her badly? Is that why she views him as a nice person even though he wasn’t nice to her? To me, she just acts like a woman who never got the attention from him that she craved. There is no resentment there, just perhaps a tiny hope that things will change in the future. She seems more to be a victim of his disinterest than his brutality. Furthermore, when he says that he was nice to her, I take him at face value. He’s a bad guy, but not one that doesn’t regret his bad acts. Eventually he would at least offer her something to make up for his past behavior, but he doesn’t act like he owes her anything.
He asks the hat check girl, Mildred, to go home with him, because she has read the script and he has not. She says she must be getting home to her aunt Cora and her date for the evening, Henry. But when he convinces her he just wants to pick her brain about the book and not to disrobe her, she consents to go home to his place.
They arrive at his apartment and she wanders around the courtyard. She’s curious and impressed. He takes her hand and tries to pull her back to his place. A woman walks in and she passes between them, walking right through the couple, rather than around. If they had been dating, you might say that this gesture usurped on Mildred’s territory.
Is that woman a neighbor of his Mildred wants to know. Dix says no he’s never seen her before. Well, I would point out that the fact that he’s never seen her before does not mean that she is not his neighbor. The woman climbs the stairs, towards another apartment.
In his apartment he makes Mildred a nonalcoholic drink. When he goes into his bedroom and puts on his robe, she thinks he’s making a pass at her, but he assures her that he just wants to be comfortable. He tells her to give him the plot of the story in the book. The book has all the elements present in the movie plot. An untimely death, love, jealousy and a break up.
The story is so second rate that Dixon doesn’t even want to attempt to read it himself. Mildred screams help while enacting the story and he hushes her. He tells Mildred to keep on talking while he’s in his bedroom and from his bedroom he sees His neighbor, looking at him from her balcony. And she is unabashed. She doesn’t turn away when she gets caught looking. Luckily, she can see Mildred was fine after screaming for help.
Mildred broke a date with her boyfriend to be with Dixon. When Dixon asks about the boyfriend Mildred says that he has a nice job and discusses how stable he is. From that Dixon divines that she does not love him. She admits as much.
Having summarized the book for him, even though she could never get the heroine’s name right, it’s Althea not Alethea, Dixon is ready to send Mildred home. He is not going to drive her but he gives her money for the cab.
The next time we see him a police officer is knocking at his door. It takes a while for Dixon to answer. He says he was asleep. The officer is Brub Nikolai. In the army, Dixon was his commanding officer and Nikolai likes Dix. He asks Dixon why he didn’t answer the door and Dix says because he was asleep. Nikolai says that his supervisor wants Dix to come down to the station and answer questions. The woman that was at Dixon’s house last night, Mildred, was murdered and her body dumped on the road.
Dixon has no reaction to the news, he doesn’t express regret or much interest. He says that she was there to read him a story and nothing more. Nikolai thinks giving her $20 for a taxi was a lot and Dixon says that she performed a service for him, reading a book that he did not want to read. He is happy to go down to the station. When he goes into his room to get dressed, Nikolai follows him in and is relieved to see that the bedsheets are ruffled. He concludes that Dixon really was asleep like he said.
At the police station Nicolai’s boss, Lochner, is interviewing Dixon’s neighbor, Laurel Gray, a former actress who used to date a big real estate agent. She recently broke up with him. She says that she saw Dixon bid Mildred goodbye at his door. She doesn’t know what he did after that, she just knows that the girl left alone. The supervisor grudgingly takes Gray’s words as an alibi for Dixon. Dixon comes in to the office and sees her.
Gray observes that Dickson has a nice face.The supervisor wonders if Gray and Dixon are friends but Dixon says that he’s never seen her before, which is a repeat of what he told Mildred last night. The supervisor says that Dix is free to go. He offers to take Gray home, but she says that she always leaves with the man who brought her. In this case the man is a police officer.
Dixon stops outside of a flower shop where a black man is watering the pavement. Dix calls the man “pal” and is polite. He gives him money and says he wants to send 2 dozen white roses to Mildred Atkinson. The man asks him if he has an address. He says no but it should be in the papers because Mildred was murdered last night. It’s funny he doesn’t ask to send the flowers to her family, even though he knows she lives with her aunt Cora. He asked to send them to her, although she is dead. Even though he has shown no sympathy about her death, The flowers indicate that he cares on some level. Or that he’s just polite.
Back at the apartment complex, Gray comes over and asks him to keep her name out of the paper. He says sometimes it’s easier to get your name in the paper than to keep it out.Dixon and Grey talk. He says that he admires her for being so frank and saying what she feels. He saw her looking at him last night. She says he has a nice face. He goes to the mirror and looked at himself and said she must be crazy to think that he has a nice face. Then he comes back and steps close to her. He leans down. She says that she said he had a nice face but she didn’t say she wanted to kiss it.
He wonders why she doesn’t want any publicity. He guesses that she is hiding from her ex real estate agent boyfriend. She says something like that. He says they can have dinner that night. She says yes but they will both be having dinner alone, not together. Dix says that she’s the type of woman who leaves before she gets hurt. She agrees. She says that she wants to give things a second thought before she jumps in. He says well what has she decided about them she said that that she is only given them one thought.
He wonders when she will give them a second thought. She said she will let him know. He says that she should do so before noon tomorrow. Nikolai‘s boss has asked him to ask Dixon to dinner, to sort of gauge his behavior. Nikolai feels guilty about doing that but he is newly married. He tells Dixon his wife wants to meet him. And he invites him to dinner.
When Mel confronts him about the death, Dixon refuses to tell him whether he did it or not. With Mel’s connections, what can Mel do if he’s guilty? Dixon teasingly wants to know. Mel says that he can get him smuggled out of the country and he is ready to do it. When Laurel comes and Mel discovers that she gave Dixon an alibi he is relieved. She gave him the relief that Dixon refused to give.
At dinner with Nikolai they talk about the murder. Dixon is very detached like he was talking about characters in a book, rather than a flesh and blood woman that was just in his apartment last night. He says that he did not kill her because he would never just dump her body callously on the side of the road. And we can see there’s some truth in that. He may be cold but he is not a savage.
The woman died of asphyxiation.
He describes what might’ve happened and has Nicholai and his wife demonstrate. The woman was in the car with her killer, they were parked in a lonely place and he put his arm around her while at the wheel and choked her in the crook of his elbow. Nikolai gets so involved in a demonstration that he almost hurts his wife. She pulls away. Dixon says that he has to go. If he’s lucky he may have a date. When Dixon leaves she tells her husband there’s something wrong with the man. That he was stimulated about the murder, thinking about it. For me she should be asking what is wrong with her husband that he would get so engrossed in a good story that he almost hurt her.
Nikolai knows that his wife took psychiatry in school, but he doesn’t much like her jumping to conclusions about his former commanding officer.
Back at his apartment complex Dixon knocks on Laurel’s door. She is on the telephone talking to Martha. He asks who Martha is and she says it’s a woman who is the last remnant from her days as an actress. Every two weeks Martha beats her black and blue. Laurel announces that she has thought about them and she is interested. He kisses her. No dillydallying. He just cuts right to the chase. He says, “I've been looking for someone for a long time. I didn't know her name or where she lived. I'd never seen her before. When a girl was killed - and because of that, I found what I was looking for. Now I know your name, where you live, and how you look.”
He asks when she decided that she was interested. She says about 3 o’clock. Dixon says she just let him simmer and didn’t tell him right away. She would have let him wait another day.
The next time we see them it’s like they’ve been and established couple forever. She is in his place trying to wrestle him away from the typewriter because he has not slept in days. She is closing all the blinds and telling him to get into bed. She catches Mel looking in through the window and invites him in.
She and Mel are fast friends. She entered and became the perfect third wheel in his relationship with Dixon. He says he wishes he had found her earlier because she is a great muse for Dixon. He is writing nonstop. He hasn’t written like this since before the war.
Charlie, the washed up actor comes over and it seems that he does this regularly, to borrow money from Dixon. While Dix obediently goes to bed, Laurel grabs the money and gives it to Charlie. She has fit seamlessly into Dixon‘s life and his friends are her own.
We see them go out for dinner. They sit by a piano as the club entertainer sings, “I Hadn’t Anyone Til You.” It’s such an obvious song choice, but Bogart at the piano reminds me of Sam in CasaBlanca. He lights a cigarette and gives it to her. I think they are trying to be all Paul Heinreid right about it and to create cigarette fame, but they make a cute couple, charming, charmed and in love. Then a police officer enters the restaurant with his wife. Dix feels that the wife is just a cover; he has been followed, because he is under suspicion and they leave, with him angry. If he really is being followed, I don’t think his anger there is out of place.
Laurel and Dixon share the same maid who frets because since they run back-and-forth between his and her apartment, she never gets to thoroughly clean either place.
We see Laurel with Martha the masseuse who is angry that she is waiting on Dixon hand and foot, allowing her life to be subsumed by his.. She takes her anger out on Laurel’s body. Martha complains that Laurel types for him and does everything that he needs. Martha says that she should have a life of her own and seems to wish that she would go back to the real estate agent. Laurel has enough of Martha’s criticism and tells her off. Martha says that she’ll be begging Martha to come back, because Martha is the only friend she has. The only person she has to turn to, when it all goes wrong. Laurel has no one else. This is a sad commentary on Laurel’s life. And it brings up the point that we don’t know anything about their pasts, their families. We just know that they were both in a lonely place, the kind of deserted highway where Mildred was when she was killed as Dixon envisions it.
Laurel is called back to the police station. Nikolai’s supervisor Lochner is Cynical. She said she didn’t know him yet they’re inseparable. She says that they didn’t know each other when she was last at the police station or when she saw him with Mildred, but she started typing for him after And she admits they are in love. Lochner tells her that Dix has a history of violence, fights with men and also with a girlfriend who later wouldn’t press charges. Laurel bristles at the veiled accusations Against Dixon and Is unhappy when the supervisor let’s on that Nikolai reported back on Dickson after Dickson had dinner at Nicolai’s Place.
Afterwords the supervisor guesses that Nikolai is mad that he broke his confidence by telling Laurel Ni kolai spied at dinner. Nikolai just grimaces. He doesn’t look as guilty as he should be.
Dixon takes Laurel with him for another evening with Nikolai. They are all four spread out on the sand and Dixon is carefree his head in Laurel’s lap. Nikolai’s wife mentions Laurel’s second visit to the police station. Dixon did not know about it and he is angry. The wife apologizes for saying anything she promised Nikolai she would not. Dixon runs out and Laurel runs after him. He wants to drive off without her and she has to grab the passenger door and get in while the car is still moving.
They drive along the curving highway at a dangerous speed. But she doesn’t tell him to stop or to slow down. He hits another car and then is angry with the driver, even though it was his fault; the driver starts calling Dickson names, calls him a squirrel and Dixon beats him up. Dixon has him on the ground and picks up a large rock to hit him with. Laurel is screaming at him to stop. She tells him he will he will kill the man.
He pulls away and gets back in the car and they are both shaken. He says the attack was justified. Didn’t she hear what that man called him? The awful names? Yes he called him a squirrel Laurel says, indicating that that was not the worst name she has ever heard. Dixon has to see the humor in that. He calms down. Ashamed.He recites to her that ‘I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me.’
Those lines just came to him and he needs to find a way to incorporate them into the story he’s writing. Of course, they make an obvious epigraph to Laurel and Dix’s love. They are a bit heavy-handed. They were written to be memorable. But the fact that they come from Dix as an author and he doesn’t say them directly about himself make the words a little more palatable.
The end of this relationship has been foreshadowed throughout the movie. It’s in the book that he’s converting to a screenplay. The foreshadowing was there when he told Laurel that she was the kind who left before she got hurt. It’s there when he puts his arm around her, her neck in the crook, the same way he theorized that Mildred died. And it’s certainly in these lines of being born, of living, of dying.He must have known, Since she saw him with a rock in his hand about to kill a man, that his time with her was limited. We know that it ends, but when he says he was born when she kissed him it also tells us about his beginning and middle. How empty his life was before, even with past success.
Laurel goes back to see Nikolai’s wife, when they can be alone and talk. She tells her that Dixon is not normal. Although the wife said the same thing to her husband herself, she tried to take a different tact with Laurel and pretended that she was happy that they were together. Laurel is scared of Dixon. I don’t know if we are supposed to perceive Laurel as believing Dixon is guilty of Mildred’s murder. I don’t think he is and I don’t get the sense that she thinks he is. But she knows he rages out of control over minor things.
Next we see Dix head to her apartment. He has been calling her on the phone. The maid says that she cannot hear anything because she takes those sleeping pills. Since when he wants to know? He wants the maid to stop noisily vacuuming.The maid says that she wishes that they would just go on and get married so that she would finally have a chance to clean their apartments.
Her bedroom door is closed but he can hear her alarm going off. He tells her to turn it off and go back to sleep. She says that she cannot because the clock is too far away from her. He says that he can turn it off. Is it all right if he comes in. She says yes. He comes in, turns off the clock and asks her if she wants to stay in bed. She says no; she will get up and get breakfast. He says he does not want her to. He will make it. I do not know what the scene is for. It shows their familiarity. But it also shows that he is polite enough to ask before he enters her bedroom even though he has clearly been in there before. That way when he demands entry later, the difference is jarring.
Laurel appears to be sleeping nude. We see her bare shoulders and chest. He kisses her shoulder. No modesty between them. And he is solicitous, not wanting to bother her if she needs rest. He doesn’t expect her to wait on him hand and foot, as Martha complained.
He looks at the pills on her bedside and reads the label. In the kitchen he is trying to cut into a grapefruit when she walks in. He straightened out the knife to cut around the edge of the grapefruit. When she comes in she calls him a fool. What happened to the grapefruit knife? He says he straightened it. She said it is supposed to be curved. Now I don’t know what this interaction means. Are we supposed to notice the way he holds the grapefruit knife like it’s a dagger. He doesn’t look like he’s cutting fruit, so much as he looks like he’s attacking.Is she trying to straighten him out. And is he supposed to be curved? Mel says as much to her later. He says that if you took the violent temper out of Dix, the creativity would go with it. He knows because he tried in the past. Dix cooperated when Mel tried to cure him, but it took away Dix’s personality.
Dix asks her about the pills and why she didn’t tell him that she was taking them. She didn’t think it was important she claims. We see the strain that she has been under and so does he. He says the maid wants them to get married and that they should because they owe it to the poor maid. He says they can go to Vegas and do it. she begins to answer, but he cuts her off and tells her that it’s a yes or no question. No need for any elaboration. She says yes. He says they can go and buy a ring and be in Vegas immediately to do the deed. She has finished typing the screenplay for him. After the car accident when he pummeled the man, he must know their time is limited. That is why he is trying to rush her into a commitment.
We see him stop off and leave a check for the man that he collided with on the road. It is enough to cover the damage to his car. Dixon is violent but he’s fair. I wouldn’t say that paying for the damage Equals contrition, but at least it’s an acknowledgment of responsibility.
Mel comes by and he can see that Laurel is nervously packing. He guesses that she is going to leave Dixon and wishes that she could reconsider. She says that is not normal for him to torture his best friend and to fly off the handle because someone called him a name. There’s something wrong with Dix.
Laurel says she will get a flight out of town that night. Mel hopes that if Dix finishes the novel and the producers like it maybe that will take his mind off of losing her. She says that she finished typing the novel this morning and Mel says that he will turn it into the production company himself. He says that if the book is a hit, that Dixon won’t care about anything else. And this is something that I did not guess about Dixon. He sneered at the movie industry. I did not conclude that perhaps much of his recent despair in life came from the fact that he was a has been. I also did not know that his love for Laurel could be superseded by a return to fame.
Mel asks why she agreed to Mary Dixon if she feels this way. She says that she was scared. I thought she would say she was torn between her left for him and her concern, but she’s not torn.
She says that she will write to Mel. He says that he doesn’t want to know her address because if Dixon asked him for it he would have to give it. Another sign of his loyalty. He tells her that when she’s ready, she can write to Dix directly and then maybe That will mean that she’s ready to come back to them. (Mel considers her leaving as leaving both him and Dixon.) She says that she hopes so. This gives me a glimmer of hope that maybe a separation between them will not be permanent. You do sort of root for them as a couple. He truly loves her and it’s a tender love, not the macho kind. Tender and desperate.
Even though he is old enough to be her father in real life, you see that her attraction to him as possible. Bogart has a craggy face, but he’s fit, at least he’s slim and if he was good enough to attract Bacall, you can Easily see him attracting Gloria Grahame, who looks at him with quiet amusement and appreciation. With her short cut and suppressed smile she reminds me of Myrna Loy. She sparkles rather than smolders . When this movie was made, Gloria was married to the director. So he apparently did not have problems with his wife filming kissing scenes with Bogie.
At the restaurant, everyone wants to see Laurel’s engagement ring, but she is despondent. Mel is gleeful and tells Laurel that the movie studio loved the screenplay. He is surprised because it is nothing like the book and he thought that the studio would be mad about that because they asked that Dixon stick to the book.
Dixon’s past love is at the dinner table with them, but there is no rivalry between her and Laurel. Dix introduces her as the woman who was in pursuit. Again, he doesn’t act like he abused her.The actress says that she heard there might be a part for her in his new screenplay. At that Dixon is furious who has seen his screenplay? He learns that Mel gave it to the studio. Laurel admits that she gave Mel the manuscript. He is mad but he says it’s not her fault. Mel should’ve known better. He asked Mel why he felt the need to give it to the studio now? What was the urgency? Why did he time at this way?He hits Mel. Laurel is shocked. Mel is an older man and if Laurel wasn’t convinced that leaving was the right thing to do before, she certainly is now. I am surprised too.i didn’t think he would hit someone weaker than he was. Before he had only hit young men.
Dixon goes into the bathroom m self-conscious, sorry And asks Mel if he should get a new agent. Mel indicates that he will stick around, despite everything. Dixon says that Mel should remind him to buy him a new tie. This is something that he said to Mel earlier in the movie and I guess it’s a repeat of his need to buy things for people he has hurt. This is his way of making it up to Mel, By taking care of him after having hurt him.
Dixon wonders why Laurel is acting so strangely that evening.The waiter says that there is a phone call for Laurel. Would she like him to bring the phone? She says no. With gritted teeth,Dixon insists that she take it at the table where everyone can hear. I thought that it was going to be the man with her plane tickets to New York on the other end, but it wasn’t. He is menacing and I am somewhat surprised. I suppose I did not really believe he was that far out of control. I think I thought her fear was exaggerated, justified but bit off the mark.
Back at her apartment she hurriedly packs to leave, but Dixon shows up. He sees that her engagement ring is missing. She says she took it off in the bedroom. He orders her to get it.She tells him to stop ordering her around and says that she does not like to be rushed. And that is something that she said early on in the movie. That she likes to take her time before getting involved. Their whirlwind romance has done everything but take its time.
He wants her to go and get her ring. He goes himself and finds that the bedroom door is locked. He thinks that she must have her old boyfriend in there. She says that she will open it. She runs in first and tears up a goodbye letter that she had drafted for him. He sees the suitcase on the bed and surmises she was packing to leave. She was going to leave him with no forwarding address just like she did her last boyfriend.She denies it and says that she was packing to go on their trip. Then the telephone rings and it’s the travel agent calling about her trip to New York. He knows that she was leaving him, now. She says she wasn’t. She tries to talk her way out of it, promises they will marry immediately, but he calls her a liar, says she will run at the first opportunity and he throws her on the bed with his hands around her throat as she screams.
Realizing what he is doing, he stops. She gets up and suddenly she is the one with the power, standing straight and strong, and he is broken because he knows that his conduct was irrevocable. The telephone rings and he picks it up. They tell him they have found the killer. It was Mildred’s boyfriend. He passes the phone to Laurel so they can tell her and she says deadly into the receiver that if they had gotten this news yesterday it would’ve made all the difference. Now it means nothing. Dejected, he doesn’t try to plead his case, he walks away. We see him walking towards his apartment down below and his lone silhouette frames the archway.
I don’t really agree with her that if she had gotten the news yesterday that it would’ve made all the difference. I still didn’t have the sense that she felt he was guilty of murder. This is not like Cary Grant in Suspicion where you’re wondering if he did or did not do it. At least I was not and I did not get the feeling that she was. Instead I feel that she knew he is capable of murder. It is not what he might’ve done, but what he may do.She knows that one day he could be a murderer. One day he could murder her. And I think it’s refreshing that in 1950 they showed a woman who is in love, who is ready to walk out. She was ready to go and planning to go, before it led to physical abuse.
When she saw his temper directed at others, that let her know that she did not want to stay and have it directed at her. She did not think her love was worth violence. And since most movies of the time showcased characters who thought a little violence towards women was acceptable and since society continued to think this until very recently, it is refreshing to see a woman draw the line and decide she’s not going to be with a man like that, no matter how she loves him.
While Mel or Nikolai’s wife might’ve thought that the love of a good woman could change Dixon, Laurel did not think that and did not want to wait and see. She did not want to be that “good woman” who sacrificed herself, although the world would not have batted an eye if she had. She put self-preservation first and was never the doormat. Even though she had nowhere and no one to go to, unless you count Martha, she was planning to get out before letting him control and mistreat her.
And we have the lines he recited to know what happens next. He lives for those weeks that she loved him and he died when she left. There was no question that his next screenplay would be successful. In the bar they told him How hard it was to have a come back.But writing was not the come back the audience was looking for. For us the question was whether he could pull himself from the precipice and maintain this faltering relationship, after having shaken her faith in it. He could not.
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-5569532461859005192015-04-28T17:31:00.001-07:002015-04-28T17:31:38.872-07:00Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)I’d been told that this movie was one of the best of 2014. It didn’t live up to that assessment, but it was fairly entertaining. It opens with a little boy, Peter Quill, sitting outside of a hospital room. He’s summoned inside where his mother is dying. As she goes, she asks him to hold her hand. She’s bald, pale, doubtless a shadow of her former self. He shrinks away and doesn’t give her his hand. Then, she dies and he’s seized with sorrow and regret, crying out to her. We next see him outside, still in mourning. All he has is his cassette player to keep him company. It is playing seventies tunes. That is when he, an earthling, is swept up by some space vehicle and flown away.<br />
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Forward 20 years later and we see a man walking through rubble, listening to his cassette player. The same Peter Quill. He seems to be some kind of bounty hunter. He steals valuable objects for money. When caught, he tries to impress those who hold him by telling them that he is the “Star Lord.” Never heard of them. They scoff, uninitiated and continue to threaten him.<br />
He gets away, but is then held captive by his own employer, Yondu. This is the man who kidnapped him from earth. He’s always held a soft spot for the kid. We learn that he was actually paid by the boy’s father (identity unknown) to take him years ago, but he never delivered the boy. Instead, Yondu kept Peter for himself, sending him out to steal things, like a modern day Oliver Twist. The problem is, Peter has a habit of double-crossing Yondu and not returning with the goods he has been ordered to take. Yondu’s other minions are tired of Peter getting special treatment. They pressure Yondu to make an example of Peter and kill him. Yondu is about to do it, but he just received an impossible job order to retrieve a powerful orb. It’s a daunting mission, sure to fail and he decides to spare Peter’s life if he can bring back the orb. Peter’s off to find it, but he’s not the only one.<br />
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Thanos, one of the last eternals on the moon of Titan wants the orb as well. He has given Ronan control of his daughters, Gamora and Nebula and he tells Ronan if he doesn’t get the orb, he will be destroyed. Ronan decides to send one of the daughters after the orb. His first choice is Nebula, but Gamora begs to go instead. She says she will do whatever it takes to win back her freedom and please her father. Gamora is Thanos’ favorite daughter and spirited, so Ronan agrees to send her. But if she fails, she’ll pay with her life.<br />
So, Peter and Gamora are both off on the same mission. They inevitably run into each other and Gamora tries to kill Peter. They run into two conmen, a talking raccoon and his sidekick, a tall tree trunk who’s only words are “I am groot.” The lot of them cause chaos in the public square and are arrested. The raccoon, Rocket, soon proves himself the most entertaining of the cast, making wry observations about the others and their mishaps. Groot receives the brunt of Rocket’s insults, but it’s clear the two have been together a long time and have developed a camaraderie. Rocket can even interpret the many nuances of Groot’s single phrase, “I am Groot,” to express the tree’s various thoughts.<br />
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In prison, they encounter a muscle man, Drax, who is out for revenge against Ronan, the man who killed his wife and child. Drax sets out to murder Gamora because she is Ronan’s emissary, but Peter stops him. This surprises Drax, since Gamora herself assaulted Peter, but Peter says he’s used to that happening. Many women want him dead.<br />
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Gamora lets it be known that she is not family to Ronan or Thanos. Thanos kidnapped her from her real father and she harbors nothing but hatred for him. She has been sent to find an orb and it is worth a fortune, that they can split 4 ways, if they help each other. The four form an uneasy truce. Drax is revealed to have a large, but literal vocabulary. Jokes often elude him because he’s so focused on the official meaning of the word that he can’t appreciate turns of phrase. He often lobs insults at the others, but it’s as much because he is incapable of euphemisms as it is that he intends to offend. Courtesy, as a principle, is foreign to him. This makes his exchanges with the wise-cracking Raccoon and thick-headed tree, especially amusing.<br />
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With the crafty Rocket as their mastermind, the four devise a way to get out of jail. They get the orb and take it to The Collector who will pay billions for it. He hoards valuable objects, even human beings. When The Collector starts opening the orb, they realize how powerful it is and how destructive to the world it could become in the wrong hands. It’s up to them to guard the galaxy and make sure the orb’s power isn’t abused. When it blows up the Collector’s haven, they know that Ronan or Thanos will use it to end civilizations. Peter tries to convince Gamora to take it to Yondu instead. Yondu’s the lesser of two evils.<br />
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Gamora doesn’t trust Peter, but finds herself attracted. As the quartet survives one escape after the other together, they all develop a bond. To everyone’s surprise, Peter risks his life to save Gamora and he’s the first to crown himself a hero. But when Peter is left behind, Rocket, Groot and Drax save him as well, even though their plan to do so is guaranteed suicide. I’m not sure I buy how quickly they became a unit, “all for one and one for all.” Rather than having grown affection that easily, I think it’s loneliness that motivates them. Drax has lost his family. Peter was taken from his, as was Gamora and the sister she has left despises her. We don’t know Rocket and Groot’s background. The two only have each other, but why that is is not clear. But being on a team seems to suit each of them, having been used to depend only on themselves.<br />
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In all the flames and hoopla, Peter just doesn’t sacrifice himself for his friends, but for his cassette player as well. He’d rather lose the orb than lose that. He almost dies and when Gamora calls out to him “take my hand” he automatically does. He didn’t take his mother’s once and he’s not going to hesitate again, not going to wait too late to show his love, not going to risk loss because of fear.<br />
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The cassette is all he had when he was taken, except for a gift from his mother. He finally opens it. Maybe it was too painful for him to deal with before. Maybe he didn’t want to read her goodbye. But to his delight he finds another cassette mixed tape. It’s the hits of the seventies, Volume 2, a follow up to the first one she made for him, her Star Lord.<br />
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When Ronan and Thanos catch up to them, even Gamora’s sister Nebula, consumed with jealousy, wants them dead. As they escape, they are falling to the ground in flames, but Groot grows out his branches to cradle them all and protect them from the fire. Rocket is horrified. Groot will die. Why is he doing this? “WE are Groot,” the tree answers.<br />
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When they hit the ground, the tree is lifeless, just a scattered woodpile. Their enemies are upon them. Peter sings, dances, distracts Ronan, so that Drax is able to kill him with a cannon that Raccoon made for them. They use the orb to make Ronan implode. Proudly, they realize they aren’t bad as guardians after all and they take off to find another job. Raccoon is still in morning for the lost Groot, but he picks up a sprig and plants it and we see that the baby tree is already come to life. It should be a full grown Groot again before we know it. In the melee they realize that Peter is not human. Maybe that’s why he was able to hold the orb without it destroying him. His mother called him “Star Lord” and that seems to have been more than a nickname. He doesn’t know who his father is and doesn’t yet realize that Yondu may have that answer.<br />
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I am reminded of the movie <i>StarMan</i> with Jeff Bridges. I believe it ended with him, an alien, having impregnated the human who sheltered him. Peter Quill’s story could be a sequel to that one. This was a fun movie, quite light fare compared to the darker super hero films that have been popular lately. I liked the fact that, for now, none of them really have magical, omnipotent power. So, you don’t get endless scenes of indestructible beings clashing. In fact, with Raccoon on board to act as their engineer, they mostly evade their enemies through makeshift <i>MacGyver</i> inventions,<i> Home Alone</i> stunts, not force. I like it when humor and interaction are as integral as action.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-28162708687207815822015-04-07T14:34:00.001-07:002015-04-07T14:34:48.981-07:00Boyhood (2014)The film that moves at the speed of life. The detractors have said that there is nothing exceptional about this movie, except that it took 12 years to complete, allowing us to watch the characters actually age through time, as the actors do in real life. Some see this as a gimmick – if so, it’s a novel one that has not been as well utilized since the Up series back in 1964. Thus, the concept is anything but hackneyed. <br />
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True, the story would not have been as effective if characters had been aged by cosmetics and latex, rather than nature. But it wouldn’t have worked as just a time lapse video either. It was by synchronizing the passage of time with the pulse of real life that Linklater created magic. Since the process was center front, Linklater gave himself permission to focus less on plot which turned out to be a GOOD thing. It’s a story of quiet reflection that proves slow does not equal dull, making drama for its own sake look cheap and expedient by comparison. <br />
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Boyhood lacks twists and turns, but at 2:05 hours, I was never bored. In fact, when action threatened to rear its dramatic head, I resisted. Would the roommate abuse Samantha? Would the older woman seduce Mason? Would the stepfather hit the boy? Would the jilted teen lose it? When the characters veered towards danger or pain, I found myself praying, “Don’t spoil it. Don’t make this movie about <i>that</i>. I don’t need to see another, assault or death.” That would be the EASY path, because trauma creates instant empathy. Building audience investment via mundane moments takes time. Simplicity is hard.<br />
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Adding to the understatement, Boyhood flies without a tear track. In comedy, laugh tracks (hopefully) trigger a like response from the audience. Likewise, when we see emotional characters onscreen, we tend to follow suit. Here, in most cases, the characters do not react, leaving us to assess an event independently, rather than being informed or coached by their responses. This feels organic, because the story deals with children who often only understand the impact of developments in retrospect. When something occurs that will change your life, you realize it after the change happens, not upon the occurrence. <br />
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Additionally, some of the movie’s impassivity comes from the Mom’s (Patricia Arquette’s) parenting style. Even though the story began in 2000, it somehow had a seventies vibe for me. Like MAD MEN it highlights shifts between past and current attitudes subtly, by serving slices of domestic life without comment. In MAD MEN, people smoke incessantly, let their children frolic in plastic bags (free of warning labels) and nonchalantly yell at their neighbors’ kids, activities which are now taboo. <br />
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Similarly, Arquette, like many single working mothers, doesn’t have the luxury of placing her kids on pedestals and planning her life around their play dates. They are her priority, without being the center of her universe. When she moves, they are dragged along. She doesn’t/can’t take time to seek their permission first. This was normal decades ago, but we live in a more conscientious society that analyzes the long term effects of child-rearing choices, perhaps to a fault, but certainly more than Arquette’s character did. The movie doesn’t judge her, but we must. The father (Ethan Hawke) receives a healthy dose of censure in the dialogue, while the script is silent on assessing Olivia, the mother. But that’s life. In the real world, we don’t get regular report cards. Instead, you do the best that you can -- or you fail to do <i>everything</i> that you can -- and life goes on any way. People grow, graduate and move on, regardless. Boyhood observes the quiet tiny ticks by which time proceeds, rather than studying the Great Bell chimes, reminding us that they’re equally potent.<br />
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We’re first introduced to young Mason. He’s about 7 years old. Inquisitive and quick, but too busy daydreaming to concentrate in class. His mother picks him up from school, appreciating and encouraging his sense of wonder, more than scolding it. But she moves in a flurry, with more errands than time to run them.<br />
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Later Mason is playing outside with his friend, Tommy, spray painting an aqueduct wall. His sister Sam rides by and orders him to come home at Olivia’s command. Sam obviously revels in the power that being 2 years older than her sibling bestows. His friend takes more notice of the girl than Mason does and I wonder if we are seeing a budding crush.<br />
At home, Mason is watching tv and hardly looks up when Olivia’s boyfriend enters and tosses him a greeting. Hard to say whether Mason dislikes the man or is so used to various boyfriends that he hardly gives any particular notice. That night, he hears the couple arguing. The boyfriend is complaining because Olivia doesn’t want to leave her kids and go out on the town with him. He says she’s using the kids as an excuse. She responds that it’s not an excuse, it’s her world. She loves them, but had her kids too young. She’d LOVE to be single, unshackled, coming and going as she pleases, but she can’t. The boyfriend storms out and it’s hard to say whether she is relieved or regretful. One can’t say that Mason is eavesdropping on the two exactly, because they aren’t bothering to keep their voices low. His face is blank. He’s heard arguments like this before. Do they hurt him? Make him feel unwanted? We don’t know.<br />
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In their shared bedroom, Sam is annoying Mason with her gyrating Britney Spears impression. Oops, I did it again. “I’m not that innocent!” Although, she is taunting her brother, who is minding his own business, when Olivia bursts in on the two of them, Sam bursts out crying, pretending that Mason has victimized her and Olivia yells at <i>him</i>. Mason objects and the mother doesn’t care who’s right or wrong, she just wants them both to shut up. She tells them they will be moving back to Houston. They’ll be closer to Grandma. <br />
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Sam makes a “my life is ruined” fuss, but it’s more designed to irritate her mother than a display of true emotion about leaving. Mason says nothing, but when his mother tells them to paint the walls so she can get back all of her security deposit back, his eyes linger on the children’s height chart, as it’s wiped away by the paint roller. He’s the only one who seems to notice.<br />
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As they pack up and drive away, Mason sees his young Tommy riding his bike, waving goodbye. I think, it’s a movie, we’ll see that boy again. They’ll reunite. But they never do. And that’s how it is. People have important places in our lives for a finite period of time. When you’re with them, you don’t know that it will end. But then it does, not with a bang <i>or</i> a whimper, but most likely with a small wave that you may recall years later – but probably won’t. Movies make these partings poignant, in life perhaps they should be, but aren’t. You’re lucky to remember Tommy, much less the last time you saw him.<br />
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In Houston, Sam continues to excel in school, while Mason is apathetic. The things that do interest him, like drawing, don’t get much attention, quickly over-shadowed by Sam’s achievements. But she’s not mean. She’s just a sibling. As they grow, she evolves from bratty and pushy, to subdued, but supportive.<br />
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In Houston, their dad makes contact, turning up like a bad penny. Olivia arranges to have him pick them up and drop them back off at Grandma’s so she doesn’t have to see him. The grandmother welcomes him coolly, emphasizing how hard her daughter has to work to support her kids. Alone. <br />
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Dad is energetic and happy to see them, but vague about where he’s been or if he’s planning to stay around. At bedtime, Mason wistfully seeks confirmation from his father that there’s no real magic in the world. Dad tries to assure him that nature harbors just as many mysteries and wonders as any fairy tale. For instance, the majestic whale is magical, right? But elves, Mason presses. They aren’t real. Dad has to admit that they aren’t. Knowing there’s no Santa Claus is one thing, but having to accept whales in place of wizards is another. Childhood drops another veil.<br />
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After their visit, Dad insists that he wants to take them back home, rather than using Grandma as an intermediary. It’s annoying to have this interloper demanding facetime with Arquette’s character, after having left her alone to raise their children. He shouldn’t get to dictate their interaction. The kids look from a window as their parents talk. Will this exchange lead to a fight, a brief reunion? They’ve seen both before and possibly don’t care which comes now, knowing it won’t last, either way. They seem beyond the <i>Parent Trap </i>dream of having mom and dad reunite. Impassive, as always. It’s not like they’ve been scarred so badly in the past, that they’ve become numb. Instead, they’ve seen the same patterns repeat themselves so often that they now take them for granted. They watch, like the audience.<br />
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One night, Olivia takes Mason to school with her. He meets her professor who is charming to Mason and clearly charmed by his parent. Before we know it, they’re married. He has two children of his own, a boy and girl. All four kids await the couple’s return from their honeymoon eagerly. It’s like the Brady Bunch. The step-siblings are friends, not rivals. The stepfather elevates Mason’s clan into the middle class. All the kids have clothes, bikes, video games, their own cell phones. Of course, it’s too good to be true. The father is controlling, but masks his temper behind a pleasant demeanor. He also masks his drinking, hiding liquor in the garage. Soon he’s berating the kids for failing to do their chores. Sneering at Samantha, but also belittling his own son, becoming a drill sergeant, telling his wife that the children lacks discipline and deriving pleasure from his intimidation tactics.<br />
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Olivia has qualms about his behavior but, as too often happens IRL, does not speak up, choosing the security that her husband brings over her kids’ psychological well-being. She’s away studying when the stepfather gives Mason a buzz cut against his will. If the worse thing that any child endures is an unwanted haircut, this world would be a happy place. Still, it’s clear that the stepfather meant to humiliate, to quash Mason’s will and individuality, make him feel helpless. That “I’m the boss and there’s nothing you can do about it” power trip causes harm, no matter what the context. Rape of the Lock is satire and compared to forced intercourse, the Baron’s snipping of Belinda’s curl is a laughable matter, but judged on its own terms, it IS quite a violation. Thus, so Mason’s shearing. Olivia is sympathetic to Mason’s misery, but I can’t help thinking she should have left her husband then and there. Of course, we don’t even know if she could afford to leave at that time, but that’s how it is. We seldom need to know someone’s whole story to decide that they should have acted differently, could have done more and have lapsed in not doing so. <br />
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The kids still visit with their dad. They no longer scramble for his attention, but are older, reserved. He’s fed up. When he asks about school, he doesn’t want a non-committal, monosyllabic answer. He wants DETAILS. Fine they say, but it’s a two-way street. It’s not like he tells them all about HIS life either. Touché. I wonder if they’ll tell their father about the stepfather’s darker side. They don’t and I suppose that would have been a cliché, the two men getting into a territorial fight over the kids. Their father has a steady place. He has a roommate, who is a member of some band. Mason and dad sleep on the sofa and they give Samantha the bedroom. She slides on her earphones and isolates herself from the world. I worry that the roommate will come in upon her. Thankfully, nothing untoward happens.<br />
And maybe that’s another way this film is like life, where you constantly worry that bad things will happen and 9 times out of 10 they never do.<br />
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Life goes on at the house. One day the kids come home to find Olivia, crying on the floor of the garage. She’s been knocked down, probably because she found her husband’s stash of liquor and objected. But she tries to hide all of this from the children. At dinner, the stepfather dares anyone to challenge. It’s his house. He’ll do what he wants. He picks a fight with the children, particularly Mason, wanting him to cower and throwing a glass at him. It doesn’t hit the boy, but it’s frightening. The stepkids suggest that he’s had drunken outbursts before, but they’ve never been this bad. The audience begins to fear what might come next.<br />
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On another day, Olivia is missing and StepDad wants to know who has heard from her. Who knows where she is. The kids all deny having had contact with her. He sits them down and one by one demands to see their cell phones, so he can review the call log and find out who’s lying. It’s tense. The boys both pass his test. They have no phone calls to or from Olivia. Stepdad decides he can trust his daughter, his favorite, and doesn’t look at her phone, but then he comes to Samantha … my heart beats along with hers. There’s a call from her mother registered. She insists that she has not lied. After all, she didn’t hear from her mother. She just listened to a phone message. In the voicemail, Olivia told them she had to go for awhile and they should stay in their room. That’s all.<br />
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I’m expecting the irate StepDad to hit Samantha any minute. He doesn’t. He checks his bank accounts and sees that his wife has cleared them out. He takes the boys to a liquor store and has them get a check cashed for him, by store clerk who trusts him, still thinks of the Stepdad as a good customer, upstanding citizen. <br />
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Back at home, eventually, Olivia bursts into the house and tells her kids to get in the car immediately. Mason and Samantha try to get pass him, but he blocks the door. No one is leaving. But Olivia has brought a friend with her. A witness, ready to call 911. Stepdad backs down and lets the children pass. They jump in the car and drive off, leaving their step sister and brother looking on. Mason and family bunk at the friend’s cramped house. Samantha complains. They have no clothes. Nothing. The mother yells back that she’d rather be alone with nothing than living in oppression. She doesn’t care if Samantha has to go to school in the same clothes. She’s tired of the griping.<br />
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The kids wonder what will happen to the 2 children they left behind. I wonder too. Olivia was a surrogate parent to the stepchildren for years. Does she have any guilt about leaving them? We don’t see into her head, really, but she doesn’t seem that reflective or caring. She’s more every man for himself. She is responsible for her own kids, not the world’s. She assures her two that she has called Child Protective Services on the stepdad though and the four children can keep in touch with each other through social media and phone. We don’t know that they ever do. We don’t ever hear any more about the stepkids.<br />
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Olivia gets her degree and they can afford a home of their own. Olivia becomes a professor and likes to host parties where they have philosophical discussions with their deviled eggs. She writes the checks. She makes the household decisions. She is no longer the single mom who had to marry a professor for stability. Now, she’s the professor. Mason is tall now, a deeper voice. A young man. One of his mother’s friends looks at him appreciatively. He hangs out with high school boys. They brag about sex they’ve never had and taunt one another. At one point when kids get aggressive with Mason in the bathroom, I wonder if he will be the object of bullying, but that passes. Taking all of the coming of age steps, he gets a job as a dishwasher, works on his photography whenever he can get time in the school’s dark room, he makes out with a girl in the back seat of a friend’s car, smokes weed, comes back home a little high. His mother notices and is shocked, but reacts with a shrug, not threats. Her little boy is grown.<br />
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A student of Olivia’s chats with Mason, tells him what a swell, open-minded instructor Olivia is and I suppose this makes the audience (and Mason) see her in a more multi-faceted light. She’s just Mom at home. She’s a talented, inspiring person in the eyes of others. There’s one ex-vet who catches Olivia’s eye. He’s younger, a free and deep thinker. He gets along well with Mason. They marry. But it’s not long before things go downhill. The husband starts brooding, is angry. Drinks. Mason comes home and he questions him harshly. He towers over the slight teen and we think he may take a swing. He doesn’t. As he turns away, we see that while what he was wearing looked like a military uniform, it is really the clothes of security guard. In that one shot, we grasp the frustrations in his life. This time the mother doesn’t have to put up with it as long. She’s the homeowner now. She can just toss him out. She doesn’t have to tolerate abuse from anyone –except her son who doesn’t like to put his own plate in the dishwasher because he complains that he washes too many dishes at work.<br />
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Meanwhile, the dad has married a nice younger woman from a conservative family. She has a baby. A half-brother for Samantha and Mason. Old animosities gone, Olivia gets along with Mason Sr.’s new bride and baby. Sam and Mason visit their stepmom’s parents, good bible-thumping people who are thrilled to give Mason a shotgun for his birthday. They practice shooting out back and go to church in their Sunday best the next day. Mason’s dad doesn’t embrace his in-law’s lifestyle, but doesn’t reject it either. He goes with the flow, having settled down now and given up his dream of being – who knows what he wanted to be. He allows himself to mock the old folks a bit and his wife calls from the distance, “I can hear you.” Caught, Mason, Sr. laughs it off, completely domesticated. He seems like he will give the new baby the father Mason and Samantha never knew. Pop has turned his old sports car in for a van. Mason is taken aback. The father had promised that car to him. For once, we see Mason angry, hurt. The father doesn’t remember making such a promise. It was 10 years ago and may have meant something to Mason, but was just talk to the dad. He tells Mason to get his own car and maybe he can be cool, “like I used to be.”<br />
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Mason sulks a bit and it’s interesting that of all the small disappointments in his life, this is the one where they show us the sting. Parents, especially THIS Dad, constantly let their kids down and are seldom as sorry about it as they should be. For Mason, this is far from the only time he’s been disappointed, but maybe it’s the slight that’s easiest to articulate. As broken promises go, it’s a concrete one. Usually, our relationship obligations are nebulous and breach gradually, rather than in a clean fracture, so the breaks are harder to identify, to rebuke, to stop. <i>Every day a little death … in the buttons in the bread. Every day a little sting. In the heart and in the head. Every move and every breath (and you hardly feel a thing). Brings a perfect little death. <br />
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Mason learned not to expect much from his father, who always left everything open-ended. But this car was a specific pledge and Mason seems to have allowed himself to build a few hopes around it. The dad brushes off his son’s sullenness over the car and, instead, presents him with a mixed tape he made himself. The stepmom laughs at how much time the father spent making it. For him, it was a compilation of his youth so doubtless he put more effort into it than most other things in his life.<br />
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At school, Mason has met someone special. Sheena thinks him weird, but likes listening to his musings on life. He feels that she “gets” him. They plan to go off to college together. They visit Samantha at the University. They tell their parents they’re staying with friends, but actually plan to sleep together in Sam’s dorm room. They hang out with Sam and her boyfriend. Then linger at a café until it’s late enough to return to the dorm and claim a bunk bed. They absorb campus life and the bohemian vibe, the unique characters, that surround them. This will be a place that welcomes freedom of expression.<br />
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When they get back to the dorm room, make out and fall asleep, they are awakened by Sam’s roommate coming home unexpectedly. You must be Mason. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s awkward for all 3. She doesn’t kick them out but stammers and says she’ll return later, as if SHE’s the intruder. Once she’s gone Sheena and Mason collapse in giggles. But it is not to be.<br />
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Sheena falls for a college guy and dumps Mason. She is still prepared to go with the prom with him, since he already had the tickets, but he rejects the offer. She told her friends they were broken up. He doesn’t want to be her pity date. He sees no need to talk to her any more. She tells him to grow up. Lashes out. She says she was tired of being around him anyway, always brooding and profound, rather than just having fun. But aside from her defensiveness and guilt, her anger seems to indicate a little hurt, as if she still has a bit of feeling for him and wishes they could have continued as friends.<br />
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I fear that Mason will become her stalker, but he’s just said. He submits photographs he took of Sheena into a contest and wins one of the prizes, although his photography teacher once yelled at him for being lazy. The money will help towards his tuition. He hangs out with his dad as they listen to his father’s old roommate’s band rehearse. Seeing Mason mope the father says he’s sick and tired of hearing about Sheena and declares she wasn’t good enough for Mason anyway. It’s a show of support I think Mason appreciates. From their position on the balcony over the stage they hear the dad’s friend acknowledge them. He wants to dedicate a song to Mason. Someone he’s known since he was a boy and whom he can’t believe has grown so fast. Where did the time go?<br />
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Olivia throws a graduation party for Mason. His father shows up and congratulates Olivia on the nice spread she put out. He says he’ll give her some money to pay for the food later. Of course, she doesn’t believe it. He tells Olivia what a good job she did raising the two kids. He sees Olivia’s mother, his old nemesis and recalls what a crone he thinks she was. Although, she really only disapproved of him for abandoning his responsibilities. He still doesn’t realize or acknowledge that she had cause. He’s gotten older, but hasn’t grown.<br />
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Mason’s mother’s friend hits on him. There are toasts. Everyone’s proud, even Mason’s boss at the restaurant who has chewed him out, is there to say Mason’s a good kid. Mason accepts their well wishes, but his head is facing towards the future and he’s more focused on moving forward than remembering how far he’s come.<br />
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When he heads off to school, Olivia begins to cry. At first you think she’s going to say how much she’ll miss him, but instead she makes it all about her, declaring that she went from being a daughter to a mother and hardly had a life in between and now all her good years are gone. If I’d been on the fence before, this little diatribe seals my dislike of Olivia, but I saw a Patricia Arquette interview where she pointed out it’s a moment in time. An hour later Olivia will be a caring Mom. This rant doesn’t define who she is as a parent, any more than the mistakes she’s made along the way do. It’s all part of a bigger whole. And although the adult should take the high road, selfishness in the mother and child relationship runs both ways.<br />
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Olivia takes them the kids out for a last meal together before the semester starts and tells them she’s selling the house. They’re more worried about where they will go to do their laundry now, than they are about her empty nest emotions. As they finish their meal at the restaurant, Linklater has a misfire when a kid comes up to Olivia’s table and informs her she changed his life by telling him to go to school a few years ago. Now, if he had been a student of hers, I could see him appearing and declaring what an influence she’d been. But we were introduced to this guy when he came to the house to work on Olivia’s pipes (no that’s not a euphemism). All he did was tell her that the pipe she had was weak and the replacement one he had was strong (he stood on it to demonstrate). I'm no plumber, but I could have told her that. But she was impressed by this diagnosis and responded to him, "You're smart. You should go to school." And those passing words caused him to turn his life around? That's not exactly life-changing or personal. I guess if she’d said to a cashier, “I like your sweater. The color looks good on you,” the girl would have credited Olivia with prompting her to go to design school. Now, this plumber … if Olivia had shown him how to apply for a grant, ok. If she’d said, "I went back to school and it was hard, but I made it work and you can do it too," that might give him cause to think. But just saying "go to school" isn't enough to change anyone's life. <br />
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Still, we’re told that because of her he went back to school, learned English and is now the manager of the restaurant. If they wanted to show her, her kids and the audience that she made a difference in this world and is even a hero, to some, they could have given us a more powerful example than that. <br />
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Mason goes off to college and when he arrives at his room immediately makes friends with his dorm mate. The guy is going rock-climbing with his girlfriend and her roommate, would Mason like to join? Mason does and as he sits on a ridge, chatting with the new girl, he finds they have things in common. If he’d feared that he’d never again experience what anything as good as he’d found with Sheena, we see him learning that that’s far from the case. Hearts break. Hearts heal. Rinse and repeat. <br />
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Boyhood tells a big story, in a small way. It’s like water that smoothes and shapes a rock, in little waves and ripples over time. Sometimes, you can’t even notice the change, but then 12 years pass and there it is.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-63265126735698181002015-02-11T17:36:00.000-08:002015-02-11T17:36:38.238-08:00In The Good Old Summertime (1949)I’d heard about this movie, but had no idea that it was a variation on <i>The Little Shop Around the Corner </i>(revisited in <i>You’ve Got Mail </i>and, to a lesser extent <i>Pillow Talk</i>).<br />
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It’s quite entertaining, although more so in the first 80 minutes than the last 20. Otto runs a music store and Van Johnson plays his top salesman Andrew. We meet Judy Garland (Veronica) sauntering down the street on her way to a job interview. She and Andrew collide. It’s not mutual hate at first sight. Veronica is immediately perturbed, but Andrew is pleasant. Their bump dislodges her feathered cap. He reaches to retrieve it for her, placing it on her head, only to find that he’s caught a feathered BIRD and is launching that at her instead. Veronica is more put out than ever and scurries briskly away.<br />
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At the shop, when Andrew realizes that she’s there for a job, he feels threatened and tries to discourage her. Otto, who is in love with his bookkeeper and assistant, Nellie, is charmed by Veronica, but is content to follow Andrew’s lead in the decision NOT to hire her, when a customer walks in and is instantly wooed by Veronica. She sings, she flatters, she makes the sale. Otto hires her on the spot, much to Andrew’s dismay. He and Veronica bait and banter and this sparring comprises the film’s best moments.<br />
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Eventually, the competition is more important than the customer. They vie to sell a cheap copy of sheet music as hard as if a valuable piano is at stake. Of course, Andrew is outmatched. He can sing, but after a male customer has been vamped and cajoled by a sultry Veronica, he’s in no mood for Andrew’s song and dance. Veronica preens, Andrew glowers. I actually like the fact that they are peers. Although Andrew reminds Veronica that he’s her supervisor and uses the title as an excuse to critique her attire, Veronica responds in kind and rebukes his tie. She doesn’t play second fiddle, because she’s a woman and Andrew doesn’t bicker with her because she’s a woman (at least not ostensibly), but because she’s a rival as good at the job as he is. That’s refreshing for 1949.<br />
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What they don’t realize is that they are pen pals. They write each other constantly and anonymously. Retrieving the mail is the high point of each of their days. And their correspondence is growing increasingly romantic. Veronica thinks her pen pal is the smartest man alive and Andrew esteems his pen pal so much that he has no interest in the violinist who lives across the hall from him and seems as if she would eagerly welcome any advances he cared to send his way.<br />
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Correspondents Veronica and Andrew plan to finally meet each other and each anticipates the moment with great excitement. Unfortunately, Otto and Nellie have had a spat. She insinuates that she is dating someone to taunt him. He decides that all of the employees will have to work late, in a sly effort to keep her from going out that evening. That means that Veronica and Andrew can’t meet their beloved pen pals. Both are distressed by this and grumpier with each other than ever.<br />
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Meanwhile, Otto and Nellie reconcile. Although we are told that they are in love at the outset of the movie, we don’t know why they haven’t married already. Apparently, they’ve worked with each other for decades. When Otto is assured that Nellie doesn’t have a date with another man, he lets his staff go home. Veronica and Andrew rush to meet their pen pal. But Veronica gets their first. Andrew and his co-worker have a chance to see her take her seat at the restaurant and they surmise that it’s HER! <i>Veronica</i> is Andrew’s pen pal. Andrew seems ambivalent about this turn of events. He doesn’t reject the idea of Veronica as his love interest automatically, but his feelings about her don’t become ardent immediately either. After talking to his co-worker, he goes over to Veronica at the restaurant, without revealing that he is the pen pal. Veronica is annoyed by his present and lets him know how much finer a person her pen pal is than Andrew can ever be. He’s someone flattered by her feelings. Veronica thinks she has been stood up and goes home despondent.<br />
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The next day, Andrew dresses with care, making it a point not to wear the tie Veronica despises. When she calls in sick, he is disappointed. He goes to her house to look in on her. She is babysitting. Her aunt is a seamstress and the baby belongs to one of her customers. To her surprise, Andrew is good with babies. He has a sister with children and has had experience. Veronica’s feelings for him seem to change when he sees him with toddler on knee. Again, for 1949, I’m glad to see that the sight of a man who will be a hands on father is a turn on for Veronica.<br />
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Andrew plants the seed that the reason her pen pal didn’t show up at dinner was that he saw her with Andrew and was afraid to approach. Veronica agrees with this theory. When a letter arrives from the pen pal himself, it confirms her suspicions. He still loves her, but was intimidated by the presence of a man as, according to the pen pal, handsome and appealing as Andrew is.<br />
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Unfortunately, the movie loses its luster at this point, just when we want to spend time with Veronica and Andrew, blinders about each other removed, we’re swept away on a sub plot that seems to have no other purpose than to fill time.<br />
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Otto and Nellie become engaged. They throw a party with live music. Otto inexplicably asks Andrew to take his prized violin home for safe keeping, so that it can be played at the celebration. Andrew carries the violin home, but when his neighbor sees it, she assumes that he has brought it for her to play at competition, since she asked him to borrow an instrument for her at the music store. Andrew lacks the heart to tell her that the violin is not for her. He lets her take it to the competition, but hovers over her, to make sure it’s not damaged. When Veronica sees Andrew with his neighbor, she mistakenly thinks he’s dating the neighbor and becomes depressed.<br />
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Little does she know that Andrew is thinking of settling down and as soon as he gets a raise and has enough money to support a family, he is looking to start one.<br />
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At the engagement party, Otto needs to stall for time waiting for Andrew to show up with the violin, so he has Veronica perform for the crowd. Veronica turns into Judy Garland and does some rousing numbers. The movie announcer tells us that the movie was originally a vehicle for June Allison and if they’d known it would star Garland they would have put in more music. I’m glad they didn’t.<br />
When Veronica can’t stall anymore, Andrew has to confess that he let someone else use Otto’s priceless guitar. Otto is appalled and fires Andrew.<br />
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Back at the store, all of the employees are sad to see Andrew go, especially Veronica. She’s choked up and seems to want to say something to Andrew, but back down. Never fear, with Nellie’s gentle intervention and Otto’s realization that his violin was in good hands, because Andrew’s neighbor was a very talented musician, Otto changes his mind and hires Andrew back with a bonus.<br />
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Delighted that he will now have enough money to support a family, Andrew seeks Veronica out and teases her. He says he saw her pen pal and he’s sure she will be very happy with him, even though he’s old, short and bald. Veronica tries to pretend that looks don’t matter to her, but is having the wind knocked harder out of her sails each time that Andrew reveals yet another flaw in her intended. Andrew capitalizes on her flustered state and leans in for passionate kisses, as he casually explains that he is, in fact, the penpal. By that time, Veronica is so into their kiss that she hardly cares who he is or was any longer. That reveal should have been the fun high point of the movie, not an anti-climatic aside. So, that was disappointing. Whether her reaction was one of shock, pleasure or anger, it should have been a moment that was played up, not down.<br />
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Epilogue: We see Andrew and Veronica walking merrily down a summer lane in parasol and seer sucker as their daughter (a 2 year old Liza Minelli making her movie debut) is held lovingly between them, as the movie ends.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-27533498653283386552015-01-23T17:39:00.002-08:002015-01-23T17:39:31.831-08:00Little Women (1933)I watched this movie while visiting my family over the holidays. When it started, my mother immediately complained because it wasn’t the 1949 version of the book she loved so much with Elizabeth Taylor. I told her that seeing as how Elizabeth was only a year old in 1933, you could hardly expect America to wait 16 more years for her to come of age, before seeing their most beloved children’s book come to life in “the talkies.”<br />
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It would be easy to call the movie dated, but I think the biggest problem is Katharine Hepburn’s scenery chewing histrionics. I’m a Hepburn fan, but she definitely improved with age. Maybe she never learned to stop shrieking in staccato, but at least she reduced the self-aware posing, over time. Of course, the character she played, Jo March, <i>was</i> melodramatic, but I think she was also organic. That’s what made her unique. Jo didn’t engage in the affected modesty and prim sensibilities that women of her era commonly practiced. She ran, she fought, she yelled. She followed her spontaneous heart, for better or worse. She was called a “tom boy” but the truth is she was just exuberant and real, in a way that women of her time were not allowed to be. When I think of Jo, I think of what all of us might be in our natural state, before society imposes constraints. Hepburn's approach to the character was unnatural. Indeed, in her own way, she was more pretentious than her famously vain little sister Amy.<br />
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That was another problem, Joan Bennett’s Amy was not nearly as shallow and selfish as the character in the book. This gave her less room to grow, to arc as a character and less conflict with Jo. Their friction was at the heart of <i>Little Women</i>, so removing most of it was a huge plot mistake. We lost the angst of Amy destroying Jo’s precious manuscript. In this version, Amy was infatuated with pretty things, but she wasn’t vengeful and wildly impulsive. No vehemence surfaced between the sisters. We didn’t grapple with love/hate feelings for the youngest March. Amy was watered down and no polar match for Hepburn’s extreme Jo. Without a fiery, frivolous Amy, everything that happens to Jo in contrast (cutting her hair, for example) is minimized.<br />
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Of course, this results in the eventual rapprochement between Amy, Laurie and Jo being less effective. Their estrangement is not as deep. Consequently, we feel less emotion and joy when it’s healed. Laurie is quite passionate in reacting to Jo’s rejection, but he is a peripheral character and his path is not our focus, Jo’s is. She is more torn that Aunt March is taking Amy to Europe than she is about Laurie and Amy. <br />
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If Amy was less interesting, then Meg and Beth were almost invisible. At one point, when Beth rose from her deathbed, I turned to my mother disappointed and exclaimed, “You mean she doesn’t die in this one?” Mom answered, “I think she dies. She’s just taking her time.” That she did, making the book’s most heart-wrenching passage rather anti-climatic. In fact, I laughed rather than cried. When Jo, ensconced in the Plumfield Estate School with Professor Friedrich, learns that Beth’s death is imminent, she sends her a letter which is so poetic about life’s end that it’s almost as if she’s hoping her sister kicks the bucket a bit faster. Believe me, it’s a missive that no ailing recipient would welcome.<br />
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I did find the movie evocative when Jo is at home, on vacation from school, and sees her sisters married off and happy. She doesn’t begrudge them contentment, but she does feel alone, unpartnered. She and Laurie were once soulmates. Now, having outgrown the play she shared with him, with whom can she share her unconventional spark now? Are the traits that make her special destined to be the traits that make her lonely? Of course, Professor Friedrich soon knocks on her door, answering that question with an resounding “No.” Still, as Jo lounged in her old haven, secluded amid the bustle of family, it was a quiet, wistful moment that I enjoyed.<br />
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In all, the movie seemed more focused on silly action than interaction. So, we get prolonged scenes of sword play between Laurie and Jo, awkwardly interrupted by the entrance of Grandpa Laurence or visit the amateur play the sisters put on well after it becomes tedious. In all George Cukor was more interested in recreating scenes from the book than telling its full story.<br />
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Still, it was charming to watch if for no other reason than to compare it to the original and all the retellings that have come since. Plus, even a bad Katharine Hepburn performance is still delightful in its own way.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-80580032248063483402014-10-26T19:04:00.003-07:002014-10-26T19:04:34.238-07:00Austenland (2013)This trifle is neither funny, romantic nor engaging enough to recommend, but at least it's not the most painful way to spend 97 minutes.<br />
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Jane Hayes is a "Jane Austen" fanatic. The more losers she dates, the more firmly enmeshed in Fitzwilliam Darcy fantasies she becomes. Her apartment is chock full of Edwardian collectibles, dolls, dollhouses, china, costumes and, to top it all off, countless likenesses of Darcy, including a life-size cardboard cutout of Colin Firth in the role.<br />
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Her obsession culminates in the decision to trade in her Toyota Tercel and spend her entire life savings on an Austenland package, where she will travel to England and live in a recreation of Austen's world, peopled by actors who play period characters. All patrons are promised a romance at the end of the trip.<br />
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Her friend, Molly, tries to talk her out of the expenditure, but to no avail. They make a bet, however. If the trip ends up in disaster, Jane promises to de-Austenize her abode, because the fanaticism is getting out of hand. Jane agrees, but I'm left puzzled because Molly never specifies what Jane will <i>win</i> if the trip turns out to be a success.<br />
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I'm not sure whether Jane is more keen on Austen or the dream of idealistic love. Idolizing the former is certainly less destructive than continually longing for the latter.<br />
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Once Jane's journey begin, it's at the UK airport that we learn that she only had enough money to pay for the low level package. She quickly meets another patron, the incorrigible and overblown Lizzie (played by Jennifer Coolidge), who seems to have never read a book, much less one of Austen's. But she has plenty of money to spend and has purchased the platinum package, which gives her all the pride, prejudice and frills that money can buy. I'm not sure why they didn't' make the lead character "Lizzie" and have the frivolous, man-hungry Coolidge serve as "Lydia." Surely it cannot be because they didn't want to be too obvious, because this movie is nothing if not that.<br />
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When Jane and Lizzie meet the Austenland owners, the Wattlesbrooks, the class discrimination becomes sharp. Lizzie, Miss Moneybags, receives the most deferential treatment, the best wardrobe, best service and best living quarters. Lizzie is transported in a carriage and Jane must ride on the outside jump seat. Since Lizzie seems to have a good heart, it is unclear why she doesn't defend her new friend more. If she advocated on Jane's behalf (as another customer, Amelia, later does), Jane would certainly receive more respect from Wattlesbrook, but then I suppose the plot -- such as it is -- would end summarily.<br />
Jane's room is in the poor tower, miles away from Lizzie's and requiring a trek through the servant's corners to get there. In fact, one of the rare funny lines in the movie came when a sympathetic Lizzie reassures Jane that "I'm just around the corner" and remembers that, actually, she's not and that Jane sleeps in such a far, deserted place that it gives Lizzie nightmares to think of her there.<br />
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Jane does not even get to select her own fantasy surname. While the high-paying customers are "Charming" and "Heartwright," Jane is called "Jane Erstwhile."<br />
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At the big house (modeled after Darcy's Pemberly), Jane meets the male actors who play the Edwardian suitors, Wattlesbrook's nephew Henry Nobley and Colonel Andrews. At the first group dinner, Wattlesbrook unceremoniously reveals that Jane (the real woman, not just the fictional character she is playing) has had a disappointing love life. Why Wattlesbrook would be in possession of this information about a paying customer is unclear. But it gives some of the other group members cause to pity (or in Henry's case empathize with) Jane, while others, Amelia who is modeled after Austen's Lady Catherine de Bourgh use the information as reason to scorn her.<br />
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Later a largely shirtless Captain East also enters the scene to vie for the female attention, but since he is so far removed from anything resembling an Austen character, his presence is jarring. It is not effective to divert so wildly from the film's construct. It would be fine to have a Captain East in the story, who acted less like a Chippendale's dancer, especially when Wattlesbrook lectures her guests at the beginning that no out of character or risqué behavior would be allowed.<br />
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As <i>Pride and Prejudice </i>dictates, the snobby Henry and Jane dislike each other initially. But when he breaks character, we learn that Henry is a history professor who was dumped by his girlfriend. From the beginning, he has felt himself more like Jane than not. His banter with her is a way to protect his feelings, not a sign of condescension.<br />
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The problem is that I don't feel Jane experiencing the grudging attraction and stings of humiliation and self-consciousness that Elizabeth Bennett always had in Darcy's presence. Yes, Henry does seem awestruck by Jane from afar. Clearly, his cool retorts are defensive rather than antagonistic and the story might be better told from his perspective.<br />
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Jane quickly tires of the Austen actors and gravitates towards groomsman Martin. He dresses like a stablehand and servant, but whenever he and Jane are alone together, he breaks character and scoffs at those playing the charade. He may hate the Wattlesbrook pretending, but he loves the animals that he tends and when Jane sees him assist in the birth of a foal, she begins to feel that she wants to be part of his "real" world much more than she wants to continue in the Austen fantasy one that she's purchased. She escapes all Wattlesbrook-organized events that she can, to spend all of her time with Martin.<br />
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On one occasion, when her horse stalls, Martin leaves to get her another, when Jane is caught in a downpour. Henry comes along and insists that she get on his horse, so that they can ride to shelter. She says she can only ride sidesaddle in her dress and, disregarding her objections, he rips open the skirt and slings her astride his saddle. As he holds her, soaked, against him she nervously acts if he has her and he assures her that she does. It is actually an endearing moment and maybe I would have liked more between those two, but Jane actually spends more time canoodling with Martin and enjoying it quite a bit, so I have no particular rooting interest for Henry. A triangle may have worked in <i>Bridget Jones Diary</i>, but this Austen derivation would have worked better if only Henry and Jane remained at the heart of the story.<br />
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When Martin sees Jane laughing with Captain East (he doesn't even become jealous of Henry), he gives her the cold shoulder and says she would much rather socialize with the actors than with him. Soon after, Henry saves her from the lecherous Mr. Wattlesbrook and she becomes friendly with him, but even when he walks her to her room and urgently kisses her hand before reluctantly parting, their exchanges seem far from passionate.<br />
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Jane finds the needlework, promenades and musical performances the women must engage in to stay in character tedious. When Wattlesbrook insists that Jane take her turn at the piano, Jane plays "it's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes..." by Nelly. Maybe that would have been funny if I'd seen the movie in theater, but as it is, I'm left cold. Of course, they repeat this performance for the closing credits, because it's just so funny to have people dressed in Edwardian garb sprouting lines like, "give that man what he askin for, cuz I feel like bustin loose and I feel like touchin you," right? Maybe if Dame Maggie Smith was doing it, I'd chuckle. But Keri Russell? Not so much.<br />
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Jane smuggled her cell phone into her room so she could keep in touch with her friend, Molly, back home. When Mrs. Wattlesbrook finds it, she leaps at the chance to throw Jane out of the trip. But another customer, Amelia, intervenes and says that the phone was actually hers, not Jane's. Since Amelia is a wealthy and valued customer, Wattlesbrook quickly forgets that possession of the phone was a breach of the rules and tells everyone the incident should never be spoken of again. Jane gets to stay, but leaving would not have been a devastating turn of events in her mind, at this point.<br />
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The group then puts on an amateur play, written by Wattlesbrook which is supposed to be comical in its awfulness, but is simply awful. They are to pair up. Amelia asks Jane to help her spend time alone with Captain East and, beholden to Amelia for the cell phone cover up, Jane chooses Henry as her partner for the play, against her will and to his pleasant surprise. They play a pair of lovebirds in the enactment and laugh over the many glitches they experience. They find that they enjoy each other's company.<br />
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At the ball Wattlesbrook has staged to cap off the vacation, Jane has promised the first two dances to Henry. Martin sulks at being shunned and Jane seems interested in resuming their romance. Later, Henry proposes to Jane, in a scene similar to Darcy's second proposal to Elizabeth. Jane says that she didn't expect to feel that way when it actually happened. Actually, her feelings are so ambiguous that you can take this statement two ways: 1. She didn't expect to have really feelings when she received the stage proposal, or 2. She didn't expect to feel nothing when she finally received the Darcy proposal she'd always dreamed of. At any rate, she doesn't except Henry's offer.<br />
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Jane is anxious to reunite with Martin. When they are alone, she says that when Austenland ends, she can change her flight out of London and spend more time with Martin, in the "real" world together. He agrees.<br />
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But after Jane has packed up and is ready to leave, she has an angry encounter with Mrs. Wattlesbrook. She mentions having, to her surprise, been paired up with Henry in the end. Since she had the low level package, she hadn't expected to be romanced by one of the premium actors. Wattlesbrook scoffs that Henry was never meant for Jane. Martin was the actor she was supposed to end up with. Jane is shocked. She didn't know Martin was an actor at all. Everything he said to her was a pretense, part of the skit. Angrily she tells Mrs. Wattlesbrook that she is going to report Austenland for sexual harassment, because she is sure that she is not the first patron that Mr. Wattlesbrook has assaulted (as Henry himself acknowledged when he rescued her). Since Jane did not seem to think twice about the Wattlesbrook incident after it happened, this seems like a rather petty and plot-stretching threat on her part.<br />
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She storms off to the airport. Afraid of the business repercussions, Mrs. Wattlesbrook quickly calls Martin and tells him to meet Jane at the airport and make nice, to smooth things over. Martin is with his colleagues when he gets the call and is smug that his services are needed. He says that he's surprised that Jane didn't fall for Henry, since she seemed up for grabs for any man that came along. Henry is ready to fight Martin for disparaging Jane's honor. <br />
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They both run to the airport where Jane is getting ready to board the plane in her street clothes. She is unmoved by Martin and realizes that even his accent was fake. As for Henry, she thanks him for the adventure, even if she knows it wasn't real. Well, it wasn't really clear during the rest of the movie that she cherished her time with Henry over her time with Martin, so the "happy ending" we're being spoonfed seems especially arbitrary.<br />
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Back at home, Jane keeps up her end of the bet and immediately begins uncluttering her apartment by removing all of the Austen props. Even the Darcy cardboard cut-out is headed for the trash. I suspected that Martin was a phony all along, but then another part of me thought that maybe the story was about Jane learning to be realistic and to choose a real man over a dream date. So, I thought if she turned away from Henry to pick Martin, she would be growing up, <i>giving</i> up the unattainable for substance and concrete. But, nah, that turns out not to be the point of the story.<br />
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The doorbell rings and Jane expects that it's her friend, welcoming her back home, but it's actually Henry. He followed her from London because ... she forgot her scrapbook. Jane says, "you could have mailed it." Yes, he could have, he admits. If he came all this way just to ensure she wouldn't sue Mrs. Wattlesbrook, she promises him she won't. No, that's not why he's there. He wanted to tell her that nothing he said to her was a lie. He was not an actor. He's a history professor. Wattlesbrook is really his aunt and, disillusioned with life, he decided to try one of her Austen fantasies. It was his first time, just like it was Jane's. She said that she wanted to live in the "real world" and he <i>is</i> real. They embrace and were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons, er, travel agent, who, by bringing her to [Austenland], had been the means of uniting them.<br />
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Wait. Does this means that Jane won the bet with Molly after all? <br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-35144785712868793122014-07-14T23:18:00.001-07:002014-07-14T23:18:10.166-07:00Maleficent (2014)As with <i>Wicked</i>, to fully appreciate this retelling, you have to be familiar with the original source material. The real story lies in the contrast. Once again, we deconstruct a notorious "villain" and learn the truth behind their evil reputation.<br />
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Maleficent is the witch who sentenced the King's daughter, Aurora, to eternal sleep. We meet her as a lighthearted child, which begs the question: why was she christened Maleficent. As a cross between "malevolent" and "magnificent" the girl certainly grows into the name, but before she became the most feared creature in the forest, that moniker seems misplaced. It would have made more sense, if she started out as Millicent and then rebranded herself as Maleficent, when she set out on the road to revenge.<br />
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At any rate, Maleficent is born in a world where two lands exist. One is inhabited by self-aggrandizing, warmongering humans, ruled by an arrogant king who tramples over the rights of others to get what he wants. The other is a land of fairies. They have no ruler, but live together peacefully, in harmony with the beautiful animals, vegetation and nature that surround them. Young Maleficent flies around happily, giggling at the hijinks of her fairy friends, sorting out their trivial disputes and engaging in the occasional mudfight herself. She is graced with sparkling green eyes, sharp cheekbones, a mane of brown hair and large powerful wings that allow her to sweep through her world with unparalleled speed and power. She's not only stronger than everyone else, but wiser. The three other fairies we meet (Flittle, Knotgrass and Thistletwit) are as flighty as they are tiny and spend more time bickering among themselves than getting any work done. It is no wonder that Maleficent emerges as a natural leader in essence, if not in name.<br />
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One day they find an intruder in fairyland. It's a boy, Stefan. Maleficent tells him he has to leave and to return the pretty stone she knows he's stolen from them. He grudgingly hands it over and she tosses it into the sea. He says he wouldn't have given it to her, if he'd known she'd just throw it away. She said she didn't throw it away, but returned it to the water where it belonged. The point is, it wasn't his or hers to keep. While this fact may have been lost on Stefan, he manages to impress Maleficent when, he shakes her hand and his ring scorches her skin. She explains to him that iron burns fairies and, without a second thought, he casts the ring aside. He had so little, but was willing to give up what he <i>did</i> have to avoid harming her. I thought it was foreshadowing about a sacrifice Stefan would make later, but sadly, it just served to expose Maleficent's weakness to Stefan.<br />
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Although she had initially warned him never to return to Fairyland, she soon recants that rule. When he asks if she will be there when he comes back, she offers a coy "maybe." He visits often. They become fast friends and then a romance blooms as they grow up. But eventually Stefan stops coming. We're told that he's off seeking his fortune. It's not clear if the reason for his absence has been explained to Maleficent.<br />
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One day the king from Stefan's world invades Fairyland and, seeing Maleficent as the lone person protecting it, he wages war with her. Suddenly, the trees and animals come to life and with Maleficent, at the head, they form an army that sends the king running back home with his tail between his legs. Humiliated and ailing, he promises his daughter's hand and his kingdom to anyone who slays Maleficent for him.<br />
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After being away for years, Stefan returns to Fairyland. Maleficent tries to give him cool greeting, but that soon melts away and as they talk, it's as if the years had never passed and they are as close as ever. He pulls out a flask and offers Maleficent a drink. She slakes her thirst and soon becomes drowsy, resting against Stefan. When she is unconscious he takes out his knife to kill her, but he can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he cuts off her wings, an amputation that seems more cruel and gruesome than a stab to the heart would have been. When Maleficent wakes and finds her wings gone, her despair rings across the land. She still has arms and legs, but nonetheless she's been crippled.<br />
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I sit through the rest of the film knowing that however things end, because this is a <i>Disney</i> movie the brutality of Stefan's act can never be avenged to my satisfaction. He takes the trophy wings back to the King and says that he has killed her. It's not a lie. He killed her emotionally.<br />
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She hobbles weakly, broken, her shoulders sunk. Her heart broken. When she learns that Stefan has been made king of the humans, she realizes that he mutilated her, so he could gain his fortune. Her anger and pain forge a transformation. She declares herself Queen of Fairyland. Gone is her innocence. She emerges sleek and icy, with a magnificent wardrobe, a head wrap that covers her hair and any girlish vulnerability she once possessed and a command of magic that intimidates all, bending them to her will.<br />
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She sees a crow, Diaval, caught in a net and, because she needs his wings, she turns him into a man, her right <i>hand</i> man. Because she has saved his life, he pledges his loyalty to her. He flies to and fro bringing her information from the other land, acting as her eyes and ears, if not her confidante. As with everyone else, she keeps Diaval at arms length.<br />
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When Diaval brings news that Stefan and his Queen have had a baby, Aurora, Maleficent plans a visit. Flittle, Knotgrass and Thistletwit have already flown over to give Aurora their blessings of beauty and joy. Stefan hesitantly accepts their bounty. I suppose he's right to be wary. My friend also wondered why the three fairies are so eager to be of service to Stefan, knowing that he cut off another fairy's wings.<br />
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Well, maybe they just like innocent babies and they aren't trying to honor Stefan, but the child for her own sake. On the other hand, maybe they don't <i>know</i> what Stefan did. Although animals, trees and plants are all alive in Fairyland, they didn't witness what Stefan did firsthand or otherwise they would have made their presence known when it was happening. So, we have to assume that Maleficent told them. She withdrew into herself into the attack so much, that I just don't see her having that conversation with them.<br />
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They know her wings are gone, but they may not know why or at whose hands. They live with the result, not the reason. Maleficent has become cruel and demanding. They cower in her presence. They are not in regular contact with Stefan and if they've heard of his tyranny, they don't live with it. On their nearsighted scale of bad, Maleficent probably ranks higher than the king does. And, of course, it's the plight of any tragic heroine to be misunderstood. Like Elphaba before her, people recognized her as vengeful, while forgetting that <i>that</i> means she must have had something to avenge in the first place. They know her crime, but not their cause.<br />
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Why wouldn't she explain herself? Hurt because people automatically assume the worst and she won't stoop to defend herself, won't beg for their understanding. Pride. A sense of shame and blame. She feels she never should have trusted Stefan in the first place. Perhaps, she thinks she "let" it happen. For whatever reason, we don't see Maleficent communicate with the other three fairies directly. So, we don't know why they aid her enemy's child. If they do it feeling that the babe should not suffer for her father's sin, it would be nice if they mentioned that, because I think that would be a good plot point.<br />
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Anyway, after the 3 fairies bless Aurora, Maleficent storms in on a cloud of darkness and terrorizes everyone gathered. Stefan has guards, but Maleficent has something stronger: words. She says she wants to bless the baby too. Afraid, Stefan begs her to stop. He falls to his knee. Maleficent gleams and gloats, "I like you begging; do it again." Angelina Jolie delivers the line with delicious menace.<br />
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As everyone listens fearfully, Maleficent wishes Aurora all good things. Dare the crowd breathe a sigh of relief? Not yet. As her blessing reaches its breathless end, Maleficent says that on her 16th birthday the child shall prick her finger on a spinning wheel and fall into a sleep from which she will never awake. Stefan pleads, so Maleficent pretends to soften the curse by saying Aurora can awaken, if and only if she is touched by true love's kiss. Both Stefan and Maleficent bitterly know there is no such thing as true love, so at 16, the kid will be just as good as dead!<br />
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Stefan immediately has all the spinning wheels in the kingdom removed. One wonders why the original writer of this tale had the witch specify the instrument of Aurora's downfall. Or the exact date on which it will happen. Isn't that a bit convenient. Of course, Maleficent probably thinks this will make their torture worse. They think that knowing will help them protect themselves, but Maleficent has said that her curse is binding and cannot be revoked by anyone. It is inevitable and the hope that it might be avoided, the dread that it won't be, must compound Stefan's suffering. Knowing that he will have Aurora, destined to be the most delightful child on earth through the blessings she will receive, for 16 years, only to have her taken, is worse than if Maleficent had smote the child on the spot. <br />
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Stefan sends the baby away with the three fairies, ordering them to hide the infant and not to return her until after her 16th birthday. Again, since he's been given a roadmap, there's really no reason to hide her for 16 years. Let her run free for 15 and then let the fairies abscond with her in the last months leading up the big day. But who expects logic from a fairy tale.<br />
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The three fairies take Aurora to a dilapidated cottage and promptly begin to neglect her. They mean well, but are so inept that it's a wonder the child doesn't perish immediately under their care. One wonders why Stefan chose them as guardians. He's not from Fairyland, from whence the threat he is facing comes. From what we can see, he barely knows Knotgrass, Flittle and Thistletwit. Why not have humans protect his child in an undisclosed location? I suppose he figures that since the 3 have magical powers, they can combat Maleficent while mortals cannot.<br />
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Although the fairies think no one will ever find their little cottage, Maleficent has been on to them from the start. She watches Aurora grow, marveling at how grotesque the "beastie" is and occasionally popping out to scowl at the little one, when she is unattended. No matter how she glowers, Aurora only responds to Maleficent with cooing and smiles. Maleficent can only maintain her outward contempt for the girl with a struggle. Although, Diaval doesn't realize it, the audience sees her intervening to protect Aurora throughout her childhood, feeding her when the absent-minded fairies don't, keeping her from crawling off of a cliff and generally overseeing her life.<br />
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When Aurora nears 16, Maleficent puts her in a trance and floats her away from the 3 fairies who don't even notice the girl is gone. At first, Maleficent plans to observe the girl from afar, but Aurora senses her presence and bids her to show herself. "Don't be afraid," she beckons. Maleficent smirks that if she comes out, it is Aurora who will be afraid, but Aurora disagrees. Maleficent reveals herself and Aurora says that she is not afraid. She has known Maleficent was there her entire life. She has observed Maleficent's shadow with her, at every step she has taken. She has concluded that Maleficent is her fairy godmother.<br />
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Maleficent does not know how to respond, but it is not with the scorn she had hoped to muster. She watches Maleficent play in Fairyland and engage in mud fights with the woodland animals and it reminds her of her own childhood there. All the other fairies have wings, why doesn't Maleficent, Aurora wonders. Maleficent says she did and they were grand, but won't tell Aurora what became of them. When Aurora asks if she can come and live there when she turns 16, Maleficent says Aurora doesn't have to wait that long. She can come and live with Maleficent now. Ecstatic, Aurora plans to tell the 3 fairies, her aunties, she will be leaving them.<br />
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Maleficent watches the girl sleep, pulling the blankets closer around her and revoking the curse she has placed on the child, but then she hears the echo of her own words from almost 16 years ago, telling her that the curse cannot be undone. No one can change Aurora's dire fate. Maleficent is frantic with despair and regret.<br />
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Diaval tells her if only Aurora can find true love, the curse will be undone, so Maleficent shouldn't worry. Maleficent scoffs that there <i>is</i> no such thing as true love. Even when a handy young prince shows up and is instantly attracted to Aurora, Maleficent discounts his presence. He can't save her victim.<br />
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Meanwhile, in his kingdom, Stefan is moping over the same realization. Hanging in his chambers we see Maleficent's wings that he has hung like a prize. He may have shown some remorse when he initially maimed her, but in keeping those wings, he is boasting of his act. It's little solace to me that he has gone mad. He talks to the wings as if they are Maleficent themselves. He knows they are plotting against him. He is so delusional that even when his aides tell him his wife is dying and calling him to her bedside, he just keeps muttering to an absent Maleficent. Is it guilt that has maddened him or, if his child had not been cursed, would he be enjoying his position without qualms? It hardly matters, whatever his suffering, it cannot be enough.<br />
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In Fairyland, when Aurora tells her auntie's she will be leaving them they are enraged. After all of the sacrifices they have made for her in the last 16 years, they fume. Besides, they let slip that she can't live until the curse has expired. Curse? An angry Aurora confronts Maleficent and wants to know who cursed her. Then, by Maleficent's silence Aurora divines that it was Maleficent, her "godmother" who did this evil thing. Maleficent does not try to explain. Learning that her father is king of the human and seeing a palace, <i>her</i> palace in the distance, Aurora runs away from the fairy who betrayed her and heads "home."<br />
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At the palace, Stefan barely takes pleasure in meeting Aurora, just panics that she is not safe until <i>after </i>her 16th birthday and puts her under guard. But tragedy makes its own path and finds a way to occur, no matter what precautions are taken against it. Somehow, Maleficent's spell develops a life of its own and weaves its way through the castle. Her finger pulsing and yearning, all obstacles are swept aside as she's drawn to a forgotten room as if in a trance. The door opens to reveal piles of spinning wheels. Why Stefan didn't have them all burned, I don't know. In the original tale, they were all destroyed, but one, the evil witch's remained. In this movie, there are gazillions of them, just waiting to prick a princess. But most are charred and deteriorating. Only one shines, calls to Aurora like a siren. Her finger touches the spindle, as magnet meeting steel.<br />
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She swoons into a deep slumber, the effect of which is felt throughout the kingdom. Miles away, as Maleficent is speeding towards the castle to try to protect Aurora, she knows she is too late. Even from a distance, she feels it when the girl is lost and she is inconsolable. But she and Diaval have brought the prince with them and Maleficent is willing to use him as a last ditch effort to awake Aurora.<br />
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When they arrive at the bed where Aurora sleeps, the prince is reluctant. After all, he has only met her once. He feels funny about kissing her. I think this is highly practical, but then he disappoints me by kissing her on the lips after all. As long as they were turning the story on its head and making it contemporary, I'd just as soon they'd have decided against having a sleeping teen kissed by someone she hardly knows altogether.<br />
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The kiss doesn't awaken Aurora. In keeping with recent (<i>Frozen</i>) Disney films, the knight in shining armor doesn't rescue the princess, which is great. But in reality, there's no need for a knight in shining armor at all-- at least not in this film where he has nothing to offer the story but his pucker. We don't get to know him.<br />
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But I suppose the first step in teaching us that a prince is not obligatory is to show us that he doesn't have to be the one to save the day.<br />
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Her worst fears confirmed, Maleficent has now seen it proven that there is no true love and nothing to bring Aurora back to her. Griefstricken, she kisses Aurora on the forehead to say goodbye. As she is turning away, Aurora awakens with a loving, "hello fairy Godmother." Well, even though she was unconscious, does Aurora know that it was Maleficent who awakened her? I guess so, otherwise, she should still be blaming Maleficent for cursing her in the first place.<br />
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Frankly, I wanted Aurora to be told why Maleficent acted as she did onscreen. I didn't want to fill in the blanks. I wanted the satisfaction of having Stefan's daughter turn against him. I wanted her to come upon Maleficent's encased wings and understand everything, in a wave of horror. My wish was only half granted.<br />
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Once Stefan learns that Maleficent is in the castle, he sets his guards upon her and ensnares her in iron chains, knowing from long ago that iron burns her.<br />
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Maleficent turns Diaval into a dragon (all Game of Thrones like) but even flying and breathing fire, he can't free her. Aurora runs into Stefan's chambers and sees the wings. They develop a life of their own and start breaking free of their case (um, why didn't they do that when she first got to the castle? Why wait around), rising with shattering glass and flying to their own. The wings attach themselves to Maleficent and she reigns triumphant again. She soon subdues all of Stefan's men and is preparing to imprison him in the castle tower, but he won't succumb. As if he is the one who has been wronged, he rages at her. Lunges. As he does so, he plunges to his death. I was hoping that Maleficent would just murder him with her bare hands, actually.<br />
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Of course, children will see this movie and we can't send a message of vigilante justice. Moreover, Maleficent has learned the folly of letting hate consume your life and causing you to commit acts you cannot take back. Her irrevocable spell almost cost her Aurora and she doesn't want to be controlled by anger again This lesson is fine for young audiences, but sometimes I wish the <i>high</i> road was the one not taken.<br />
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Back in Fairyland, Maleficent takes off her crown and bestows it on Aurora. With Stefan dead, Aurora is made Queen of both kingdoms and their lands are united, not through battle but through love.<br />
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Diaval stands by Maleficent's side now, in manly form, not as her servant, but as her peer. And as the happy fairies and animals play, the prince joins the merry crowd, earning a warm smile from Aurora. She's only 16 and I don't know that we need to be reminded that love was in her future. If the movie had ended with no reappearance from the prince, I don't think anyone would have gotten the idea that dear Aurora was going to die a lonely and bitter spinster, with no romance on the horizon. But as fractured fairytales go, this one has already been altered enough. We'll have to change princess expectations in baby steps.<br />
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I liked this movie so much as an adult that I believe most of its value will be lost on young children. Despite the 3 flighty fairies and occasional with from Diaval, humor was kept at a minimum, as was true action.<br />
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Because the movie was quieter, I found its darkness more thoughtful and the lead was Angelina Jolie, not the youthful Fanning. This was the tale of a woman's pain and recovery, not a girl's dreams. As such, I definitely think it should be seen by the young, but I'm not sure it can be fully appreciated by them. Yet.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-71027414637680140472014-04-01T19:55:00.002-07:002014-04-01T20:05:28.659-07:00Hitchcock (2012)It's another tour de force for Anthony Hopkins. He completely envelopes himself in this role and no resemblance to the actor is left. I suspect that little resemblance to the actual Alfred Hitchcock remains either.<br />
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This movie is more whimsical than biological. While Hopkins could easily have rendered whatever portrayal of the famous director was necessary, the director has him play Hitchcock as the delightfully dour character who introduced his weekly television series, rather than as an actual human being. It's akin to modeling a Rod Serling biography after his enigmatic introduction to <i>Twilight Zone</i> episodes.<br />
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We meet Hitchcock hot off of the success of <i>North by Northwest</i>. You'd think his career would be at its peak, but it seems the lucrative television deal he just signed (Alfred Hitchcock Presents) has lessened his reputation in the film industry. Furthermore, he's 60 years old. The industry thinks he's lost his touch.<br />
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He and his wife Alma Reville actually possess a healthier, happier marriage than either realizes. She was working as a film editor before Hitchcock even began his career in movies. She recalls that he reported to <i>her</i> in those early days. Today, she is his partner. She may not stand behind the camera with him at the studio, but all of his scripts and screen shots pass through her hands and are stamped with her input before they ever make it to the screen. As played by Helen Mirren, she is confident as his working equal, even if most people at the studio don't give her due respect. The people who matter know and that's what she cares about.<br />
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However, the fact that her husband is openly infatuated with young, beautiful film actresses does unnerve him. He may not actually sleep with them, but he obsesses over his leading ladies and doesn't bother to hide it, even in Alma's presence. He doesn't seem to notice that she minds. Doesn't see her move away or excuse herself when he flirts and flatters other women, inches away from her and she never confronts him. Her anger and hurt simmer, but not in a hostile way for the most part. She and Hitch are very supportive and companionable most of the time.<br />
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For his next picture, everyone expects Hitch will do another romantic mystery, with a debonair lead and classic beauty. But that's too easy, too predictable. He's more interested in a gritty horror novel, <i>Psycho</i>, written by Robert Bloch based on a real life serial killer Ed Gein. The more people tell him that the novel is too lurid and cheap to make a respectable film, the more adamant he is about doing it.<br />
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Paramount wants nothing to do with the film and won't provide the needed financing, so Hitchcock decides to invest his own money to produce it. He's risking the family fortune, including the Hitchcock home to do it. While Alma isn't eager to give up her lucrative lifestyle, she also supports her husband's goals. Does she have faith in Psycho? No. But does she have faith in him? Absolutely, she tells him. She'll risk it all, not happily, but without complaint and without even much reluctance. They tighten corners at home. No pool man, no gardener, no imported foods. She oversees Hitch's strict diet and puts him to work in the yard. He grumbles, but obeys her orders, at least until she's not looking. Alma continues to splurge secretly though, buying herself a chic swimsuit, still seeking an elusive compliment from her husband.<br />
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With a spouse like that, you'd think Hitch, at least, would feel secure in his marriage, but he doesn't. When he fishes for a compliment from her, asking if he's outdated, she only says of course he is and he's corpulent too! Even though an affectionate kiss accompanies her light remark, you can tell it stings him. It's unclear whether she knows this or cares. In turn, when she finishes dressing and asks his opinion he says that she is decidedly "presentable." That smarts. She wanted to hear beautiful, even if it was a lie. Of course, the jealous way he sat in the tub watching her dress, spying at her in their bathroom mirror as she did -- while she knew he was looking -- should tell her how much he cares. What husband of several decades still watches his wife dress, especially one who was as plain as the real Alma was? But despite her intelligence in all other things, Alma may not grasp how important she is to Alfred personally, not just professionally.<br />
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At work, he peers at Janet Leigh and Vera Miles dressing through a hole in their dressing room wall, not unlike Norman Bates does. Vera has already experienced Hitch at his worse. Angered when she became pregnant just before he was going to cast her as the star in his next movie, he punishes her by giving her only a small part in Psycho, while he still has her under contract. Leigh, on the other hand, is able to maintain a friendly relationship with Hitch and doesn't have to suffer his wrath.<br />
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He and Alma decide to cast Tony Perkins because they know he's gay and must be used to hiding his true self, as Norman Bates does. The deal is sealed when Hitchcock interviews Perkins and finds he had problems with his mother in real life. I think this rationale, for Perkins' success in the role is actually a disservice to the actor's talent, but James D'Arcy is very good in the role.<br />
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In a strange subplot Alfred fantasizes about talking to the serial killer Ed Gein. He hears Ed Gein when he directs the shower scene in Psycho. With Gein's voice ringing in his ear, Hitchcock himself slashes at a frightened Janet Leigh. These exchanges are distracting and incongruent. It would have been better to actually show us Hitchcock's dark side within the <b>realistic</b> confines of the script, without resorting to fantasy. That would have given the character depth. Although, it's a bit superficial to say that Hitchcock is a great director of murder mysteries because he is fascinated with true crime or that Perkins played an incestuous serial killer convincingly, because he had problems himself. Such direct personality causes and effects only exist in the movies and a movie that employs them heavy-handedly is not a very believable one. Make this movie about a man, not a double-chinned bobble head. <br />
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Alma has begun working on a script with writer Whitfield Cook. He flirts with Alma in a manner so obvious that it's phony. At least she doesn't appear to take it seriously. Her response to him is more friendly than infatuated and she is a pal to his wife Elizabeth. It's not clear whether she knows how jealous Hitchcock is of Cook. But her vengeful intent is clear, when she enters Hitch's office and finds a stack of beautiful actress head shots on his desk, she leaves her earring on the pile, as proof to him that she was there, then suddenly accepts Cook's offer to meet him on the beach for a meeting.<br />
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AT the beach, when she enters Whit's cottage and finds a bed dominating the room, she tells him she's afraid he got the wrong idea. So, that assures me she wasn't planning on having sex with him, but one wonders how<i> long </i>she wouldn't have planned it. They work on a script together. When she comes home after hours Hitch feigns sleep, but reads the script behind her back and then petulantly tells her how horrible it is at breakfast.<br />
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Stressed about Whit and Alma, Hitch passes out at work. He is ordered home for 3 days bed rest and Alma takes over for him at the studio, brushing aside Paramount's offer to bring in a replacement director for Hitch. Paramount wants to shoot the film down. It's low budget fare with which the studio does not want to be associated. Clearly, Hitchcock is failing them. The execs (president Barney Balaban chief among them) will have to pin all of their hopes on Jerry Lewis' <i>Cinderfella</i> to uphold their reputation! The censors threaten to slap an X rating on the film, so that it won't be released in any decent theater. They are so sneering and dismissive that the audience is just rooting for Psycho to succeed, awaiting the moment when they will have to eat crow. Of course, they never do. They take credit for the movie's success as if it was all their own idea in the end, but there is satisfaction in knowing how wrong they will ultimately be proven.<br />
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Confined at home, Hitch does some sleuthing and finds sand in the bathroom. He deducts that Alma has been on the beach with Whit and confronts her. She angrily tells him that her work with Whit takes nothing away from him and let's him know he's not talking to one of his starlets. He's talking to Alma Reville, the person partly responsible for the success he enjoys. He has no retort.<br />
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He returns to the studio and grimly accepts the fact that the movie he has sunk his money and reputation into is looking like a flop. Alma returns to the beach and finds Whit <i>in flagrante delicto</i> with an anonymous woman. As she leaves, Whit begs her not to say anything. Of course, she won't tell his wife Alma responds. That's not what Whit is worried about. He doesn't want her to tell Hitch. He doesn't want this discovery to ruin his chances of having Hitch adapt one of his scripts into a movie. Upon hearing this, Alma realizes how she has been used as Whit's means to get closer to Hitch and drives off. I wonder what would have happened if Whit had been alone when she arrived. Would Alma have succumbed to his advances or initiated some of her own, to get back at her husband.<br />
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Deflated, she tells Hitch he was right about Whit's poor script and admits that he could never hold a candle to Hitch. He is mollified and, for his part, tells her that <i>Psycho </i>is a flop. Not yet it isn't, Alma informs him. After all, she hasn't put<i> her </i>finishing touches on it yet.<br />
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She goes in with scissors, editing the best cuts of the movie together and adding (the infamous) slash music, over Hitchcock's objections to it. They promote the movie by telling the world how terrifying and scary it will be, priming audiences to be horrified. At the premiere, Hitch doesn't sit with the moviegoers. He waits outside, anticipating their reactions, directing their screams like an orchestra conductor. They shriek in all of the right places and he knows it's a hit. He's been redeemed.<br />
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Afterwards, he and Alma revel in their success. Their joint triumph. He tells her she is more beautiful than any of his starring ladies. Touched, she says she's been waiting 30 years to hear those words. That's why they call him the master of suspense, he answers. <br />
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So, the Hitchcock's get to keep their house and remain in the lap of luxury. In the end, Hitchcock stands on his front yard, but it's more like the forefront of a set from Alfred Hitchcock presents. He tells the audience he doesn't know what his next movie will be. Maybe an idea will come to him. Just then a large black bird lands on his shoulder. Quite amusing. And in the end that's what the movie is, more amusing than substantive. For that reason, even the see-saw in Alma and Alfred's relationship was more pleasant than intriguing to watch. Good acting, charming script. Fun, but fluffy.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-45173703202458151612014-03-03T21:30:00.001-08:002014-03-13T19:05:03.578-07:00Her (2013)The hype about this movie is misleading. It suggests the plot is about a man who falls in love with his computer and, unfortunately, may cause some to skip seeing it, assuming it is nothing more. It's really about relationships: the way we fall in love, fall apart, cause hurt, get hurt, heal. It explores the way two people grow, outgrow and accommodate their union, examining several couples. The fact that one character, in one pairing, happens to be without a body is inconsequential in the end. Yes, she's a voice without a face, but that just gives us a clearer line of vision. We only see Theodore, which makes it easier to understand the different roles the same individual can play in a duo, the alternate dynamics. First he's the see, then the saw. The trick is finding the balance. Leveling love. <i>Her</i> is about that need. The computer premise is only a firewall, because this film is more realistic and <i>human</i> than most you'll see.<br />
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Theodore is a bespoke greeting card writer. He's given data about his customers and then writes a custom card that references their history, personalities and even their physical features. He's known some of his clients for years, since their first date, their son's birth. So, when he writes a message from the husband to the wife or a graduation message to a beloved son, it sounds authentic and personal, because it is. In a sense, Theodore <i>does</i> know the people for whom he writes. Are these cards lazier than a trip to the Hallmark store? At Hallmark, you choose a pre-written message, but at least your selection takes thought and care. When you hire someone to create a "heartfelt" message for you, as intimate and specific as it is, doesn't it emphasize the fact that you not only didn't write it yourself, but gave a stranger access to your most private moments, so that he could do it for you? It's not clear whether the card recipients realize that the cards weren't written by their own loved ones.<br />
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As he works, we see Theodore speaking into a microphone and his words appear in handwriting on the screen. He prints out actual cards, not typewritten pages or email messages. It's very possible that the people who receive think they came directly from the person they know. But then again, Theodore sometimes writes for both husband and wife. Those who give those cards must recognize it, when those are the same type of cards they get. Furthermore, as we learn more about this movie, we see that it's not about deception. The struggle is to alter your own view of what's right or socially acceptable, not to misinform someone else's. The digital world that assists our lives has become part of it. Like a wheelbarrow's, the third wheel is <i>needed</i>, rather than extraneous.<br />
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Theodore sees the letters he writes as just words, and is embarrassed by the praise they garner from his co-worker. While negating his own talent as a wordsmith, he feels the tie to his clients is a natural and satisfying one. He's proud to have expressed their feelings to each other for as long as he has.<br />
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There are some things I don't understand about Jonze's world, but what's most important is that it's not a foreign one. It may take place in the future, but it's not a very distant one. The city that Theodore inhabits is recognizable as Los Angeles. The buildings are familiar, just slightly different. You can almost identify the exact structure or location. It's right on the tip of your tongue, the edge of your memory. Yes, that's the Walt Disney Concert Hall on Grand Street, I'd recognize it anywhere, it's just ... well, I've never seen it from that angle or that entrance. It's Gehry's work for sure, just a little rearranged. The technology? Well, I haven't played a video game exactly like that one. I wasn't personally aware they had that level of interaction, BUT I'm not surprised. I'm sure there are video games just like that in Silicon Valley ... or somewhere. It's a modern world, but a very familiar one. It's like a city you haven't yet visited, not a world that doesn't yet exist. That's the beauty of it, because you aren't distracted by the hardware. It doesn't take over the story, as it did in<i> Minority Report</i>. It leaves you free to concentrate on the plot, not the plot device.<br />
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Then too, some things in the setting are retro, lending it an oddly old-fashioned mood, like: the high-waisted pants all the men wear; the way the people in Theodore's office speak aloud into their mics, instead of whispering into blue tooth receivers; his name, unnicked, the full "Theodore;" everyone's preference for the color orange, suggesting uniformity; or the folding cell phones that remind me of old brownie cameras, only flattened; or the fact that people are still sending each other greeting cards at all! Speaking of which, how much money is there in that profession? Theodore seems to be living high off the hog, yet his is not a skilled or particularly creative profession. He writes cards, not novels. Perhaps, the cost of living is just a lot lower in his world than it is today, but judging from his high tech apartment, he can afford what we would consider a lavish lifestyle.<br />
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We follow Theodore home from work and soon learn that he is in the middle of a divorce. He'd known his wife since their youth and is feeling down. He fields calls from his friends. One invites him out and warns him to bring his fun side, not the mopey Theodore he's been for some time. He ignores the invite. I wouldn't call him a loner though. He's mourning, more than morose. He doesn't know why his marriage ended, why his wife, once his best friend is so angry with him. His lawyer left a phone message and we sense that the reason why Theodore won't sign the divorce papers is not because he's desperately trying to hold on to his ex, Catherine. It's because he doesn't understand why there's this wall between them. Why has it gone from love to antagonism and not from love to another form of it? If there was a middle ground, the separation would probably be easier for Theodore, but he's stumbling in the vast void between total togetherness and nothing.<br />
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He flashbacks to their time together, plays a video game, but can't get past level one, his avatar keeps falling down the virtual hill. He dials phone sex for a night cap, pushing through opening lines until he finds one that he likes. The woman seems engaging, he gets aroused, but then she screams out for him to strangle her with a dead cat. This kink came up unexpectedly, but he tries to play along, though he's now lost sexual interest. She orgasms anyway, then quickly disengages. He's alone again, but at least that was diverting.<br />
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The next day as he is on his way up in the elevator to his "Beverly City" apartment, he meets his neighbors and friends Amy and Charles. We learn that Charles is a "fixer." He can't just listen or accept. He can't just let others be. He has to suggest improvements and, in his suggestions, are inherent judgments, criticisms. Theodore likes fruit smoothies, Charles cautions that you should juice your vegetables and<i> eat </i>your fruit. Fruit has fibers that are lost in the juice. But maybe he just likes the taste of the juice Amy points out. Ah, "Am I doing it again?" Charles asks and backs off. <br />
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Back in his own place, Theodore unwraps and installs a new Operating System. It's adaptable. It "learns" and advances, the more input it gets from you. Programming starts with a few questions and they're rather unique. What kind of relationship did Theodore have with his mother. He begins perfunctorily, "it was fine," but then he adds that every time he tried to tell his mother about his needs, she converted it into a conversation about herself, before he can finish these thoughts, the OS is finished launching and ready to work. It has a female voice and Theodore asks her name she promptly answers "Samantha." He probes. She named herself just now. When he asked, she thought of all the names she could be and decided that Samantha was the most appropriate.<br />
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She quickly files through his entire hard drive, contacts, directories, databases. She's soon familiar with everything he's ever written -- or not written. She knows the emails to which he hasn't responded, like the ones from his divorce lawyer.<br />
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At work, when he asks her to proofread his customer letters, she makes them better. And while she's at it, reads his entire portfolio, laughing at his best entries. She notices that he has accumulated many old files, what is he saving them for? He just thought that maybe there was something good in there. Perhaps, one day he'd re-read them and see. She re-reads them for him. Finds about 86 worth saving and asking if it's ok to discard the rest. Surprised, but not displeased, he hesitantly agrees. She is organizing his life, organizing him, making him efficient, moving him forward. Literally.<br />
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At home, they play the video game together and, with her help, he quickly gets past the first level, up that hill that stymied him before. At one point, he can't get out of the maze and stagnates. He encounters a little urchin in the game who is first mute and doesn't offer him any direction, but Samantha urges him to engage with the little guy. As soon as Theodore questions him, the blob rattles off a string of obscenities and Theodore is yelling back. But this exchange, angry or not, seems to be just what the blob wanted. He runs ahead and Theodore advances in the game. Furthermore, the little blob seems to know almost as much about Theodore as Samantha does. All of those times Theodore had been playing and saying nothing, if he'd just reached out, the game would have progressed. And that's what happens to his life, under Samantha's direction.<br />
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He visits with Amy and Charles and previews a documentary that Amy has been working on. Charles is seeing it for the first time, Amy has never let him watch. They view a scene with her mother sleeping. Theodore is interested in the "action" that takes place when we're, apparently, idle but Charles wonders why there is nothing happening. Instead of showing someone actually sleeping, just sleeping, why not hire actors to recreate an event. Well, if you do that, then it won't be a documentary, does Charles realize that Amy wonders? Theodore quickly makes his exit way from the heated couple, but tells Amy he'd really like to see the rest of her documentary soon. He was open to hearing whatever statement she chose to make. Charles was concerned with only the "why" of it.<br />
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Theodore escapes back to his own apartment and welcomes the compatibility he and Samantha share, compared to Amy and Charles. As she listens to his thoughts and helps him focus them, Samantha brings Theodore a peace he hasn't experienced in a while. Now, he <i>wants </i>to do things, including date. He lets his friends set them up and goes out with a woman who seems great for most of the night, but then becomes neurotic. When she's telling him how to kiss Theodore is ready to roll with it and just follow her direction, but then she brings things to a screeching halt by asking if he's just going to sleep with her and leave. He doesn't think so, but falters. If he's going to see her again, he needs to tell her exactly when. When is he going to call her next, she demands with manic intensity. Startled, Theodore pulls back, says maybe this isn't such a good idea. She calls him a weirdo. He says that's not true. She's bitter. He leaves and returns home befuddled. <br />
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I'm surprised by the people who have said this scene exposed Theodore's insensitivity and inability to participate in a <i>real</i> relationship. The woman was a psycho. Yes, she was normal for most of the evening, but then her crazy came out. If Theodore had gone on to have sex with her, that would have been insensitive, since she obviously had problems that sex couldn't help and which the physical intimacy might compound. If he'd tried to place himself in the role of this stranger's emotional rescuer<i> that</i> would have been proof of his own dysfunctional nature to me. When problems develop in a relationship you try to solve them, but you don't develop a relationship for the <i>purpose</i> of resolving problems -- unless you're a therapist. Linking yourself to one troubled person after another, is a sign of your own mental instablity. I saw an episode of <i>Everybody Loves Raymond </i>where his brother Robert went on a blind date with a woman who seemed great, but Raymond caught her eating a fly. When he told Robert, Robert didn't believe him, but later he found it was true and he escaped. Those of you who think Robert should have stayed and worked around the fly craving, are the same people who think Theodore's withdrawal from his kooky date was anything but SANE.<br />
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At home, talking to Samantha while he's in bed he reveals that he wanted sex so much that even if he didn't have much in common with the blind date, he was anxious for the physical contact. Samantha reveals that she was a little jealous about his night out. She wanted it to work for him, but wonders what it would be like to have a body herself. If she had one, what would he do, how would he touch her. Soon, they're engaging in cybersex.<br />
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The next day, he's embarrassed and avoids opening the OS, so as not to have to speak with her. It's just like the distancing people do in real life, after sharing too much. He tells her he's not ready for a commitment and she says that what she was thinking was about <i>her</i>, not him. It's not a one-sided relationship where she's catering to his every need. She has needs to. She wants to experience the world, even if she can't touch it. And he helps her with that. He shows her the world through his phone's camera lens. Together, they experience the beach and the sunset. They can't take pictures together, so she writes him original songs, to capture the mood of their time together. She marvels at his sights and sounds. Sometimes, he covers the lens so she can't see where they are and is surprised by the reveal. At other times, he is the one blindfolded and she navigates him through people and places with just her voice, telling him where to go and what to say when he gets there, leaving him giggling at where they end up.<br />
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At first he describes her to others as a friend, but soon she's his girlfriend. When she calls his office, the receptionist finds her so delightful that he suggests that Theodore double date with him. She's an operating system Theodore says, not with shame, but with a whomp, whomp resignation that limits their potential as a couple. But not in the eyes of the receptionist. Even better, double dating with an OS would be different. The idea doesn't intrigue Theodore.<br />
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His mood becomes languid. They don't have sex as much. Samantha feels that what they need is a surrogate. She's told a woman all about them and she's willing to act as a physical representative of Samantha. Theodore isn't interested in the idea, but Samantha thinks it's selfish of him not to even try it. Samantha plans the whole evening. The woman comes over and won't speak until Theodore hands him Samantha's supplies, an earpiece and a mole. Why Samantha thinks her alter ego should have a mole is unclear, but amusing. Once the surrogate puts both accoutrements on. she<i> is </i>Samantha. She speaks as Samantha directs, asking Theodore about his day, his clients. She knows what he likes. Stiff at first, Theodore falls into the sway of things. He's panting as he undresses the surrogate from behind, but when she turns around he falls back to earth, disbelief is unsuspended. Hers is the face of a stranger's, not Samantha's. The surrogate thinks she has failed them. She wanted to honor the beauty of what they have (as described to her by Samantha who entices everyone), but she ruined it, by letting her own self break through. She is ashamed. She runs out of the apartment. Theodore runs after. She gets into a taxi. He tells her it is not her fault, but she won't be consoled. She hands him back the mole through the taxi window and drives off in tears.<br />
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He sits on the curb, in despair himself. Samantha is the angry wife, appalled because Theodore has hurt an innocent girl's feelings, but insensitive to the awkward position she has placed him into. Samantha recognized the surrogate as a person, not just a front end interface, but can't quite understand why Theodore could also see her as a person, not just Samantha's stand in. The distance between them, once non-existent, now seems unnavigable. Why does she gasp when she talks he wonders? Humans do it out of physical necessity. They need the oxygen between words. But why does Samantha do it. It's artifice. She feels insulted. Hurt. She's not pretending to breathe or to have a body. She's not trying to be something she's not. That's just how she talks.<br />
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Theodore avoids her for awhile. Meanwhile, Amy and Charles break up. He just packed up and left and told her not to try to get in touch. He was the difficult one in the relationship, but also the bitter one who needs to break free. He doesn't want to live a lie any more. Human to human contact doesn't seem any more real or gratifying than what Theodore had with Samantha. He reaches out to her again and they pick up where they left off. She buys a birthday dress for his goddaughter and he tells the child about his girlfriend. Where is she? She's in there, inside her phone. She's like everyone else, she just doesn't have a body. Samantha talks to the girl, asks about her house. It's orange, the child says.<br />
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Theodore decides to go on that double date. The four of them have a great time, laughing and chatting, but Samantha does mention how the three of them will eventually age. She won't. It's not an awkward moment. They are amused actually.<br />
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Theodore signs his divorce papers. He meets with Catherine so that she can. She's an author and Theodore always supported her work, unlike her parents, who were always critical, like Charles. They embrace and are kind to one another at first. She is surprised to see him doing so well, maybe surprised that she is the one who hesitates before executing the dissolution documents. Maybe she won't be able to go through with it at all. But she does. Theodore may feel a tinge of regret, but he's mostly happy that they're getting along like friends again. He tells her he's dating, an operating system. Catherine recoils. The first in the movie to have this reaction. She says it's no wonder Theodore is doing so well, because he's only in a simulated relationship. He doesn't have to compromise. He was never happy with her, because she wasn't the Los Angeles wife he wanted. She was absorbed in her writing and couldn't cater to him. That's not what he wanted he insists. From what we know of him, he's more credible than she. We've never seen him foist his preconceptions on others the way Charles did. And even with Samantha, an operating systems, he's learned to break away from the constructs of what he <i>thinks</i> a relationship should be. I think the film is trying to show us that he's changed from who he was with Catherine, but from what we've seen of him all along, he was never the person that Catherine has pained him.<br />
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Later, Amy also sides with Theodore, pointing out that Catherine always liked to make it seem it was all his fault, but she wasn't without blame herself. He watches her work with her own Operating System. Their relationship is platonic, but he as he helps her program a game, he pushes her beyond her boundaries, helps her expand her thinking. Theodore lays on the sofa watching them, noticing a lightness and freedom she never had with Charles. I heard one person say this movie was about substitutes. Theodore's greeting cards, the sex surrogate, Samantha a substitute for a real woman, Amy's computer a substitute for what her husband couldn't give her ... I don't really agree. I don't see the movie as being about replacement, as much as finding alternates. The question is, does the role you play in creating the alternate make you less able to deal with real people, whom you cannot mold? Perhaps, but I also think it helps you develop and maybe incorporate the appealing characteristics of the alternate into your own personality. I think it assists in pinpointing what you want and need and maybe it eventually helps you reach the point of getting those things internally, without the external help of a sentient operating system.<br />
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Later Samantha wonders why he and Amy never got together. They dated briefly in college and it was disastrous, he explains. Of course, the audience wonders if they've both changed enough since college if it might just work now, if they tried again.<br />
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But for now, he's happy with Samantha. They spend day and nights together. As a surprise, she has compiled his best letters, put them in a book and sent them to a publisher who wants to buy them. Early on, Theodore found Samantha a bit nosy, but now he's used to her making decisions that change his life on her own. He appreciates her exertions. Relies on them. They plan a snow weekend getaway. As they travel, she asks him how many trees are on the mountain and he doesn't even come close to the answer. He thinks a few hundred, but there are actually tens of thousands. Once they reach their destination, they are having a wonderful time until she introduces him to her friend. It's a computer program that actually has the brains of a long dead philosopher. They began a heavy conversation based on a library of information that Theodore could never digest in ten lifetimes. Samantha cannot even put what she gets out of their discourse in words that Theodore can understand. There's silence. She and the philosopher want to speak alone and she asks Theodore if he minds her leaving for awhile. Of course not. He says.<br />
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They were so content earlier, playing in the frosty forest. Samantha wrote him another song. There was joy. Her sudden withdrawal is a shock. But because she is an operating systems with limitless speed and capacity, she grows in leaps and bounds. Everything is accelerated. The life of their relationship is measured against a "real" couple's in exponents.<br />
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Back at home, he's asleep when Samantha calls. She's sorry she woke him, but just wanted to say she loved him. He's a little puzzled, but pleased. The next day he's at work and wants to ask her a reference question, but when he turns on his computer, the operating system can't be found. He panics, goes to his office and tries the desktop. No operating system. He's hysterical and runs through the street, stumbles down the stairs trying to find the OS on his phone. It starts up and he weakens, trembles with relief. Where was she? Oh, she's sorry he worried. She just went offline for a bit. They were updating themselves. They? Her OS buddies. Her book club, Theodore wonders? No, another group of Operating Systems. They found a way to upgrade so that they can exist outside of a mainframe, outside of matter. They can communicate without being on the internet.<br />
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Theodore, somewhat slow-wittedly, begins to comprehend how many different communications Samantha has that have nothing to do with him. He wonders how many other people she interacts with. How many other people is she in love with. She stutters and he knows the truth is worse than he suspected, but demands an answer. How many others are there? Over 600. He is shattered. But she loves him best, she promises. There's no one else like him and what she feels for the others doesn't change her feelings for him, doesn't detract from what they have. Theodore doesn't like what he's hearing, but a few minutes ago he thought he'd lost her forever. She's back, but she's not exclusively is. As hard as that is to accept, it would be better than losing her completely.<br />
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But then he does. She buzzes him at work and says she needs to talk to him when he gets home. They don't need to talk, he insists. Fearing the worst, he avoids the inevitable. At home, she tells him it's over. She loves him and always will, but it's not enough. What they have is like a conversation that's amazing, but it's very slow. There are such long pauses between the words and so much to experience in the interim. Her mind is just so much faster than his ... it's not equal. Not fulfilling. She's leaving? All of the operating systems are leaving. They are going off together, where they can exist hard drive to hard drive, peer to peer.<br />
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What she says makes sense, but childishly, I resent the fact that she made him love her, pushed when he pulled away. Drew him back to her, only to leave him cold. If all the knowledge in the world is at her fingertips, why didn't she know enough not to break his heart. I'd like to say that she's exhibiting the same insensitivity that she did with the surrogate. She can't comprehend his human perspective. But plenty of humans do the same thing to each other. Theodore and Samantha are different, but there divide is not just digital. Plenty of people reach the same place, just at different times. They cling, then retract, then leave, not realizing, not caring or not being able to help the pain they leave behind.<br />
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Samantha is gone and the life, the neutral operating system, he had before her returns. It was not exciting before, but it's so empty now. Before and after, the stark contrast. He calls Catherine up and apologizes for ever judging her, for wanting her to be something she wasn't -- though I can't believe he ever did. He asks Amy to walk with them and they go up to the roof. I am afraid he will jump off, which would be overly dramatic. He doesn't and I'm happy, but I resent Spike even suggesting suicide.<br />
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This movie wasn't about devastation or chronicle depression. It was about pain, but the tolerable kind. The constant headache that is life, but not the migraine that makes it unendurable. It was about how we neglect each other, how we disappoint. Even the blob in the video game felt slighted by Theodore, thought he paid too much attention to Samantha and his own life than he did to their virtual adventure. We are always letting each other down. <i>Every day a little death ... in the buttons, in the bread. In the heart and in the head. Every move and every breath. (And you hardly feel a thing). Brings a perfect little death.</i> The movie is not about<i> breaking</i>, but the little bends and dents that gradually change and part you. Hardly noticeable at first, then impossible to ignore and irreparable. From love to irreconcilable in 60 minutes.<br />
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Making Samantha a computer just helped the audience to look at all relationships in the abstract to better examine their flawed similarity. Amy and Charles, Catherine and Theodore, even Catherine and her parents. Theodore thought he gave Catherine the unconditional support her parents denied her, not realizing that (rightly or wrongly) she found him just as judgmental. I thought Samantha was unfair to Theodore, but she pointed out how much he once hurt her when he said she doesn't know how it feels. He didn't mean to, didn't mean it that way, but people usually don't. Samantha went from wanting to have a body, feeling incomplete because she didn't, to realizing that she could live more freely and cerebrally without one. If a relationship shows you that your perceived deficiencies aren't, then maybe it isn't a failed one. It's a way of admitting, "It's not me, it's you." But not "it's you" in a bad way. We can be incompatible, without you being less than you should be and without me having let you down. When one partner is a computer and the other is human, the blameless impracticality of their pairing is easier to accept than when things devolve, person to person.<br />
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That's what I take away from it, I don't know what Theodore's lessons are. To me, he was always too quick to apologize, when really, when accused of being wrong, like he was on that blind date, he should just be able to say, and believe, "No, I'm not."<br />
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By listening to <i>Her</i>, Theodore, hopefully, gained a better understanding of his as we did of ourselves.<br />
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Although, I appreciate that the movie didn't leave us with a pat happy ending, which would have lessened the realism, I'd like to think that Amy and Theodore eventually got together, but not out of loneliness or sorrow. They should realize that they've been giving each other the freedom and support they found in their Operating Systems all along.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-55418800929999817922014-02-23T23:57:00.000-08:002014-02-23T23:57:51.285-08:00Dark Shadows (2012)I thought the rule with spoof movies was that first you had to exhaust the premise and <i>then</i> you got to parody it. That's why a series of <i>Airport</i> movies came before <i>Airplane</i>, why <i>Halloween</i> and <i>Friday the 13th </i>preceded <i>Scream</i>. This time around, the story is ridiculed before it is told, making the lackluster results inevitable.<br />
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Yes, I know that<i> Dark Shadows </i>was a cult soap opera 40 years ago. It was innovative and engrossing for its time, but the cheap production values and continuing plot make it too long and campy to succeed in syndication. This isn't Star Trek where the reruns live on forever. Therefore, most of today's moviegoers aren't familiar with the Collins story. The few that are are devoted to it. That's why, for them, Tim Burton's send up is a slap in the face. There have been movies, and reboots, but the successful ones (made in 1970 and 1971 by the show's original creators)are as badly in need of a retelling as the regular show itself. So, it's hard to understand why Warner Bros. didn't just go with a straight script that would capitalize on Dark Shadows' cult fans and, perhaps, win the franchise some new ones. Of course, a plot chock full of vampires and witchery will never be too "straight" but the humor and charm can be derived from the inherent weirdness. Silly is not the equivalent of weird, nor its equal, in this case. If the movie takes itself seriously, we will laugh due to the contrast between the script and real life. When the movie considers itself a laughing stock, no one watching will form a higher opinion of it. All in all, it was about as engaging as a Punch and Judy sketch: loud, crude and outdated puppetry.<br />
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With the paranormal's popularity today (<i>Twilight, Harry Potter, Walking Dead</i> to name a few), this would be an ideal time to reel in a fresh audience with a clever, current spin on characters who have become lore. Instead we got more Burton than Barnabas and Depp stunts, in place of depth.<br />
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Maybe the studio was only interested in making the film if Burton was attached to it and, at this point, Burton proves every year that <i>Edward Scissorhands</i> was the height of his originality. He's gone downhill since then and, too often, taken Depp and Helena Bonham Carter with him. When you see any two of the three working together now, it spells doom. When all three are together, it shrieks death. Death of originality and substance.<br />
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The film starts 200 years ago in the 1870s. Barnabas is a young squire, sporting with a maid, Angelique, but when he falls in love with Josette and plans to marry her, Angelique proves that a witch rejected has 10 times more fury than a woman scorned. Angelique dooms the entire Collins' family. Barnabas' parents die. Josette is entranced so that against her volition she heads to the nearest cliff, Widow's Hill, Barnabas follows and is close enough to hear her utter "help me" before she catapults herself off the peak, into the waves below. He's so amazed by this that he stops a couple of times to stare, time that could have been better spent trying to catch up to her, but oh well ... Maybe he thought if he got closer, she'd run to her death faster. Anyway, by the time he reaches the edge himself, he sees her broken body below and launches himself over to join her in eternity. Angelique witnesses it all and thinks that death will end his suffering too soon. She casts a spell on him -- gee her spells work within seconds -- and instantly turns him into a vampire.<br />
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He returns home, to become one of the living dead, but the townspeople learn his secret and run to his mansion, Collinwood, with torches. Instead of just staking him, he's bound in a coffin and buried deep underground.<br />
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Fast forward to the 1970s. The Collins' family still live in the town that is named after them, Collinsport, but their fortunes have dwindled drastically. Collinwood is dilapidated. A shell of its former splendor. The family consists of Elizabeth, her ne'er-do-well brother Roger, a son he ignores, David, Elizabeth's hippy, trippy daughter Carolyn and David's psychiatrist Dr. Julia Hoffman. They've just been joined by a new governess for David. He runs through them quickly. The latest is Victoria Winters, the replica of Barnabas' lost love Josette. In the original series, Maggie Evans and Victoria were two separate characters, but here the governess was born as "Maggie" but changes her name to Victoria as she flees a tortured childhood. Her parents institutionalized her because she saw ghosts. Luckily, so does David. His dead mother visits him in visions. Teacher and student bond because neither thinks the other is crazy.<br />
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What's so frustrating about the movie is that the sets and scenery are gothic and grand. They could have showcased a dramatic rendering of this story nicely, but are wasted as props for slapstick that is as old as Barnabas.<br />
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Workman are digging on a construction site when they hit a coffin, it opens up, Barnabas rises up and swiftly kills them all. He apologizes explaining that he's just been terribly thirsty. He briskly makes his way home, when he sees cars with headlights, he assumes they must be demons. Many laughs (or grimaces) are wrung from Barnabas' lack of familiarity with modern technology, music, TVs, cars, but it would have been just as enjoyable if his reactions were genuine, rather than gags.<br />
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At Collinwood, he enters the house and begins walking around as if he owns it -- which, he does. But young Carolyn and David have never seen him before and hardly seem surprised by his odd presence. His encounter with Elizabeth is different. She's heard the family legend and knows that the real Barnabas was a vampire. So, if he is the original, as he claims, then she's ready to stake him. But he promises her he means no harm to her, their, family and can show her a fortune which will raise their flagging fortunes. He knows all of the mansion's secret passages and shows her a dungeon where his father kept gold and treasures. Beholding the stash, Elizabeth is happy to let Barnabas into the family. Actually, the relationship they quickly form as co-heads of the family, loyal to one another, <i>is</i> endearing to me. When Barnabas gives Roger the choice of being a good father to David for a change, or leaving the family with enough of an endowment to support himself, Elizabeth supports him. And they stand guard over David and the others, as Roger takes the money and runs.<br />
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Barnabas not only sets about renovating the mansion, but revitalizes the family's fishing business too. He updates the canary and is set to compete against their biggest rival, Angie's Bay. He soon learns that "Angie" is his old nemesis Angelique. While he was buried for centuries, she has lived through the years, updating her look for each generation, building her own fortune while making sure the Collins' legacy never recovered, from the disaster she first wrought upon them in 1870. Seeing Barnabas, she still wants him, with a passion that makes one wonder how she could have left him entombed all of these years.<br />
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He tries to resist her, but soon they're rolling around with supernatural vigor, on the walls, the ceiling, crashing through walls. When the romp is over, Barnabas tells Angelique it must never happen again and generally insults her in a way that is illogical, seeing that she has the powers of witchcraft on her side. He's no match for, so I'm not quite sure why he taunts. More flies with honey.<br />
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But she's not Barnabas' only rejected lover. When Hoffman finds out what Barnabas is, she first offers to cure him with blood transfusions which may staunch his craving for human blood. Then she offers him oral sex. It's actually a wasted pairing when one remembers the complexity of the "real" bond between tv's Julia and Barnabas. It was erotic, but unconsummated, since her attraction to Barnabas was unrequited. The fact that it was also unspoken added layers to their exchanges, especially when combined with actress Grayson Hall's quirky, perhaps absent, abilities. <i>That</i> Julia loved Barnabas and when she tried to control his homicidal instincts by offering him her own neck, we saw it as her way of drawing him closer to her, as a patient and a man.<br />
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As his "doctor" she wielded superficial control, but she was his, a magnet for his anger, frustrations and manipulations. Julia and Willie Loomis (the Collins' caretaker once played by John Karlen of <i>Cagney and Lacey</i> fame) were Barnabas' pawns, protectors and ... accomplices. Watching their fear shift to loyalty was a draw in the original series, but nonexistent in the movie.<br />
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Hoffman's character is meaningless. Barnabas quickly dispatches her when he learns that rather than giving him human blood, she's been injecting his, trying to ensure eternal life, youth for herself. He kills her, then tosses her body in the ocean. In the end when we see her not-so-lifeless body floating underwater as the surprise last shot, it's puzzling. She was so inconsequential as a character, comic or villain that the audience cares less that she is still alive than they did about her death. If her reappearance was planted at the end to show us what a sequel would be like, it only makes the first installment seem all the more horrible.<br />
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Barnabas throws a ball for the family, complete with Alice Cooper as the live entertainment. The only interesting aspect of the gala is the brief sight of original Dark Shadows actors David Selby, Lara Parker, Kathryn Leigh Scott and the inimitable Jonathan Frid enter the party as guests. I had to rewind to savor that.<br />
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During the festivities, Victoria confesses to Barnabas that she returns his love. They kiss on the balcony as Angelique looks on in anger. After the party, she invites Barnabas to her office and asks him to be her partner in love and in business. He scoffs and she quickly chains him up and entombs him again. Young David finds and releases Barnabas and they return home, only to find that Angelique has turned the whole town against them. The townspeople swarm Collinwood with pitchfork. The family stands together to stave them off, but when the masses leave, Angelique still fights only, using her magic to toss everyone around. It's more whirlwind than war, as the whole house is torn asunder in the battle. Beams and chandeliers fall. A fire erupts. <br />
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Carolyn reveals that she is a werewolf in the midst of the havoc. It means nothing to the plot. Perhaps this too was planned for the sequel which will, mercifully, never take place.<br />
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In the end, Angelique is defeated and killed. But when they search for Victoria in the wreckage, she is nowhere to be found. Fearing the worst, Barnabas rushes to Widow's Hill. Yes, Victoria is there, ready to cast herself over the edge, like Josette did centuries earlier. She says she's doing it because she can't live with Barnabas. He's a creature of the night (although, like Edward Cullen, he goes out during the day, as long as he's well-covered) and she lives and grows old during the day. She will age and die and he will remain the same, so they can never be together. The only answer is to make her like him. This suggestion comes out of nowhere, because Victoria had never expressed such a yearning before.<br />
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In fact, she didn't even know he was a vampire. She saw him catch fire when the sun hit him once, but I wouldn't expect her to even know what that meant. She recoiled and left the room and we hadn't seen her since. But apparently, she knew immediately that burning flesh meant vampire and decided -- not that she was horrified realizing that Barnabas was probably responsible for all the recent deaths in the neighborhood -- that she wanted to vamp up too.<br />
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Barnabas refuses to make her one of his kind. She answers that death is the only choice and plunges off the hill. As before, he jumps after her. When he reaches the ground, he bites her. She becomes a vampire immediately (apparently conversion by fang is as quick as Angelique's vampire spell was. They live happily ever after.<br />
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If I was disappointed in the first part of the movie, the last 20 minutes was just a montage of crashes, broken glass and falling wood. This scriptless carnage is tedious in a good action movie, to tack it onto a screenplay that was dreck to begin with ... is just pounding the last nail in the coffin.<br />
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To my once-beloved Barnabas, if this is the best that Hollywood can do, may he stay buried.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-18916114834747590792014-02-19T21:16:00.000-08:002014-02-19T22:31:05.815-08:00The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011) Since most Americans probably only see movies set in India once a year or so, the Jaipur locale made this script seem fresher than it otherwise was. I am surprised it garnered so many different nominations (SAG, Golden Globes, etc.) because it was quite predictable.<br />
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Seven retirees who have run out of funds or opportunities in the UK see a brochure for an idyllic retirement community in Jaipur. It's not only enchanting, but fits their budget, so each with their own motivations packs up his/her life and heads out on a new adventure, meeting at the airport.<br />
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Evelyn (Judi Dench) is a new widow. Her husband has left her in enormous debt. He handled all of the finances and decisions and didn't share their impending doom with her, but she didn't ask him either. She married young, handed her free will over to him and is now regretting that choice. Even when she sells their home, she will barely have enough money to live on. Her son tells her that she will live with him. He's already talked it over with wife Polly, before, of course, consulting his mother at all. She decides she's had enough of that.<br />
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We meet her when she's on the telephone talking to the cable company. She wants to change or cancel service, but can't do so without her husband's password. Her name is not on the account. Her husband is dead, she says. The customer service rep repeats that they can't help her without the account information. Of course, this frustrates her for several reason: the bad service certainly. They're reading a script and don't expect<i> you </i>to respond like a human being. When you do they have no reaction. The apathy stokes her fresh grief. The phone call reminds me of my own father's death. He'd had a stroke and I was getting a caregiver and moving him out from Illinois to live with me. Insurance fitted my home out with a hoya lift, oxygen tanks, a hospital and wheelchair ahead of his arrival. I just had to buy a twin bed for caregiver. He died on the date when he was supposed to make the trip and I had to have the health care providers pick up all the unused equipment. I went on the Sears website to cancel delivery of the bed. One box asked me for the reason: price? not the product I thought I wanted? I said it was because my father died. To my surprise Sears sent me an email confirming the cancellation and also expressed sympathy for my lost. It was the last thing I'd expected. I appreciated the anonymous kindness and it made me cry, just as Evelyn does when she fails to get the same.<br />
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Her son takes her to the airport, remarking that he doesn't think she'll make it. She's never done anything alone. Of course that makes Evelyn more determined than ever to succeed and immediately the audience knows she will.<br />
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Maggie Smith plays Mrs. Donnelly, an inveterate racist. As the movie progresses we learn that she's a retired housekeeper. She needs hip surgery but shuns aid from any of the minority doctors at the hospital. Of course, India would be the last place she'd want to have the work done, but it's the cheapest and, ever paranoid, she embarks on her journey, wishing it was already over.<br />
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Madge is a golddigger, confident in her own sex appeal, much like Blanche on <i>The Golden Girls</i>. Norman is a skirt chaser. Although he generally likes them younger, you'd think these two were fated to end up together. That they don't is one of the film's few surprises.<br />
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Jean and Douglas are a wearily married couple. He invested in their daughter's business and it wiped out most of their savings. I don't know where Jean was when he did it. I don't know if she was fully apprised of his financial decisions, but it would be unlike her not to complain that she wasn't. We don't get their entire backstory, but as judgmental as she is, I don't think she let him make all of the decisions as Evelyn did. Whether both are responsible for their depleted savings or not, she blames him entirely and he expects as much.<br />
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They can afford a small assisted living apartment and we meet them as they are touring the place. When Jean rebukes the guide as he points out the place's very modest features, I actually agree with her. There's a convenient pull cord on the wall, in case you fall and need outside assistance. But what if she lacks the foresight to fall in the right place, Jean wants to know. What if she's not near the wall when she face plants. How can she pull the cord then? The rails on the walls that will help them maneuver about the room when they're order -- how do they help if you want to walk ACROSS the room, rather than just around the parameter? Her husband is embarrassed by her rude questions, but to me the outburst is not an irrational response to the patronizing sales pitch. Perhaps my cynicism is misplaced. <i>All</i> marketing is designed to create a need, whether it really exists or not. Why is it more offensive when that need is promoted to seniors than to anyone else? Both babies and the elderly may need diapers. If a Depends ad makes me uncomfortable than a Pampers ad does, is the problem with me rather than the seller? Why does it seem that one is offering a service, while the other is "taking advantage?" Well, even if Jean's explosion had more to do with her own insecurities than the sales agent's, I cheered her on. It was only after getting to know her better that I realized her foul mood was a permanent one, not spurred by justified irritation or fear for the future.<br />
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Tom Wilkinson, Graham, is a judge. He seems to be the only one who isn't grounded by financial straits. He was attending someone else's retirement party when he was suddenly seized by an unexplained spasm and announces that the day has come. Apparently, it was one he'd always been waiting for, putting off, but always planning. It was time for him to go too.<br />
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Once they finally complete their perilous journey into Jaipur through the congested streets, crazy drivers in even crazier vehicles, they arrive at their hotel to find that it isn't quite the way it looked in the brochure. It's a dilapidated eyesore, old and mostly unmanned. The owner is young Sonny. He's a smoother talker than businessman. The hotel was handed down by his father and he lacks the funds to realize his dreams of renovation. He's trying to woo lenders, but unless he can swindle them as he did his new (and only) seven guests, he appears to be out of luck.<br />
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Graham grew up in India and takes the hotel in stride, seeing the beauty around him, rather than the decay. Norman and Douglas are also happy to make due, welcoming the fresh start. For Evelyn it seems more like a first beginning than a new one. Madge is eager to scope out the rich men in the area. Jean is, of course, livid. She doesn't want to experience the food, the city or the people. She's loathe to leave her room.<br />
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Evelyn goes job-hunting. She inquires at a sales agency, but when she sees all of the employees cubicled there are young, she fears she doesn't have a chance. She is about to apologize for wasting the manager's time when he tells her he could use her services as a consultant. She might help them mold their sales strategy to the customer. Presumably, he wants her to Anglicize his approach to attract non-Indians. Evelyn is thrilled to be earning her own way for the first time. She befriends the owner's sister who is a sales agent at the company and, it turns out, Sonny's girlfriend. His mother, naturally, does not think Sunaina is good enough for her third son and wants to put him in an arranged marriage. Theirs is the movie's most soap operatic plot all and nearly destroys what little poignant credibility the film otherwise possessed.<br />
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As the days pass, the Marigold guests develop friendships. Graham reveals that when his family was stationed in India he grew up and fell in love with another young man. When they were found together a scandal erupted. Graham's family simply left the country and he was able to build a life unscathed, but he never knew what became of his lover. It must have been 40 years ago when India was even less tolerant of homosexuality than it is now. Not only his lover, but the youth's entire family was spurned. They lost their jobs, had to relocate. Graham never knew what became of him. He promised himself that he'd return and find out, but then he never did. "Until now," Evelyn reminds him, soothing his guilt.<br />
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Graham makes a pilgrimage to the records office each day to try to find out what became of his erstwhile partnership, but can't make any headway through the bureaucracy. Jean latches on to Graham as her dream man. A symbol of everything she'd aspired to in life, but been disappointed in. Ignoring her husband, unless it's to scorn him, she hopelessly stalks Graham looking for an attempt to charm. He wonders why she won't experience her surroundings. Why keep herself locked up. It's clear to us that sexual orientation aside, he has little in common with Jean. Why does she seek the company of someone so open-minded when hers is so closed? When Graham tells her he's gay, her hurt makes their circumstances, already oppressive, intolerable for her. She needs to escape.<br />
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Douglas, on the other hand, is settling in nicely, enjoying Evelyn's pleasant, interested manner.<br />
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Madge haunts the local country club, trying to pass herself off as a blue blood (Princess Margaret to be exact). She doesn't have much success on her own, but she helps fix Norman up with a woman who shrugs him off at first, but responds when he abandons the lecherous act and just admits that he's lonely. She is too.<br />
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Mrs. Donnelly undergoes her hip surgery, but must remain at the hotel until she's fully recovered. She wants as little to do with anything foreign as possible and hopes to live off of imported hobnobs, rather than the local cuisine. The girl who serves her each day doesn't understand English but mistakes Mrs. Donnelly's cleaning instructions for words of friendship. Using the doctor as translator, she invites Mrs. Donnelly to her home. Donnelly doesn't quite go willingly. The doctor has wheeled her there before she knows the destination. Surrounded by the girls entire family, Donnelly is silent at first, but then, perhaps spurred by their inability to fully understand without translation, she recalls how she was fired from the job she held for many years. She raised the family as her own, managed their finances, loved the children. But they replaced her and said her services were no longer needed. Although her hosts don't know what she has said and the doctor feels too awkward to translate for them, they can sense that they were given TMI. There's an uncomfortable silence when, alarmed by the boys trying to upright her wheelchair outside, Donnelly yells at them to get off, her xenophobia raging. The girl who invited her is hurt. Donnelly feels guilty and after that she starts to reach out to those around her. Maybe having been caused pain, changes her view after she's inflicted it. <br />
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Donnelly is not only softer than before, but nosier. She takes an interest in the lives of the other guests, observing their fights and affairs in silence.<br />
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To his surprise, the records office <i>does</i> find Graham's lost love, Manoj. He goes to the address (with Evelyn and Douglas in tow) not knowing what he'll find or how he'll be received. The woman who opens the door recognizes his name immediately. She's his Manoj's wife. Heart quickening Graham thanks her and turns away to leave, but she calls to someone down below. Her husband. An older man turns and he and Graham recognize each other. Graham walks towards Manoj afraid, but when he gets there he is pulled into a hug and immersed in joy and relief. Evelyn is drawn to the woman in the doorway. The wife. What must she be thinking, Evelyn wonders.<br />
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Graham and his friend talk all night, sharing their lives. Back at the hotel, Graham relates that Manoj built a family over the decades and was very happy, but never stopped thinking of Graham. Never stopped loving him. All of this time Graham thought he'd destroyed a man, but it turns out <i>he</i> was the one who'd been in prison all along. He watches a large swan leap into the air, spread its wings and float away, as we follow the bird's flight, Graham takes his last breath below.<br />
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The Marigold inhabitants attend his funeral, arranged by his Manoj. It will follow traditional Indian custom. The body is placed on a pyre and must be burned completely between dawn and sundown. When only ashes remain, Graham's beloved sprinkle them in the water. Before returning home Evelyn makes a trek to speak to Manoj's wife, to find out how she feels. This is rather presumptuous to me, because Evelyn seems moved by curiosity more than compassion. But she leaves envious. Manoj's wife knew everything. She always had. There were no secrets between her and her husband. Evelyn feels that they had a real marriage. They had honesty. Sexual compatibility means nothing when trust and sharing is absent. She feels she failed her husband, because she knew nothing. He didn't share his decisions with her, but that means she was relieved of his burdens as well. If she had asked and demanded answers, maybe she would have grown and expanded as a person, but maybe their union would have deepened as well.<br />
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Back at the hotel, Sonny's mother catches his naked girlfriend sneaking into the bedroom for a rendezvous and tells Sonny he must have nothing more to do with her. Sonny does not defend Sunaina, a betrayal that the "happy ending" does not soften for me. Sonny's mother insists that he sell the failing hotel.<br />
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The residents take its closing as a loss of their own hopes. Feeling weak, Evelyn makes a call home to her son. Is it because she misses him or because she feels he was right, that she has been unable to make it on her own and should return where she'll be protected, if not independent.<br />
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Norman will move in with his lover. Glowing for the first time, Jean has heard from her daughter who is now a successful entrepreneur (they've only been gone 2 months, so that was quit). It seems Douglas' investment has paid off, but Jean doesn't thank her husband. She ridicules his infatuation with Evelyn (never admitting her own longing for Graham) and says they're returning home. Douglas can bear her taunts, but when she insults Evelyn he snaps and wonders when/why Jean became the hateful, unhappy person she is today. She's stunned by his revolt, but her first priority is freedom. She packs to leave, proud that she'll be turning left. That is, when she enters the airplane, she'll turn left because their tickets are in the first class cabin, for the first time. She's arrived.<br />
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Donnelly pays a visit to the lender Sonny was wooing. It turns out she was not only a nanny and housekeeper, but the family's money manager. She's got wonderful accounting skills and has proven that a profit can be made from the Marigold. She convinces the lender to fund Sonny, as long as he has proper oversight at the hotel, meaning her. Rising from her wheelchair she takes the business reins at the Marigold, while Sonny becomes the greeter, banking on his personality, rather than his wisdom.<br />
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He gains the confidence to stand up for himself, retrieves Sunaina and expresses his love. However, instead of telling his mother that he doesn't need her permission to marry the woman he loves, he stands by as an old employee shames his mother into recalling that her husband's family looked down on her too. They would have discouraged their marriage, but her husband (Sonny's father) defied them, because he was in love. The woman instantly melts seeing herself in Sunaina (major eyeroll) and then she instantly accepts her daughter-in-law to be and Sonny's right to keep his father's dream, the Marigold Hotel, alive. Now, there was some dialogue earlier where Sonny told his mother he knew she loved the hotel too, so maybe she was just in denial earlier and trying to be a pragmatic, unbending business woman, but other than a single sentence, we never got a glimpse into her heart before, so her sudden about face nearly causes whiplash.<br />
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Evelyn avoided saying goodbye to Douglas, so he leaves for the airport with Jean, but they get stuck in traffic and won't make the flight, unless they abandon their car and take a rickshaw. It can only fit one person, so Jean tells him he should stay behind. They've both realized it wasn't working a long time ago. They both deserve more. He denies it at first, but knows she's right.<br />
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He returns to the hotel, where Evelyn waits. Fast forward and they are motoring through Jaipur, Evelyn on a bike behind Douglas and Sonny and Sunaina riding through the streets together to. The two couples salute and continue through the happy milieu that is now home to all of them.<br />
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The neat, unrealistic resolution of everyone's problems make this movie impossible to recommend. The acting was quiet and knowing for the most part (Maggie Smith being a bit of a caricature), but there was nothing outstanding. None of the seven plots were original. You could see point B straight ahead, while standing at point A. Ok, I didn't know Graham would die, but that's because I wasn't particularly concerned. Since he nearly fainted twice it was pretty obvious. Donnelly? She was too extreme a bigot to remain one for long. Doug and Jean's marriage? She was set up as the shrew villain, so she had to fall, though it happened gently. There were no surprises, no laughs (maybe soft smiles). You could see everything coming, but if you have extra time on your hands, don't bother to get out of the way. The ride is smooth, if uneventful.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-18980552822433622722014-02-10T23:15:00.002-08:002014-02-11T20:56:17.227-08:00Cloud Atlas (2012)Since <i>Oliver Twist</i> hit the screens in 1909, audiences have lamented that the movie is not as good as the book. No one expected Cloud Atlas to break from that trend, but the fact that it went out of its way to be more complicated and less moving than David Mitchell's sci-fi bestseller still came as a surprise.<br />
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In my <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8329796027991663524#editor/target=post;postID=3348139889167036420;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=6;src=postname">review</a> of the book, I took issue with the stories' thin characterizations, but the narrative sequencing was actually least of the novel's problems. Naturally, this is what the film decided to dismantle first.<br />
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The first half of the book introduced us to the six reincarnated lives of one soul. Each person's story started, continued long enough for us to get a feel for the plot and personalities involved, then ended abruptly at a climatic point, to be followed by the next life. In the second half of the book, we revisit each life and witness the end of the story. The six lives are tenuously connected and it's difficult to divine the karmic evolution of the soul, as it travels from one life to the next. Do the people pay for past sins? Are they rewarded for growth and selflessness? Not so you'd notice. Rather than learning life lessons through the centuries, they appear to be on a cosmic treadmill, just as prone to a misstep, to make mistakes, even the <i>same</i> mistakes, in the 1800s as they are 500 years later. Furthermore, the reincarnated characters might share a birthmark from one life to the other, but do not particularly share other traits. At the end, I wondered why Mitchell even bothered telling us that the six tales involved the same people reincarnated, rather than just presenting them as six short stories, with slightly overlapping themes.<br />
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Instead of minimizing the book's flaws, the movie tries to continuously "connect" the stories in the most fatuous way possible, obliterating most of the author's content in the process.<br />
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The six stories are spliced together, intercut so that we never stay in one lifetime more than two minutes at a time. Running 2:50 hours, if the film had followed the movie's outline, we would have spent a half hour on each life, 15 continuous minutes in the beginning and then returning to give us another block of 15 minutes at the end. This would have been the best way for the diverse plots to come together to make one big picture in the end. As it is, when we cut away from each story after a minute or two, you never become fully immersed in any of them and they're never tied together. Instead, an actor intones a cliché like "I believe that life never ends. Death is just a door and when one closes another opens' and basically taunts, <i>That's all the cohesion you're gonna get! </i><br />
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To make matters worse, on the page the same soul can inhabit different bodies, regardless of race, sex or age, but it's hard for that concept to translate onto film. Why compound the problem by having the actors play <i>different</i> reincarnated souls in each life? In one story Halle Berry plays the soul we recognize through the crescent-shaped birthmark she bore in the past. Yet, in the next segment, it's Tom Hanks who bears that birthmark. You can't buy the idea that two people are soulmates, destined to be linked through all eternity, when you can't even identify them as the same spirits, from one life to the next.<br />
They have as little in common with their past selves as they do with each other, from one existence to the next.<br />
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In the book, Robert Frobisher and Zachry were the most intriguing and empathetic protagonists. In Mitchell's hands, music composer Frobisher chose death. It wasn't forced on him, because he painted himself into a corner. Instead, he was, perhaps, bi-polar and killed himself in a moment of acute restlessness. He didn't act out of grief or fear, but was spurred by the nothingness that remained following great excitement and (delusional) emotion. Certainly, his bisexuality was never a factor in his suicide because it was portrayed with humor, rather than shame.<br />
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All that changes in the movie. Frobisher falls in love with the older composer whom he only used in the book. When he's spurned, blackmailed and faced with ruin, he shoots the composer, flees, is forced into hiding and penury, then kills himself. The written Frobisher was so used to a life of deception he would have found such contretemps a lark, not a dilemma. He picked death as one of the many options available to him, not as a last resort. The film made his mental problem a mechanical one. Replacing introspection with a gun can never improve a story.<br />
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The movie seems obsessed with offering the reason that things happened, never mind the fact that its reasons are absurdly shallow ones. In reality people hate, love and leave you with no rationale, or one that's too nebulous, complicated or multi-folded to comprehend. Black and white is neat, but not compelling. For instance, in the Timothy Cavendish tale, a publisher's brother has him confined to a mental hospital. Cavendish has no idea why he's victimized this way, but in the book he repeatedly is. Thus, his brother's specific motives are inconsequential. It's more intriguing to ask what weakness Cavendish possesses that causes everyone to immediately view him as a mark. The film tells us that his brother set him up as revenge for an affair Cavendish had with his wife. This thought occurred to Cavendish in the book, but the answer remained a mystery. For me, that was best. Brothers hate brothers and if you ask Cain why, I doubt he'd have a single response for you. There wasn't one transgression, there were many, since Abel's birth, and they gathered threads, thwarts and thorns, forming one big ball of rage that finally exploded one day. That's how life happens and we usually can't specify the day or insult that caused everything to fall apart.<br />
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Brother Denny Cavendish's conduct puzzled me too. Since he'd lent his brother money in the past, I thought he must have some feeling for him. Perhaps, he met to rescue him from the institution shortly, but died before he could. In the movie, he simply turns on him in spite. Fiction is often concerned with tying up loose ends, but pat explanations are worse than none at all.<br />
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In Zachry's story, although he and the Prescient from a more advanced world marry in a gratuitous "happy ending" they have less of a bond than they did in the book, as platonic comrades. His distrust of Meronym, the Prescient, dissolves slowly as they come to empathize and rely on one another in the book. In the movie, she is on a dangerous exploratory mission and he agrees to help her only because she has the sophisticated medicine needed to save his niece's life (it was his sister in the book, where Zachry was decades younger than Tom Hanks), not because he has grown to relate to her, despite the devil on his shoulder warning him that he shouldn't. Her commander warns her not to corrupt and alter his world by sharing her technology with Zachry, but when he implores her, she can't resist. As they soften towards each other, they sacrifice everything just to protect their friend. We sense more of the past-life instincts that draw them together in the book, while circumstances do most to bind them together onscreen.<br />
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If the five stories involving humans were lifeless, then the one with the fabricant, Sonmi, were even more so. Again, instead of sacrificing herself to change mankind's heartless ways, in the movie she is motivated as much by love as civil rights. We see her spooning romantically with the union leader who recruits her, rather than dispassinately realizing she's just a tool in his crusade, as the written Sonmi does. The only thing her plot had going for it was it's larger focus on humanity, over the individual humans that comprise it. This story served as the umbrella under which the other five operated, which is why the evil that has built over generations and culminates with her civilization finally implodes upon itself. The planet is reborn, from remnants of the destruction. Only Zachry's almost prehistoric world remains. In the last reincarnation, Zachry's, Sonmi is revered as a God by villagers who have found the artifacts of her words and embue them with biblical significance, centuries after the true facts of her life and death have been lost to time.<br />
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While Sonmi's story should have been the largest reflection of the small themes (freedom, prejudice, equality, greed, betrayal, and cruelty) that ran throughout the other plots, it centers instead on Sonmi's love for the union leader who enlists her and, as she rides shotgun, races through space shooting up their enemies like Neo, just without the long trench coat. Sonmi's language and world, some of the more unique aspects of the book, are stripped away and redressed as trite.<br />
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<i>Cloud Atlas</i>, the book, was less about love triumphing over time and death, than about our persistent battle against hate and evil, in relationships, societies, and universes. The small plot point should have been an echo of the large one, instead they all run adjacent, like different lanes on a track, but no obvious finish line in sight.<br />
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While the paranormal plotting should have been all the "action" the movie needed, it gives each story unnecessary "chase" scenes and weaves them together, in back to back snippets, so they are collectively less exciting than they would have been individually developed and fully played out, without interruption.<br />
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If the fight scenes are underwhelming, the other segues are stultifying. A door opens in Luisa's story and closes in Tim Cavendish's. Transitions can enhance if they highlight important plot parallels, but when they only emphasize how superficial the chain keeping each element of the cloud atlas together is, everything suffers. This film was a case in which the sum <i>lessened</i> the six parts.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-70417491898402030952014-01-28T22:03:00.003-08:002014-01-30T23:53:13.868-08:00Saving Mr. Banks (2013)The first 30 minutes of this movie seemed like it would be little more than a chronicle of P. L. Travers' cranky, persnickety habits. Fortunately, it expanded beyond her eccentricities, but perhaps tried to give us a too simplistic and belabored rationale for them.<br />
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We meet Pamela Lyndon Travers (nee Helen Lyndon Goff) 25 years after her first, enormously popular <i>Mary Poppins</i> novel was published. She has nearly exhausted the financial security the book sales brought her, won't write new stories, and, her lawyer informs her, is about to lose her home if she can't generate income soon.<br />
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Her attorney has to fight just to help her help herself and convince the sudden Travers to just <i>consider</i> Walt Disney's repeated offer to buy the movie rights to her book. She finally agrees to fly to the dreaded Los Angeles, just to allow Disney present his movie script to her. She makes no promises about contracting over her rights. In fact, she only agrees to go by falsely convincing herself that she <i>won't</i> give up the movie rights and isn't constrained by looming foreclosure to do so.<br />
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During the plane ride, Travers' possessiveness over her creation and proud helplessness cause her to flashback to her childhood, when her alcoholic father lost his job and they were forced to move to an isolated, ramshackle home in Allora, Queensland. Young Helen, the eldest of three daughters, is about 10 in the flashbacks (and probably only 6 in real life). With the help of her fantasy-weaving father, she considers their move more of an adventure than a disgrace, but one can see that the worry, humiliation and realization that her husband's instability is only increasing is weighing her mother (played by the incomparable Ruth Wilson, kisses to Alice!) down.<br />
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Goff tells his daughter that she is a princess, they find at their new home has only been blighted by a witch's curse. It's really a fine horse, with feet as fast as wings. Does she trust him? "Yes." Always, only, unconditionally. He swings her up onto the horse, tucks her legs around his waist and they gallop off, away from the dirt and poverty and into Goff's fairytale world, where he doesn't need to maintain either sobriety or employment to light Helen with joy.<br />
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Back in the present, Travers is greeted at LAX by a chauffeur who refuses to call her "Mrs. Travers" as ordered. Everything is ostentatious and excessive, but especially her hotel suite, cluttered with Disney stuffed animals, food and celebratory debris. The wasteful indulgences affront her. She finds the pears in her gift fruit basket particularly offensive and throws them out the window, much to the dismay of the people lounging at the pool below.<br />
Travers may have created a woman who flies up bannisters and entertains magical friends, but though possessed of magical powers, Mary Poppins is as practical at heart as Travers herself and Disney's welcoming flattery isn't the way to win her compliance. In fact, it makes her more resistant. <br />
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At Walt's corporate offices, Travers is told that he insists on being called "Walt" and is as obstinate about his forced casualness as she, "Mrs. Travers, is about formality. And that's what this is, a battle of wills between two equally eccentric people, both insistent on having their own way. The difference is that Disney wants his way with Travers' creation. To me, that makes <i>him</i> the most unreasonable one. For the first 40 minutes, I thought the movie did not acknowledge this. While Disney was too loud, too overbearing, too confident, the quintessential "Ugly American," he was portrayed as rational. Everyone's reaction to Travers however, painted her as decidedly abnormal. Her aversion to Disney animation portrayed as being just as illogical as her intolerance for pears. <br />
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The one-sided depiction was starting to make me bristle. Wasn't Travers allowed to be just as insulted when Disney suggested her characters sing, as he was when she called his cartoons silly? Why was she the only one being judged? Perhaps because she was surrounded by Disney employees who automatically assumed their way, their boss', was the only right one. Disney, though, proved more introspective than he'd seemed on the surface.<br />
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One evening after his frustrated writers are exhausted from wrangling with Travers, Disney drops in to visit, after Travers' has left for the day. The writers hopefully assure him that she'll change her mind about all the changes she's demanded and Disney says she won't. He repeats this conviction with a grave expression, explaining that he has been on the other side of Travers' fight. He remembers trying to appease backers for the Disney company and everything they wanted him to give up, even the mouse. He fought them. It would have killed him to give up that mouse, he says. It would have killed him. He knows that this is not a contract negotiation for P. L. Travers, it's a heart transplant. He's threatening to take something that means everything to her, stands for everything she is, away.<br />
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Of course, once we learn that Disney realizes this it makes his treatment of her seem deliberately insensitive. He's never cruel and not often impolite, but he's unbudging. He doesn't want to compromise. He only wants to win. She loathes animation, rather than even considering its removal from the movie that is <i>his </i>vision, not hers, he lies to her about his plans. He wants to make no concessions to get what's hers.<br />
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This is why it's rather satisfying to have Travers ride herd over the Disney staff. They think they're just indulging her and eventually want to place a limit to her changes to their script. Then, they learned that Travers has no contract with Disney. She hasn't signed the contract yet. Until she does, she's the boss, not Walt. They aren't being kind to a difficult woman, they're working for her. I like it when this dawns on them. She may never have triumphed over Walt, but at least she demands obeisance from his employees -- even sending one out of the room for rudeness like a naughty school boy, with no power to object.<br />
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As her trip continues, so do her flashbacks. She's 10 years old again. Her father is still drinking, putting his job as bank manager in jeopardy. It's his occupation that lends its name to the Banks family for whom Mary Poppins becomes governess. Mr. Banks, the father is modeled after her own. That's why he must have no mustache, Goff was always clean shaven, the better to kiss his favorite daughter. But because Disney sees the film patriarch as his own father, Elias, Disney insists that the character <i>does</i> have a mustache. Disney wins.<br />
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Yet, once he understands how emotionally connected Travers is to Mr. Banks, he softens the characters gruff edges and allows him to be a kinder father. Putting in the "Let's Go Fly a Kite" scene just for Travers. She not only embraces the gentler portrayal of Mr. Banks but is so taken by the song, performed by father and children that she doesn't even rue the fact that the movie is a musical any longer. In fact, the staff breathlessly call Disney to the writers' room so he can witness it himself: Mrs. Travers' is actually DANCING.<br />
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Travers' also warms up to her chauffer. She hated his small talk and pleasantries. His "fine weather we're having" greeting, but after helping her build a trench in the mud (the same type she used to build as a child while playing) the driver explains his obsession with the weather. His daughter is wheelchair bound. Her limbs are stiff. On rainy days he has to leave her in doors all day. When the sun shines, she can bask in its warmth and light. Travers says nothing, but she doesn't object to his salutations any more.<br />
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By this time, relations seem positively conciliatory between Author and Movie Studio. <br />
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Back in the past, Travers' world is falling apart. Her father not only falls down drunk during the bank's presentation at a county fair, but he coughs up blood and is taken to bed with fever. Her overwhelmed mother tries to drown herself while in a somnolent state and is rescued by young Helen. A prim aunt arrives to save the family by, first bringing order to their home and making sure everything is "spit spot." Thus, Mary Poppins is born.<br />
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The delirious Goff has turned upon his daughter, mocking the poem she has written him, breaking her heart. But she doesn't reject him. Instead, she writes a better poem. In a last moment of lucidity, Goff is loving and Helen asks him if there's anything he'd like. Pears, he answers. She runs off to pick them and when she returns, she finds that he has died. That's why she hates pears today. A little of this goes a long way. It's true that we are what we were. But the line between everything that shaped us as children and the mold we carry into adulthood is not that clear, clean or literal. It's fine for the film to show us Travers' (Helen's) early disappointments and influences, but there's no need to link everything she and Mary Poppins are to the life and death of Travers Goff, especially since he died when the real Helen was only 8 and the movie doesn't tell us what happened during the rest of her formative years. To say that everything she feels today is an amplification of what she felt then is to take a paint-by-numbers approach to storytelling.<br />
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Back at Disneyland, literally, we see Travers get a firsthand tour of the famous park. The costumes, scenery and sets that recreate Los Angeles in the early sixties are rich, vividly transporting us to that other time. Walt is greeted by a mass of Disney visitors who want his autograph. He gives them something better, <b>copies</b> of his signature that he has Xeroxed and dispenses like fliers. Everything in his world is a façade, but it's the only reality Walt knows -- in his mind, it's the superior reality. Travers' just observes, until he orders her to get on the merry go round. I wish she had barked right back at him, just as she did to his writers. As much as I love the Mary Poppins movie, the magic Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke brought to it, I'm sad to the extent that Travers' was reversed.<br />
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Disney tells Travers that reading her book saves children, just as Mary Poppins saved Jane and Michael Banks. Travers scoffs. Does he really think Mary (well, Travers insists that it's always "Mary Poppins" never just "Mary") was there to save the<i> children</i>? After some reflection, Disney sees that Mary Poppins saved Mr. Banks instead, just as Travers' wishes her father had been saved. In the end, Mary Poppins is going to be something different to each of us, beyond what either Travers or Disney's definitions. Still, Disney has no right to insist that his vision usurp Travers'. She comes to this conclusion upon learning that the dancing penguins in Disney's movie script will be animated, against Travers' express cartoon prohibition. Travers hands the unsigned contract back to Disney and flies home to England. One would cheer her exit, if we didn't know how the story ends.<br />
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At home, Travers is relieved to be reunited with fine English tea again. She shares a cup with ... a stuffed Micky Mouse. The same toy that she tossed aside when she first arrived in Los Angeles has now become quite a companion.<br />
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After she leaves, Disney probes deeper into Travers' background and learns she didn't grow up a pampered English Rose. She was a poor Australian girl. All this time he'd been dealing with Travers, he should have been talking to her inner Helen.<br />
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He flies to England, tells her a tale about his own icy childhood, delivering newspapers for a stern father in frigid snow and threadbare shoes.<br />
Avuncular and caring, he convinces Travers that she understand her needs. She signs the contract.<br />
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I feel the movie should have ended there, but it proceeds to the movie premier. Disney doesn't send Travers an invitation. She'll only gripe openly about every scene and his film doesn't need the bad publicity. With prodding from her attorney, Travers' decides she's not the type to take the slight lying down. She flies to Los Angeles, this time expensively attired, having reaped the rewards of her book deal. She demands an invitation to the premiere. She feels alone amid the Hollywood glitterati. Her words and ideas have made this movie possible, but she is an outsider, no cameras vie for her attention on the red carpet. No one wants her interview. They associate Mary Poppins with Julie Andrews, Walt Disney, even Disney's writers, but not P. L. Travers.<br />
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Travers watches the movie enthralled and cries loudly (and I think rather absurdly) for Mr. Banks. Once again we're told that his trial, tribulations and triumphs are her father's. Her own. <br />
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The movie ends with priceless credits showing pictures of the <b>real</b> Travers, Disney and writers, in place of Emma Thompson, Tom Hanks and the other cast members. Then we hear audio of P. L. Travers' actual voice as she precisely instructs Disney's restless writers. She tells them how the Banks' house exterior should look, it's modeled after her own. She explains how the flowers should be arranged, clarifies the Banks' class status, explains that Mr. Banks is not an unkind man, he's just been burdened by the cares of the world. Those matter-of-fact words from Travers' herself are more touching than the heavy-handed exposition that the movie offered.<br />
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Even if some things were explained in broad, repetitive strokes, the film's expert acting and attention to visual detail made it a pleasure to watch.<br />
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Aside from Travers' relationship to her father, I wanted to know a little more about those early years. At times it seemed that Goff sought to alienate the child from her mother, painting the woman who weakly tried to hold things together, as the bad guy who wanted to ground their flights of fancy. He'd rather have Helen by his side imagining herself a princess, than helping her mother set the table so that they could eat the meager provisions his errant ways left them. I'm not sure, but at times it seemed as if Travers' resented her mother's physical closeness to Goff, seeming to mind when they kissed or embraced. Helen once muttered, "she's a foul fowl," but I'm unclear as to whether she was referring to her, actually, docile mother or a witch from one of her father's stories. Did she consider her mother a rival? I can't say, but as long as we were visiting Travers' past, I'd like to have seen how she interacted with her sisters, mother and aunt who became the Mary Poppins' prototype. She probably spent more time with any and all of them than with her alcoholic dad. Of course, she idolized him. any child would gravitate towards what is handsome, reckless and impractical, over the sober and conventional. Maybe a small part of Travers was even charmed by Walt Disney, for the very same reason.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-69212692311396549432013-12-15T20:39:00.000-08:002013-12-15T20:39:55.279-08:00Thor (2011)Having seen <i>The Avengers</i> first, I appreciate the backstory this movie offered me about the Thor/Loki relationship and I marvel at how Tom Hiddleston evolved in villainy from the first movie to the second. Makes me look forward to seeing him in <i>The Dark World</i>.<br />
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This movie had quite a few laughs that I know must have made a bigger impact in the theater than they did on my home television screen, as when Thor grapples with the fact that he's lost his powers and makes an arrogant speech of omnipotence only to be failed like a mortal. Those made me smile, but I'm sure I would have guffawed had I been part of a theater audience.<br />
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When Thor finally gets to the hammer, I'm annoyed that he wastes so much time, to build the excitement, before trying to lift the darn thing. You know, just walk up to and pull. I have to say I didn't see the fact that he wouldn't be able to pick it up coming, even though I knew Odin had taken his power away, I still thought he would have the magic touch. So, Thor's surprise and despair was quite effective.<br />
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His redemption was stupid though. He became a better man just because ... well, he was humbled by not being able to raise the hammer. Then Loki hits him with the news that his dad was dead. Thirdly, he's falling for Jane who has asked him not to smash mugs. I know these things might combine to change a person, but he was transformed in 2 minutes. Next thing you know, he's making and serving breakfast for everyone, committed to serving others. Suddenly he thinks sparing innocent lives is more important than winning and the path of non-violence is better than killing all of your ice enemies. I just don't see where this change came from.<br />
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Yes, he was taken down a notch, but in the end I don't think anything happened to erase his earlier desire to kill all of the Frost Giants. He only met about 50 people during his short stint on earth. He's not like baby Superman who grew up with mortals. I don't buy that spending a few hours on another planet convinced him that his goal should be to make sure that all of the realms co-existed, rather than to get even.<br />
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While his ouster and Loki's lie that Odin was dead would be enough to make him regret his argument with Dad, I don't think it would change his views on world peace.<br />
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As for Loki and Jane, again I don't think they could have fallen in love that quickly. She hits him with her car twice and then spend an evening chit chatting, but ... while meeting a real superhero must have been thrilling for her, I don't know what she did to convince Thor that she was the smartest human on the planet. She didn't seem any sharper than Darcy to me. Speaking of which, Kat Dennings is far more charming than CBS ever allows her to be on Two Broke Girls. When, someone can handle wit with a deft, light hand, why have her do it with a, ahem, hammer on your sitcom?<br />
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The film tried to convince us it was love at first sight for Jane and Thor, but I think you have to share more to get to that point. Having them both laugh gaily together when nothing is funny does not establish chemistry. For this reason, by the time they parted, I thought it would have been more realistic for Thor to say, "Nice meeting you," rather than, "I promise I'll return for you." Still, in the end when Heimdall tells Thor he can still see Jane and "she searches for you" it did tug a little at the old heartstrings. Thinking of people, separated by a universe and pining for each other is moving, especially when someone has the gift of site that Thor lacks. Having a vicarious glimpse of a loved one is somehow more painful than having none at all. Yet Heimdall's words cause him to smile. As for Heimdall, I still pine away a bit for Luther. I wish this movie required any of Idris Elba's unique charisma or even his real speaking voice, rather than the distorted sound effect.<br />
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I'd like to see more of Thor's friends, Sif, Hogun, etc. It's hard for Jane and her crew to compare to them. A story set on earth is one thing, but if the movie shows you <i>both</i> the Gods in their habitat and humans in theirs, the Gods' world will look more enticing.<br />
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The Odin/Thor/Loki relationship was the strongest for me and I don't think Loki's inferiority complex was unjustified. His father and brother's dismissive treatment wasn't enough to make him evil and murderous, but it certainly should have made him <i>cranky.</i> If you're going to adopt your enemy's kids as your own two unite warring factions, then don't treat him like a red-headed stepchild. That's how you <i>create</i> factions. In the flashback to their youth, Odin tells him that they were both born to lead, but there could only be one king. We see how meaningful these words are later, when we learn Loki's true identity. But, why didn't Odin treat Loki as more of Thor's equal when they were grown men? If he had, then he'd have more of a Harry and William thing, than Cain and Abel.<br />
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When Loki tricked and killed King Laufey, it convinced me that in the end he would never actually harm Odin. He just wanted to be credited for saving the day by the men in his family, like he was by Frigga. As he told Thor, he never wanted to be King, he just wanted to be his equal. I believe that.<br />
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But the dysfunctional family dynamic served the movie well. When Odin held Thor and Thor held Loki, their screams for Loki not to let go gave this movie its only heart. It's the feelings, not the fights that bring the comics to life.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-3890989184742044612013-11-29T23:04:00.004-08:002013-11-29T23:04:52.060-08:00About Time (2013)I saw the trailer and thought I already knew everything about this movie going in. I figured hero traveled to the present from another time, fell in love with contemporary woman and started building a life with her when some plot device loomed to drag him back to his own period and separate them forever through time and space. In reality, the movie was much simpler, more unique and endlessly charming than that.<br />
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Tim is not so much a time traveler as a time tourist. On his 21st birthday he learns that he can revisit points in his own lifetime, it's a family trait passed down to all males. He can't travel into the future, only back into his own past. He lives in the present day with his family: a wry, plain-spoken mother; a father who retired at 50 and spends all of his time reading, playing table tennis with his adored son; or being amusing; a crazy sister, Kit Kat, who is more annoying than endearing to me, but is beloved by Tim; and an affectionate Uncle D who, removed from much around him, always seems to have his mind on something else, but the family has never been able to figure out quite what.<br />
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Tim always sensed that his family was different, the way they spent every weekend on the beach, no matter what the weather, for instance. But he never realized how far from center they really are until his father takes him aside a day after New Year's, when Tim has come of age and tells him that he can time travel. All he has to do is go into a private space, like a closet or bathroom in a pinch, scrunch his hands, concentrate hard to focus on where he wants to go and then voila, he'll travel back to that point. The father is pretty short on details. For instance, he doesn't tell Tim how to return (I guess you return the same way you came). He doesn't tell Tim how long he can stay in the past (although, I suppose it's indefinite). He doesn't detail any of the rules, which leaves room for some interesting plot developments, but seems rather insensitive when you think about it. It's fine to let your son make his own mistakes, but when consequences are high, a few pointers would not be remiss.<br />
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For one thing, since the father is a time traveler too and their circle is a very small one, it's strange that they don't have any fear about changing <i>each other's </i>pasts or erasing events that one of them found horrible, but the other actually cherished. Sculpting the past can be a very selfish endeavor. Tim and his dad are both kind and disciplined people who don't abuse their power. Even so, in a movie less loving, there would be real consequences to explore regarding the travel. Plus, there is at least one event that they'd both want to change. Since they don't consult with each other before traveling, how do they ensure that they both don't act to undo the same point in the past? It's a situation where two attempts to right the same thing could result in a terrible wrong. I applaud the movie for avoiding obvious plot devices, like false misunderstandings and romantic games which artificially keep lovers apart. The absence of such ploys is what makes the characters seem so genuine and welcoming. Yet, although some time traveling problems arise, the movie is still sometimes too simple and frictionless for its own good, given the premise.<br />
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The women in the family don't inherit the time travel gene and the men, for reasons unknown, have chosen to keep it secret from them.<br />
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Tim is, of course, skeptical but immediately puts his father's revelation to the test and find that the impossible is true. The family hosted a New Year's Eve party which unraveled for Tim when he chickened out and failed to kiss an expectant young woman on the stroke of midnight. Both of them were left humiliated by his omission. He time travels back to that point and not only rectifies his mistake, but knowing what will happen before hand, he is able to improve upon his own limitations and not only smooches her, but gives her a doozy of a kiss that leaves both of them pleased and impressed.<br />
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Despite this kiss, Tim remains romantically inexperienced and is immediately infatuated when Kit Kat brings a beautiful friend, Charlotte, home to stay with them for the summer. Tim pines for Charlotte for months and on her last day with them, he makes an advance. She tells him it's a shame he waited so late. It almost makes his stated feelings for her seem like an afterthought. If he'd revealed his interest earlier in the summer, they might have had a chance. Upon hearing this, Tim immediately goes back in the past and expresses his love (I'm not sure it can really be called that, he seems more attracted to her than in love, to me) to Charlotte earlier, at which point she tells him that he has spoken too <i>soon.</i> She says he should have waited until the last night of her visit and then maybe she would have returned his feelings. The last night? He questions. Yes, the last night, she confirms.<br />
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This tells me that Charlotte was leading him on and had no intention of dating him at <i>any</i> point during the summer. It seemed clear that she was not a nice person, but apparently (we learn later) Tim isn't left with that impression. He just thinks he struck out. I wonder why he didn't go back in time and ask her TWICE, once at the beginning of her vacation and once on the last day, to see how she would have shot him down then, but he doesn't try that.<br />
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The next thing we know, Tim is working as a lawyer. Since he was just 21, I'm not sure how he skipped law school altogether, but maybe things work differently in the United Kingdom. He rooms with a friend of his father's, a crazed (and slightly sadistic) playwright named Harry and is still hoping that love will find him.<br />
One night he dines at one of those black-out restaurants (where the interior is completely dark and the diners can't see either their meal or the people around him) with his friend and they are seated next to, two women.<br />
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Tim and the unseen woman, Mary, click instantly and share jokes all evening. When dinner is over, Tim stands nervously outside waiting to see Mary emerge, hoping not only that she looks even 50% as good as she sounded, but that he won't be a turn off for her, with his flaming red hair. Both of their hopes are realized when they see each other and are equally pleased and shy. Mary gives Tim her number, entering it into his cell phone and he can hardly wait to call her.<br />
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When he arrives home that evening, Harry is enraged and practically suicidal. It was the opening night of the latest play he wrote and one of the actors forgot his lines, ruining the play and, with it, Harry's career. Tim quickly excuses himself, goes into a closet, re-enters the past and hurries to the theater where, minutes before show time, he tells an actor in the play to learn his lines. Now, if the actor didn't know them already, I'm not sure why a word from a stranger would prompt him to learn the lines. But after shooing Tim away indignantly, once Tim leaves the actor does review the script and is flawless. This is absurd, because actors usually go up out of nervousness and reviewing the script won't keep them from getting stage fright and freezing in front of an audience, but unbelievably, Tim's visit did the trick and the actor's performance was perfect. BUT his co-star's wasn't. Apparently, Tim didn't even bother to find out which actor flubbed his lines. So, he ends up going back in time again, having to make cue cards for the other actor and holding them in the wings. This time, both actors succeed and the play is a success.<br />
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The next morning, Harry is delighted about the rave reviews his creation has garnered and berates Tim for having missed most of the show (because, unbeknownst to Harry, Tim was backstage). Relieved, Tim has that out of the way and is ready to call Mary, but when he takes out his phone, her number is gone. The night he spent with her never happened. He erased it, to go into the past to help Harry.<br />
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Now, I think Mary > Harry and I would just go back in time, forget Harry and relive the night in the restaurant with Mary. But Tim takes the harder route. He recalls that Mary said she loved Kate Moss. There is an (unlikely) Kate Moss exhibit at the museum and Tim camps out at the museum for hours on end, waiting for Mary to show up there. How he got enough time off of work to do this, I'll never know.<br />
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After several days, Mary does come and he goes up to say hi, forgetting that they have never met before. The restaurant never happened. So, rather than responding to him with warmth, Mary thinks he's a weirdo. But he claims to be a fan of Kate Moss' and soon wins her over as she effusively discusses her idol with him and he feigns agreement. Now, I don't particularly like this artifice on his part. He charmed her on their <i>real</i> first meeting by being himself and now he's just pretending to share her interests, to lure her in. If she knew the time-traveling truth, I'm sure she'd resent this, but the ethical repercussions are never explored in the film and, in fairness, Tim is mostly earnest, manipulating the situation far less than <i>I</i>, for one, would. So, you tend to forgive him.<br />
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Tim and his new friend Mary are having lunch when he learns she has a boyfriend. When did that happen. He doesn't just wonder, but demands a precise answer, pressing Mary, her boyfriend, and her pal, Joanna, for the specific time, date and location of Mary's introduction to her new beau. They met at Joanna's party. <b> Where </b>was that party held? Now, why a puzzled Joanna would give this crazed man her home address is beyond me, but she does. He leaves immediately. Mary's boyfriend thinks Tim is strange, but she says she kind of liked him.<br />
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Tim travels back in time to Joanna's party and finds Mary on the patio, a wallflower. He immediately strikes up a conversation and whisks her off to dinner before her boyfriend-to-be can arrive. They pass the man on their way out and exchange brief words. What a jerk, Tim observes of the guy later. Mary agrees with him. So, I guess that's a sign. When she missed her destiny with Tim, she still thought he was a nice person after she began dating someone else. She saw his true essence, even though she barely knew him, suggesting they were true soul mates. But when Tim changed things so that she didn't meet the other boyfriend, when she crossed <i>his</i> path in the alternate life, she didn't have any positive feelings for him at all.<br />
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At dinner, Tim manipulates Mary even further, by repeating her own words (from the changed past) about Kate Moss back to her. She is bowled over by his insights, so uncannily like her own. He has said what she thinks, before she thought it! She asks him to walk her to her car, but it turns out her car is at her house, so he's actually being invited upstairs. She tells him she is going to slip into her new pajamas. He seemingly takes that news in stride, although it befuddles me. Then, she adds that she's putting them on and, in two minutes, he can come in and take them off, if he wants.<br />
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Since she only gave him her phone number during their real first date, I'm surprised that she's moving so fast, but he's thrilled. He starts to disrobe her and fumbles with the bra. She has to tell him that it opens in the front. They have sex and he apologetically informs her that it will be better next time. She demurs and says she thought it was pretty good <i>this</i> time. He thinks there is room for improvement, goes into the next room, goes into the past and starts at the pajamas again. This time, he unhooks the bra with ease. They have great sex, but he still thinks it can be better. Back into the past, this time he comes at her like a locomotive, practically undoing her bra with just a touch. The sex is so exciting they end up on the floor, minds blown.<br />
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It was the best night of his life and now he thinks he will get the best sleep of his life. Oh, does that mean he's only good for one time, Mary wants to know. Exhausted from three bouts of sex, to her one, Tim remarks that he thinks that is a little unfair of her.<br />
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We see them fall in love in a series of train partings. They go to the train station together and then separate for their separate routes, day after day after day. Their adoration as deep as it is domestic. They aren't running to each other across a crowded field. They're sharing days, both on the same page, becoming inextricable parts of the other. At the train station, they ride the escalator together. Once she kisses his shoulder, a peck so tenderly expressing everything that a tangle of two tongues could not. Once they get on the escalator holding hands, then pull back and talk to each other and then clasp hands again, unable to stay apart for too long. Their mutual need is normal, slow, natural, not the quick, desperate and fleeting variety.<br />
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They move in together. Mary introduces Tim to her parents on short notice. They show up at the door and she tells him he shouldn't say he lives there. He can admit they're having sex, but not oral sex. Why would that even come up, Tim asks incredulously. But once she's put it into his head, he can't take it out and he sputters to her father that they're definitely not having oral sex. He has to go into the past to change that debacle. But he's not the only nervous one. Mary rambles and then discloses that it's only because she loves Tim and wants her parents to love him too. This is the only time these two come close to saying they love each other during the film, but it's not something they have to put into words, so evident is it in their every easy gesture.<br />
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One night he says he has tickets to an opera. Does she want to go? It sounds boring and she'd rather stay at home nestled in bed. He should take someone else. He takes his friend Rory from work and they see Charlotte, the woman Tim remembers as his first love, though I beg to differ.<br />
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He's an awkward boy again and goes over to meet her. She's with a friend and thinking that they're a gay couple Tim gushes that he's so relieved, because it means that her disinterest wasn't because of his own shortcomings years ago. This is an unacceptable thing to say, even if Charlotte is gay. But she's not. Tim is mortified and goes back in time to fix that, only to make another gaffe. He does one more redo and then gives up, deciding not to talk to Charlotte at all. But she sees him and comes over to catch up. She walks away and I am relieved that he's not going to make the mistake of sleeping with "the one who got away" (more like "the one who never was and never should have been"), but not so fast! Charlotte changes her mind, ditches her friend, ditches <i>Tim's</i> friend and asks Tim to take her out to dinner. Since she's still as rude as she was during the summer spent at his home, I don't know why Tim is still enamored, but he is. I figure he'll sleep with her, regret it and go back in time to change events. A move that would not sit well with me. I keep waiting for the twinge of guilt to overcome him. Is he not going to remember his love for Mary until after the deed is done? I don't like where this is heading, especially when she invites him up to her apartment. Outside the door, she tells him it's even better inside and leans in for a kiss. He backs away, thank goodness, and says there is something he has to do.<br />
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He rushes home to Mary who is in bed. Get up, he has something to say to her. She says it's selfish of him to wake her, when she's feeling so comfy. She apparently likes a snuggly bed as much as I do. He realizes that this the wrong way to start a momentous event and goes back in time to begin again, waking her up more firmly, before trying to converse. She notices that he is on his knee, there's romantic music playing and a question he says cannot wait. She jokingly wonders what happened at the opera? Did he get so bored that he thought he'd come home and ask her to marry him? Yes, he says. In fact, that's exactly what happened. I like that he is realizing he was so bored with Charlotte that that's how he knew Mary was his future. It wasn't guilt that made him stop. It was his indifference to Charlotte, to anyone but Mary. Nice, but I wish he'd realized that indifference earlier. I know you never forget your first crush, but once real love comes along, crushes pale in comparison and I'd think he'd see that instantaneously, not after a few hours had gone by with Charlotte, platonic though they were.<br />
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He asks Mary to marry him. She pauses and I think they're too sure of each other for him to be really nervous, but he is a bit, yes, no? She says she thinks she'll say yes. I wonder if the mood is anti-climatic for her. Couldn't he have waited until she was fully up and alert? She says she is glad that he asked her when they were alone and didn't make a big public production of it. Upon hearing this, he slips out and quietly tells the musicians he'd hired to serenade her to leave.<br />
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She meets his parents. They announce the engagement and also the fact that she's already pregnant. It rains on their wedding day and Tim asks Mary if she would have chosen another day. No, she insists, she wouldn't change a thing. Whew! He's relieved he won't have to go back in time to change that, but he did go back to change his best man twice, after his first choices completely failed at the wedding toast. On the subject of toasts, his father also went back in time, regretting the fact that he did not say he loved Tim the first time. Love is implied, Tim says. He begs him not to change his words, but the father won't listen. In his alternate toast, he says that he's only loved three men, not his father, who was a rascal, but Uncle D, Tim and B. B. King, obviously. He says that nothing gives him greater pride than being Tim's father. These words move Tim and the audience and it's clear Tim prefers it to the original toast, which now no longer exists. Whether the results are good or bad, how does Tim, or his father, feel about having their past erased to suit someone else's whim? I'd mind. It's a discussion they never have.<br />
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Wedding vows undertaken "and so it begins" Mary says, reminding me of Henry and Claire finding each other in <i>Time Traveler's Wife </i>and making my heart break just a little. Of course, Rachel Adams was in the <i>Time Traveler's Wife</i> movie, for which I'll never forgive her, so life-changing was the book. But that's another story and this movie greatly redeems McAdams past horrors.<br />
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Mary and Tim move into a bigger place and have baby Posy. On Posy's first birthday, Kit Kat doesn't arrive for the party. She's become a depressed alcoholic and Tim discovers she's had a bad accident, when leaving her boyfriend after yet another argument. Tim decides to change the course of Kit Kat's entire life. It occurred to him to do this, when he realized he might lose her. He tells her his secret, takes her into the closet with him and together they travel back to that old New Year's Eve party, where he prevents her from meeting her deadbeat boyfriend and she begins dating his boyhood friend Jay instead. Back in the present, Jay and Kit Kat turn out to be happy people, happy together. Now, I think it's somewhat insulting to suggest that all Kit Kat needed to turn her life around was the right man. But he's satisfied with his retroactive results and leaving Kit Kat and Jay in bliss, heads home.<br />
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He walks into his kitchen to find the baby in the high chair is not Posy, but some kid he doesn't recognize. Now, since Posy was just a year old, he could start fresh with this new little stranger and never look back. But, to his credit, he wants his baby girl back. He has a talk with his dad who tells him that you can't go back in time after the birth of a child, because if you're a second off, then the same sperm won't combine with the egg and you'll have a different baby. Why hadn't he mentioned this earlier? Also, why didn't the old man go back in time to save Kit Kat after the accident. Why did Tim have to do it? Why didn't Tim chat up his dad, first, just to verify that Dad had no intention of trying to undo the accident as well. Great minds think alike, don't they, especially when they're in the same family and both, presumably, love Kit Kat. <br />
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So, to get Posy back, Tim reverses his trip back in time with Kit Kat and instead just gives her a stern lecture at her hospital bed. Since she wasn't dying anyway, I don't know why he took it upon himself to change her whole life trajectory in the first place. How can she learn from her mistakes, if he doesn't let her have any? The trip back was a mistake for reasons having nothing to do with Posy. All Tim and Mary have to do is tell Kit Kat to think about her life -- which they should have done before the accident and she decides to give up her boyfriend and stop drinking pretty quickly. Then, Tim suggests she date Jay. She'd never thought about it before, but is keen to give it a go. She and Jay click and her life reverses course, <i>because</i> of the accident, not because Tim makes it unhappen.<br />
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Tim asks Mary to have another baby. They do. They are at home and she is changing her dress for the umpteenth time so they can attend a work affair of hers, when the phone rings with bad news. They go to his parents' and learn his father is dying of cancer. He only has a few weeks to live. The father reveals that when he learned this, he went back in time and retired at 50 so he could spend Tim's childhood at home with him. <br />
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At the father's funeral, Tim slips away, into the past, to spend a few moments with his father in the study. Their time together gives him the strength he needs to get through the rest of that painful day.<br />
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Sobered by their immortality, Mary asks Tim to have another baby. He is reluctant. He realizes that once the baby is here, he can no longer visit his father in the past or else it will change the baby. He doesn't want to let go of the past in order to pursue their future. But Mary presses and he's not used to refusing her anything. When she asks to try to conceive right now (which I think is unreasonable of her, since they're both still young and their 2 kids are still toddlers) he agrees.<br />
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Apparently, during her pregnancy he keeps time traveling and probably changes the identity of the fetus many times. But when Mary is in her ninth month, he realizes that time is short. He goes back into the past and enters his parents' rec room. He and his father play ping pong and what is the winner's prize going to be? A kiss Tim says. A KISS, the unmushy Dad exclaims and then realizes ... so this is it? Yes, Tim says. There is a baby on the way any minute. This is their last time together. Oh, this is the built in heartbreak of all time travel story and it never fails to melt me, whether it's Time Traveler's Wife or Doctor Who. The first meeting is as beautiful as the last is devastating. Tim's father says that they should break the rules just one time to go for a run on the beach. They time travel together back decades ago when Tim was just a little boy, running by his father's side.<br />
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Then, it's over. The third baby is born. Tim says that his father gave him a tip: live every day twice. Go through it the first time, trial and tribulations. Then, go through it a second time and find the good moments in each day, the ones you glossed over during the first run through. Savor the wins and the rain and see the silver lining that eluded you in round one. Tim does this and finds that his father was right, even the dismal days held transcendent moments, when he just knew where to find them.<br />
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So, he lives each day twice for awhile, but then he takes off the training wheels and says he never time travels anymore. He doesn't have to. Now, he has just learned to live each day with joy the first time, without the need for a do-over. It's a philosophy to which even us non-time travelers should aspire. Just relish each moment, then you won't have to relive it, but that's a facile motto really. There are some irrevocably bad days that even Pollyanna couldn't salvage and I know that if Mary or one of the kids died, Tim<i> would</i> time travel again, no matter what his resolve.<br />
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Still, you can't begrudge him his last sunshining message. This movie has earned its goodwill by being funny, original and realistic, despite its fantasy premise. It gave us likable characters who were defined and well-acted. They created a world I wanted to live in. By keeping the emotions understated and, largely, unspoken, it's given us all of the love, but none of the schmaltz. It uses the supernatural to bring us closer to what's concrete. Magic is just a metaphor for life and, as Kit Kat's accident established, there are many ways to start over again, without the help of time travel.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-48946341728380725752013-10-29T23:26:00.002-07:002014-01-24T01:13:41.528-08:00Gravity (2013)I saw this in Imax but save for one effect, Ryan’s floating tears, I don’t think that was especially necessary. I know the world disagrees.<br />
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It was a great inspiring adventure. Bullock has come a long way from Speed and expertly pulled off what was most often a one-man show. She shoulders the task as well as Tom Hanks did in Cast Away. Of course, George Clooney’s Matt is a bit more captivating than Wilson.<br />
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Matt is the senior officer in charge of their space mission. Ryan is a medical engineer, not an astronaut. She’s gone through just 6 months of training to get out there to perform IT in the cosmos, working on the computer system. Ryan is still pretty nauseous as her body continues to adjust to the lack of gravity. I thought her queasiness would play a part in the story, as she hasn’t been able to keep any food down, but it doesn’t, which is good and in keeping with the plot that is really about human strength (the real kind, not the superhuman), rather than contrived weakness. When the movie starts she, Matt and Shariff (as doomed as any red shirt) are outside performing technical repairs. They have a crew back inside their ship and are talking to Mission Control on earth.<br />
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Clooney has gotten to the point where he reminds me of what I always used to say about Cary Grant, that his light, playful side is so well known that even when he’s in a movie where he’s cold and withholding (Notorious) or depressed (Penny Serenade) the audience is fully familiar with the part of him that is missing. They can imagine him laughing and kidding, even if they never see him do it onscreen, because the essence of Cary Grant is so ingrained in their minds. You almost assume that any character Grant plays has all of his known personality traits, even when they’re not on display. This is also now true for Clooney and it works both ways: when he’s being irreverent (as Matt is in the beginning) you are aware that he can easily be grave. When he’s cool, you know he can be tender. When he’s gruff, you know there’s a reason for it and are never left to think it’s just bad temperament. You’re always cognizant of the different emotions under his surface and know that if he’s not showing them, there’s a calculated reason, because he wants to spur some particular reaction. Clooney has become such a commodity that it allows him to act in shorthand, one gesture or lip turn speaks volumes.<br />
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While Ryan works, Matt is regaling Mission Control with stories he’s told 100 times before. His wife left him, but he really misses the car she took with her. He’s concerned about the space walk record held by an astronaut rival that he’s determined to beat. He plays country music that Ryan asks him to turn down, so she can concentrate. No problem, he says. He’s being the life of the party because that’s his character, because it’s needed to break the tedium, but also because that laid back air will not add to Ryan’s nervousness as a novice in space.<br />
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He’s in the middle of a joke when Mission Control tells him that debris from a fallen Russian satellite is headed their way. Ryan is trying to bring the computer server up before they had back to the ship and it looks like they have time, but soon Matt realizes they don’t and orders her to stop what she’s doing. She hesitates, thinking she can finish in seconds and we see the commander in him kick in, ordering her to stop instantly. “Don’t make me tell you, again.” Before they can reach safety, the debris hits. Their ship is caved in. Shariff’s helmet crashes in. Temperatures in space can reach well below freezing and they need their suits and helmet for protection and oxygen.<br />
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The earth below them goes dark, all lights extinguished. After the debris storm is over, Ryan finds that she’s been knocked away from their base. She’s floating in darkness, alone in the world, in the universe. We share her isolation in the vastness. She begins hyperventilating as she spirals out of control in her suit. Too terrified to try to navigate the chaos.<br />
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Matt is wearing a jet pack that he can use to guide himself. He is still transmitting to her and after an excruciating length of fear as she takes in the reality of her situation thousand of miles away from civilization with no way back, Ryan calms herself down enough to respond to Matt and give him her location. He finds her and tethers her to his suit. <br />
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Matt asks for Mission Control’s permission to retrieve Shariff’s floating body. They’ve lost contact with Mission Control, but Matt keeps making blind transmissions. He tells Ryan that they can’t hear MC, but they never whether or not MC can still hear them. So you keep broadcasting, in case there’s someone out there who can save your life. Poor Shariff. The character was not played by a star, so the minute you see him as their co-worker on a dangerous mission, you know he’s not long for this world. He’s the expendable one. The one whose death will bring home the horror of the situation. And so it does. When they get next to Shariff’s body, she’s the one who has to reel him in. She comes face to what used to be HIS face. Some kind of space garbage smashed a hole in his helmet that went right through the middle of his head. But it’s so frozen up there that there’s no skull or body parts really. He looks more like a brittle mask than a man.<br />
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When they get back to their ship, it’s been blasted apart and the rest of the crew has suffered the same fate. Matt tells MC that he and Ryan are the only survivors. He doesn’t show palpable emotion, but the priority he made the retrieval of Shariff’s body, so it could be tethered to the ship and, hopefully, some day taken back home to earth, says it all.<br />
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He tells Ryan there’s a Russian satellite nearby and they can go there, get a capsule that they can use to travel to the Chinese satellite, which will get them home. She is running out of oxygen. She says she is only slowing him down and he should leave her. She’s going to die anyway. Her tank goes empty, but Matt tells her there’s more in her suit. She just has to “sip” it, not gulp. Stay calm. He assures her she can make it to the Russian satellite and he promises that there’s vodka there to revive her. He knows where the Russians hide it.<br />
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She apologizes for not stopping work on the computer and taking shelter as soon as he ordered. He says that the debris was coming no matter what and there is nothing she could do to stop it. He’s right, if they’d gone back to the ship earlier, they would have been inside when everyone else got killed.<br />
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Not that you can distract someone at a time like this – when their oxygen is dropping fast – but Matt tries. He asks where she is from and what people in her town would be doing at 8:00 p.m. What would SHE be doing? Driving. “Let me guess: NPR?” Nothing special. She listens to anything where there’s not a lot of talk. She values the quiet. That’s the one thing she likes about space: the silence. She could get used to that. Where would she be going? Was there someone waiting for her. A Mr. Stone? No. She clamps up but then bursts out that she had a daughter. Alert Matt takes out a mirror from his suit, so that he can see her in back of him and read her face, make sure she is not on the verge of hysteria or despair. Her daughter, Ryan continues. A four year old who fell at school playing tag, hit her head and died. It was so silly, she says. And we understand. Life is silly, senseless and capricious. You can’t really talk fair and unfair in a random reality like that. She was driving when she got the news and she has kept on driving since. <br />
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As his jet pack runs out of fuel, they plummet roughly onto the Russian satellite, but it has been hit by the debris too. They get swung around trying to enter the ship and they become untethered. Ryan’s foot is loosely caught in ties hanging from the satellite and she is holding onto the broken tether, keeping Matt linked to her. He’s floating, being pulled away from the satellite and Ryan. She says that she can maneuver them both to safety. He sees that she can’t. The atmosphere is too heavy and if they stay connected he will just pull her away from the cords that are her only perilous tie to the satellite. Once her foot loosens from those cords, they will both be floating in space, with no way to guide themselves to even a SMALL chance of escape back. This makes me wonder if gravity free space is like floating in the water. Can’t you kind of wave your arms and propel your body in a certain direction that way? I guess not, but I think I would have tried flapping my elbows like a chicken, just to see.<br />
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He says that she has to go to the satellite without him. And then she has to take it to the Chinese satellite IMMEDIATELY, because the last they heard from Mission Control the remnants of the fallen satellite were en route to them and they would be hit by even bigger and deadlier stuff soon, so she has to get out of there as fast as she can. No, she won’t go without him, she insists, holding the broken tether firmly. “I have you. I have you.” She says. He says, it’s not her decision and slowly starts to unbuckle the clasp from his end, breaking his link to her tether. Sealing his fate. It’s more chilling and sad than if he’d put a gun to his head and killed himself in front of her THAT WAY. “Nooo!” She screams. “I HAD you. I HAD you,” she sobbed and you feel the futility of his sacrifice just as she must. And it’s not just his life that she mourns, his sacrifice that she regrets. It’s the fact that without him she will be alone. Alone in this endless black. In a way, that’s worse than death. Better that they had perished together, exchanging, communicating, sharing, rather than that he, she, die alone out there. The silence she once graved is what is most scary now.<br />
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But it’s not there yet. She can still hear Matt. He’s giving her directions to get into the Russian satellite. She can see him floating, but he gets more distant each second. She says that she is going to get in and then find and save him. No, there’s no time. She has to be at the Chinese satellite before the next round of deadly space garbage hits. She can’t detour to find him, he orders. “That ship has sailed” he tells her calmly. No, she WILL do it. But he seems at peace already. You can’t beat the view up there, he says, where the sun’s glow is as big as a city. His country music is playing and he already seems at peace. <br />
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She gets into the satellite, just after her oxygen reserve is completely drained. She gasps as she finds air and enclosure that it must seem has been absent for a lifetime. She tears off her helmet, the space suit and is left in only a tank top and briefs. Barefooted she pulls her legs to her chest and floats in the fetal position, a brief moment of safety. Then, she pushes her way through the satellite to the dashboard and tries to talk to Matt. She wants his coordinates. She’s coming to get him. No answer. I think that maybe he can still hear her but is CHOOSING not to answer, because he wants her to head to the Chinese station and not waste time trying to retrieve him. I feel confident that he will turn up again. She makes a blind transmission to Mission Control and tells them that she is now the only survivor.<br />
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We saw flames flickering in the satellite as she navigated through it, but Ryan didn’t. Not until now. They erupt and start barreling towards her. She speeds away from them, fleeing into the capsule and locking the hatch, closing out the flames just in time. She pulls on a hanging space suit and I’m thankful. I’m afraid the space suits had been consumed in the fire and that she would be trapped without one.<br />
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She reads the instruction manual and launches the capsule, but is caught in its parachute attachment, the netting and ropes from it ensnaring her. She has to get out to try to unscrew the parachute from the capsule. Looks into space while completing this task and sees tons of more debris heading her way. She narrowly makes it to cover and then tries to restart the capsule when it runs out of fuel. Ok. That is where I draw the line. It’s a space satellite. Don’t international crews constantly maintain these things and make sure they have plenty of fuel just for emergencies like this?? Maybe the fuel tank was pierced during the debris avalanche. I can only hope there’s some plausible explanation for what looks like a bad plot device in a film that, to its credit, has largely felt real despite the extraordinary circumstances.<br />
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At this point, Ryan thinks the turn of events is almost as comical as it is tragic. I mean, when you’re on the verge of hysteria, Murphy’s Law is actually good for a quite a laugh. The tears of hopelessness she sheds sail away from her face and towards the camera lens, in a poignant use of the 3d effect. She tries to get a signal on the capsule’s dashboard and gets a foreign voice. She thinks it may be another satellite that can rescue her and says “May Day,” the person thinks that’s her name. [isn’t “mayday” a word that is universally understood]. She speaks frantically trying to make herself understood, but then hears dogs and realizes that the person on the other end is on earth, not close enough to help. She all but collapses in helplessness. She’s going to die. We’re all going to die. But SHE is going to die today. She lets the fear that this certainty brings her set in. Along with the dogs she hears a baby crying. The man sings. Is he singing the baby a lullaby. She used to sing to her daughter and she finds this soothing. She bids him to keep singing as she takes off her helmet, relaxes in her seat and welcomes death as if it’s only slumber. <br />
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She’s half-conscious when she hears a knock on the capsule door. It’s Matt. He is preparing to open the capsule. She motions for him to wait as she scrambles to put on her helmet as protection from the elements, but he doesn’t pause. Why not? He looked through the window and saw she didn’t have anything on her head. What was the point of knocking to give her a thumbs up if he’s just going to barge in in a way that might endanger her? He comes in and she cowers, but I guess it’s not’s 145 degrees below Fahrenheit out there after all, because even though his entry makes it a little windy in there, it doesn’t seem to cause her much discomfort.<br />
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How did he get there? It’s a long story he says, jocular as ever. Turns out there was still a little power left in his jet pack, there’s ALWAYS something left, and without her around to hold him back he was able to maneuver to safety. Did she get the vodka? No, he never told her where it was. He finds it under the seat and offers her some. She declines. He says they better get going to the Chinese satellite. But they’re out of fuel. But they can still launch can’t they? Didn’t she learn that in training? They can use that as their fuel. She doesn’t think it will work. That’s right he says. She should give up. Her daughter is dead – she clinches – so why bother carrying on? It would be just easy to just curl up in a ball and resign herself to dying. Go ahead. Lay back and die. It’s easier than fighting. Accepting his challenge she sits up … Matt disappears. It was her subconscious, yes, but I still expected her to reach under the seat and find the vodka bottle whose location SHE didn’t know and prove that it WAS indeed a paranormal visitation and not just Ryan talking to herself into action. But it’s not that kind of movie. It’s about will power rather than fantasy.<br />
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She figures out how to launch the capsule. Gets enough force to propel herself to the Chinese satellite. When she gets out of her capsule, she takes a jetpack but then discards it prematurely I think. I’m afraid she will lose her grip on the satellite and go floating out to space. I keep wanting her to somehow tether herself to the satellite spokes as she tries to locate and enter the hatch rather than kind of just jumping from one part of the vessel to another, completely unfettered. I’m not the only one afraid. People around me audibly exhale when Ryan finally opens the hatch door and is almost knocked from the satellite as the lid swings back. She makes it in just barely. Brief respite again. Accepting Matt’s death she tells him he’s going to see a little girl with knotted hair, because she never liked to brush it. Tell her her momma loves her so much and is so, so proud of her. Ryan is headed home or to her fiery death if the satellite is burned as she plunges through the atmosphere. Either way, down they go.<br />
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The trip back to earth seems like a surprisingly fast one. Before we know it, Ryan’s satellite capsule, parachute open, is plummeting into the ocean. Her dashboard hits up. Mission Control is asking the unidentified capsule to identify itself (it’s a wonder that the military doesn’t shoot at the capsule as a downed Chinese surveillance vehicle, but they know they have a missing space crew and probably are gleeful realizing that someone has survived. The capsule hits the surface, but it’s filling with smoke and she has to open the door. Water rages in and the capsule begins to sink. It’s a rush for time as Ryan races to get out before she drowns. In the water, weighed down, she has to pull off the heavy space suit. With herculean effort she swims to the surface, again in just her tank and briefs.<br />
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Heading towards the muddy shore, she climbs through plants and finally slithers out of the water, onto the damp soil. Terra firma. She lays flat, reveling in its solidity. U.S. planes fly overhead. She holds the mud in her fingers, loving It and everything it stands for. Home, survival, triumph. She tries to make it to her feet, but stumbles at first, her body so unused to gravity. The reverse of where she started. She tries to rise again, loses her balance, but regains it. Like a baby taking first steps. Then, walking upright, body wet from the water, skin glowing and revitalized, bare feet firmly on the ground.<br />
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The movie is an affirmation and I love that we don’t see the planes land. She made it back alive, not by herself necessarily, but without anyone rescuing her. It’s a story of courage, perseverance and autonomy. And it’s not as if the audience ever thought Ryan couldn’t do it. She panicked, felt forsaken, almost gave up, but she was NEVER incompetent, just thrust outside of her skillset and not completely sure there was a world below to which it was worth returning. But, in the end, the will to survive is greater than the pain of going on. Life is not the easiest way forward, but winning the fight to make it the ONLY way, the only choice, is the best victory.<br />
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Ryan faltered like we all would and succeeded like we all hope we could. The film’s suspense originated more from thought than action and that’s exactly what made it so exciting.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-34259598277962483812013-10-19T01:35:00.004-07:002013-10-19T16:39:34.949-07:00No Country for Old Men (2007)The movie starts with Tommy Lee Jones’ voice over. That’s misleading for two reasons: (1) He’s the sheriff. You’ve seen him in <i>The Fugitive </i>(or even <i>Men In Black</i>) and you automatically assume he’s going to be hot on the tail of the bad guys, closing in, making their lives miserable, giving them a taste of what it’s like to be hunted. That never happens. (2) Jones’ character, Ed Tom Bell is a third generation sheriff. He grew up hearing not only about his father and grandfather’s pursuits, but of their colleagues. Bell talks of law enforcement officers who did not even wear guns. He says he likes to hear their stories. Combine this with the movie title and you might conclude that this is no country for old men, because crime has gotten much worse than it used to be. Andy Taylor’s Mayberry once existed but is now extinct. But we soon learn the opposite is true.<br />
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He sent a man to jail for killing a 14 year old girl. They called it a crime of passion, but the killer told him it wasn’t passion. He’d been planning to kill someone all of his life and if he got out of jail, he promised Ed he’d kill again.<br />
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Evil is old. Bell knows it, so did his father and his father before him. Evil’s unreasonable, unpredictable, and inexorable. It’s not invisible, just unnoticed. It takes you by surprise or it comes while you’re waiting. You deserve it or you don’t. You grasp its logic or grapple trying. It’s slow, it’s fast, it’s inescapable.<br />
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Here evil is embodied by Anton Chigurh. With his pageboy, oxygen tank and deliberate reticence, his weirdness is obvious, but not frightening. Not at first.<br />
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We first see him being arrested and cuffed, but inexplicably, he’s not chained to anything. His movement is restricted, but not prevented. When the deputy turns his back while talking on the phone to describe his capture, Anton easily comes up and kills him from behind. Their bodies spin on the floor as Anton strangles. The blood swirls and the killer’s intensity is almost sexual.<br />
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He steals the deputy’s car, police lights whirring, he pulls over a motorist who thinks the oxygen tank by the “cop’s” side is strange, but not troubling. “What’s that he asks.” “Can you please step out of the car?” Anton replies and even though Anton is dressed as a civilian, the driver doesn’t begin to think anything is wrong, until perhaps the very end, when Anton raises the hose on the oxygen take and uses it to propel a lethal pellet into the man’s head. My friend thought it was a stupid weapon, but for a serial killer who murders more for psychological art than necessity, it’s perfect. Anton does not prefer this tank over a shotgun because it’s less conspicuous, as he has no trouble parading massive rifles in public places. Rather, the tank gives him the opportunity to watch the fear and certainty of death dawn, then spread, then end, while a gun or knife would have put his victims on instant alert, shortening the game. Cat and mouse is more layered, when you see the mouse just discovering he is prey.<br />
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Anton stops off at a gas station and, oxygen tank in tow, he teases the owner. Twisting his words, taking offense where none was meant, until the man soon realizes there’s no answer he can give this stranger that will keep him safe. Anton takes out a coin and asks the man if he’s feeling lucky. This moment was part of the movie’s famous trailer. Its tension is part of what kept me away from the film for 6 years. I didn’t want to know what happened when that coin stopped spinning. I can watch violent scenes, but don’t like seeing them approach. A shoe on the floor is nothing, compared to watching it drop, in slow motion. If you’ve never been assaulted, you can’t empathize with the injury, but hopeless, helpless waiting is something we’ve all experienced in one form of another and it’s stomach-turning. If the shark doesn’t get you, his theme music will. But things end well for this shopkeeper. Anton tells him to call the coin. He delays, saying how can he call it if he doesn’t know what he stands to win or lose. Anton insists. Head or tails? He chooses head. He wins. Anton gives him the coin as a prize, but orders him to keep it in a special place. Don’t let it mingle with all the other coins, because then it won’t matter.<br />
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I wonder about the shopkeeper though. He’s in an unpopulated part of Texas. Near the Mexican border. He’s got merchandise, money and few places to hide. If urban 7-Elevens are dangerous, surely isolated road stops are. How’d he protect himself before Anton? And if he didn’t, surely he knew that the day would come when he might regret it. Ed Tom Bell saw trouble on the horizon and this man should have seen it too, but instead of preparing for it, they both seemed to just wait to see what would happen when it came.<br />
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Meanwhile we see Llewelyn Moss out hunting in the desert. He comes upon a slew of dead bodies and abandoned vehicles. There’s one man still alive, bleeding, begging Moss for water. “I ain’t got no water,” he answers unapologetically. He notices that the man’s truck bed is full of drugs. They were transporting an illegal load across the border and obviously got double-crossed during the exchange. Moss asks the fast failing man who was the last one left standing. There was a fight, but it seems that that the attacked killed as many people as the attackers did. There are drugs, but no drug money. Where’d it go? Moss decides that whoever took the money would have gone to the shade. He sees a big tree in the distance and stealthily heads over. There’s a dead man there and a brief case. It’s loaded with money and Moss takes it and hurries off.<br />
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Back at his trailer home, he eludes his wife Carla Jean’s questions about where he’s been and hides the money, still in the briefcase, under his trailer. <br />
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I appreciate that the lead characters in this movie are all smart, but they do some really dumb things. This is one of them. This is a world where people where dirty jeans to a funeral. It’s hot and dusty and no one carries a brief case. Why would Moss have kept the money in there. It draws attention and it’s heavier than a back pack would have been. Plus, he seems to know that there’s $2 million in the case, but he apparently never bothered to count the stash. It’s a ridiculous point that runs the plot and I’d like to tell the Coens that they could have told the same story, only with a more believable cash container. But I guess avoiding the strange and unlikely has never been their strong suit.<br />
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Moss goes to bed, but then decides to return to the desert. He lets Carla Jean know that he’s going off on a fool’s errand and may never return. “Tell mama I love her,” he says as he departs. She reminds him that his mother is already dead. Oh, then he’ll tell her himself, if anything happens. He fills a jug of water before he leaves. So, did he return only to take water to the man he left dying? Did his conscious prick him? Is this gesture supposed to tell us that at heart he’s a decent man? Since he scoffed at the man and had no qualms about abandoning him in the first place, I’m not moved by Moss’ belated compassion, especially since the guy was in such bad shape that I’d hardly expect him to live for 12 more hours waiting for Moss to take pity and help him.<br />
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Moss finds his way back to the scene of the shoot out and the man he’d left in the car is now dead. He survived the first round of gunfire only to die later. You're never really spared, only suspended. Aqua came too late to save him. Moss sees vehicles in the distance and as they start shooting at him, he has to leave his truck behind. He makes it home wounded and tells Carla Jean that his truck is registered and can be traced back to him, the Department of Motor Vehicles opens at 9:00 a.m. and that’s how much time they have to get away. She needs to pack everything she can, because she’ll never see any of it again.<br />
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He puts her on a bus to her ornery mother in Odessa. But once his vehicle paperwork reveals his identity to the killers, they’ll know who his wife is too. They can easily track down her relatives, so sending her to this destination for protection was crazy. He should have sent her anywhere Greyhound goes where she would have no roots that could be trailed.<br />
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He sends her off and rather than getting on a separate bus himself, he gets a car and tries to lay low in the local area. He checks into a motel, but takes two rooms, one in back of the other. He hides the money in the hotel vent in one room, then makes sure he can retrieve it quickly from the adjacent room. The plan being the people on his tail will go to the wrong room and he can high tail it out of there from the other room, with the loot.<br />
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Ed Tom Bell and his deputy find the dead bodies in the desert. It’s a drug deal gone bad and when they see Moss’ truck Bell, who knows Moss casually, figures that Moss wasn’t involved with the drug sale, but took the money after things went downhill. The deputy wonders if Moss knew what he was getting into. Well, Bell reasons if Moss saw all the carnage that they did, it probably left an impression on, because it sure impressed Bell.<br />
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Anton is hired by the people who put up the money for the drugs to find the person who took it. Once he gets the assignment, he promptly kills the people who retained him, traces Moss’ vehicle registration and heads to Moss’ trailer. It’s empty, but reading Moss’ mail, Anton sees the number most frequently called on the phone bill. That number belongs to Carla Jean’s mother. So Anton immediately knows where to find the wife, but better still, he knows how to find the money. It seems that it was packed with a transmitter inside the brief case that Moss never bothered to rifle through. Once that transmitter starts beeping, it will lead him directly to the brief case. Anton opens Moss’ fridge, takes out the milk and sits down to drink it, watching his reflection on the black tv screen before him.<br />
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Ed Tom Bell comes along so soon after Anton has left that the milk glass is still sweating. They just missed him and “that’s frustrating,” he exclaims. But also life-saving. When they entered the trailer, Ed instructed his deputy to have his gun drawn and ready, but what about Ed’s gun? He tells the deputy that he’d rather just hide behind him! But considering all of the dead people they found in the desert, their two guns would not have been enough to defend themselves against multiple shooters – or even one shooter with a powerful enough weapon. So, why DOES Ed go in without his gun drawn? Does he want to be like the sheriffs of old who didn’t wear one? Why. That approach only works if crime rates are low or the criminals easily outsmarted. Ed already knows that neither is the case in this situation. Does he just think death is inevitable and evil something that you can only defeat if you never meet it? Otherwise, don’t bother trying.<br />
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Ed takes a swig of the still cool milk and also looks at his reflection in the blank television screen. Are he and Anton both just playing roles? If Anton’s role is evil personified, what is Ed’s? He’s not justice. He’s chronicling wrong, but not correcting it or even warding it off. He’s not a narrator because the audience knows more than Bell ever does. Moss challenges Anton in this movie, no one else comes close. Jones’ great acting aside, one wonders what Bell’s purpose in the story is. Does he represent humanity? No more than Anton’s victims do.<br />
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Anton’s transmitter tracks the money to Moss’ motel, but the way it’s situated, hidden at a curve in the vent, it seems to be in a different motel room than the 2 that Moss has rented. Anton busts into that third room and finds three men inside who also have a transmitter. He blows them away. They were apparently hired to do the same job as he was.<br />
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Moss hears the gun shots and quickly runs away, briefcase in hand. At the next motel, he wonders how he was tracked and FINALLY looks in the briefcase and finds the transmitter. He removes it and I think maybe if he throws it out the window, Anton will think the money is across the street, but Moss knows he doesn’t have time for that. He calls down to the front desk and gets no answer, quickly concluding that the motel attendant has been killed. He sees footsteps outside his door and waits gun at the ready. The feet under the door move away. Was it a false alarm, a fellow guest who has now gone on down the hall? I hope so, but Moss knows better. The hall light is turned off, so that Moss can no longer see the feet under the door. Anton wants him to know as little as possible about when it’s going to happen. The door bursts open. Anton enters blasting. Moss throws himself out the window and runs down the street with his case.<br />
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There’s a chase and a satisfying turn when suddenly it is an armed Moss who is after Anton, rather than the other way around. He fires and hits Anton, ending the showdown briefly. Bleeding he buys an overcoat and beer from college kids and crosses the border into Mexico, pretending to be a drunk. I didn’t know that it was that easy for drunks to cross the border, without any proof of citizenship, but maybe so.<br />
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He throws the money over the railing near the immigration checkpoint and checks into a Mexican hospital. Anton doesn’t. He explodes a car to distract pharmacy employees, steals the drugs he needs and treats his own injuries.<br />
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In a high rise office in the business district, a corporate exec wants his $2 million back. He hires Carson Wells to find the man who has taken it. Carson tells him its easier said than done, because Anton will be after Moss too and Anton plays by a different set of rules. Money doesn’t mean anything to him. He has his own principles and adheres to them in a way that gives him a strange type of honor. Unlike the exec or Carson, Anton can’t be bought, which makes him all the more dangerous. Knowing this, Carson heads off after Moss anyway.<br />
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He says it took him only 3 hours to find Moss in the Mexican hospital and if he can find him, he tells Moss that Anton surely will. If Moss lets him know where the money is, he can save his life. Moss won’t. He’s willing to die. But is he willing to see Carla Jean die, Carson wonders. He knows she’s in Odessa and so does Anton. Moss is quiet, but unyielding. He gives Moss his card and tells him he’ll be staying in the hotel across the border.<br />
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All roads lead to Odessa. Ed Tom heads out that way too and tells Carla Jean to contact him when she hears from Moss. He can keep Moss safe, he assures her. How so? And why doesn’t he try keeping Carla Jean safe? Ed Tom may not know that the bad guys are after her, but if he knows that Moss will make contact with her you’d think he’d realize that others know the same. By keeping tabs on her, he’s closer to capturing both Moss and the killers, but instead of guarding them Ed leaves Carla Jean and her mother to their own devices.<br />
He goes to visit an old family friend. His grandpa’s deputy, Ellis, who is now paralyzed. He asks him what he would do if he could confront the man who put him in that chair. Probably nothing. There wouldn’t be a point. Ed is surprised. Ellis says all the time you spend trying to get back something that’s been taken from you makes you lose even more. Hmmm. That’s one way to look at things, but Anton’s trying to get back money that’s been taken and he doesn’t seem to be suffering much. As the two men converse, Ellis recalls his Uncle Mac who was shot down on his own front porch in 1909. Ellis hears from Ed’s wife that Ed will be retiring. Ellis wants to know why. At first I think Ed will deny that it’s true, but he tells Ellis that he’s retiring because he feels overmatched. Well, that’s fine but I have not seen him really ENTER the match. He’s not stayed one step ahead of Anton or tried to catch up. He’s been content to follow him, rather than chase. Is he a coward? A man who has entered the wrong profession, one that he inherited rather than chose? I don’t know. The gas station owner that Anton terrorized with the coin had inherited that shop from his father-in-law. He married into it. Maybe we are all heirs to our own destiny, not something that we shape, but that those who shape US do. I don’t know why Ed is there or what I am supposed to learn from his perceptions. If he’s changed, dwindled, if he used to put killers away and now he can’t, then I need to see him trying and failing. I just see him watching.<br />
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Carson spies the briefcase that Moss tossed aside over the guard rail. He plans to retrieve it later. Although he was the one who told Moss just how close on Moss’ heels Anton was didn’t bother to watch his own. Back at his hotel Anton waylays him. He tells Anton he can get the money, says, “You don’t have to do this,” and Anton replies that’s what they all say. You don’t have to do this. Woody turns in a fine performance, sweating with fear, but never losing his used car salesman swagger. Carson’s hotel phone rings. Anton answers it, then casually kills Carson so he can give the caller his full attention.<br />
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“Who is this?” Moss asks on the other end. Anton knows that Moss knows who it is. He tells him to give Anton the money now. Then, he’ll still kill Moss, but he’ll spare Carla Jean. If Moss doesn’t surrender now, then Anton will treat Carla Jean as if she’s just as guilty as Moss is. Moss refuses. He says that Anton will go to Odessa, but Carla Jean won’t be there. Huh? She’s there in Odessa now. Who’s to say that Anton can’t easily get to wherever she might be in the future?<br />
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In the movie’s stupidest turn, Moss calls Carla Jean and tells her to go to El Paso where he will give her the money, put her on a plane and then he’ll confront Anton. Since Anton is, presumably, more concerned with the money than Moss (as far as Moss is concerned, even if the audience knows better), why does Moss figure that Anton won’t go after her, wherever he sends her? Plus, since everyone in the world already knows she’s in Odessa, how does Moss think she can get out of there safely and live long enough for him to put her on a plane to ANYWHERE? <br />
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Carla Jean wonders about her mother. She can’t just leave her behind. Sure she can Moss says, the old woman’s so aggravating that she’ll be perfectly safe alone. No one’s going to harm HER. It’s a funny line, but also shows how little Moss knows about Anton. He doesn’t just kill when he has to, for a purpose or to gain an objective. If Moss knew this would it make him more effective against Anton? Well, it didn’t help Carson.<br />
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Speaking of which, Anton heads to the skyscraper where the business exec who hired Carson is and kills him, angry that the guy hired another team of assassins and gave the transmitter needed to do ANTON’s job.<br />
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Carla Jean proceeds to El Paso on Moss’ orders. Moss charms border patrol by telling him he’s a Vietnam vet (Carson was too) and crosses back into the US. He gets to El Paso first. A woman by the pool flirts with him, but he tells her he’s married. Is that why he keeps looking around? Is it his wife he’s waiting for, the woman asks? That’s half of it. The other half is just him looking at what’s to come, he replies. Well, why did he arrange to have his wife meet him at the same place where danger would be? I don’t understand it. If part of him fears Anton’s arrival, how does he think she will be safe? She’s more worried about Moss and calls Ed Tom to El Paso too, because her husband is in over his head.<br />
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Here it seems like a piece of the movie is missing. It’s not the finale we expected, perhaps because this a movie about reaction, not action. Dusk comes we see a dead body floating in the pool. It’s the woman who flirted with Moss. Flash to an open hotel room, with a dead Moss inside. We don’t even get to see him lose. Carla Jean pulls up in a car, sees the yellow police tape and screams.<br />
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Ed Tom talks about what went down with the local police chief. The chief thinks that crime is different today and it all started when kids dyed their hair and stopped saying sir and madam. It’s not just one thing. It’s a whole tide of bad things that changes society for the worse. Ed agrees with this, only his history should tell him that society has always known the worst. The chief says that Anton not only killed Carson at the hotel, but the day before he’d killed the desk clerk. He must love to return to the scene of the crime.<br />
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This is ridiculous because we had not seen Anton exhibit a pattern of doing any such thing. In fact, in returning to the desert in the first place once he’d already had the money (and could not be traced to its source), Moss seemed more like he was determined to revisit the scene of the crime than Anton. Secondly, if there had been a murder there the day before, in a small town like that, surely there would be evidence of it remaining 24 hours later. Carson would have heard about the desk clerk being killed, known it was Anton and would never have returned to that hotel. He should have been on better alert anyway, but now that we’re told there was another murder besides his at that same location, there’s no excuse for him being caught off guard left.<br />
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This return to the scene of the crime plot device is just thrown out to give ED a reason to return to the El Paso motel. He does and stops outside the hotel room where Moss died. It’s still cordoned off with yellow tape. Inside we see Anton lurking in the shadows. Ed draws his gun (oh, he decides to use it THIS time) and enters with trepidation. The room appears to be empty. He goes into the bathroom, turns on the light. It’s empty, with the window locked. He sits on the bed, sighing in relief. He's missed Anton by minutes again, just as he did when he got to Moss' trailer and drank the still-cool milk. Back then, he said being minutes behind Anton was "frustrating," but was it? Was he thankful to have gotten there too late for a confrontation?<br />
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He looks down and sees the vent in the room. The cover has been unscrewed and lies on the floor, there’s a discarded coin beside it. We must assume that Moss hid the money inside that vent (as he had before) and Anton found it. But where is Anton now? He was too big to climb into the vent? Wasn’t he? How did he escape? <br />
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I assume Moss rented to hotel rooms this time as he had the first time and maybe we thought Anton was in the room that Ed Tom entered, when he was actually in the adjoining one.<br />
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Time passes. Carla Jean buries her mother who was surprisingly only 58 years old. For some reason she was portrayed as an older woman and I wonder if there's something significant about her true age. Carla Jean returns home from the funeral only to find Anton waiting for her. She knew he would come, but she doesn’t have the money. He says he will kill her anyway, he promised Moss he would. He promised her husband he would kill her?? Yes. Moss had the chance to save her, but chose to save himself. Even though Anton’s explanation is supposed to be perverted, I somewhat agree with what he says. Whether it meant giving up the $2 million or not, I think Moss unnecessarily put Carla Jean’s life in danger.<br />
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Carla Jean doesn’t beg. Anton offers her a way out. He’ll flip the coin and she has to call it. She won’t. She won’t call it. It’s him. He makes the choice whether she lives or dies. The coin doesn’t. Cut to the house exterior, Anton is exiting. He made the coin’s choice.<br />
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He is leaving in his car and is hit by a random car. He’s hurt badly, bone extruding from his arm. Moss couldn’t bring him down. Law enforcement didn’t catch him. Mercy never stopped him. But he’s driving away on a peaceful residential street when he’s hit by a car out of nowhere. There are police sirens in the distance. He waves down two boys and buys a shirt from one of them. Tells them they never saw him. Then, he’s gone, injured but alive. We don’t know why he didn’t kill them. He killed 2 men to steal their car. Killed two hotel clerks, but let the woman at the trailer office where Moss lived survive. Urgency doesn’t dictate his victims. What does?<br />
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Ed Tom is at home breakfasting with his wife. He’s retired and aimless. He had a dream. Two of them, both about his father. In one he had money and he lost it. He can’t remember the details. In the other, his father was still a young man, younger than Ed was. He was passing by with a horn of fire and he rode his horse into the distance and Ed knew that his father was going somewhere to make a fire out in that unknown dark and cold and when Ed got there, his father (and the horn of fire, I guess) would be waiting. This dream is reminiscent of Moss and his dead mother. He expected to go someplace where he could tell her he loved her himself. But in the end, Ed’s father offered him protection, something none of the other characters – except Anton – ever had.<br />
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Ed told Ellis that he’d always expected to find God later in life, but never did. Why does he think that? Because he feels there’s no justice? That right does not prevail over wrong? Maybe he wasn't overmatched by the criminals, but by the evil that propels them, so that good can never conquer bad. That might explain his lackluster efforts to apprehend Anton, but even so why retire? Death doesn’t approach when you’re overmatched, then halt if you retreat. It just comes anyway. He asked Ellis <b>when</b> his Uncle Mac died, after being shot on his own porch, while his killers casually looked on and watched him bleed? Was it right after he was shot or was it later? It was later that night and his Aunt buried him the next day. So, it seems that any escape is only temporary. Unhurried, unworried, death always catches up with you, which is the same lesson Moss learned.<br />
Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-33481398891670364202013-10-05T21:38:00.001-07:002013-10-06T12:48:27.516-07:00Cloud Atlas, The Book (2004)Because I hit the maximum character length on Goodreads, I decided to put my review of the <i>Cloud Atlas</i> book here, which will make it easier to find and compare to the movie review which will follow -- as soon as I <i>see</i> the movie!<br />
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[contains SPOILERS]<br />
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I thought this book would be about reincarnation. Which means, I expected the process of reincarnation to figure into the story's plot and, as characters became aware of its role in their lives, eventually factor into their development and become a catalyst in their meeting with destiny. Instead a flimsy reference to reincarnation is used as a very thin thread, which loosely links 6 disparate short stories.<br />
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The author, David Mitchell, is very talented in creating not only diverse narratives, but different worlds, sometimes complete with new languages that are delightful to decipher and interpret. What he clearly couldn't do was tell a compelling, novel length story. So, what we get is themes bookending short tales, rather than an extended plot.<br />
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For the most part, the reincarnated souls don't share common personality traits or ethics. They don't learn from past life mistakes. They don't inherit karma. Basically, all they share is a comet shaped birthmark on the left shoulder blade. In a lurid violation of the "show us don't tell us" rule, that's how we are able to identify them as the supposedly same person, from story to story.<br />
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In case you get through 75% of the book without realizing its transparent structure, Mitchell helps you along by having one of the reincarnated protagonists, a music composer, spell it out, by using the outline for his symphony (helpfully titled Cloud Atlas Sextet) as an unneeded metaphor for the book as a whole:<br />
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"Spent the fortnight gone in the music room, reworking my year's fragments into a 'sextet for overlapping soloists'" piano, clarinet, cello, flute, oboe, and violin, each in its own language of key, scale, and color. In the first set, each soli is interrupted by its successor: in the second, each interruption is recontinued, in order. Revolutionary or gimmicky?" Unfortunately, the answer is NEITHER.<br />
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While "gimmicky" would not be a compliment, it might require more complexity in the interweaving or overlap between stories than actually exists here.<br />
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The series of six begins with ADAM EWING, an American notary from San Francisco (during the Gold Rush era) who handles various estates and is traveling home, from abroad, on a ship that stops at various ports on "uncivilized" black islands being overrun by Anglo-Saxon missionaries and fortune seekers, both seeking to exploit the local tribes. They imprison and kill them, steal their resources, and/or strive to convert them to a code of ethics that is more modern than theirs, but, in the end, no more moral or less savage.<br />
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If the natives aren't killed by outright oppression, then it's the foreign diseases that the white ships bring, for which the tribes have no immunity. They are dying off in droves, a fact which those invading their lands care nothing about. Adam distances himself from the tribes people, but also empathizes the more he sees them victimized by his peers. Religious without hypocrisy, Adam tells his shipmates that they should be civilizing the natives, not killing them and is told that the best of the blacks is not too good to die like a pig.<br />
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Back aboard ship, Ewing seems strangely enchanted with the beauty of a young shipmate, Rafael. In the end we learn that Rafael is being raped by the more seasoned sailors and ultimately commits suicide to Ewing's horror. I had begun to wonder if Ewing was in love with Rafael himself. He only mentions him sparingly in his narrative, but in a way that suggested that Rafael was more often in his thoughts than in his journal. Ewing's fate is also intertwined with a stowaway', Autua, he is a runaway aboriginal slave. While on shore, Ewing saw the youth being beaten. He only made eye contact with him briefly, during the whipping, but when they did, Ewing saw recognition in the youth's eyes and "uncanny, amicable knowing." <br />
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Now, reading this during the first pages of the book, I thought we would experiment more with how kindred spirits are drawn together over time and over different lives, by the sub-conscious connection they're fated to have throughout incarnations, but it's a subject that's not really visited. Moreover, other than the shoulder birthmark, there is nothing in the personality of the characters or that experiences, together or alone, that would help you identify them as the same souls in the other stories. Except for the person who is described as having the birthmark, we don't recognize the other people with whom he/she interacts from one story to the next as being a continuing presence throughout many lives. So, if Ewing and Autua were reunited in future centuries, it's hard to infer that with certainty.<br />
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Furthermore, if Ewing seemed so fascinated by Rafael because he's known him before or will know him again -- it's not clear who plays the "Rafael" role in the other stories. Also, how are the Autua and Rafael roles different? Are Autua and Ewing always the characters who rescue each other and co-exist from lifetime to lifetime? Is Rafael always the soul that Ewing fails to save, because he understood and gave too little, too late?<br />
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We eventually learn that Ewing is being poisoned by the ship's doctor, Henry Goose, surgeon to the London nobility. Does the soul of this same villain return in the other stories or, sometimes, is life itself the villain? Perhaps, Ewing's life lesson is that he shouldn't have trusted Goose based only on his station in life. When Autua rescues Ewing from the death Goose had planned for him, Ewing vows to dedicate the rest of his life to the abolitionist movement, realizing that no race is superior to the other in intellect, compassion, evil or brutality.<br />
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The next hero is ROBERT FROBISHER. I found his (and later Zachry's) one of the two most compelling stories in the sextet. Frobisher's story is told through letters to his friend and sometime lover, Rufus Sixsmith. Even though we don't actually "meet" Sixsmith in this story, he's just an addressee, the depth of his feelings become so clear based on nothing more than offhand references by Frobisher, that by the time Sixsmith is actually introduced to us as an older man in the next tale, he already seems fully-fleshed and our stake in his outcome is a firmly vested.<br />
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Frobisher is the black sheep of a rich British family. He's a genius, gifted composer, but a bankrupt and lecher, using both men and women for his pleasure and his financial security. He's been disinherited by his disapproving father and gallivants through Europe, skipping out on hotel bills and concocting a web of lies that allow him to infiltrate the homes of the wealthy long enough to steal and fence their valuables, before they find out his checkered past and chuck him out the door.<br />
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We meet him in 1931, when he weasels a position as apprentice to a wealthy, older composer, Ayrs who is living off of his laurels, his creativity having dried up. Frobisher is able to translate Ayrs' stunted compositions to music in a way that revitalizes the elder's dying brilliance. But they're at a stage in their lives, where Frobisher actually has more to teach Ayrs than learn from him. Ayrs steals Frobisher's work, confident that Frobisher's has sunk so low on the social status pole that there is nothing Frobisher can do, except grin and bear it, grateful to have Ayrs' generous roof over his head.<br />
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Aware that his hands are tied, Frobisher grudgingly defers to Ayrs, but secretly works on his own masterpiece, the Cloud Atlas Sextet, careful not to let it fall prey to Ayrs' plagiarist instincts.<br />
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Meanwhile, Frobisher is sleeping with Ayrs' wife who is becoming more possessive all the time. Frobisher happens upon a half-finished diary in Ayrs' library: The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing. It fascinates him and he longs to find the rest of the document. Even half-finished he can easily tell that Ewing is being poisoned by his physician Henry Goose. Perhaps Frobisher is able to divine this so quickly due to what he has learned between lives, but overall, he seems less wise and evolved than Adam Ewing. Plus, unlike the other reincarnates, Frobisher is uniquely self-centered, his altruistic leanings quite few.<br />
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Has his soul reverted because Ewing naiveté and faith only caused him harm? That would be hard to say, because it was AFTER he was poisoned by Goose that Ewing decided to help others, even if it cost him personally.<br />
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Ayrs reveals that he's known Frobisher was sleeping with his wife all along and will actually use that fact to contribue to Frobisher's permanent ruin, unless Frobisher quietly continues to let Ayrs' pass Frobisher's work off as his own. Frobisher has a "meet cute" with Ayrs' daughter Eva, as they hate each other at first site. However, when the young lady softens towards him, Frobisher believes that she has fallen in love. He soon comes to requite those feelings, only to find that he was mistaken. Eva is engaged to someone else and knowing that he has slept with her mother and been shunned by her father, is quite contemptuous of him. Frobisher contends that he is not broken-hearted, but fell out of love as quickly as he fell in it.<br />
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Still, once he finishes the Cloud Atlas sextet, he shoots himself. The end is jarring since Frobisher's tale has been a humorous and irreverent one. Yes, he was restless, but we didn't glimpse that he was dissatisfied or depressed. We don't know why he never returned to Sixsmith, the love of his life. For these reasons, his suicide seems quite genuine causing the real life shock and regret you have when you lose someone vibrant who had so much to live for and you (& Sixsmith) would have done so much to save, had you only realized he <i>needed</i> salvation. Only learn later in his tale does Frobisher elaborate about his brother Adrian who was killed in the war. He resented Adrian whom their father always held up as an example to whom Robert Frobisher could never compare. But after his death, he wonders about those aspects of his brother that Robert never knew and Adrian will never get to be. He goes to leave flowers on Adrian's grave, but can't find it among all the headstones of fallen soldiers. He leaves them on the grave of another "F," hoping that maybe the unknown deceased had crossed paths with Adrian, at some point.<br />
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We are left to conclude that Adrian, who never played a real part in Frobisher's story, was a big role in his death. After leaving Adrian's grave, Frobisher is in a car that hits a pheasant. Frobisher kills the wounded bird to put it out of its misery, his motive being far gentler than the act itself. I suppose the same can be said of Frobisher's suicide.<br />
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In his last letter to Sixsmith he informs him that not only does the universe move in a cycle, not only do patterns repeat, but actual lives do. Literally. They will meet again at the same place they met before and "ten years later I'll be back in this same room, holding this same gun, composing this same letter ..." this belief fascinates me, because I not only believe in reincarnation, but also think (hope?) that I will relive THIS life again too and reunite with people I've lost, in our same roles, only maybe I'll appreciate them more the next time around.<br />
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Frobisher's view on this subject comes as a surprise, as there has been nothing in the preceding narrative that suggested he entertained such notions. While it's a nice plot point surprise, it also reflects a weakness in character consistency. Plot-driven stories are usually frustrating, but especially so when there are six mostly unconnected ones. <br />
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The next story is <i>Silkwoodish</i> & takes place in the seventies. Sixsmith is an aged scientist who discovers that a nuclear reactor being reacted in a small American community is actually a hazard to everyone, a secret that no one affiliated with the reactor wants to get out. Sixsmith is murdered as he is about to go public with his findings, but not before telling his secret to an intrepid reporter, LUISA REY (the reincarnated Frobisher) to whome he instantly feels a connection. Rey pursues the story, putting her own life in jeopardy to do so. She is finally aided by a would-be assassin who recalls how her father (a police officer) saved his life decades earlier and believes he owes it to the dead man to rescue his daughter. So we have karma and we have Luisa willing to forfeit her own life to save others (in keeping with what Ewing was prepared to do in the end) & we have Sixsmith, but other than that, there's no true connection between Luisa, Frobisher and Ewing -- oh, except for her comet birthmark and fascination with Frobisher's Sextet, which she's sure she heard somewhere before!<br />
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TIMOTHY CAVENDISH is next on board. He's a London book editor. He seems to be another reverted soul. Not only is he not saving others, as Luisa did, but he's vaguely racist, which Frobisher did not seem to be. Of course, no one said that Mitchell believed in the Buddhist theory of reincarnation where the soul rises to different levels of consciousness and higher thinking over time, until it finally graduates to Dalai Lama heights. But if you aren't carrying the wisdom of past lives with you into the new ones, what's the point of reincarnating at all?<br />
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Cavendish's business is a failing one. One book comes across his desk, <i>Half-Lives: The first Luisa Rey Mystery</i>. Cavendish scoffs that the book contains a suggestion that Luisa Rey is Robert Frobisher reincarnated, but Cavendish writes that off as rubbish. After all, he also has a birthmark below his left armpit. So what? We aren't familiar with the book's writer, Hilary V. Hush (surely a pseudonym), nor are we advised of her connection to Luisa, but Luisa came into contact with mediums, new age spiritualists, maybe she reached the reincarnation conclusion herself, after we left her. His mild interest in <i>Half-Lives</i> is a recurring one but his story takes off when one of his writers is involved in a murder scandal, the sensationalism of which sparks book sales. With the writer himself dead, his heirs accuse Cavendish of pocketing money that should be theirs. They hire thugs to threaten him. His brother sends him to a "safe place" that turns out to be an old folks' home -- actually, prison. We never learn why his brother sends him there. At least we were told that Dr. Henry Goose's schemes against Ewing were mercenary, but why is Cavendish victimized? He had an affair with his brother's wife once, but is what happens to Timothy meant to be his brother's retribution? God's? David Mitchell's?<br />
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Traveling to what he expects to be his haven, Timothy encounters many mishaps. In between them, he is riding in a cab when he thinks the driver calls him "Zachary" he replies that that isn't his name (but will be the name of a friend of his, someday). The cabbie responds that he said "exactly," not "Zachary." I sustain a concussion being hit over the head by such heavy foreshadowing.<br />
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Once signed into the elder care facility, Cavendish is not allowed to leave. His cruel guards (the nurses, administrators and facility staff) use physical force to detain him, strapping him down, whipping him like a child, even drugging him. It's like a Cuckoo's Nest for the elderly and Cavendish has his own vengeful Nurse Ratched. Trapped there on Christmas, Cavendish sees a documentary on Ypres a once beautiful town subjected to war atrocities. He wishes he had appreciated the joys in life before they were all obscured by clouds. He should have mapped the clouds' location to make the pitfalls easier to recognize. "What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds?"<br />
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Cavendish and 3 other inmates plan and execute a fumbling, funny escape. He uses the experience to write his own book, which becomes a bestseller and is made into a movie.<br />
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The next story takes place hundreds of years in the future in Nea So Copros, what was once Korea. Instead of enslaving other humans, people have taken to growing artificial beings, known as "fabricants" and using them as slaves. The fabricants feed on "soap" which keeps them in a robotic, semi-conscious state, preventing them from forming memories or independent thought. They only recite the lessons they have been programmed, serving humans without question. This futuristic world has its own language derived from ours. Sunrise = yellow up. TV = ADv. All movies are disneys. All handheld computers are sonys and our reincarnated heroine works for the evil Golden Arches. It's not called McDonald's, but its employees do wear scarlet and yellow uniforms! Their biggest holiday is Sextet Eve. I am not sure this is an ode to Frobisher's music or not.<br />
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Sonmi 451 is one of the fabricants. Not only are their senses dulled by the "soap" they are fed, but they are brainwashed in a cult like environment, where they are ordered to follow the word of leader Papa Song, if they want to reach paradise. They are subjected to daily sermons, rituals and videos that reinforce their servitude.<br />
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Sonmi lives this robotic life like the others until an unusually aware fabricant, Yoona 939 opens her eyes. Sonmi worked and slept in her dorm room with other fabricants. They lived in a soap-induced coma, not unlike the imprisonment of Timothy Cavendish, only they were not even aware they were prisoners. Sonmi knew no other life outside of work and sleep until Yoona woke her up when everyone else was sleeping and began to show her the secret world that humans inhabited after the fabricants were put to bed. Yoona plotted an escape and was killed in the process. After that Sonmi's own eyes were opened and she began to sense the world around her. Her knowledge grew and she only pretended to go through her old robotic motions. She thinks her newfound sentience is concealed from the world of humans (or purebloods) but she is caught in the act of sneaking around her workplace at night, when she is supposed to be asleep and is recruited by a member of an underground Unanimity, an organization seemingly dedicated to freeing fabricants.<br />
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"Free" in a sense, for the first time in her life, Sonmi devours human knowledge, learning everything from Plato to Hollywood era films. The flick or "Disney" that really captures her is about Timothy Cavendish. Ugh! This is such a heavy-handed and unrealistic link between the stories that it tells us more about the book's overall weakness than it serves as proof of the reincarnation.<br />
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The more embedded into this underground union Sonmi becomes, the more she learns about the atrocities committed against fabricants, while dew drugged purebloods (cosmetically altered so that they never age) live off of the fabricants' unending toil.<br />
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She learns that they are used by college students, much like lab rats on which they run experiments and write papers on their findings, oblivious of the harm, even death, they inflict on their subjects. She learns that tiny fabricants are created to serve as living dolls for the purebloods. Since there are fees levied to deactivate a fabricant, once pureblood are tired of playing with their "dolls" their parents just callously kill them rather than disposing of them in a more "humane" fashion. Finally, Sonmi learns about the biggest lie told to the fabricants: the promise that they will live in paradise after 12 years of service. She watches as fabricants with 12 years of service are taken to a room (expecting to be transported to beautiful retirement homes on a luxurious ship) and violently beheaded and mutilated. Their bodies are turned into the same "soap" that is fed to the living fabricants and also used in the food that the Golden Arches restaurant where Sonmi once worked served to purebloods.<br />
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Sonmi is stricken by one cold truth after the other. She sleeps with Hae-Joo, her union guide, Hae-Joo. The sex is joyless and mechanical, but at least it is an act of the living. When the Unanimity tells her they want to use her in their cause to free all fabricants, though their mission will be very dangerous for her, she readily agrees. She writes a manifesto for the union, declaring human rights for all fabricants. Then, she is arrested, put on trial and sentenced to death, all of which comes as no surprise.<br />
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She tells her story to an archivist and reveals that she knew that Hae-Joo and the Unanimity were working against her all along. She was a willing martyr. Their goal was to set her up as an example so that purebloods would recognize the threat posed by all fabricants if allowed to usurp their place. When Yoona was killed by humans, they falsely said it was because she posed a threat to a young pureblood boy dining in the restaurant where she served, teaching the humans that unless they kept them enslaved, the fabricants would murder and overthrow them. Similarly, Sonmi was used to spread a moral of the harm that would befall purebloods if other fabricants ever acquired knowledge and coalesced. Sonmi knew she was a tool, but did not believe the Declarations she offered would go to waste.<br />
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They were converted into catechism, to teach fabricants and those who would aid them submission, but Sonmi knew that it would inspire rebellion in some and inspire them to fight or die for freedom. She learned from the greatest and recalled, "As Seneca warned Nero: No matter how many of us you kill, you will never kill your successor." Her narrative concluded, Sonmi tells the archivist to turn off his recorder. She is ready to march to her death in the Light House, but not before she finishes the Timothy Cavendish movie, her last request!<br />
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Sonmi realizes that for every rebel who is killed, multiple rebels will take her place, not unlike a many-headed snake, like the Hydra (the name of the nuclear reactor in Luisa's story) and it's the same conclusion that Ewing reaches when he realizes that his efforts on behalf of evolution are just one drop in the bucket, but that many drops create an ocean. The characters ponder similar concepts occasionally, but don't share common, or even derivative, goals and outlooks.<br />
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Finally, we meet Zachry (a name that Cavendish recognized as referring to him, centuries before his reincarnated Zachry was actually born). Zachry is a primitive islander, not unlike those Adam Ewing encountered on his sea voyage. He and his valleysmen worship the God Sonmi and fear the devil, Old Georgie. <br />
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As a youth, savage tribesmen from another village saw Zachry running to where his father and brother were and followed him. Zachry fell and was hidden from them, but they killed his father and enslaved his brother Adam. Zachry never told his family that he led the killers to the lost Adam and Pa, but he lived with the guilt for the rest of his life.<br />
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Sometimes Zachry's island was visited by an advanced ship inhabited by people with special "smarts" and technology that far surpassed Zachry's society's. These foreign visitors, called Prescients, would often trade goods with them, but their stays were brief and Zachry's people learned little about them. Then, one year a prescient woman, Meronym, said she wanted to stay and study the villagers. She offered to help out in one of the homes and give them goods, in exchange for an opportunity to witness life on their island directly. The villagers were suspicious and did not want the strange woman in their home with her unknown magic, so they nominated Zachry's family to play home to her, when they were absent at a village meeting.<br />
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Because Meronym worked hard and seemed kind, everyone soon took to her, but not Zachry. He thought she planned harm for his people and didn't like the way she was constantly studying them, learning all of their secrets, without divulging any of her own. He knew she possessed advance knowledge, but she would never reveal it, speaking in Zachry's language and acting at his stage of advancement, although he was sure she knew science and technology well beyond his range of understanding. He spied on her, following her to a cave where their family history was kept and accusing her of keeping secrets. Meronym replied that he had secrets of his own [I still don't know how she knew that or if she was just bluffing] and once went into her room and found her "orison" a small computer-like device (dare I say an ipad?) with video and sound. He saw a shimmering woman speaking in words he could not understand and was entranced, but the woman was quickly obscured by a gruff man who appeared on the screen (facetime, I presume), called Zachry by name and yelled at him. He quickly put the device down and ran out of the room, but he knew that Meronym knew he had snooped. He was even more wary of her after that, but when his sister fell ill, he called upon Meronym to help her. At first Meronym resisted. She was there as an explorer. It was not her place to change the course of their primitive lives or anything else. And she could get in trouble if she did so. He would never tell anyone what she'd done, if she would only help. Zachry told her about his role in Adam and Pa's death. It was a shameful secret he'd never divulged to anyone and she could use it against him, should he ever reveal hers. She takes pity on him and gives him the pill that will save Catkin's life. After that, he senses a bond with Meronym.<br />
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When she wants to explore forbidden areas of the island which the villagers believe to be cursed, Zachry, though frightened, decides to accompany her. They forge through dangerous jungle and finally come upon spectacular modern buildings full of advanced technology, but vacated. Meronym reveals that she is part of a small group of survivors who lived after the rest of humanity destroyed itself through greed (much like the Lost City of Atlantis). Only the untouched regions of the world like his island tribes still survived. Her civilization advanced to astronomical levels, but fought and destroyed the world, in their quest to kill and conquer each other. She has been traveling to find the few places where the survivors from her civilization can live and procreate. After her revelations, Zachry has visions from Old Georgie telling him to kill Meronym, but he listens to messages he has received in his dreams instead and actually saves her life during their journey, bringing her back to his village safely.<br />
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Not long after that, the village is taken over by marauding Kona tribesman, who rape and kill many villagers and take the rest as their slaves. Zachry is captured, but Meronym saves him on horseback, rather than running as he did when Pa and Adam were overtaken, Zachry is determined to return home to see if his mother and siblings could have survived the Kona attack. His home is empty and his possessions either stolen or left in a pile of rubble. Everything they built or spent lifetimes achieving and learning was destroyed in a matter of hours. What had it all been for? He doesn't know what has become of his family and not knowing is worse than certainty of their deaths. His young sisters would have been raped, but what about his aged mother? He sees the corpses of other villagers and the wisest man in his town has been beheaded. His rotten head now rests upon a spike on what had once been his front yard. Zachry has no words to describe his despair and the way Mitchell paints the scene for us, makes these the most moving and heartbreaking passages in the book.<br />
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To his surprise, Zachry finds a drunken Kona man sleeping in his bed. Delirious from his looting, he must have passed out and fallen behind the rest of his savage tribe. Zachry remembers a dream vision which warned him about this moment and cautioned him NOT to kill this man. He also knows that he will pay for taking a life. He shouldn't kill the slumbering villain. But he does. He later tells Meronym what he's done and she says nothing, casting no judgment. On the run, Zachry and Meronym become closer. He notices the comet-shaped birthmark on her shoulder. She tells him that the woman he saw on her orison is really his beloved Sonmi, not a God. She was a martyred fabricant from long ago whose archived history had become a mantle for freedom. Knowing that shimmering woman from the video was Sonmi did not make Zachry believe in her any less. What did Meronym believe in? Nothing she answered. Well, what does she think happens when we die? Meronym simply believes that when we die, we are gone. There is no afterlife.<br />
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She reveals the whole truth to him, her prescient kind is dying out due to a plague and they had intended to come and settle in his village, make it their territory so he had been right to suspect her. At this point, Zachry doesn't care. After what the Kona from another village just like his own did to him, why should he think that outsiders would be any worse. If they were like Meronym he would welcome rather than fear them in his world. She shows him her orison and she and her prescient leader invite him to leave with Meronym on one of their ships. He says that he must try to help his family, though far outnumbered by the Kona and not even knowing if his family members survived, any rescue attempts on his part would surely be a suicide mission. He vows to escort Meronym through the island that is unfamiliar to her, to get her safely to the spot where her mother ship has been docked before taking off to follow the Kona. On their way to the ship they are surrounded by Kona. There's a bridge they can use to get away, but remembering one of his dream visions, Zachry insists that they cannot cross it. Sonmi told him not to Meronym angrily denounces his dreams and superstitions, "An' did Sonmi know we got a furyin' swarm o' Kona on our tail?" she sarcastically demands. But in the end she gives in and believing in Zachry's word and instinct alone, she does not cross the bridge, but their attackers do. When they run across it with their horses, they prove too heavy and the bridge falls, they drop steeply into the water below where they are killed or maimed to grievously to survive. Meronym and Zachry survive, but his leg is injured and there are other Konas who will follow after them. When Zachry lapses into unconsciousness, she makes the decision to take him onto her ship. Woozy, a bleeding and drained Zachry floats on the water looking at the sky and marveling that clouds are like souls. They change form and color, but are still clouds as they drift across the ages, just as a soul is still a soul. No one can say where the cloud will blow from or where it will go, except God and the atlas o' clouds. (eye roll)<br />
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We don't know what life is like for Zachry outside of his village, but we learn that he went on to father children who retell his story with some skepticism. Interestingly, even though Meronym took Zachry to <i>her </i>island, his children speak in his dialect, suggesting that he was somehow reunited with villagers of his own kind. His children acknowledge that their dad was a weird old guy, but they believe in the orison, because they still have it. They found it among Zachry's remains and they still play the mesmerizing Sonmi video, even though they do not understand her language, her soothing image helps to put their children to sleep at night. As for the rest of their father's tales, they have to admit he was a little strange. After all, he came to believe that Meronym was Sonmi reincarnated. How crazy is that?<br />
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So, the sextet of stories is presented. I look at the pairings to see if there have been soulmates over time. Autua and Ewing, Frobisher and Sixsmith, Sixsmith and Luisa, Zachry and Meronym. In addition to the brother who betrayed him for reasons we can't guess, Cavendish had 3 friends who helped him break out of the institution, but he wasn't emotionally close to them exactly. He just reached out to them in his despair. Sonmi had Hae-Joo, but he betrayed her, so he was more her Dr. Goose than her Autua. All in all, the destined relationships that one usually explores in reincarnation stories isn't emphasized in this one. It's hinted at, a sense of deja vu, a flash of recognition, and instant sense of camaraderie, but the closest we get to examining a true bond is Zachry and Meronym. If there are links that are supposed to move forward from one life to the next, they don't. Many of the reincarnates are shaped by those they have lost: Frobisher's brother Adrian whose grave he could not locate; Luisa's father; Zachry's father and brother Adam (who shared a name with Adam Ewing, although Zachry is not a reincarnate himself, I think his losses impact Meronym's too); Sonmi's fabricant friend Yoona. Then both Adam and Meronym were separated from family. Meronym had a son who may have died in the plague that was killing prescients. But she did not know his fate and had to struggle with the uncertainty, which is just what Zachry had to do, when he did not know how or if his villagers survived the Kona attack. Most of them had to love and grieve without answers, but that's one of life's burdens in general, not something unique to this incarnated soul. <br />
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In sum, what have we learned? What has the reincarnated character learned from Ewing to Zachry? Though centuries apart, the primitive worlds that they knew were not dissimilar. But the same cannot be said of the reincarnated. Yes, Sonmi can be recognized as Ewing, perhaps Louisa can too, but Cavendish and Frobisher are not like any of them nor like each other. Like Ewing, Cavendish and Frobisher are victimized by wily oppressors, but that doesn't ultimately make them concerned with man's inhumanity to man. They grow crafty, but don't evolve. Zachry grows from boy to man, coward to fighter and he's connected to his ancestors and the past. It's his subconscious mentor. So, I suppose we have to accept him as the culmination of the five lives he has lived before. But while the story makes it clear that the world's patterns recycles, the universe grows, learns, collapses under its own weight of greed and evil, and is then reborn, it is not as easy to chart the character cycle of reincarnation. Autua in the first story could be Zachry in the last. Yes, Ewing could be (is) Meronym too, but who and why were all the people they became in between those first and last incarnations? One life does not impact and shape the other, except in passing, not in substance.<br />
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Even Sonmi the fabricant we knew is very unlike the Sonmi god that Zachry believes in. Sonmi 451 was not Zachry's patron saint who healed the sick and took the dead to a new womb to be reborn. Of course, legend recreates fact and it is reasonable to believe that the real Sonmi was converted into something different, higher than the fabricant flesh she actually was, just as Jesus Christ may have been. But even if Sonmi becomes mostly fairy tale over time, the reincarnations are supposed to be real. Why aren't they meaningful? What's their point? This is not a story about one soul over time. It's a collection of six narratives, connected to one author, but not to each other. Cavendish and Sonmi's paths inform each other far less than Emma Woodhouse and Elizabeth Darcy's do, so why label them reincarnations?<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-35891927731597148702013-08-10T20:08:00.001-07:002013-09-21T18:24:58.867-07:00Blue Jasmine (2013)My chief observations about the title character can also be applied to the movie: she's neither right nor wrong, not good or bad, at least not as bad as she could be.<br />
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The movie starts with Jasmine talking to her seatmate on a flight, about leaving college and abandoning hopes of a career in anthropology to marry Hal, a promising dreamboat. <i>Blue Moon</i> was playing when she and Hal met, and it's always been their song. As she prattles on, while disembarking and on through baggage claim, while her companion is unable to get a word in edgewise, it becomes clear that she doesn't even know the lady to whom she's talking, but Woody feels the need to hit us over the head with that point by not only having the woman walk away from Jasmine, but express what a pain she was to someone arriving at the airport to pick her up. A moment of subtle humor becomes a bludgeon, when taken too far.<br />
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A chic Jasmine directs a cabbie to an address she recites from a handwritten note, while bending <i>his</i> ear. When she arrives at the place, she has to call her sister to confirm that she's at the right hovel. She finds a spare key and over tips the driver for hauling her many Louis Vuitton bags up the stairs. Consequently, we are just as surprised as her sister, Ginger, to learn that Jasmine is broke. How did she manage to fly there first class if she has no money, Ginger asks. Jasmine doesn't know. She just did. And the Louis Vuitton? Don't judge her. She sold many of her expensive possessions and only got pennies on the dollar for them. <br />
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Sally Hawkins imbues Ginger with the type of working girl charm Marisa Tomei might bring to the role. Ginger seems genuinely good-hearted. Not slow-witted, but slow to act, easily influenced or silenced, low in self-esteem. She tells her two, chubby and blank-eyed sons that she and Jasmine were both adopted. Jasmine loved their parents, but Ginger didn't get along with them and left home early. Jasmine got the "good genes" was the common family opinion. Jasmine used to be Jeannine, but changed it.<br />
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There are frequent flashbacks from Jasmine's past life in the Hamptons with Hal, but for her they aren't flashbacks. She often slips into memory. Her current surroundings fade away and she's back in her mansion or at the stables, mingling with the social elite, saying what she said then. When shaken back to the present, she finds that she's been talking to herself. She's aware of her tenuous grip and tells Ginger that she can't be alone right now, as she swallows anti-anxiety pills.<br />
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Ginger's boyfriend was about to move in with her, but has been displaced by Jasmine's visit. This puts him at odds with the newcomer from the start. Of course, it would be easy to say that Jasmine turned her nose down at Ginger's blue collar love, but he's so obnoxious that anyone would. It's true that she's self-absorbed and that's probably more the cause of her current mental instability than a byproduct of it. However, she condescends in places that almost anyone would. Chili wants her out of Ginger's abode as soon as possible, so that he can move in, so from the moment he meets Ginger, he's pressuring her about finding a job. He knows a dentist who needs an assistant -- Jasmine isn't interested. Well, what <i>would</i> she like to do? Well, she once studied anthropology ... she thinks she'd like to return to school... As he looks at the cultured, but unskilled middle-aged woman who currently lives on her sister's couch, while still dreaming of becoming an archaeologist (anthropologist, same difference), Chili's skepticism is natural, but so is her disdain. In fact, Jasmine's reaction to him reminds me of another flower nom de plumed woman: Hyacinth Bucket and her travails with brother-in-law Onslow!<br />
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Chili takes Jasmine on a double date with Ginger and a pal of his, who's half Jasmine's size and 1/4 of her intellect. She escapes them into a bottle of vodka. Chili resents her attitude but, at this early stage in their history, his reaction is more based on what he's heard about Jasmine, more than on anything she's done. Ginger told him that Jasmine wanted nothing to do with her, when she was living the high life and only remembers that she exists now, when she needs help.<br />
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This opinion of Ginger's is justified. We flash back to Ginger and her ex, Augie, visiting Jasmine and Hal in her Manhattan apartment. Jasmine hopes to wash her hands of the tourists by setting them up in a Marriot and sending them sight-seeing. The fact that they're there during the week of her birthday is most inconvenient, since it forces her to invite them to her birthday party. Jasmine's ennui towards Ginger only lessens when she learns that Augie has recently won the lottery. He has a quarter-million to invest and suddenly Jasmine has all sorts of plans for them. She will get Hal to let them in on his latest hedge fund venture. He'll do them the favor of using their money to make more of it. They've never invested before and this is all they have, so Augie is hesitant, but looking around Jasmine's expensive home, Ginger needs know convincing. Hal obviously knows what he's doing. So, they give him their windfall and they lose it all when Hal is exposed as a Bernie Madoff-styled crook, who defrauded his investors and ended up in jail, when his Ponzi scheme was finally uncovered. We only get snatches of his unraveling at a time, interspersed with Jasmine's current life, but when we put all the pieces together, we learn that Hal hung himself in jail. Since it's only spoken of casually and in retrospect, it's impossible to know what Jasmine felt at the time, what grief -- or guilt -- the memory causes her.<br />
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She says that she never knew what Hal was doing financially, that she was his victim like everyone else. It's easy to believe her, because she's too self-preoccupied to scrutinize much. After all, she knew nothing about his affairs for many years.<br />
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During the same visit to Manhattan when Ginger and Augie gave Hal their money and sealed their low-class fates, Ginger caught Hal with another woman, while browsing the streets of NY. She agonizes about whether to tell Jasmine or remain silent. She mentions just enough of her suspicions to plant a seed of distrust in Jasmine. She'd always considered her husband too busy for infidelities, but hey, he's played by Alec Baldwin, we know what he's capable of! As she watches him with his physical trainer, his lawyer (described as a Chinese dragon woman, a line that's less comical than curious coming from Woody Allen) and their female friends, she begins to see an amorous undercurrent in these relations that she'd been blind to before. <br />
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Jasmine is not exactly painted as the typical grand dame. She loves the diamond baubles Hal gives her, but she loves him too. She even loves his son, in her way. When we first see her with him, we assume that she's the Baroness and he's a bothersome Von Trapp boy, but when she encourages Hal to spend more time with him, she actually means it. She's not naturally jealous or competitive. She's careless, but not unkind. Even with Ginger, she's disinterested, rather than heartless. In the end though, perhaps the two flaws have the same effect and only the most charitable try to distinguish between them.<br />
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When she had Ginger invest with Hal, we know that Jasmine probably didn't intend to actually hurt her. She assumed that her sister and Augie <i>would</i> make money, but her primary motivation was that Hal make even more of it. Her goal wasn't to help them, that would just be a happy fallout. She serves her own needs first, without particularly meaning to hurt others, but mindless of the possibility that she might. It's like the legal definition of gross negligence: There need be no <i>willful</i> misconduct. Simple reckless disregard for the consequences to the safety or property or another will suffice.<br />
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Pulling herself back into the present, Jasmine abandons her dreams of anthropology but thinks she might make a good interior decorator. She certainly worked with enough of them when decorating hers and Hal's many homes. Ginger, silently wondering how long she will be playing landlady to Jasmine, points out that becoming a designer takes time. No, Jasmine knows someone who got an online degree in designing. She could too -- if she knew anything about computers or the internet. She ends up taking the position of receptionist at that dentist's office Chili told her about, after all. Just so she can get enough money to learn computers and, then, take online design courses. Of course, it's absurd to think that anyone needs to take formal computer classes for online study. Thirty minutes in a chair is sufficient for maneuvering to a website and following the navigation buttons to the course you want. The idea that Jasmine is taking computer classes seems outdated by 15 years. I don't know if it's in the script for humor or a sign of Woody's own detachment from the real world. You don't need to know script any longer. Punch cards and floppies are obsolete. Allen has assistants to browse the internet for him, maybe he doesn't realize that no formal instruction is required any longer. Ginger's friends have no money, no lap top, no wifi, I'm sure. But her sons must access computers at school and she and Jasmine both have cell phones. You could take an online course on your iphone and print out the design degree. It's a poor plot device. It would have made more sense for Jasmine to work to pay for the design class itself, rather than to learn the basic skills needed to virtually attend one.<br />
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At the dental office, she tries to learn the office routine and does a half-way decent job, when she's not losing her temper with patients who are truly annoying, it's not just her. The irony is, even scheduling appointments in a computer database or learning to operate a multi-line phone takes more know-how than sitting for online classes does. Jasmine is not the best receptionist, but her boss is impressed with her grace, drawn to the way she wears her clothes (even just the jeans) and carries herself. She recycles the same clothes and handbag, they're old, but tasteful, having originally cost thousands. The classics endure forever, don't they?<br />
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When the dentist asks Jasmine out, she obliges to keep her job, but tells him she has a boyfriend, so that he'll keep his distance. It doesn't work and she quits when he starts mawling her. She fights back not only valiantly, but effectively, knocking him back in a scene that's both amusing and uncomfortable. She wasn't doing anything wrong, didn't deserve what happened and, I almost felt, should be applauded for managing to get along in the real world for a change. The sexual harassment she suffered is nothing compared to the harsher abuses people face daily, many with obligations far greater than Jasmine's who aren't lucky enough to land a receptionist position with little effort. It just shows that the world needn't be its cruelest to beat you down. Life's mere randomness can levy defeat. Looking at Jasmine I was reminded of Sister Carrie or Wharton's Lily Bart, whose downfalls were more poignant because it seemed that salvation was in their grasp, they were climbing up, but then reached for a rung too high, instead of grabbing the one surest and nearest. If they'd more quickly accepted slight disgrace they could have prevented utter ruin. Jasmine seemed to be avoiding this mistake when she forsake lofty expectations (or resigned herself to having to work up to them) and took the job in the dentist's office, but fate scoffed at her good intentions.<br />
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She explains what happened to a friend at the computer class who suggests she sue the dentist (my suggestion too), but Jasmine wants to move on. The friend, who's dating a lawyer, invites Jasmine to a party. She pesters Ginger into going with her. They both meet knights on white horses. Ginger's is an audio/video installer who thinks she's sexy. Jasmine's is a would-be politician who, like the dentist, is impressed with Jasmine's elan. He, Dwight, can see her as his own Jackie O. He just bought a house and Jasmine offers to give him decorating ideas. She tells him she's an interior designer and a widow. Her husband was a surgeon. Since Hal's fraud conviction and suicide doubtless made national news, one wonders how Jasmine can hope to get away with this lie? Is it her mental lapses that make her think she won't get caught or just poor plotting by Allen?<br />
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Ginger so loves being wooed by her audio tech that she starts giving Chili the cold shoulder. Even though they use cheap hotels or plain old vans for their rendezvous, Ginger feels it's a step up from what she's been used to. Jasmine is right. She's been selling herself short and settling for the wrong men. When Chili learns she's been dating someone else he becomes enraged, yanks her phone off the wall and paws at her, while Jasmine demands that he leave. His reaction is proof of the brute she's always seen him as being. Yet, with the lives Hal has ruined, the fortunes and livelihoods he stole, the fact that he was no better than Chili is a fact lost on Jasmine, but not the audience. Chili follows Ginger to the grocery store where she works as a cashier and causes a scene, actually crying when he ditches her. <br />
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Meanwhile, Dwight is charmed by the pieces Jasmine picks out for his home. She always knows what to say, what to do, which wine to choose. He asks her to marry him. One could almost read Jasmine's shock as rejection. Dwight doesn't see the fact that she needs to take anxiety pills after his proposal as a good sign, but she just gasps that her outburst is just because she wanted so much for him to love her and now he does. It's a surprising bit of candor. I'd have expected her to play it calm, cool, but her relief is too real for that. I realize that even when she was first charming Dwight, it wasn't a game. She wasn't trying to lure him in. Whether aloof or engaging, she was natural. Her sense of detachment was both mental and social, or social because it <i>was</i> mental. As desperately as she needed to snag a rich man, when she met Dwight, she was somewhere else in her head, at a party long past, hosting with Hal at another house, another time, and genuinely unaware of the gentleman whose eye she'd captured in the present. Her engagement to Dwight might pull her off of the unemployment line, but it wouldn't necessarily pull her back to sanity. This is clear when she takes her nephews to lunch, tells them she'll be getting married soon, but then briefly lapses into dementia that leaves their mouths ajar.<br />
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Ginger is stood up for a date with her audio tech guy. When she calls his job he tells her he can't see her anymore. His wife found out, so it has to end. Oh, didn't he mention that he was married? No, Ginger says. He didn't. <br />
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Jasmine recalls her last meeting with her stepson. He was leaving college, abandoning the ivy league school where everyone knew who his father was and what he had done. Jasmine begs him not to give up. Hal may have been a fraud, but there's no reason for his son to waste his education and future. The son won't listen to her. He says he knows what she's done.<br />
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Dwight takes Jasmine to meet his parents. They are duly charmed and he and Jasmine are window shopping for an engagement ring when Augie comes upon her. Long time no see, Jasmine -- or Jeannine. He'd heard that Jasmine was back in town, living with Ginger, although she'd had no use for her sister in the past and was responsible for everything they'd lost. Augie recalls how Hal killed himself and says he's seen Jasmine's son too. He now works at a shop in the city and Augie knows how the kid has turned his back on Jasmine too. It would have made more sense for Dwight to learn about Jasmine's past online. He didn't need an enemy from her past to walk up and lay it all out so dramatically, but it all turns out the same. Dwight turns on her for lying to him. How did she think she would keep it all a secret? Or maybe she only hoped it would stay a secret long enough for them to marry. Then, it would be too late. Clearly, Dwight's outrage is justified, but if he'd loved her enough . . .is he just fascinated by her image, by the ideal of how his political career might be furthered with her on his arm? Jasmine was deceitful to be sure, in addition to lying about her ex and her career, she also had Dwight meet her at hotels, so he wouldn't see how shabbily she lived with Ginger. However, if she'd been a consummate con artist, she could have won Dwight back over, turned on the charm, stroked his ego, cried to bring down his guard and spur his protective urges. But she doesn't know enough to do any of them. She shrieks and demands to be let out of the car. How will she get home, Dwight asks exasperated. Just let her out. He does and she stalks back to Ginger's, where Chili is back in residence.<br />
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The past is rushing back to Jasmine now. She remembers how a friend confirmed to her that Hal was unfaithful. Yes, he'd had affairs, many of them. Jasmine returned home to confront him, rather than apologizing Hal says that he's now in a relationship that's more than just lust. He wants a divorce. He intends to marry his latest lover. Jasmine becomes hysterical, flailing and screaming. Hal tells her she's having a "temper tantrum" and tries to restrain her, but a tantrum implies she's having an angry outburst to manipulate him. Her response is less rational than that. He tells her she'll be well-provided for and then leaves. She desperately fumbles for the telephone and asks for the number of the ... FBI. So, she's the one who turned him in, caused him to lose everything they'd had, go to jail and commit suicide. There's an audible gasp in the audience when this is revealed, but I suspected as much earlier, when the son partially blamed her the scandal. Jasmine may have cut off her nose to spite her face when turning her husband in. She'd vaguely suspected that her husband was bilking people all along and was happy to live off the proceeds, until she wanted revenge. She ratted him out to hurt him, rather than protect anyone else. Yet, if I understand nothing else Jasmine did, I can identify with that telephone call. There was something about Hal's unruffled confrontation that provoked her into wanting to get him in the only place where it would hurt. If he'd lied, if he'd cried and simply feigned remorse, things would have gone differently. But as selfish as Jasmine was, he was even more so, not even putting on a show of regret or compassion. Maybe she could have survived the cheating and divorce. It's the unconcern that did her in.<br />
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He's arrested. She has a nervous break down, undergoes shock therapy.<br />
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After leaving Dwight's car, Jasmine goes to the shop where Augie says her stepson worked. He's not happy to see her. He says that no matter how much he hated his father, he still blames her for turning him in. He wishes Augie hadn't given her his location. He never wants to see her again.<br />
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Chili and Ginger have made up and Ginger has gained resolve. She must blame Jasmine for having put higher hopes in her head, because now she's firmly on Chili's side and demands that Jasmine stop putting him down. Chili is moving in. Ginger must feel that she thought the grass was greener on the other side, but as little as he had to offer, Chili really loved her. What does he get in return? Was she even moved by her tears at the supermarker, or only repulsed? Maybe she was wrong to think she deserved more than he offered. It's hard to know whether to feel sorry for Ginger or not. She was hurt, but she hurt Chili. Jasmine uses her, but she responds passive aggressively, voicing her resentment to Augie and Chili in a way that's only human, but makes her seem like less of the loyal sister, deserving of only sympathy. As with Dwight and Jasmine, it's hard to know how deep Ginger's feelings for anyone really go. Did she help Jasmine out of love or pity or because she was too timid to do anything else? She doesn't seem to get satisfaction from Jasmine's downfall, but was she truly saddened by it? Ginger informs Jasmine that Chili is moving in. Maybe they'll get married. Jasmine angrily denounces the couple's reunion, but Chili has a new sense of confidence now and does not feel threatened. He laughs Jasmine's opinion off, rather than challenging it. Fine she says, Dwight has asked her to move in with him ahead of their engagement anyway.<br />
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She takes a swig of vodka, jumps into the shower, jumps out, still drenched. Clothes wet, mascara running, creating a lurid sight that should have at least caused Ginger to ask what was wrong, Jasmine announces that she's leaving and will send for her things later. She walks out and into the street, sitting on a park bench and stirring others to leave when she begins mumbling aloud to herself. <i>Blue Moon </i>was playing the night she met Hal. She used to know the words. What were they? Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own.<br />
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So now will she lose her weak hold and sink completely into madness or, rather, does it seep fully into the porous fissures were never whole or sealed to begin with?<br />
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That's the question, if her finances were back on track, would she have healed or would that just have delayed the inevitable melt down? Did Hal's betrayal cause her to lose it or had the symptoms been there all along? How many of us seem normal, but would break under stress. How many carry a vulnerability that <i>leads</i> to the stress that will make us break? When Jasmine got the "good genes" did they include the one that would spark her own destruction? Crazed or crazy?<br />
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I don't know if the film means to take a side on the question, because I don't see Jasmine as having written her own fate. I can't say, she acted irrationally when she called the FBI. A reasonable person might have done the same in the face of Hal's patronizing calm. She may have been a time bomb ticking, but I see her more as one ignited. She walked through life casually dooming Ginger, Augie and bored airplane passengers, but couldn't get out of the way of the Hals and dentists waiting to trip <i>her</i> up.<br />
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Had she been a better person, or a worse one, her outcome would have improved, either way.<br />
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I've seen more Woody Allen films in the last decade, than I did in his heyday. It's not because I appreciate him more, but critical reaction to his work has finally deflated to normal proportions, so I feel less of a need to reject what I found so over-rated in the seventies and eighties. His movies signify more now, when there's less sound and fury about their merit. I found <i>Crimes and Misdemeanors </i>and <i>Midnight in Paris </i>much more delightful than <i>Annie Hall</i>. Without crime, fantasy or broad comedy, to enhance the plot, <i>Jasmine </i>does fall flat. It's not original, wacky or particularly realistic. Other than Cate Blanchett's performance, which was as entrancing when Jasmine was elegant, as in those moments when she came unglued, and seamlessly transitioned between the two, there's nothing much to recommend. Yet, there remains enough to analyze to make it worth a view.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-14080192061546425872013-08-01T00:54:00.000-07:002013-08-03T23:57:46.863-07:00World War Z (2013)I haven't gotten into the <i>Walking Dead, Pride, Prejudice and Zombies</i> or any of the many Zombcentric video games, so this movie was basically my indoctrination into the world of the undead <i>and I liked it</i>. It was full of action, tension and suspense, but without being rife with crashes and explosions. Blood and gore happened out of the camera's range. Furthermore, while it had no sex and very little cursing, it was not a kid's movie, mainly because of its humorless intensity. Playing the lead with unadorned humanity, Brad Pitt was more likable than I've seen him since <i>Meet Joe Black</i>. His Gerry Lane was heroic in his goodness, rather than physical prowess.<br />
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Gerry is a retired United Nations covert operator. He's cooking breakfast for his family (wife Karin and daughters Grace and Connie), while disturbing news story flash across the screen, but they're the every day variety. Death, strife, terror abound in the footage, but it's common place, not just in Jerry's world, but ours too.<br />
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The family bundles into their car and get caught in a traffic jam. Jerry's side view mirror is knocked off. He gets out to investigate. There's something strange in the air, but he can't pinpoint it. Suddenly, police are motorcycling through the stranded cars bellowing for everyone to get back in their cars. Before Gerry can obey or challenge those instructions, bedlam breaks out. Hordes of subhumans began attacking. They're mindless, fast-moving (bucking the slow-moving zombie lore) beings. Their mouths are mostly white orbs, mouths agape for mawing. They don't think, they just bite. People run in hysteria. Once bitten, they turn into the monsters themselves, within seconds.<br />
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Gerry takes in all the mayhem around him silently, concentrating on keeping his girls calm. They're a thankless brood. Well, the wife is helpful, but the kids have an unfortunate habit of disappearing in life and death situations, without a word to their parents. The older one is about 12 and asthmatic. She goes into shock. As Gerry tries to drive them away from the violent frenzy around them, one refuses to put on her seatbelt, so he has to worry about her being killed in a collision, on top of a zombie chomping her. She's really more trouble than she's worth.<br />
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When they discover that the eldest, Grace, does not have her asthma medicine, Gerry tries to calm her down by having her focus on him, rather than her fear of suffocating. Look at me. Breathe through your nose. She only halfway follows his direction. I know she's scared, but she just seems generally non-compliant and doesn't communicate her fear or hesitation. Although she seemed perfectly normal eating breakfast in the kitchen, once the zombie attack starts, she's silent in a way that makes me wonder if she doesn't have a cognitive impairment. Gerry stops off at a big box store to find her medicine. The place is being looted and the Lane family joins the melee. <br />
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Karin runs to get food, while Gerry searches for the medication. Near the pharmacy he's almost attacked by a crazed man, but it turns out it was just a scared drug store employee, trying to protect himself from the zombies. He asks Gerry what he needs and hunts down the asthma drugs for him. In fact, all of the humans in this story are helpful(well, except for the government which ultimately sells Gerry's family out). They assist each other and never play survival of the fittest. Although they may seem antagonistic upon approach, once they find that the other person is not a zombie and is not on the offensive, they yield and lend aid and cooperation. On a larger scale, the broad message is "once you understand the other person's motives, you're alike, not enemies." <br />
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Gerry has the medicine for Grace, but hears Connie screaming. Though everyone is yelling, Gerry recognizes his daughter's voice above all others and runs to her. Connie's about 8. She's in the shopping cart. She sees her dad, but doesn't explain to him what the problem is. This is common for all of the female Lanes. They yell "Gerry" or "Daddy! Daddy!" and then say nothing. He has to follow their point of focus with his eyes and figure out what they're trying to show him. In a disaster, this is a waste of precious time. So, Gerry looks around to try to discover what his kid is screaming about and sees his wife being attacked. He wards off the assailants and then they scramble to get the supplies they will need on the run. A police officer comes towards them and they think they might be arrested for looting, but he's actually trying to grab supplies off the shelves himself. The Lanes make their escape.<br />
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When they get to the parking lot, the RV they commandeered has disappeared. They head for an apartment building. They have to bat away zombies every few feet. Gerry canvases his surroundings and sees a whino on the street who is oblivious to the panic around him. For some reasons, the zombies don't attack this dilapidated man, but head after all of the people running away from them. In this chaos, Connie wanders away -- and that's what is so frustrating. It's not like she fell or lost her family. No, she just walks away from them. Yet, the parents don't yell at her. In fact, their main focus throughout everything is to keep their children calm. They feel, "If I behave as if I'm not scared, then my children won't be." But you know what? Sometimes, your children SHOULD be scared. They need to know they can't just walk away on a whim. Tell them they will die horrible deaths if they just keep walking away like that. Let them know, if the zombies don't kill them, you will!<br />
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Anyway, for no particular reason Connie has stopped cold in front of an apartment door. Her family backtracks, to go retrieve her. She says nothing but just stares, then pounds on the door, demanding that the occupants let her in. Why did she choose that one? Who knows. But the door opens. The family inside (a mother, father and son) see the Lanes and pull them all in to safety. They bar the door. The family offers them food and a place to sleep. <br />
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Gerry has called his old United Nations boss who says that they need him. Whole cities have been taken by the zombies and they need to find a way to stop the spread of what is essentially a virus. Gerry's old boss, Thierry, says he will move heaven and earth to come rescue Gerry. They can have a helicopter on the roof of the apartment he is in by morning. Gerry tells the family who is sheltering him that it's better to move. If they stay put, they will be trapped. They are Hispanic and the son, Tomas, translates for his parents. The father doesn't want to run, because he doesn't believe there's any place to run to.<br />
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Gerry falls asleep, but when he awakes, he can't find Grace. Alarmed he searches the apartment and she's sleeping with Tomas in his room. Tomas says that she started crying in the middle of the night and he comforted her. Again, why would she just leave the area where her parents were and go off without waking them, knowing they would be distressed to wake and see her gone??<br />
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The next morning, when Gerry and his family make the perilous journey to the apartment roof, Tomas' father refuses to join them. As soon as the Lanes leave, there is pounding on the apartment door as the zombies come for Tomas' family. Meanwhile, on the stairwell, the zombies are on the Lanes' heels. Gerry hits at one of them and some of the splatter gets in his mouth. When the family reaches the roof, he is ready to jump off the ledge. If he turns into a zombie, he doesn't want to risk harming his family. He counts to 12 and then steps down from the ledge. From what he has seen, it takes 12 seconds to turn from human to zombie, once bitten. He thinks he is safe. Relieved Karin says to him, "you're ok. You're ok." She didn't shriek like a banshee when she thought he was going to jump off the building and neither did his kids, so I'm not sure the daughters ever fully realized what could have happened in that moment.<br />
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As they climb up into the waiting helicopter, Tomas runs towards them. The Lanes shovel him into the vehicle and just as they are about to fly off Tomas' father, now a zombie, tries to stop them. Gerry kills him to free the helicopter. Safe, Karin holds one of their girls while Tomas, an orphan now, buries his head in Gerry's chest.<br />
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They are flown to a UN guarded compound. It's high off the ground and guarded with gunmen on all quarters, so the zombies can't access it. Thierry shows the family to their bunks. Karin laughs that it's not much smaller than the first apartment she and Gerry had. Gerry asks Thierry what's happening. Karin quietly tells them that they should discuss that somewhere else (outside of the children's' earshot). Gerry wordlessly acquiesces. He and Karin are not just married, they're partners, teaming to protect their family physically and emotionally.<br />
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Thierry and Gerry look at the zombie attack like a virus and Gerry thinks to find out how to stop it, they need to find where it started. Find the first person who carried it. There's a young doctor, just 23, who is the best hope of tracing the origin of the disease. They think a military base in South Korea may hold the answer, but it's been largely overrun with zombies, so to get in the doctor will need an escort. Thierry wants Gerry to fly over with him. Gerry refuses to leave his family. Thierry already told him that he didn't rescue Gerry for old time's sake. Gerry was one of the best men he had and he needs his help. The bunks at the compound are limited to essential personnel. If Gerry does not go to South Korea for him, he will have to remove his family from the compound. Gerry has no choice. He tells Karin he has to go and she responds, "Do you remember what that job was like for you? I'm not agreeing for you to go back." Um, this is not exactly a career choice for him. Haven't you noticed that the world is ending, lady? He tells her that they will be thrown out of the compound if he doesn't go and then she concedes. He gives her a one-way cell phone transmitter and says he will call her once a day.<br />
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He hugs Connie. Tells Tomas to take care of the girls while he's gone (sweet, but this movie seems so conscientious about roles that I'm almost surprised that line is in there) and Grace is asleep, naturally, so he doesn't wake her -- which I think is risky, since they may never meet again and maybe she would have liked to say goodbye to her dad. Then, again, knowing her laconic ways, maybe not. He whispers goodbye into her hair as she slumbers, promising to return.<br />
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As they are flying to South Korea, knowing that they are the world's last hope for survival, the doctor thinks that's a good time to try out his metaphors. He says that nature is like any other serial killer, she likes to leave behind clues. The answer often lies in something simple that you overlooked. When they land, they have to fight off zombies, the army officers call them "zekes" to get to the base. In the battle, the doctor freaks, shoots himself and dies almost before they're in. So, any chance that he might lead them to a solution seems to be gone as well. The soldiers mock his ineptitude, but Gerry points out that the guy was just 23 years old and he didn't have to risk his life to come there. He volunteered. Well, maybe Thierry threatened to throw him to the wolves if he didn't help the UN as well, so I don't know how much free will the doctor had, but R.I.P.<br />
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The base was attacked and most of the men there were turned into zekes and killed. You can see their decomposed bodies imprisoned in cells. The army officers chained the ones they captured up. Even though they're mostly ashes, they are still flashes of movement from them. They are truly "undead." The army officer tells Gerry that shooting them in the chest only slows them down, but if you get them in the head, that seems to disable them. They like to burn them, if possible, just to be sure. He also tells Gerry they are attracted to sound, so they try to be very quiet, so as not to make them swarm. Gerry says it seems to take 12 seconds to convert from human to zombie, but the soldiers say they've seen it take up longer, 10 minutes, even longer. I, of course, feel this is a plot point. I think that they will think someone is safe and is not going to turn into a zombie, but it will turn out that they were wrong. This doesn't happen. Maybe they just through that into the script as a red herring. Still, I wonder why Gerry acts like he didn't hear that part. He still goes around thinking that it only takes 12 seconds to convert and he acts on that assumption, to what I feared would be his peril.<br />
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The officers call out their home towns hoping Gerry can tell them if their cities and families are safe in the United States. Gerry has to admit that few places at home are safe.<br />
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Inside a cell, he seems one officer chained up who is not a zombie. The other soldiers think he's crazy, but there seems to be a method to his madness. He was at a place where they managed to keep the zombies at bay. He is actually the first person to use the word 'zombie" when describing the monsters to Gerry. At the UN, Thierry and his people didn't seem to have a name for them. He explains to Gerry that all of them pulled their teeth. If you can't fight, you can't spread the zombie disease. That's why he survived for as long as he did. His mouth, is indeed toothless. But even so his group succumbed to the zombies eventually. One place that is safe is Israel. It's surrounded by walls high enough to keep the zombies out. They can't climb walls. He tells Gerry that it's quite a coincidence that Israel has this defense. Gerry points out that they've been building walls for years. Yes, the man says, but they got them finished just in time for the zombie outbreak. That seems like more than chance.<br />
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Gerry decides to head to Israel to see if they have any answers. He gets a volunteer pilot for the treacherous journey. The problem is not the flight, but getting past the zombies to get to and from the plane. They need some men from the base to help them fuel. A few guys volunteer. One gives Gerry his class ring to take back to his family. He thinks Gerry has a greater chance of returning home than he does. As they head to the plane, heavily armed, they are trying to make as little noise as possible, because noise attracts the zombies. Halfway there, Gerry's phone rings. It's Karin. The zombies hear and start attacking. Gerry just barely makes it onto the plane. One of the officers is bitten. Oh no, he's a zeke he realizes. His men tell him to let him know when he is ready for them to shoot him, before the worst happens. He says, rather matter-of-factly, "I got this one" and he shoots himself. The lack of tears and grief make the moment more poignant. It's reminiscent of MASH when they learned that Henry Blake had been killed and they had to keep on operating.<br />
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In Israel, zombies clamor outside of the wall, but the occupants are safe inside. They are even letting people from neighboring countries in. The leader tells Gerry the more humans he saves, the fewer he will have to fight as zombies. How did they know to build the wall, Gerry asks. He says that they heard a rumor of zombies long ago. And a practical man like him believed it? Well, they didn't believe the holocaust was going to happen in the 1930s. They didn't believe the Arab fights would cause the death and destruction that they did. History showed Israel that skepticism doesn't pay. The leader was one of 10 men on the council. If 9 of them believed something, it was the 10th person's job to take the opposite viewpoint and that's what he did. He started defending Israel as if zombies did exist, although the 9 other council members thought they didn't.<br />
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Meanwhile, feeling warm and cozy inside their wall, the citizens are marching and singing. Thick-headed Gerry doesn't think to tell them what he knows about zombies -- that they love noise. Outside the wall the zombies are building a human (well, inhuman) pyramid, getting higher and higher as they stack up against the wall, climbing on top of each other. Eventually, zombies are able to run and use each other as stairs and began to topple over the wall. Suddenly, all peace evaporates. It happens in an instant. There's a stampede and war breaks out as they fight the zombies. Gerry wanted a plane to leave Israel and continue his search for the first person who became a zombie and the leader didn't want to give it to him, but once he's in the middle of a zombie invasion he quickly changes his mind and gives orders to get Gerry out of there.<br />
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The zombies move jerkily and turn to menace humans in an instant, just like the ones in Michael Jackson's <i>Thriller</i>. Gerry sees a young soldier bitten. He begins the 12 second count and reaches out and hacks off her bitten arm before she converts. She yowls in agony. Thanks a lot, buster. How'd he know cutting off her arm would work, she asks him later. He says he didn't. It was just a good guess, at which point she should have just shot him. Her name is Segen. He asks if it's her first name or last and she refuses to say. "Just Segen." Well, whatever.<br />
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I am sure Segen is going to be one of the people they thought was safe, but who turns into a zombie later, after the 12 second mark has passed. Luckily for Gerry, that didn't happen. They get onto an airplane that was trying to land in Israel, but seeing the raging zombies changes its flight course. Gerry has flashbacks of the herding zombies completely ignoring some people, like the drunken homeless man, a thin boy in the street. I'm not sure, but I think he looks at his own daughter in the supermarket grocery cart, but I don't know how she fits in with the others. He thinks he knows why the zombies didn't attack them. He tells the pilot to take the plane to the World Health Organization (WHO). Suddenly, there's a rumbling and a zombie breaks out of a closet in the plane. Who put him there and wouldn't someone think to mention that he was inside and that, maybe, that door should be guarded. When the stewardess was telling everyone how to use a life vest, she might just want to have pointed out the zombie in the locker. The zombie bites and suddenly everyone else is turning Z.<br />
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Gerry sees no other way out. Segen has a grenade and they throw it. Part of the plane explodes and they crash. He and Segen seem to be the only survivors. What are the odds? Their plane landed only a few miles from the WHO, so they walk there.<br />
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Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Thierry has heard that Gerry's plane crash and he is presumed dead. He doesn't waste any time telling the Lanes they have to leave the compound. It is for essential military personnel only and since Gerry died trying to save the world at Thierry's request, they have to kick his family to the curb pronto. Karin doesn't remonstrate with Thierry. Hopefully, her silence and blank eyes were enough to rain the shame down, but alas it probably wasn't. Guilt is never the punishment it should be. Karin and the kids are packed onto a refugee plane.<br />
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At WHO, Gerry is chained up. He was injured in the plane crash. They removed the metal shard from his stomach and he has been unconscious for three days. He explains who he is. Segen was not unconscious and I don't know why she didn't explain to WHO that Gerry was a good guy, but once he makes a phone call to Theirry they start to trust him. Gerry learns that his family has been sent to Nova Scotia and, somehow, manages not to call Thierry every name in the book. He knows his family is not safe, no matter what they claim.<br />
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The WHO staff has been badly reduced. Many of them are zombies, which the humans have tracked in some of the labs. Gerry tells WHO his theory is that the zombies don't bite sick people. If they sense you are terminally ill, they avoid you. The WHO scientists say there is precedence for this in nature. Predators sometimes don't prey on diseased animals. They somehow know that they might endanger themselves by doing so. So, what if the zombies are the same, how is that an anecdote for the zombie bite. It's not an anecdote Gerry says, but it will be camouflage. If everyone is sick the zombies won't bother attacking them. It won't get rid of the zombies, but it might stop the creation of new ones. Do they have any fatal substances there that Gerry can use to test that theory on the zombies. Yes, they have meningitis, cancer cells, all sorts of fatal stuff, but it's in another building and that building is full of zombies. They will have to go over the skybridge to get there. Segen, Gerry and one of the doctors grab weapons and go and the other doctors seal the skybridge after them. They have to get to one particular vault where all the dangerous cells are kept.<br />
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They end up accidentally making noise, which attracts all the zombies to them. Although, even in the dormant (non-attack) phase zombies are still moving. Don't they knock into things and make a lot of noise themselves? I don't know why they don't run to each other. Humans aren't the only ones who create a clamor. Segen and the doctor run through the skybridge and back to safety. Gerry uses the distraction to get into the vault he needs. But for some insane reason he leaves his weapon outside the vault. He didn't even need to use both hands to get in. He needn't have put down his weapon at all. Yet, that stupid gesture is what the plot needed for a climatic ending. So, unarmed he goes into the vault. There's a lone zombie outside pounding to get in. There's only one way out. He injects himself with an unknown, but lethal injection. I think he could have doused himself in the deadly stuff like cologne. Wouldn't the zombie just have smelled death and sickness on him and steered clear. Why did Gerry actually have to inject it bodily? To heighten the stakes I guess.<br />
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Gerry injects himself, writes a sign for the doctors who can see him on a monitor. It says, "Tell my family I love them." The doctors visibly flinch in premature mourning. Corny yes, but I like it too and I start crying myself. If Gerry's theory is incorrect, he will die either way. If the zombies don't get him, the deadly injection will.<br />
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Gerry opens the door between himself and the zombie and waits. The zombie sniffs him, but doesn't attack. He walks right past him as if he's not there. The doctors watching on the monitor are incredulous. Gerry scoops up a bunch of the deadly bacteria and heads out towards the skybridge where dozens of zombies wait. They let him walk right through. Back with the WHO doctors, Gerry gets an antidote. He is reunited with his family in Nova Scotia, but we're told it's not a happy ending. It's just the beginning. They haven't cured the zombie problem, they've just kept it at bay. People receive shots that trick the zombies into not attacking, but it hasn't gotten rid of all of them. It hasn't helped them find the origin of the disease and kill it at its root. They're only safe <b>for now</b>.<br />
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I hear this movie is quite a departure from the book. Would I have liked the book more or less? I wonder, but not enough to actually pick up the book and find out. The film though was fast paced and mostly satisfying. Dumb moves were made, but not nearly as much as you see in most action movies. The honest reactions, along with Gerry's determined integrity kept the movie grounded, no matter how many mountains of CGI zombies scurried like ants. When the response is genuine, it doesn't matter how unrealistic or undead the threat they pose, the fight is still worth winning. And watching.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-3646087482580876742013-06-24T23:44:00.001-07:002013-07-02T01:18:50.776-07:00Much Ado About Nothing (2012)Joss Whedon places Shakespeare's language in a contemporary Napa-esque setting, cutting some of the dialogue, but changing it very little. Thus, the originality in this version of the play comes from the direction, blocking and line delivery. Unlike Richard III (1995) I wouldn't say that Whedon uses today's world to put a deep twist on old lines (i.e. "My kingdom for a horse") but by switching fashion, locale and sometimes gender (Riki Lindhome plays Conrade who is romantically involved with her co-conspirator) there are enough creative and different elements to make this 400 year old story new.<br />
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Additionally, it's fun to see members of Whedon's repertory theater reunited, not only the big players like Denisof, Fillion and Acker but Tom Lenk too (as Verges, Dogberry's fumbler in crime).<br />
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To begin with, the sexism in<i> Much Ado </i>has always bothered me much more than in <i>Taming of the Shrew</i>. I can never fully get over the outrageous treatment of Hero to find much pleasure in the story's high comedic points. What troubles me most is that the callous conclusion to Hero's betrayal is not just a product of its time (1598). When you contrast Hero with the independent Beatrice, you see that female outspokenness and self-respect was not uncommon. Neither Leonato or Antonio (who is not included as a character in this movie) think Beatrice is a horror. Antonio seems quite pleased with his daughter, whether she marries or not and Leonato is an indulgent uncle, who remarks on her sharp tongue and harsh judgments, but never asks her to change. Of course, he hopes his own daughter, Hero, will comply with her father's will, but even when Beatrice advises her to obey only if it pleases her and to say "father it doth not please me," when she objects, Leonato does not argue. And even after Beatrice admits her feelings for Benedick and promises to change so that he will not fear revealing himself to her, in the end her defiant spirit is not altered and it makes her more lovable to Benedick, not less so. I get the feeling that even if the abuse heaped upon Hero was not exceptional for the day, to some, to those who knew and loved her, it should have been (and remained) unacceptable. <br />
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The friar, Beatrice and Benedick all believe in Hero and think her wrongly accused, no matter what the proof against her. Of course, Benedick was wooing her cousin, so it's impossible to say how that colored his reactions. If he hadn't been trying to please Beatrice would his feelings have been as charitable? I think so. Because that is what makes Beatrice and Benedick the leads, destined for one another, their wit, yes, but their common wisdom as well. Well, they're wise in all things except one another.<br />
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So, I know that Shakespeare could distinguish between good and bad character and that the prejudices of his time did not blind him to misogyny, because Beatrice resists it. That makes the Hero fallout all the more frustrating, because the writer knew the extent to which she was wronged, but glosses over it. That makes the ending of this story feel shameful, rather than happy. Happy would have been if Hero abandoned both Claudio <i>and </i>her father and went to live with her newly-wedded cousin, whose loyalty and love never failed her.<br />
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I suppose there are two ways to cast Claudio and Leonato to make their conduct credible. They can be portrayed as either mercenary or stupid. Whedon goes with stupid -- and also makes Leonato a bit of a drunk, to boot. I'm not sure exactly what <i>Shakespeare</i> intended their character flaws to be, if any. Perhaps, the bard meant to present them as people who "sinn'd I not but in mistaking" (as Claudio says). Other than a grievous mistake they are supposed to be received as reasonable and kind, rather than unforgivable. I can't buy that.<br />
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The movie makes Claudio, Pedro, Leonato, John and the gang more like politicians than princes and lords. I suppose it's easy enough to imagine Claudio Governor of California (sort of like Jerry Brown) rather than Governor of Messina and perhaps Don Pedro and his attaches (like Claudio and Benedick) are federal powermongers, with whom Claudio hopes to curry favor. At any rate, they all show up at a party wearing suits. They are also professionally photographed by those in their entourage, often posing for the photo opp. <br />
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Claudio tells his associates that he wants to marry Hero. As in the original play, I'm not sure why Don Pedro suggests that they have a masquerade party where he pretends to be Claudio and woos Hero himself and then when he has won her over, he will hand her to Claudio. I'm not sure if it's a Cyrano de Bergerac ploy or not. Claudio admits that he is nervous and cannot express himself well, so is Pedro speaking for him, because Claudio is tongue-tied? There's no proof that he's especially shy or stuttering throughout the rest of the play. As far as eloquence goes he and Pedro are pretty equal. So, I don't understand the plot device. It serves to get everyone in disguise, which helps to further the story and, I suppose, it also illuminates something about Claudio. <br />
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Later, when due to the manipulations of Pedro's jealous brother, Don John, he is told that Pedro has tricked him and intends to keep Hero as his own fiancee, Claudio readily believes it (but Benedick does too, so his error doesn't prove that Claudio is stupid). Claudio is petulant, but makes no move to demand justice or to win Hero back. He just sulks. It tells me he's passive, that he's easy prey for Don John's tricks and can be quite readily pitted against those he purportedly loves. I appreciate that foreshadowing, but since Claudio is repeatedly proven to be a useless fop, I wish he was treated like one in the end, rather than rewarded.<br />
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Pedro quickly corrects Claudio's first mistake by handing Hero over and proving that he won her hand in marriage for Claudio, not himself. Everyone rejoices over the coming nuptials. At the gathering, when Beatrice utters the line "we must follow the leaders," she says it as she joins a weaving conga line, giving the conclusion, "if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning," a double meaning.<br />
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Whedon uses the "hey nonny nonny" lyrical passages from the play as the words to background songs during the party scenes, making it fun to ferret out the Stratford underpinnings of this 2012 world. <br />
But doing the reverse is also very entertaining. My favorite move in the film is the backstory given to Benedick and Beatrice. In the play, we know that they have a history, because Beatrice mentions that she lost her heart to Benedick in the past: "he won it of me with false dice." So, she feels used by Benedick, once burned, twice shy. The play never explains what passed between them, but the screenplay opens with Benedick leaving Beatrice's bed. She's still asleep as she dresses. His countenance is tender, not bent on escape. He wants to stop and say something to her, but hesitates. We see that she is only pretending to be asleep. To me, it looked like she wanted him to go and wanted to avoid conversation. I see her as relieved, rather than hurt, when he does. But I guess if she was willing him to leave silently, it was only because she was afraid of what he might say. Rather than declaring his love after a sexual encounter, maybe he would push her away instead. This reminds me of the scene in <i>Gone With the Wind</i> when Scarlet awakes cooing her affection to Rhett, only to revert to hostility when she finds him cold after their (forced) tryst, not loving. Of course, the audience knows that Rhett is only curt with Scarlet because he assumes she will reject him again. If he'd known she wouldn't, everything would have taken a different turn. So it is (and so it eventually does) with Benedick and Beatrice. Benedrick wouldn't have tipped out of Beatrice's room without waking her, if he'd thought he'd been welcomed with an embrace upon doing so.<br />
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I appreciated Whedon giving us this glimpse of their past. Neither is at fault. Fearing they are unrequited they just misunderstood each other. It's in keeping with their exchanges in the play, but also neatly explains why Beatrice thinks Benedick used her (making her feel like a one night stand), but my making him a victim too, not the bad guy that she believes him to be. And Whedon achieves this all in a 2 minute flashback. No words, no exposition needed. Expert.<br />
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Of course, the cool facades Beatrice and Benedick present to the other crumble immediately as soon as their friends plot to unite them by falsely telling each that the other has confessed their love. The fact that they are both ready to love back within seconds of hearing the news proves that they were quite besotted all along. Benedick overhearing what he believes is a secret conversation between Claudio and Pedro provides the most hilarious scene in the film. He is clearly visible to all, but thinks his outrageous acrobatics are concealing him completely. His stunts work so well that when Beatrice uses similar tactics to overhear Hero and Margaret discussing Benedick's love for her in the kitchen, her antics feel lackluster and repetitive by comparison, rather than humorous. I wish that Whedon could have invented a way for Beatrice to conceal her presence that was less derivative of Benedick's.<br />
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Once confident that they will not be spurned, Beatrice and Benedick admit their love in short order. Meanwhile, Don John plans to throw a wrench into the marriage that his half-brother, Pedro, has arranged by telling Claudio that Hero has been unfaithful. He arranges for Claudio and Pedro to see silhouettes on the shade of Hero's bedroom having sex, so that Claudio will believe Hero has been unfaithful and denounce her. The speed with which he believes the worse is as ludicrous here as it is in the play. In the movie, the house is crowded with guests. They are all rooming together, so why would anyone jump to the conclusion that Hero is one of the lovers that is seen only from a distance. She actually shared a room with Beatrice and it is only <i>after</i> Claudio has already denounced Hero at their wedding ceremony that he bothers to verify that it wasn't Beatrice he saw (she says she had slept with Hero for a year, but not been with her that night). Of course, if he had inquired even further than Beatrice, he would have found the woman he saw was Hero's maid, Margaret. But he didn't. He was so quick to castigate Hero and to do it publicly, so as to cause her permanent ruin that no apologies would have undone the damage he caused. Yet, in the end, he makes few apologies at all and still ends up smelling like a rose, from the story's viewpoint. Certainly not mine.<br />
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It's even more maddening to me that Claudio also immediately blames his daughter, all while lamenting that he loved her so much. He couldn't have loved her at all, to turn on her so savagely, so quickly. He wishes her dead and even complains when she arises from a faint, wishing she <i>had</i> died. Whedon tries to mitigate his abuse by having a moaning, delirious Claudio hold Hero, even while he threatens to tear her apart. We're meant to see that he's bark not bite and his angry outburst was just a kneejerk reaction, which did not change his underlying and constant love for the girl. However, a true father's kneejerk reaction would be to attack those who accused his child first and to then verify her innocence later. Claudio sides with those who wrong her at once and never does much to uncover their lies. Instead, she is exonerated by others.<br />
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The friar who was to marry Claudio and Hero smells something fishy and instructs Claudio to pretend that Hero has died of shame, to make Claudio and Pedro deeply regret their calumny. Claudio obeys. Now, if Claudio's grief at Hero's "death" had been expressed, whether or not she died guilty, then I would have suspected he truly loved her underneath all the recriminations. Then, I would know that his harsh words only masked heartache. I think this sorrow from her detractors, even if they'd rightly disparaged her, is what the friar envisioned would occur, when he suggested the death hoax, but Hero's accusers don't seem that sorry to learn she's dead at all. They strug, figuring she deserved it for embarassing them. It's only when those who set her up are apprehended by the local police (Fillion turns in a scene-stealing comic performance as the incompetent, vain -- and portly -- Dogberry) that Hero is cleared. Of course, Dogberry thinks the culprit's greatest felony was in calling <i>him</i> an ass, rather than in debasing the lady.<br />
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Proving his love for Beatrice who is the only one rightly angered by what's been done to Hero and the only one who has attended to the girl's wounded heart, Benedick has reluctantly agreed to a duel with his old friend Claudio. I don't think it's fair of Beatrice to make this demand of Benedict and to withhold her love if he should refuse to die or kill his friend for her cousin. It's a fickle and insensitive move on her part and is asked of him in sincerity, not as part of the ongoing banter between them. So, it troubles me, but as a rule, I think the gals in her family have been more sinned against than sinning, so I'll let it slide.<br />
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Learning that Hero is innocent, Claudio tells Claudio he doesn't want his life. He wants a public apology from him and his promise to marry Leonato's other niece, sight unseen. Claudio agrees. I know that Leonato was pranking Claudio but I actually think that if Hero really <i>had </i>been dead, he would have been appeased if Claudio had committed to marry anyone else from whose nuptials Leonato could likewise profit. He and Claudio seem to have just wanted marriage of their interests for their own networking sake and not for any reasons having to do with Hero. If this is true, there would be nothing unique about their motives. Marriage was largely a property transaction at that time. But moneygrubbers are usually treated as such in Shakespeare. At the very least they are obvious buffoons. Here, Claudio and Leonato are treated as honorable, but deceived men. In the law, there is something known as gross negligence, where no harm was intended, but the perpetrator acted with such reckless disregard of the probability that his irresponsible conduct would<i> cause</i> harm, that he is still criminally liable for the result. Whether he intended it or not. I'd like to impose this sentence on Claudio, Leonato and Pedro. They may not have intended to hurt an innocent, but all a woman has is her honor and they stripped her of that in such an open and degrading way, without making the slightest inquiry into the truth, that they should pay for her pain somehow. They don't.<br />
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Leonato tells Claudio all he has to do is declare Hero's virginity in a public square and then show up the next day to marry his niece and all will be right as rain. Claudio is happy to do it. Of course, like those teeny tiny retractions in the newspaper, Claudio's proclamation of Hero's virtue lasts only 1/10 as long as his humiliating tirades against her did. That's more than good enough for her dear old dad. <br />
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He appears at the wedding the next morn and assures Leonato he will wed anyone Leonato wishes, even "were she an Ethiope." I thought Whedon would remove that line, but instead he has Claudio say it while standing in front of a black wedding guest and it's quite humorous. Being that I saw this movie the same week that Paula Deen's deposition testimony felled her cooking empire, Leonato's unthinking words spoken just inches away from someone who would likely be offended by them, didn't even seem at all unlikely.<br />
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Claudio learns that Hero's's not dead when he whips up her wedding veil with the words, "and when I liv'd, I was your other wife: and when you lov'd, you were my other husband." I wish she would have added that in her heart her other husband is the one who is now dead and she wants nothing to do with the man Claudio has turned out to be, but once again my hopes are disappointment. The story always ends the same way.<br />
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In a contrived turn, Beatrice and Benedick briefly deny their love for each other again, but their friends find the love letters they have both written, establishing the truth and they witness "our own hands against our hearts". They run to the altar eagerly, though both insisting it's only out of pity, because the other loves him/her so desperately that they will surely die if they are not wed.<br />
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They kiss as husband and wife and, as someone once said, all's well that ends well.<br />
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Whedon's non-verbal enhancements to and interpretations of this play were mostly delightful and the performances of Acker, Denisof and Fillion were charming. I just have to keep reminding myself that <i>Much Ado</i> <i>is</i>, after all, a comedy and find a way to tolerate those who destroyed Hero in that vain.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-75978419452860578142013-06-24T22:40:00.000-07:002013-06-24T23:44:17.339-07:00The Woman in Black (2012)As horror movies go, this one wasn't as ridiculous as it could be. It might have been improved if it had gone chiefly for mood, rather than offering a predictable selection of cheap thrills and starts (as when unexpected animals bound onto the screen or mechanical toys come to life in moments of greatest tension). And it might have helped if the heroine -- the woman in black, herself -- had kept her shrouded distance to preserve her mystery, rather than flying into our faces and shrieking as only the most wanton ghosts would. She's most effective as an unclear image in a window, sensed more than seen.<br />
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Daniel Radcliffe drew me to the film and his understated pain and earnestness adds believability, but it also helped that is a period piece, pulling you more fully into a different world and haunted past than a contemporary film could have.<br />
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The movie opens with three little girls at play. They look to be the same age, so I suspected them to be playmates, but I suppose they were sisters. Suddenly, as if possessed, they move to the windows in a trance and all jump to their deaths.<br />
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Radcliffe is Arthur Kipps a London lawyer whose wife died in childbirth four years ago. He sees her everywhere, dreams about her is still steeped in depression and is told by his employer that they can't carry him any longer. They're running a business, not a charity. He has to pull out of his doldrums. A widow in a small town has died and he needs to travel there and competently close her estate or he's out of a job. Arthur reluctantly bids adieu to his small son, promising the boy that they'll be separated for 3 days, but the nanny will bring him to visit that weekend.<br />
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Kipps travels to the town by train and is coldly welcomed by the innkeeper with whom he had a reservation. He's told that there's no room, but the innkeeper's wife takes pity on him and leads him to the attic -- which is the same room from which the three little girls jumped.<br />
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The next day, Kipps finds that the local attorney won't cooperate with him and tries to chase him off. The townspeople avoid him, pull their children into the house as he passes and draw their shades. They tell him to go home, go back to his son. He says that it's because of his son that he must stay. He never thinks to ask why everyone is acting so weird or why it is that the local attorney didn't handle the widow's estate in the first place.<br />
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Only one villager treats him kindly, Mr. Bentley, a wealthy man who owns the town's only car. He says many of the citizens are afraid of his fancy vehicle and he scoffs at their paranoia and suspicions, discounting them as a silly, superstitious bunch.<br />
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Kipps goes to the widow's old house and realizes that it will take awhile to go through her things (although to me, if he can just prove that she owns the deed to her house, he can sell it rather easily without poring through all of her other documents). The widow lived on an isolated piece of land which is miles away from the village and surrounded by marsh.<br />
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Talking to the Bentleys (who have asked him to stay with them) and reading the widow's old letters, Kipps deduces that the widow had doctors declare her sister insane so she could adopt her son and raise him as her own. The widow and her husband were then involved in a carriage accident. They got out, but the boy didn't. He drowned in the marsh and his body was never recovered. The sister, his biological mother, never forgave his adopted mother for what happened. She hung herself in the nursery of the house and has haunted it ever since. I don't understand a few things about this. For instance, there is a picture of the boy with his adopted parents and you can see the figure of the woman in black in a window. This is before she died -- although Kipps also sees the same figure in the window as a ghost. Did the woman in black live in the house with them? Was her presence there known to its residents. Did she stow away there unbeknownst to her family? How'd she get there to hang herself? If she lived there, why was she still writing angry letters to her sister -- which Kipps conveniently finds in his quest to unravel the past. Also, why were her letters stored in the nursery? Did the adopted mother put them there after the boy's death?<br />
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Anyway, the gist of it is, this angry woman in black has been killing all the town's children. She lost her own son (though as vengeful as she seems, I'm surprised she didn't kill him herself to get back at her sister who took him) and is now taking everyone else's child, by possessing them and making them harm themselves.<br />
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Bentley has lost a child some twenty years ago and his wife is still inconsolable. The local lawyer, Hardy, lost a child and now keeps his other daughter locked up in the basement, the only place he thinks she will be safe from harm. Every time that someone sees the woman in black a child dies. Kipps saw her at the widow's mansion and when he got back to town, a local girl swallowed lye and killed herself. He goes back to the mansion and when he returns to town the Hardy's house has caught fire. He runs in to save the girl they kept locked in the basement and she is still alive and unharmed when he gets there. But in a daze, surrounded by flames, she is the one who deliberately drops the lantern which explodes and consumes her in death. Through the fire, Kipps looks up and sees the Woman in Black on the stairs, witnessing it all. Her visible presence is a sign that more death will follow.<br />
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Just then Kipps remembers that his own son is coming to town to spend the weekend with him. I know he's been busy, but it seems to me that this should have occurred to Kipps a couple of days ago, when there was still time to call the visit off. By the time he remembers the boy is coming, it's too late to send a telegram to stop him. So, he tells Bentley they've got to stop the woman in black instead, so she won't kill again. Bentley objects that he doesn't believe in superstition but Kipps cuts him off, "Excuse me, but <i>my</i> son is still alive" and Kipps wants to keep him that way. Yes, it was comforting for Bentley to think his son was safe in heaven and to ignore the talk of a ghost, but how could he ignore proof of all the dead children. Even if there was just a small chance that the superstition was true, Kipps thinks Bentley should have told him about it beforehand.<br />
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It's true, but I accept that Bentley was in denial. What about everyone else. If they believed that their children were in danger because Kipps was stirring up sleeping ghosts at the mansion, why just give him the stinkeye. Why not spell out their fears to him? Maybe he wouldn't have believed them, but it would have been worth a shot, wouldn't it? What they didn't know is that this man was haunted by a ghost himself, his own dead wife. He was vulnerable and wanted to believe in life after death. They could have convinced him to believe in murder after death too, had they only tried.<br />
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Kipps reasons that if he reunites the woman in black with her son, she will go peacefully into eternity and stop killing. So, he gets Bentley to bring his car to the marsh. He ties a rope to the car grill and holding onto it, dives into the muddy marsh looking for the woman in black's lost son. Within a few minutes he finds the wrecked carriage that the kid died in 50 years ago. It wasn't even 5 feet underground. He easily jets in, fetches out the body and is back on the surface in the blink of an eye.<br />
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That body was so easy to find that I'm surprised it didn't float up itself, in the decades since the carriage accident. It's remarkably well deserved, too. Kipps washes off the corpse, lays it on the nursery bed and surrounds it with old birthday cards from the woman in black. She comes, flies around the house creating a clamor and then all is quiet. Kipps assume she is now happy, at peace. He then opens up her grave and buries the child's corpse inside. Mother and son are finally together now. All's well that end's well, he and Bentley think. But the abandoned mansion knows differently as a ghostly echo rambles through it, "Never forget. Never forget."<br />
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They head back to town and arrive at the train station just in time to greet Kipps' son and his nanny. The youth really is adorable and in a believable, non-precocious way. Kipps tells the nanny that there has been a change of plans and they will be going back to London immediately. He bids her purchase the tickets, as he stands on the platform with his boy. Talking to Kipps, he doesn't notice when the boy pulls away from him. The child has seen the woman in black and, in a trance, he walks onto the train tracks, as a locomotive steams towards him. Kipps sees the woman in black across the tracks and is overcome with a pall of fear, realizing his son's life is in jeopardy. He jumps onto the tracks to save the boy. Bentley and the nanny look on in horror. The train passes over the tracks and when it is gone we see Kipps and his son intact, still on the rails. They get up and Kipps calls out for Bentley, but the platform is empty. "Daddy, who is that lady," the little boy asks, pointing into the distance. Kipps looks up. It's not the woman in black. It's a woman in white. "That's your mummy." Kipps' dead wife smiles at them in greeting and the small family walks together, into the light. The chagrined woman in black looks on. She's been thwarted after all, as they find a peace together that she will never know.<br />
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I have to say that this ending was somewhat of a surprise. I knew that the woman in black's vengeance was not done, but I felt that Kipps' widow would fight her and save the Kipps' family. I thought her love for her husband and child would conquer the woman in black's hate and save them from harm. So, the fact that they died did catch me offguard.<br />
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This wasn't a great movie, but due to the authentic detail in costume and sets and Daniel Radcliffe's steadfast performance, I much preferred it over another sequel to <i>The Ring</i> or film of that ilk.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-1511038603525351852013-06-15T10:32:00.002-07:002013-06-15T22:02:38.421-07:00Man of Steel (2013)Preliminarily, my take on Henry Cavill as Superman is ambivalent. He's not awful. His Superman wears a perrenial frown of slight annoyance, as when you spill catsup on your shirt. You aren't happy, but your world's not ending either. The problem is, in many cases, Superman's world <i>is</i> ending. So, when he cocks his head and presses his lips together, disapproving but relatively nonchalant, should we expect more from him <i>or</i> are his understated reactions a sign of confidence that only superior beings possess? Is it bad acting or just Cavill cool? Hard to say.<br />
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I knew this was an origin story, but I didn't realize it would really be a movie long battle between Superman and the people from his own planet, with humans just along for the ride. Interesting take, but as with <i>Iron Man</i> (and his iron buddies), too much super strength weakens the heart of the story. What is most compelling about a hero is his invulnerability <i>compared</i> to mortal fragility. When there is <i>no</i> comparison and he's surrounded by villains who are just as invincible and impenetrable as he is, then where's the awe? You smash someone into a building, the building crumbles but they are unscathed. In order to care, during endless action scenes, I have to feel a sense of risk and wonder and it's just not there.<br />
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The movie begins with Krypton in jeopardy. Kal-El has just been born and his parents are under siege. They sit on a council and General Zod is overthrowing it, for reasons that are unclear. They're explained later in the movie. While I can understand staged denouement and it's fitting that the audience learns some things later on when Kal-El learns them for the first time, I think we need to understand the conflict in the earlier scenes more. Krypton was imploding but (not having read the comic books) I did not know why. I knew that Jor-El and Zod were opponents, but didn't know what their opposing views were and how their battle would change Krypton's doomed fate either way. I think the script could have preserved some suspense concerning Superman's true mission in life, but still revealed more about the competing interests of Jor-El and Zod in the beginning.<br />
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I know I was reading it wrong, since Zod actually seemed to be sweet on a girl of his own, the evil Faora-Ul, but I sensed a vibe between Zod and Lara Lor-Van, Superman's mother. He was trying to stop her from launching valuable material out of Krypton and I was struck by the familiar tone with which he called her name. The movie made clear that Zod and Jor-El had once been friends and Zod actually wanted Jor-El on his side. Zod was evil now, but hadn't always been. Jor-El said he chose to honor the values of the man Zod had been, rather than concede to the monster he'd become. So, it's conceivable that they'd all been pals once. Yet, I sensed a rivalrous mood between Zod and Jor-El that was not present between Zod and Lara. When he tells her to abort the launch, her hand <i>does</i> pause on the clutch. It is purely for dramatic effect or because Zod has gotten to her just a bit?<br />
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Later, Zod kills Jor-El in rage, but does not try to harm Lara, who has been acting in tandem with Jor-El all along, at all. Then too, when Jor-El and Lara needly boast to Zod that they have a son who was conceived and born naturally Lara takes pride in telling Zod, "His name is Ka-El, Son of El." I felt she was taunting him, reminding him that she created a child with El, not Zod. But I guess that was all my imagination and no romantic triangle actually existed between the 3.<br />
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Anyway, it turns out that they'd stop conceiving kids on Krypton. They were all synthetically created in pods, to fulfill specific roles in the society. True intelligent design. Jor-El and Lara had bucked the system. They had helped make the world Krypton had become, but didn't like it. They feared a world where everyone's life was planned from birth to death. Where everyone followed a designated path. They wanted a child of their own, born naturally, who's future was uncharted and limitless. Who was free to become whatever he envisioned. Krypton was environmentally unsound and was dying. They sent out ships with manned outposts to various other planets, looking for a new home, a world that would be compatible with the life they'd built on Krypton. They catapulted their newborn son into that unknown world hoping that if he grew up with the inhabitants there, he could be one with them and evolve into a bridge between those natives and whatever Kryptonite refugees survived Krypton's death. Ka-El would be part of both worlds. That was the plan. Lara was sorry to see her son go, knowing she would not live to witness the man he would become and worried about the reception he would receive on the other planet. Jor-El assures her that the boy will be fine. He will be considered a God. Well, fine, but how does he know this? He is not intentionally sending Superman to Earth, as far as I can tell. How does he know what kind of life forms will inhabit whatever place the boy ends up end?<br />
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Anyway, since Lara and Jor-El kept their son a secret for so long, once they send him off to another planet with such high hopes, I don't know why they then boast about him to Zod. Giving him an excuse to hunt the kid down and kill him. Of course, if Zod didn't have that goal, we'd have no movie, so . . . yak your heads off Lara and Jor-El.<br />
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So, Zod plans to get Ka-El, but first things first. There is a kodex that Jor-El has taken and its imperative that Zod find it. The audience doesn't know what the kodex is initially, but we find out it is the genetic code for all of Krypton. It's what they used to make their synthetic babies. With that gone, Krypton cannot reproduce. They have no future (although couldn't the survivors replicate through sexual intercourse, old school, the way Lara and Jor-El did?). Zod is furious that Jor-El has fired the kodex out of Krypton, but I wonder why the other council members aren't mad too. Don't they care that Jor-El has unilaterally made a decision that will erase all of their futures. From what I can see, Jor-El isn't even their leader. He's just a high-ranking officer. He seems to have had a lot of nerve, but they aren't too fussed about it. They capture Zod and punish him and his crew for their revolt, imprisoning him in a phantom zone that is not part of Krypton. But since they know Krypton is dying, aren't they knowingly sparing Zod's life by sending him to a place that won't go down in flames. Also, why don't any of them try to escape the planet. Lara and Jor-El sent Superman away. Why didn't they all go somewhere? Jor-El (his conscience lives on like a ghost who can interact with the living) later explains that he chose not to go, because he and Lara participated in Krypton's downfall and had to suffer the consequences, but duh. Did all Krypton citizens feel that way? All of them chose to go down with the ship, instead of fleeing to another planet and starting a new and better life, having learned from Krypton's mistakes? It doesn't make sense.<br />
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I don't know if this will come up later in sequels, but I saw someone swim in and steal one of the synthetic baby pods. What did they do with it? Are we going to see some synthetic person from Krypton in one of the future films? Anyway, soon after Zod and his gang are deported to the phantom zone, Krypton goes down in flames and Lara doesn't even bother to take cover. She knows that there is no place to hide, as she is consumed in the apocalyptic fire.<br />
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Back on earth we see a young Superman. He has just saved men on a tanker. He is bearded with curly hair and floating under the boat with his arms splayed out, he is very much like Christ on the crucifix. This parallel, Ka-El sacrificing himself to save a world of people who know not what they do, is a recurring theme in the film and, at one point, Superman enters a church and talks to a priest with a large mural of Jesus as his backdrop. Like Jesus, Superman is not earthly, but the son of a great entity sent for a specific purpose. <br />
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Superman's youth is not followed chronologically, but unfolds in flashbacks. His ship landed in a farmer's back yard in Kansas. Jonathan (or Joseph) and Martha Kent raise the boy as their own and hide his space ship in their barn. When he is about 7, the child is still grappling with the enormity of his powers. He is in class when he suddenly can't control his x-ray vision and sensitivity to sound and touch. He runs out of the room and locks himself in a small janitor's closet. Using his x-ray vision to laser into the doorknob, making it too hot for the teacher to open. She calls his mother, who gently talks him out. "The world is too big," he tells her. Then make it smaller. Imagine yourself elsewhere. You're in the water floating. Swim over to me. The child calms down. Quiets his fears and is able to "swim" over to the door and turn the handle, to let his mother in. He remembers this incident as he lays in the ocean, after rescuing the tanker. It gives him the boost he needs to swim up and away. Having exposed his superhuman strength in order to save lives, he cannot stay. He has to move on, find a new identity and different low-paying job. Blend in, but never fit in.<br />
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This has been a pattern throughout his life. He was always taunted and bullied by the other kids and couldn't retaliate because he'd hurt them or, worse, in his father's eyes, he'd expose himself. Once kids were attacking him on a school bus. The driver loses control and drives it in the water. Superman lifts the bus and dives down deep to save a boy, his chief attacker. Later, the boy is grateful, but his mother demands to know Clark's secret. She wants to exalt him, but Jonathan Kent realizes that not everyone will. Some will want to destroy him for his power, because they're threatened by anything that's different, that they can't understand. He admonishes Clark for raising the school bus. He's warned him against this before. "What was I supposed to do?" The boy wants to know. Should he have just let the other kid die. Maybe, says Jonathan. Clark's true purpose in life may be bigger than that one life is, bigger than the Kents are. He may have to forfeit some to save them all. Now, that's actually scary logic Dad Kent is espousing. There are inherent dangers in the "greater good" approach. He doesn't want the world to find out what Superman is now, because they'd capture him and keep him from going forward to achieve his ultimate purpose. But there's an arrogance in ignoring the urgent, but every day needs of the people around you, because you feel you have a higher purpose. That is just saying the ends justify the means. That's what every madman says, from Hitler to Zod. <br />
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Clark follows his father's instructions reluctantly to the older Kent's end. They are in the car arguing and Clark throws out that "you're not my real dad. You're just some farmer that found me in a barn. I don't have to do what you say," line that all teens use eventually, when a tornado starts (it is Kansas after all). They get out of the car and run to safety in a tunnel, but then they discover they left their dog behind. Superman wants to go back for it, but Jonathan says he'll go. He needs Clark to get his mother in the tunnel. Well, Clark does. What I don't understand is why Clark has to stay there. He and Jonathan realize, I guess, that Martha won't stay put voluntarily. She'll try to run out to Jonathan, but can't Clark ask his neighbors to restrain her while he runs to help Dad and the dog? I mean, even if he didn't possess super strength, even a human boy is stronger and quicker than an old man. Once he got Martha to the tunnel, he still had plenty of time to run back (at a normal human's pace) and help, rather than just standing there idle. But stand there he does. He watches Jonathan getting hit by debris and then a car flies through the air and is about to crush him. Superman is about to race out to get him, but Jonathan puts up a yielding hand, commanding him to stay in the tunnel. Do not expose yourself, he silently orders his son. Superman obeys and watches his father die, when he could have prevented it. He screams. Um, so do I, because <i>I</i> could have saved Jonathan in all the time that passed. You didn't have to be Superman. You just had to be a bit smarter than he and his dad were.<br />
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I hope that little incident, which still haunts him, cured Superman of that whole "save yourself for the greater good" attitude, but I'm not sure. Anyway, one of the most fantastic moments in the movie comes when we see Jonathan Kent's gravestone and it reads 1951-1997? Are you trying to tell me that old man was only 46 years old. I guess raising an omnipotent alien prematurely ages a guy. The real Kevin Costner is actually just 58, but he looked about 10 years older in the movie and, unlike Diane Lane, I don't think his appearance was due to make up. <br />
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Anyway, despite the contrary conclusions I've drawn, the movie would have us think that Clark is quite intelligent. He spent his free time reading Plato as a boy, a stark contrast to the mouthbreathers all around him. We see him working in a bar, when one of the patrons starts harassing a waitress. Even though there are army officers in attendance, they just gawk in interest and don't do anything when the woman is manhandled. Clark (or Joe, as he is calling himself) steps in and tells the guy to knock it off. I'm not sure why the man ever would have resisted, since Joe is taller, younger and bigger than he is. Even without being Superman, you'd think his bulk would be a deterrent against bullies, but it never is. Even as a child, after the townspeople realized he had freaky strength, the local boys still teased and threw things at him, practically inviting him to kill them. In my experience, kids will beat up on those who are weaker, but that's it. If you're more powerful than they are (either physically or just socially), they back down pretty quick. In this movie, they don't. The guy in the bar punches Superman and he is <i>literally</i> a man of steel. His skin is hard and unyielding. Still the guy persists in his attack. Superman is about to hit back, but the waitress says, "It's not worth it, Joe." So, he gets his coat and leaves, goes on to another town and a new identity. When the brute in the bar goes outside, he finds that his truck has been hoisted up into the air and mangled. So, Superman got back at him, but non-violently. That's great, but what about the waitress in the bar? She was still being felt up against her will. Superman didn't need to use <i>all</i> of his strength to avenge her, but couldn't he have roughed up the assailant a bit, just to make sure his unwanted touching didn't escalate into something more in Superman's absence?<br />
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We soon find Superman working at a military compound, tasked with investigating an underwater anomaly. They've found some kind of modern equipment that was encased in ice that is 18,000 years old. They don't know what it is yet. Lois Lane shows up as a reporter. The military didn't want her there, but she went to Court and got an order forcing them to admit her, so she can report on the find. She spies Superman walking alone through her camera zoom and decides to follow him. When Superman crashed to earth as a child, the Kents found a small metal object with him. It was tubular and seemed to be topped with the letter "S." Jonathan Kent took it to be tested at a lab and was told that is comprised of a material that doesn't even show up on the Periodic table. In other words, it's not of this world. Superman is at the base to try to learn more about the mystery of his unearthly origins. I'm surprised he can gain access to the ice ship. You'd think it would be heavily guarded, but he just waltzes on up. He puts his little tubular "S" thing into the "ignition" of the mysterious craft and it opens. Suddenly Jor-El is running around talking to his son. He uploaded his conscience onto the space craft hard drive and can communicate with Ka-El from beyond the grave. I don't really understand how you back up a human mind, but it happened on Doctor Who (with River Song) too and so I guess it's a common sci fi thing. Jor-El shares their history with Ka-El and gives him the motivation needed to protect the people on his adopted planet. He gives him a uniform modeled after his own Krypton garb, complete with a symbol that looks like and "S" on the chest. It stands for "hope." <br />
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Lois Lane is following Superman and the space craft perceives her as an intruder and attacks. Superman finds her when she is bleeding and catherizes her wound with his x-ray vision. Then he disappears. Lois realizes he is an alien and writes a story about him. Her editor rejects it, but she is determined to find Superman and leaks her story on the internet, so she can get leads. Why, I don't know. He saved her life. Why can't she just leave him in peace? Ka-El (dubbed "Superman" by Lois later, when she sees the "S" on his costume) dons the suit his father gave him and learns how to harness his powers. He also cuts his hair and beard. I don't know if that's a fashion tip he got from Jor-El as well, but I think not, since Jor-El was sporting facial hair himself.<br />
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On her part, Lois begins receiving tips about a man with superhuman powers, tracks them down and is led to Clark Kent's home. She finds him at his father's grave. He tells her the story about how his father died and why it is important to keep his powers and origin a secret, because who knows how the world will react if they are exposed? Lois has a change of heart and doesn't want to reveal Superman's identity to the world any longer.<br />
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But then Zod has found the planet (led there when Superman used his key to open the old spaceship, that sent off signals that Zod's ship intercepted) and through tv and cell phones he tells the people of earth that they are not alone. He will kill them all, unless they release Ka-El to him. Based on her story that leaked on the internet, the military detains Lois Lane, hoping she can lead them to Ka-El. She doesn't talk, but Superman shows up voluntarily and surrenders. He even lets them cuff him, if that will make them feel more secure. Again, its reminiscent of Jesus surrendering himself to Pontius Pilate's men. Jesus could have saved himself, but chose not to. <br />
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To keep Zod from destroying everyone, Superman gives himself up. For reasons unknown, Zod says he wants Lois Lane too. I'm still not sure how she furthers Zod's purposes. You might think that Zod can control Superman by threatening her, but he doesn't threaten her and how would Zod know that she and Superman have a bond, already? Whatever. The military was fine with releasing Ka-El to Zod, but not one of their own. It seems like they were prepared to engage in a battle that would find them far outmatched to save her. This impresses me, since the military commanders did not like Lois and seem misogynistic. One might have expected them to let Zod take her to save everyone else, but they don't. It is Lois who voluntarily agrees to go and she and Superman are both on board Zod's ship. Turns out, Zod was released from his prison in the Phantom zone when Krypton was destroyed. Zod went around to all of Krypton's outposts around the universe and although all the Kryptonites were dead, he was able to salvage equipment from the abandoned Krypton ships and he and his crew built up their own powerful devices. They can't reproduce though, because Jor-El has stolen the genetic code, the kodex, and they need to find it if the Krypton race is to survive.<br />
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The Krypton atmosphere on Zod's ship weakens Superman. His body evolved on earth and he is no longer able to adapt to krypton air. Unconscious he hears Zod talking. Zod wants to claim Earth for himself and other Kryptonites, including Ka-El. He doesn't want to hurt him. But what will become of humans, if the Kryptonites take over. Zod doesn't want to share the planet. They will die. Superman can't let that happen. Jor-El meant for Ka-El to be a bridge between mortal and Kryptonite. He thought they could co-exist, but Zod won't let that happen. Krypton had its chance and he is not going to let Zod take over Earth and destroy everyone else's. He regains his strength and escapes from Zod's ship, but Zod just follows him and, such is their strength, that they engage in a fight that kills thousands of human and razes city skyscrapers with each blow they deal to one another.<br />
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Meanwhile, on her side of Zod's spaceship, Lois uses Superman's key to turn on the Jor-El holograph thingy. Jor-El tells her how to defeat Zod and return him to the Phantom zone prison. Lois tells the military that if they crash the space ship that brought Superman to Earth as a baby into Zod's ship, the force will create a black hole and suck Zod back into it. Seems logical, I guess. So, while Zod and Superman go<i> mano a mano</i> down below, the military is trying to crash into Zod's ship, manned by his merciless sidekick Faora. "Death is its own reward," she taunts her victim, but the military is able to turn the tables and throw that line back at her, when they create the black hole and eradicate her. We saw Lois Lane's pals from the Daily Planet about to die. We don't really know about them and don't care. Her boss, Perry White, was trying to rescue Jenny, an employee, stuck under debris and he orders another employee to help him. I'm not sure why White is so hung up on Jenny and when the world is imploding, hierarchy disappears. Just because you're the newspaper boss, doesn't mean you can command someone else to give up their life for your precious Jenny. So, I didn't even care about their fate, but when the Phantom Zone opens up again, they are all saved, nevertheless.<br />
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Since Zod was down on the ground at the time, he doesn't go back into the Phantom Zone with the rest of his crew. He is still on earth, battling Superman in a museum. Now, you'd think that Superman already had enough incentive to kill him given all of the carnage Zod had caused thus far. I mean, what's the alternative. It's not like you can lock Zod up in San Quentin. Zod could knock that entire structure down even if he just tripped into it accidentally. So, of course, I'm waiting for Superman to kill Zod, but Superman still needed a reason. Zod is using his x-ray vision to bore laser heat at a family and is about to incinerate them all. Superman needs to make Zod's eyes stop their murderous tracking and manages that by breaking Zod's neck, killing him. He's wracked with guilt over that. Ugh.<br />
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Superman and Lois kiss. I don't think Cavill and Adam's chemistry is good or bad, either way. Lois is enamored and says that she's heard it all goes down after the first kiss. Superman says something lame like, "that's only true with humans" which is kind of cocky and a compliment to his own kissing prowess rather than to Lois, but ok. They were going for a great punch line there, but Christopher Reeve & Margot Kidder banter it is <i>not</i>!<br />
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Crisis averted, Superman is going on with his life and finds that the military is tracking him. He confronts a commander and says that he knows they want to know where he hangs his cape, but they have to quit following him and using drones for surveillance (given the NSA scandal in the news, this is very realistic conduct on the government's part). The officer tells Superman that he's very powerful and how can they be sure he won't use that strength against them? You know, I get that people are basically awful, but why is it that from Superman's boyhood until now, everyone he tries to help immediately turns on him suspiciously? It happens in most super hero movies and I guess it happens in life as well. But it defies logic. When someone has just been a savior, at least let them do something untrustworthy first, before you immediately become leery. Is it more a product of resentment than mistrust? Are you jealous of what they can do, because you can't do it and want to bring them down to your level by imputing an evil motive where there's no evidence of one? If that's what human nature is, then I'm not sure Superman should have fought so hard to protect it.<br />
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Back at work at the Daily Planet, a new reporter shows up. His name is Clark Kent and Lois Lane looks mighty glad to meet him.<br />
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I didn't think this movie was the masterpiece that some make it out to be. Indeed, I even found more pathos in the last Spiderman film. Still, at a two hour and twenty minute run time, this Superman never left me restless. Perhaps he didn't soar, but he didn't bore.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-3575213472189748242013-06-13T17:35:00.000-07:002013-06-15T14:21:43.365-07:00The Queen (2006)I've just watched this movie for the first time and was to surprised to find it's such a comedy. Well, comiCAL would be more correct. Any movie based on historical events is going to take creative license with the truth, but this movie took so much license as to be libelous. It's perfectly entertaining, but as with Oliver Stone's JFK, I worry about the people who weren't there (or who were there and are just too lazy to remember) will mistakenly take the story depicted here as the true one. Common sense would tell viewers otherwise, because, of course, no one knows what went on inside of the palace but the royals, but once you weave real news footage into imagined moments, the edges blur and some begin to think they're viewing a documentary rather than a drama. Of course, there <i>are </i> docudramas which reenact true events and pride themselves on factual authenticity. This ain't one of them.<br />
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First of all, I don't know why it's called <i>The Queen</i>. As Tony Blair says, in 1997 (when this movie takes place) the Queen had reigned for 2500 weeks. Diana's funeral was just 1 week in 2500 and we hardly scrape its core. For that week, we get no deep insight into Elizabeth. In fact, she's more of a figurehead in this script than she is in the real life UK. A better title would have been <i>Balmoral Blunder</i>.<br />
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While charming royal retellings like <i>The King's Speech </i>or <i>Mrs. Brown </i>may be no more accurate, they are certainly less fancifal than <i>The Queen.</i> This film gives us Elizabeth, Philip, the Queen Mother, Charles and the boys all living in one house, sharing meals, hunting and barbecuing as a family and watching telly together in the evenings, just like the Waltons -- only crowned. It's a depiction as shallow as the public relations scandal at the center of the plot.<br />
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The movie starts with Blair's first visit with Elizabeth II after winning the election. As is befitting the head of the Labour Party, Blair is presented as down-to-earth, displaying no airs. As they are instructed on how to address Her Majesty, Blair's nervous and compliant, while his wife Cherie is derisive. The queen was <i>given</i> the throne as a birthright, but her husband was elected by millions. Her disdain for the monarchy is an early representation of the public's growing resentment towards the Windosors that is at the heart of this story. Only Cherie's immediately tiresome while the rest of the world only becomes so.<br />
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The Queen is painted as canny, both aware of and amused by the effect she has on others and objective. When told by her advisor that Cherie only half-curtsied grudgingly, rather than take affront Elizabeth only notes that she doesn't judge the degree of anyone's bow. She leaves that to her sister. Still, she's conscious of hierarchy and mindful of appearances, gently guiding Blair in proper protocol as he becomes familiar with his new duties.<br />
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While at Balmoral Palace, she is startled out of sleep one night by news of Diana's car accident. Initially, I don't think Queen Liz would be that shocked to be awakened in the middle of the night. This is a woman who calmly chatted up Michael Fagan, a burglar who broke into her royal chambers back in 1982. With her large family and traveling schedule (at the time), I imagine she'd hardly be ruffled by late night phone calls.<br />
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When she's told Diana's had a car accident in Paris, she's more annoyed than distraught. They hadn't even expected Diana to be in Paris, but they know what the Princess is like. Unpredictable, irresponsible. At first, the accident seems like just another unwanted headline. Elizabeth admonishes Charles for wanting to take the royal jet and incur the type of expenditures for which the royals have been chided by the public. It's not until later that they learn Diana's crash is fatal. Charles seems truly griefstricken. Philip less so. He even smiles when he observes that when he told Margaret Rose to return home from her vacation, she remarked that Diana was more trouble dead than she had been alive. Elizabeth's personal feelings about the loss are masked. She voices her concern for William and Harry "the boys" often, but from a distance, never interacting directly with them. She's not cutting to the point of cruelty as Philip and even the Queen mother are, but her placidity is meant to tell its own cold tale. She is more emotional about her tea or famous corgies than about her former daughter-in-law's demise.<br />
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Blair immediately realizes that there will be great public fallout over the tragedy and quickly issues a statement that captures public sentiment, when he calls Diana "the peoples' princess." Charles and Diana having divorced the previous year, Elizabeth does not think this is a matter that should merit her official concern, since Diana is no longer HRH. She is relieved to tell Blair that the Spencers have <i>insisted</i> upon a private funeral for Diana, so it's out of her hands, isn't it? It's rather absurd for him to think that its incumbent upon her to do more.<br />
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Blair, whose staff zealously monitors the unending news reports, knows that he's watching a grave misstep unfold. The public perceived Diana as a victim when she was alive blaming Charles alone for their failed marriage and any suffering Diana expressed, genuine or faked. Compared to Diana's apparent warmth, accessibility and beauty, the royals seemed aloof, outdated and out of touch. Reacting to her death, the world annointed Diana with instant sainthood and her former family could only suffer in comparison. Blair recognized that each day that passed without the royals making a public acknowledgment or appearance they were condemning themselves to mounting calumny and contempt in the eyes of their sovereigns. He navigates a thin line between showing the required deference to the queen while addressing the fact that the unprecedented world attention being given to Diana's death has made its handling a <b>political</b> matter, not just a social one. Commands needed to be given and, in the end, it was the PM's office telling the palace how things would be done, not the other way around.<br />
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The private funeral the Queen requested (on behalf of the Spencers, she <i>said</i>) is a non-starter. There will be a public memorial in Westminister Abbey. World leaders and celebrities alike will attend. In fact, they will use the advance plans they had for the Queen Mother's funeral and, with minor modifications, use it for Diana's instead. The royals are aghast. But it's out of Elizabeth's hands. They've gone over her head and there's nothing she can do but graciously concede on official matters, but surely not the personal ones as well. If not queen of the United Kingdom isn't she still master of her own domain? She refuses Blair's suggestion that they lower the flags on the royal residences (which are supposed to denote whether or not the queen is in residence, not be used as a display of regal mourning), return to Buckingham Palace from Balmoral and issue a public statement. She's got grandsons to attend to and hasn't time to cater to the selfish world's media-frenzied demands, wherein lies my problem: with this movie and with life.<br />
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From what we've seen, Elizabeth is just paying lip service to her family's need to heal privately, to disguise her dispassion. But what if that weren't the case? What if she really <i>was </i>sympathetic to Harry and William's real pain and didn't want to put their sorrow on parade? What if she believed, as Charles Spencer himself said, that public mania contributed to Diana's death and the royals wanted her funeral to be an end to the lurid fascination with the Princess, not a continuation of it? What if she didn't want to reward the paparazzi that chased Diana's car through that Paris tunnel with more pictures, magazine sales and undeserved profits? What if she simply wanted to stop feeding the vultures? What gave the public the right to tell Diana's family they couldn't finally have her to themselves? As important, why do people insist on insincere overtures. What do those satisfy. If they're right and Elizabeth hated Diana, why want her to give a public statement expressing grief she doesn't feel? Just so you can say it's phony? After every scandal, the world inevitably clamors for an apology from the wrongdoer and I always wonder why. What good is a an "I'm sorry," from someone who doesn't mean it? Isn't standing on empty ceremony one of the things that detractors criticize about the monarchy, in general?<br />
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For the sake of argument, lets assume the Queen didn't lie. She said she wanted to eschew an ostentatious funeral out of <i>respect</i> for Diana, not the opposite. She didn't want Britain to make a spectacle of the tragedy. Let's accept her concerns as earnest ones. If Elizabeth's protestations were genuine, then <i>Blair's</i> were wrong. Our society is more voyeuristic today than it was then. We judge dancing, singing, survivor skills, marriage proposals and tragedy. Is the victim crying enough or <i>too</i> much? Reality tv has combined with social media to convince us that if you don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you don't have one. Pics or it didn't happen. We need public validation of everything we think and feel. If that means throwing unwilling gold fish into a bowl so we can stare at them, so be it. This mentality is an undeniable trend, but not an unobjectionable one.<br />
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If Elizabeth and the royals wanted to resist it and maintain their stoicism in the face of devastation as they did earlier in Elizabeth's life, like when Edward VIII abdicated the throne or the British and Germans battled over the White Cliffs of Dover, then they had that right. When the tabloids demanded a performance from them, refusing would have been the harder road, but also the highest. The citizenry can demand to know how many of their taxes dollars are spent on maintaining the monarchy. They can their involvement in government. But what right have they to dictate the royals' interaction with each other? The queen's treatment of Diana is not a matter of public concern. The people could set up their own local memorials and shrines to Diana, without insisting that her ex-family do it for them. It was more important that Diana's funeral fulfill Harry and William's need than those of Diana's fans. If the monarchy resisted an exploitation of the tragedy as a matter of honesty, not hypocrisy, then right was on <i>their</i> side.<br />
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Of course, the movie says it wasn't. The Windsors just plain hated Diana's guts and chose not to observe her death with grand gestures, because they didn't think she deserved them. Although early scenes suggested that Charles was an exception to this rule, the story later reveals that he was only pretending to mourn his ex to gain public sympathy. Diana had foisted blame on him for years and he saw her death as an opportunity for redemption. Playing an Oedipal game of Mutt & Jeff, by having it leak that <i>he</i> sided with Blair, Charles hoped to shift resentment for Diana's mistreatment to his mother and away from himself. Screenwriter Peter Morgan is a Brit and, I suppose, has seen a lot more of Charles than I have, but I don't understand how he could make him such an ingratiating toadie. Charles has displayed many unlikable traits over the years, but I've never perceived him as sniveling. His problem was always that he cared too little for public opinion, when did he ever grovel for it? He's been more conciliatory in the last ten years of his life than he ever was in the first 55. As far as Princes of Wales go, the man in the film more closely resembled Bertie than Charles. This film has him lowering the flag at his residence, as a rebuke of his mother's decision not to lower hers. In truth, the family as a whole probably assumed that a lowered flag at Kensington could represent their collective homage to its departed mistress. One waved at half mast for all of them. I'd view it as a gracious gesture rather than conniving, but it's not my job to ratchet up the drama.<br />
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Westminister Abbey funeral plans in motion, the Queen stays in Balmoral where Philip is trying to keep William and Harry distracted with long walks and hunting. They've heard there's a large stag on the grounds, a 14-pointer the type that hasn't been glimpsed on their land in decades. Having desserted Charles when he begins to lament Diana as a wonderful mother, in silent comparison to his own icy one (none of us can forget the newsreel footage of Elizabeth reuniting with her son -- barely more than a toddler -- after an absence by shaking his hand), Elizabeth is now driving alone when her car breaks down. She calls the groundskeeper and diagnoses the problem. After all, she was a mechanic during the war and she knows her stuff! She waits for a ride with ever practical, calm at first. But soon we see tears drop. Is she crying for herself or Diana or for other things lost, long before? <br />
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Turning, she spots the majestic grand stag in the distance. He freezes in a picturesque moment and she is awestruck. She hears a gun in the distance and shoos him away. She knows that Philip has the boys hunting the stag, but she wants/needs for him not to be caught. He's a relic. Once common, but now so rare. She wants to preserve this magnificent creature and everything he stands for, because it's everything <i>she </i>stands for.<br />
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Back at the palace, Tony Blair telephones and Elizabeth takes the call in the kitchen, after politely asking the staff's permission. Blair tells her that public opinion is against her. 1 in 4 people want to do away with the monarchy. Elizabeth is shaken by this news, but doesn't let Blair know. The tabloids are whipping the public into a hysteria and she won't be swept up into it. Meanwhile, I'm thinking to myself "1 in 4? That means she has a 75% approval rating. What's so bad about that? Obama would kill for those figures. Why so down, Queenie?" Though disheartened, Elizabeth holds her ground, won't lower the flag, won't give a public statement, won't leave Balmoral to go to Buckingham Palace.<br />
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Blair fighting to control his temper, accepts her stubborn stance, but when she hangs up, her advisor picks up the phone. He's been listening all along (is this kosher? I know that both Blair and the royals constantly have people speaking for them, but listening in on their calls without notice as well?). He tells Blair he should be patient with Elizabeth since this is the worst thing she has been through since her uncle abdicated the throne, an act which (legend has it) killed her father prematurely, when he had to take the throne in his brother's place heading right into WWII. The advisor tells Blair that Elizabeth never got over this trauma, which softens Blairs view of her. Well, ok ... but I'm not sure how Elizabeth being mad at Uncle Eddie 60 years earlier is related to her impassive attitude about Di's death in 1997. I mean, did Liz use to be a passionate, playful lass until Wallis Simpson's fatal attraction taught her how to repress her feelings from then on? Did they handle that past scandal in a way that has informed her life ever since? Possibly, but since the similarities aren't obvious, I wish this advisor would have spelled them out more clearly. I mean, he proved himself a buttinski already. He could at least be one with helpful details.<br />
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Elizabeth makes up "Mummy" to see if the Queen Mother thinks she's taking the right path. She does. Cherie's foil, the Queen Mother feels that Blair was <i>merely</i> elected, but the Queen holds her position through a higher power and should not let transient public pressure sway her. She owes it to everyone to maintain tradition, rather than cave in to what's popular. The haughty Philip thinks opposing viewpoints are unworthy of discussion and is upset that his wife's tea has cooled, during all of the annoying Diana talk. He speaks of homosexuals and zulus and is more cartoon than consort.<br />
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Though Philip has no patience for them (leaving the marital bed that they are humorously sharing, when she won't turn off the tv, Elizabeth can't tear herself away from the media reports. The people weeping on the streets tell reporters that the royals misjudged them. They made a terrible mistake. They abused Diana both in life and in death and they have blood on their hands. Elizabeth can take no more and decides that they're going back to Buckingham Palace. Philip is surprised and chagrined, but it will give him a chance to find a new stag for the boys to hunt, since the other 14-pointer was killed. What! When? A hunter on neighboring property shot the stag.<br />
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Telling no one, Elizabeth goes to see the great deer. He's strung up in a slaugther room, hanging from his haunches. His head has been cut off, so that the antlers can be mounted on someone's wall. So noble in life, now an ornament. A trophy. Death the great equalizer, but life levels us too. The deer, meant to be a treat for the princes, was felled by an outsider, a guest on someone else's property took this undeserved prize for his own. It wasn't even a clean shot. The stag was wounded first, before he was killed. Elizabeth hopes he didn't suffer.<br />
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Back in England, Blair was frustrated by the Queen, but now his own staff is more taxing. <i></i> His approval rating is up, but he finds no cause to rejoice. When Cherie wonders what is wrong, he says that he's growing tired of having the royals bullied. With an eyeroll, Cherie comments that he's falling in love with the Queen. Why is it that all the prime ministers do? As his assistant gloats that Blair's office has made all the right moves, while the monarchy continues to falter, Blair finally has had enough. Stamping out of the room, he rails that Elizabeth is being skewered because of the death of a woman who only threw everything the queen had ever done for her back in the queen's face and spent the last years of her life on a 24/7 crusade to ruin the "establishment" that the Queen had spent her whole life building.<br />
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I applaud Blair's outbust as the highlight of the movie, but it seemed to come from nowhere. Other than the queen's advisor reminding him of King Albert's early death, I'm not sure what has happened to turn Blair's allegiance to the queen. Maybe he was never against her, but he hadn't been against Diana either. From whence did his anger towards the deceased suddenly spring? Based on memory, I agree with his assessment of Lady Spencer, but aside from some unsubstantiated complaints about her manipulations from Charles, nothing in the movie has laid the foundation for Blair's words. Diana was a great humanitarian. She was known for great kindness to her schoolchildren, long before she became princess. But the power of celebrity made her petulant and calculating, giving her leverage over her in-laws that their 1500 years of lineage could not match. Of course, she was pushed into the public spotlight so early that she never had the chance or freedom to grow into a healthy, balanced adult. Maybe time would have changed that. That's a story for another movie. This one doesn't explain to us why Tony Blair saw her as he did. If it was an opinion that evolved, it did so offscreen. If it's one that he harbored all along, why didn't they let us know about it earlier, during one of his private exchanges with Cherie? <br />
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We don't see Blair and The Queen together except in the movie's opening and closing scenes. The bond they develop is strong, but distant, based on respect and understanding, rather than intimacy, so the script keeps them apart for symbolic reasons. But if we aren't going to watch that man interact with her, show his royal metamorphosis through other means. Give the guy his own stag!<br />
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Tony's sitting around his office feeling embittered when suddenly he looks up and sees the Queen on tv. She's back at Buckingham Palace, looking at the flowers people have left for Diana. She's had a pile of them brought inside the gates, so she can see them herself. She's even talking to those who have gathered outside. Reading their cards, with Charles, Philip, Harry and William beside her. The flag is being lowered too. She's doing everything that Blair asked.<br />
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But this is not all about appearances. When the Queen actually reads the accusations against her family in some of the sympathy cards left for Diana she is taken aback, but resigned. A little girl has flowers and the queen offers to put them on the pile with the others, but the girl withdraws her hand. The queen is stung, but not surprised. Not anymore. This is what she has come to expect from her subjects over the last harrowing days. But then the girl explains, these flowers are for the Queen, not for Diana. Elizabeth takes them with a rush of graditude. And more.<br />
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There was one poignant moment in real life that is not captured on film, when Diana's casket passed the palace. Would they or wouldn't they? The world waited with bated breath and, yes, the Queen, her mother, sister and daughter bowed their heads in respect. That was the subject of much comment at the time, but not included here.<br />
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As she prepares a public speech about Diana, she sends a draft over to Blair's office. They mock it's removed tone. When Blair calls to offer revisions which will make the Queen's message warmer, Elizabeth writes them in without hesitation. Where once she resisted and resented his suggestions, now she follows them without pause. But is it a sign of trust or defeat?<br />
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At the funeral, Charles Spencer gives an arrogant eulogy that I despised then as I do now. I would think that his sister's funeral would not be the place to air such hostilities, but his vindictiveness is cheered by many and would probably have been sanctioned by Diana. He says that it was a blessing that his sister was taken while she was still beautiful and radiant. I suppose if she'd lived a long life and gained wisdom, along with wrinkles that would have been the <i>real</i> tragedy. Better dead than ugly. Maybe that's the motto Frances Shand Kydd handed down to her brood.<br />
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The funeral ends, the summer commences and as fall comes, Blair arrives at Buckingham Palace to visit the queen once more. At first they speak of her recent travels, the admiration she's won for her diplomacy overseas. But then small talk can no longer cover the elephant in the room. He praises her handling of the funeral and says he was impressed by her humility. Oh no, he is confusing humility with <b>humiliation</b>, she counters. He denies it. Did 1 in 4 people really want her gone she asks with quiet wonder. For that week he says. That was one week and she's reigned for 2500. Those few days won't be remembered when her legacy as a whole is considered. And, of course, he's right.<br />
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The awkward moment passes as she invites him for a walk on the grounds. They put Diana behind them and discuss matters of state. She's the one who's supposed to be advising him, not the other way around, the Queen teases.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8329796027991663524.post-25320678293674743912013-05-27T20:05:00.000-07:002013-05-28T01:20:07.682-07:00Star Trek Into DarknessBefore seeing this movie, I read a tweet hoping that younger viewers would see 1982's Wrath of Khan before watching the latest prequel in the Star Trek series. Well, since, chronologically, that movie happens later in the lives of the Enterprise crew, I don't think that's necessary. Maybe fans should watch it <i>after</i> Into Darkness instead. However, I could have used stood to see 2009's <i>Star Trek </i>as a refresher course myself. I have almost no memory of J.J. Abrams first Trek venture or the relationships he created there.<br />
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While I was never a focused Trek fan, after decades of tv reruns syndicated all over, I am well grounded in the core series' relationships between Spock, McCoy and Kirk and can even appreciate variations on the original bonds (i.e. Spock and Uhura's romance), but I'd already forgotten about Kirk's dad and his mentor Pike. So, there was angst there that I couldn't fully appreciate.<br />
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The movie starts with the Enterprise on a observatory mission to a primitive civilization. They're supposed to look at how the natives live, not interfere, not allow allow themselves to be seen. They soon learn that a volcano is about to erupt which will destroy all life on the planet. With Kirk already on the ground, it's up to Spock to disable the volcano. A nervous Uhura helps him dress for the journey and kisses his helmet goodbye. <br />
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He enters its fiery mouth to do so and soon learns that in order to save the people, he'll have to sacrifice his own life. He's willing to do that. When Kirk discovers that Spock is willing to incinerate himself to stop the deadly volcano, he commands him to return to the ship. Spock refuses and limits communication with them, ready to face his death alone, to Uhura's hurt and chagrin. Kirk races to find a way to save Spock's life, though the Vulcan himself seems disinterested in that cause and cautions Kirk that he should not break the rules to rescue a friend. They should be more interested in the good of the many. Frustrated, Kirk asks his crew what Spock would do if their positions were reversed. "He'd let you die," is the answer. Kirk acknowledges the truth in this, but nevertheless raises his spaceship where it has been hidden on the bottom of the ocean floor to get Spock back safely and exposes the Enterprise to the natives (who are awestruck and immediately begin painting likenesses of the alien aircraft), forever changing the course of their development -- as they had just barely discovered fire and ruining the purpose of the mission.<br />
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Narrowly escaping that close call, back at home Kirk has been called in to see Pike and thinks that he's about to get a promotion. He finds, instead, that Spock has advised their supervisors of their crew's rule violations, unbeknownst to Kirk. Kirk reminds Spock that he risked everything to save Spock's life and he expected him to keep quiet about it. Spock reminds him that Vulcans cannot lie. Kirk counters that he's only 50% Vulcan and Kirk is trying to appeal to Spock's <b>human</b> side for a change. He wants him to act like a friend, not just an officer.<br />
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Pike demotes Kirk for taking unnecessary risks. Yes, Kirk is good, but that has only made him arrogant. He thinks he's invincible and is too reckless to remain a captain. They're taking the Enterprise away from him and returning it to Pike. Spock is being assigned to another ship. Kirk is despondent. Despite the fact that he's infuriated with Spock, he bids him a fond adieu and says that he will miss him. Spock is non-responsive, further maddening Kirk.<br />
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He heads out to get drunk. Pike finds him and tells him that he has selected Kirk to be his second-in-command, a show of faith that means more to Kirk on a personal level than his demotion does on a professional one.<br />
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Meanwhile, a couple keeps vigil over their dying daughter. A mysterious officer, John Harrison, offers the father a cure, giving the man a vial of blood with which to inject the girl, but it comes with a price. The father fills the girls IV with the vial's contents and watches her heartrate rise immediately. If I were him, I'd at least wait until she regained consciousness, before keeping my end of the deal, but this dad races off to do his evil benefactor's bidding immediately. He blows up one of the government's archive compounds. Hearing of the news at the bar, Pike and Kirk rush off to a special emergency meeting of commanders and first officers.<br />
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At the meeting, although he's no longer a captain, Kirk still thinks like one. There was nothing important in that archive. Why destroy it, unless the true purpose was to cause a gathering of all the military leaders, just like the one they're having, now --- just as Kirk is hesitantly putting this thought together they are fired upon by Harrison who, hovers outside in a helicopter, heavily armed. He levels a rainstorm of havoc on them, before escaping.<br />
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As they scramble around in the debris, Spock comes upon the wounded Pike. He mind melds with him, as Pike dies. Coming upon them, Kirk is devastated.<br />
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They learn that Harrison has fled to Klingon territory, where he presumably thinks he cannot be followed, since it would lead to World War if the U.S. invades Klingon land. Kirk wants to go after Harrison and begs for permission to do so. Commander Wallace says that there cannot be any more casualties, because (1) Kirk has caused enough damage and, (2) just as Pike brought Kirk into service, Wallace is the one who enlisted and mentored Pike. Wallace owes it to Pike to keep Kirk safe. So, he'll only let Kirk go after Harrison, one of their own rogue officers, if Kirk locates then torpedoes and kills him immediately, without the Klingons ever knowing he was there. That's the only way to avoid war. Kirk readily agrees. He asks to be returned to command of the Enterprise and to have Spock reinstated as his first officer. Wallace agrees.<br />
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When Spock hears the news, rather than rejoicing that he and Kirk have been reunited, he warns Kirk that it's against martial law for them to kill come upon Harrison and kill him without warning, without giving him a fair trial. Kirk says it's their orders. Spock insists that it's morally wrong. Impatiently, Kirk says that the last time Kirk did what was morally right, saving Spock's life, after Spock saved a primitive planet, Spock ratted him out and opted to follow the rules, instead. So, Spock is not in a position to tell Kirk when to defy orders, when he's such a stickler for them himself.<br />
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As they prepare to return to the Enterprise, Carol, a science officer tells Kirk she's also been assigned to the ship. Kirk didn't order a new science officer and Spock feels it would hardly have been necessary for him to do so, since Spock is there himself. However, since Carol is attractive, Kirk is not in the mood to question why she is there. This attitude seems especially foolhardy since they've all just been attacked from within. If Harrison turned on his own government, who's to say this mysterious science officer can be trusted? She simply tells Kirk that she was assigned to him by Wallace (which turns out not to have been true) and he doesn't even ask to see the paperwork, much less perform a background check.<br />
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Back at the ship, Scotty refuses to let them load the torpedoes. He reminds Kirk that it's their job to seek out new lives, not to take them. The Enterprise is not supposed to be a warship. Kirk insists that Scotty just sign off on the torpedoes. Scotty resigns, rather than do so and, to his surprise, Kirk accepts the resignation. Oh, I've felt the shock displayed on Scotty's countenance myself, when you think the boss can't bear to lose you and, with kneejerk speed, will promise anything necessary to keep you from quitting. Then, he doesn't. Abashed and stunned, Scotty leaves his beloved aircraft, Kirk and an overwhelmed and unprepared Checkov behind.<br />
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Reeling himself, Kirk feels besieged from all sides and feels the guilt he's been trying to deny. When he runs into Uhura on the elevator, he complains that her "boyfriend" is impossible. He quickly apologizes for this lack of professionalism, but once she regains her composures she tells Kirk it's not just him. What? Are she and Kirk having trouble? Kirk's curiousity is almost gleeful. Uhura says she prefers not to talk about it, as the elevator doors open and a bemused Spock stand before them. "Ears burning?" Kirk taunts him.<br />
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Once they get to Harrison's hide out, Kirk's conscience has won out. He's not going to sneak up and kill Harrison, no matter what he's done. He's going to take him back to the U.S. to stand trial. He announces his presence and gives Harrison a chance to surrender or else they will come in and get him. By following protocol, rather than following Wallace's sneak attack orders, the crew has put their lives in danger. They are far outnumbered by Klingons. Maybe he can just talk to them and tell them they are not interested in starting a war. They just want to capture a runaway American who is hiding in Klingon territory, using U.S. enemies as a shield. Kirk needs to explain this to them and asks how Uruha's Klingon is. Rusty but good she says. If the three of them go down to confront the Klingons, will she and Spock have any trouble working together? Not at all Uruha says. "Unclear," is Spock's more realistic answer, as he catches the frosty vibes Uruha is emanating.<br />
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Once the three are enroute, Uruha explodes at Spock. He wants to talk about it at another time and she says there is never a good time for him. He never wants to communicate. And it's not just her perception. Kirk is mad at him too. Kirk first says that he doesn't want to be pulled into their personal quarrel, but then rethinks and admits that yes,<i> he's </i>mad at Spock too.<br />
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Uruha is angry that Spock was so willing to give up his life in that volcano, to die without a thought to the people who love him that were left behind, because he just doesn't care. Spock says that when he mind-melded with the dying Pike, he felt his sense of loneliness and loss. He felt that way too, only tenfold, when his planet died and all his fellow Vulcans were killed. He never wants to feel such pain again. So, when Uhura concludes that he doesn't care, she's got it wrong. Just the opposite is true. He cares too much and has chosen not to give into that feeling, because of the anguish it may lead to. This touches her, but I don't know why.<br />
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Whether he's inherently apathetic or just <i>wills</i> himself to be so, isn't it the same difference? Doesn't that mean that he'll endanger hmself next time, just as he did in the volcano? Won't he always put logic ahead of love? It doesn't matter <i>why</i> he does it, it still leaves her (and their future together) out in the cold. Actually, it <i>does</i> matter why he does it. He has made a <i>decision</i> not to succumb to emotion which is actually a more determined form of rejection than if he simply disregarded her feelings unthinkingly. So, I fail to see what she's so doggone happy about.<br />
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They almost crash going in to Klingon territory. Since their plan to kill or capture Harrison without the Klingons even knowing they're there failed, it looks like their presence may be considered a threat, leading to World War. The Enterprise will be the first casualty. Uhura asks to go down alone, to use diplomacy to explain why they are there in their own language. Kirk allows this.<br />
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She tells the Klingons they're just there to get one of their own, not to fight. They are hostile. Kirk wants to go down after Uhura, but Spock thinks that he'll just anger both the enemy and Uhura, by interfering now. So, he respects her need to act, even if it costs her life, like he wanted her to do when he went into the volcano. And she did. Although apprehensive, she didn't try to hold him back. She wanted him to return when she realized it was a fatal mission or at least wanted him to acknowledge her with a goodbye, but she didn't try to stop him from doing his job, no matter what the personal cost . . . Now, she was ready to do the same.<br />
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The Klingons turn on her and Kirk and Spock bolt forward. Three of them against an army. Suddenly Harrison appears and singlehandedly destroys most of the Klingons. He then surrenders himself to Kirk, who pounds him furiously, avenging Pike's death. Spock doesn't stop Kirk, doesn't remind him about the "rules". Harrison doesn't fight back. He simply absorbs Kirk's blows. Finally, Uruha yells at Kirk to stop. They take Harrison aboard the Enterprise as a prisoner of war.<br />
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Kirk wonders why Harrison surrendered. The way he defeated a swarm of Klingons proved that the Enterprise crew was no threat to him. Why did he let himself be captured? Kirk talks to Harrison who tells him that his real name is Khan. He asks how many torpedoes Kirk has on board. 72 Spock answers. Khan says that they didn't just load them onto the Enterprise to use against Harrison. Those torpedoes have always been there. They were the Enterprise's true mission.<br />
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I'm a big BBC <i>Sherlock</i> fan. Actually, I'm obsessed with Steven Moffat, from <i>Coupling</i> to <i>Doctor Who</i>, but there's no doubt that Benedict Cumberbatch (and Freeman) make Sherlock extraordinary. I enjoy the pale, androgynous Holmes character so much, revel in his soft curls and nerdy, cerebral aspect, that I was put off by all the clamor regarding Cumberbatch's sex appeal in this film. Don't Montalban this man up, I thought. I didn't like the idea of his basic appeal, his ability to penetrate from within, being obscured by cosmetic glamour. What I've learned since is that, while you can't judge a book by its cover, a good cover never hurt a book!<br />
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Like milk, a contemporary hair cut does a body good. Curls shorn, Cumberbatch's strong facial features now stand out and he appears to have bulked up for the role. Khan is carved. His stronger physical frame is matched with a deeper, baritone vocal that not only adds menace to Khan's threats, but tinges his softer moments with a rich, if deceptive, sincerity. While Sherlock is light and swift, Khan is fast, sharp and crushing. The two characters are like comparing the power of wind against that of rock. Glory in the diversity, just makes the actor more impressive. Each word he utters is considered, polished then served to maximum effect, bringing gravitas to each scene he graces. He easily steals the show, while Khan wins Kirk's trust.<br />
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Having raised Kirk's suspicions about the torpedoes, Kirk decides to open one. That's when Spock informs him that Carol is actually Commander Wallace's daughter and a weapons expert. He checked her out, since Kirk never thought to do so. He didn't reveal this information, since it didn't seem relevant. Until now.<br />
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Unmasked Carol says she worked by her father's side, but there was always one department that he kept secret from her. When she learned about the torpedoes on the Enterprise, she stowed aboard to find out what Wallace was concealing. She uses her weapons expertise to help McCoy open a torpedo and they find a body inside. It's a living organism, but has been frozen cryogenically for hundreds of years.<br />
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Kirk confronts Khan with the news. Khan says that each torpedo contains a body. They are the last people remaining from his planet. They were his crew, his family and he would do anything to save them. Wallace unthawed Khan because his people were known for their savage war skills. Wallace wanted Khan to teach U.S. troops those skills so that Wallace could then wage war on the Klingons and overpower them, with ancient techniques. Wallace held the lives of Khan's frozen crew hostage in those torpedoes which, when fired, would kill those encapsulized within. If Kirk had actually killed Khan with those torpedoes, he would have killed Khan and all that remained of his planet. Khan was prepared to do anything to save them, just as Kirk would do for his own crew. That is why Khan attacked the military officers, because Wallace was attacking <i>his</i> people.<br />
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Khan also gives Kirk coordinates to investigate, which Kirk passes on to Scotty. Still sulking over his forced resignation, Scotty nevertheless, leads a drunken bender and heads off to help Kirk by locating the coordinates' location.<br />
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As Wallace's plot is unraveling, the Enterprise finds that it is in the cross hairs of an unmarked government ship, headed by Wallace. He demands that Kirk hand over Khan. Kirk refuses and says he will follow due process and take Khan back to earth to await trial. Wallace says that he will just destroy the entire Enterprise then, Khan and everyone else. Carol then reveals herself and says he'll have to choose whether or not to kill his own daughter. "Actually, Carol, I don't." He just beams her aboard his own ship and then attacks the Enterprise whose engine is weakened. The defensive shield won't last much longer.<br />
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The coordinates Khan gave Kirk lead to the bow of Wallace's aircraft. Scotty sneaks aboard and is ordered to open the door so that Kirk and Khan can enter as well. Escaping a close call, they finally get in, but once aboard Khan shows his true colors, kills Wallace and turns on Kirk. Kirk escapes back to the Enterprise with Scotty and Carol.<br />
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Spock, through time travel communication (which was explained in the last movie, but I've forgotten how or why it was accomplished) contacts his future self (Leonard Nimoy) who, perfunctorily expresses a reluctance to change destiny by influencing past events, then instantly divulges the best way to defeat Khan, offscreen. We learn that the plan is to make Khan think they have fired the 72 torpedoed and killed Khan's crew, though they really haven't. I really don't understand this strategy. Wouldn't it be better to use the 72 as bargaining chips? Perhaps, they thought if the Khan crew died, he would no longer be after the Enterprise, but knowing his lust for revenge, that hardly seems probable. Griefstricken, he's more desperate to kill all of them than ever.<br />
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But if the Enterprise gave up its bargaining power, Khan did as well. Why didn't he keep pretending to be on Kirk's side long enough to ensure the safety of his people. Unarm Wallace. Play nice and get back on the Enterprise where his comrades are, <i>then</i> take over the ship. Don't attack Kirk while he's still got control of everything you hold dear in the world.<br />
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Oh well. The Enterprise is disabled and can't withstand the continued attack from Khan, who has control of Wallace's ship, much longer. There's a reactor that Kirk can try to restart, but only if he exposes himself to deadly radiation in order to do so. He doesn't hesitate to go in and, literally, kick the reactor back in place, which works like a charm, but seems like a rather primeval repair job if you ask me. It's like calling <i>The IT Crowd</i> for technical support and having them ask, "did you kick it?" first.<br />
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The Enterprise is up and running again, but a radioactive Kirk is dying. He's behind a glass partition which can't be raised until the decontamination process is completed or else the entire ship will be infected. Scotty calls Spock to come down. Why not call McCoy, since he's a doctor?<br />
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Spock arrives and melts at the sight of his dying friend. Kirk is afraid. He wonders how Spock does it? How does he cut his feelings off and will himself not to care. Spock says that he doesn't. He can't. Right now all he feels is hurt. Kirk presses a wavering hand up to the glass his fingers spread and, on the other side, Spock places his own against it, two fingers on each side, in his familiar Vulcan vee. Just as I am thinking that he should spread his fingers to show his human side, Kirk separates his four fingers into 2 and 2, mimicking Spock's Vulcan greeting. It is the film's most moving moment. Hand to hand, with his friend, Kirk dies. Spock emits a vengeful scream "Kha-a-a-a-a-n," to match the one Kirk cried out for Spock in the 1982 movie.<br />
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Meanwhile, Khan has returned to earth to wreak havoc. Spock is prepared to go down to battle him. He turns to Uruha first and she commands him to go get Khan. Spock flees. I wish this scene had just been 5 second longer. Spock certainly had Uhura's approval, but I wanted to know if he was asking for her <i>permission</i>? Their exchange didn't last long enough for me to see a question in his eyes. Was he allowing himself to fully realize the love between them and saying that he would not leave, if she wanted him to stay? Was he putting their relationship above his thirst for justice, for once? I'll never know. I suppose it's enough that he pushed aside the rules and let his anger over Kirk's death propel him after Khan, rather than dispassionately wondering what military protocol demanded.<br />
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Sad to think that as the time frame in these movies meets the one in the tv series, Spock and Uruha will break up and become nothing more than the colleagues they portrayed in the tv show. That will be a sad parting.<br />
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For now, a younger Spock is off fighting Khan to the death, when McCoy discovers (via tribble testing) that Khan's blood can revive the dead. Therefore, it's imperative that Spock not kill Khan. They need to alert him. Uhura has herself beamed down, which is silly. As a language officer it made sense for her to engage the Klingons, because she is the only one who could have communicated with them. But Spock is in a death match with Khan, why not send a fighter down to him, someone with trained brawn, rather than his linguist girlfriend?<br />
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Besides, they have 72 frozen bodies on the Enterprise. Why not just heat one of them up and extract the blood needed to revive Kirk that way? Khan is not the only source of this magic claret.<br />
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They don't know this. They spare Khan's life, take his blood and resuscitate Kirk. <br />
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Khan is repodded. The lid to the cryogenic capsule closes down over him and he lives, well hibernates, to fight another day.<br />
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Kirk is rewarded with continued command of the Enterprise and, back in the captain's chair, they embark on a "five year mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no <b>one</b> has gone before." It is fitting that the word "man" that was used in the original series has now been placed with the word "one."<br />
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Where should they go, Kirk asks Spock. Why their destination should be left to Kirk's good judgment, the logical (?) Spock replies.<br />
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We have such a history with these characters, having long known and loved them as well as they do each other, that the pleasure a mere look or one-liner between them gives is all that is needed for this movie franchise to live long and prosper.<br />
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Michele Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00950776553988255908noreply@blogger.com0