As Wes Anderson's take on a coming of age movie, Moonrise seems more heartwarming than his other entries, but not in a mushy way. In an awkward, whimsical, misfit way that is impossibly real, in the end, despite the wackiness that defines it. Chock full of stars, a collection of caricatures combine to create something that feels human.
The movie centers around Suzy and Sam, 12 year old loners who are defined as "troubled," but are in no way odder or more disengaged than the adults around them. Sam is one of the boys at a scout camp run with a strange balance of discipline and carelessness by Scout Master Ward (Ed Norton). When he runs away from the camp, Ward learns that Sam is an orphan whose foster parents calmly wipe their hands of him upon hearing the news of his escape.
We learn that Sam has been in contact with Suzy for the last year. She is one of Walt and Laura Bishop's four children. The eldest and only daughter. The Bishops are a charming and dysfunctional bunch, none of whom talk to each other. Walt and Laura, both attorneys, refer to each other as "Counselor" and discuss their cases from their twin beds at night, in lieu of pillow talk. The young Bishop lads spend their time listening to classical music, while Suzy reads fantasy books and watches the world through binoculars, because they make objects seem close -- even when they aren't far away -- it gives her a sense of having a secret power. Walt drinks and Laura only seems to talk to her family when barking orders through a bull horn. Like the binoculars, Laura uses the bull horn to talk to people who are close to her as well. Maybe its her secret power.
From camp, Sam sends letters to Suzy planning a run away adventure, set to last 10 days. They meet at the appointed time and set off on foot with camping gear, books, a record player (stolen from Suzy's brother) and Suzy's kitten. Once united, they bond with childish intellectualism. They are a serious, practical, and dispassionate duo, but ardent in their quiet dedication and understanding. Though chided for her temper at school, when together neither Sam or Suzy indulge in melodrama, but the unconditional nature of their loyalty, bespeaks the kind of feeling that should be at the foundation for all romances. That's what makes you root for them and evokes compassionate reactions to even things that are silly: like the beatle earrings Sam makes for Suzy, which he then inserts by piercing her lobes with fish hooks or the way he warns her that he might wet the bed at night. He hates to bring it up, but he wanted to tell her beforehand, lest she becomes offended. "Of course, I wouldn't be offended," she says with quick supportiveness that even people who don't wet the bed can only hope to receive from their partner.
Unaware that his foster family has already cast him off, Sam tells Suzy he has hopes for his life with them. He thinks they are building something that isn't what she has with her parents and brothers, but might be very fulfilling nonetheless. The grass is always greener on the other side and Suzy reveals her quixotic fantasies of orphan life. She says she wishes she did not have parents, like him. He answers, "I love you, but you don't know what you're talking about." She responds, "I love you too."
Of course, nothing good can last forever. The camp notices that Sam is missing first. Ward organizes a search party with his troops, but they lack enthusiasm because Sam was the least liked among the boys. No one seems to know why this is. He was an orphan. That seemed reason enough to dislike him originally. Then, once some decided they hated him, others just thought they'd follow suit, as a matter course. More justification than that is seldom necessary. And so, Sam was neatly ostracized by his peers, by his foster parents, by the world. Finding him was more an assignment than an urgency for the scout troop and Scout Master Ward. They only hoped he'd turn up before they had to miss the Hullabaloo that evening.
Ward calls the police and the Captain Sharp(Bruce Willis) begins to canvass the area to look for Sam, stopping at the Bishop house. Outside of her husband's presence, Laura catches up to Sharp, we don't hear their conversation, but she shares his cigarette and holds his hand a little too long, before they part. Later that night when she bull horns Suzy to come to dinner, she finally discovers that her daughter is missing along with Sam. Before she and Walt can call the police, they open the door and find Captain Sharp already parked outside of their house. Walt is more surprised to see Sharp there than Laura is, which is all the reveal that their affair will get.
Sharp, Ward and the Scouts and the Bishop family all head off to find the wayward runaways.
After a rather violent escape from the scouts who find them (Suzy stabs one of them in the back with scissors when he grabs her) Suzy and Sam flee and find an island. It's identified on the map only as a marker point. They agree to name it something else, as soon as they think of something fitting. They cook fish, swim in their underwear, dance and solemnly kiss. Sam has to spit because he had sand in his mouth. She thinks she feels his penis and it seems hard. She assures him that she likes that, then permits Sam to touch her chest and informs him that she believes her breasts will grow eventually. They fall asleep in their tent together, embracing chastely. They awake to the sound of a helicopter and people swarming. Sam zips open the tent to see everyone approaching, the Bishops and their 3 boys, Ward, Captain Sharp. He realizes there is no escape. He zips the tent flap back up and he and Suzy huddle together in their underwear, awaiting the inevitable. Walt snatches the tent, their only cover, up and away. Laura grabs Suzy and drags her away. Captain Sharp takes Sam away.
The Bishops tell Suzy she will never see Sam again. As Laura bathes a sullen Suzy, the girl reveals that she knows what Laura does with the "sad, dumb" policeman. Laura objects that Captain Sharp is not dumb. But he is sad. The movie shows us that they all are: Sharp, Ward, Walt, Laura, in each other, Sam and Suzy have found what has eluded all the adults around them: an answer to loneliness.
Laura tells Sharp that she'll have to stop seeing him. At least for awhile. That evening she tells Walt she's sorry. He wonders what transgression she is apologizing for and she says whichever ones still hurt. He sees that his pain is mostly self-inflicted and she has nothing to be sorry for.
Sharp calls Child Welfare to tell them that Sam has been found. Tilda Swinton is Social Services, literally. She identifies that job as her first and last name. She mechanically tells Sharp that the boy is her responsibility now. She will take him, examine him. See if he needs electric shock therapy (!) and then place him in Juvenile Refuge, because given his history, it would be useless to try to place him in foster care again. Both Sharp and Ward are appalled by Swinton's cold words and, for the first time, neither is going through the motions. It's emotion now.
They had been wearing Scout and police hats, playing roles, supervising the search the way they lived their lives, without much concern or purpose, in a lazy community where nothing much happened and never mattered when it did. But Ms. Social Services presented a future for Sam that had consequences, bad ones. The thought left Sharp unsettled.
Sam spends the night in Captain Sharp's trailer. Sharp cooks for the boy, serves him a beer in his milk cup and philosophizes about love. When Sharp says that he himself was in love once, but the woman didn't return the feeling, we wonder if he is talking about Laura Bishop.
Meanwhile, the scouts have a change of heart too. They decide that they have mistreated Sam. Their metamorphosis does not seem as real as Sharp's. Hours earlier they had all comically taken up weapons in their search for Sam, just in case (or in the hope) that he'd have to be taken by force. They didn't talk to Social Services, don't know that Sam is slated to be sent to Juvenile Refuge and, from what we know of them, wouldn't care. So, it feels like an artificial plot twist when they spontaneously reverse course and decide to help Sam.
That night, they break Suzy out of the Bishop house and then rescue Sam from Sharp's trailer by dropping a rope through the chimney. They then kayak to a nearby island where a camp master, Ben, (Jason Schwartzman, cousin to Moonrise co-writer Roman Coppola and Wes Anderson alumni) who is a cousin of one of the boys, will help them get away. The motley crew march together, a mass of people on the same mission. In a jaunty beret, Suzy reminds one of Patty Hearst with her own Symbionese Liberation Army, only Suzy's wearing knee socks and her Sunday shoes.
For $76, Cousin Ben will help Suzy and Sam, but first he draws blood and "marries" them, as their comrades look on. Husband and wife are on their way to freedom in a small sailboat, when suddenly they have to turn around. Sam must go back because Suzy left her binoculars behind. She can't go on without them. They are her secret power.
A (clearly metaphoric) storm of apocryphal proportions then starts. Stranding Suzy, Sam and all the scouts. Tents fall, bridges collapse, lightning strikes Sam, a river parts and the kids take shelter in a chapel. Soon, the Bishops, Sharp and Ms. Social Services all show up at the church. The kids hide in the choir loft in costumes that disguise them and watch the authority figures fight over them. When Captain Sharp looks up and recognizes them (due to Suzy's binoculars and Sam's familiar coon hat), he keeps it to himself, deciding that he is not going to let the strident Social Services (a dictatorial Tilda Swinton) take Sam.
Realizing that their gig is up, Suzy and Sam run up the church tower and climb outside of it, the rain and lightning whipping around them, as they stand perilously on a ledge. As they prepare to jump on the count of 3 (just as they plunged into the lake on their island) realizing that the fall might kill them, Sam thanks Suzy for marrying him. The kiss they share is electric. Literally. Suzy thinks Sam still has a little lightning in him. Just as they are about to leap, Sharp stops them. On his walkie talkie (which seems to dangerous to use in that rain storm) he negotiates a hasty deal with Ms. Social Services, brokered by the attorneys Bishop. Sam will come and live with Sharp. He won't have to go to Juvenile Refuge. Does he accept this offer? Suzy nods that her husband should. The fugitives give themselves up.
One year later, we see Suzy sitting in her window case, absorbed in a book, with her three brothers listening to classical music on the portable record player, just as they were when the movie starts. The only thing that has changed is that her kitten has now become a cat. When Laura bullhorns the kids to come down to dinner, they scurry and we suddenly see that a fifth child has been sitting in the distance painting. It's Sam. He's dressed in a police uniform now, in place of his scout garb. As Suzy starts downstairs to dinner she and Sam exchange a long look. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers earnestly, before descending out of the second story window. It's unclear whether her parents know Sam is there with her, but his guardian certainly does, because Sharp and his police car are down on the street waiting to drive Sam away.
The Bishop playroom is now empty, but the camera pulls back to reveal a canvas that Sam was painting. He has drawn the island that he and Suzy discovered. It seems that they decided on a name for it: Moonrise Kingdom.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Hope Springs (2012)
Anyone going to see Hope Springs thinking it is 2012's version of It's Complicated may be disappointed. This is not a broad comedy. It's more a drama presented humorously. It's warm, pleasant and rather realistic.
Kay and Arnold have been married 31 years. To say they're in a rut would be an understatement. But Kay wouldn't mind doing the same things in and out, if they did them together. Instead, they're often in the same room (though not the same bedroom) but worlds apart. Arnold doesn't hear or see her anymore.
She doesn't just want a change. She needs one. Their marriage, maybe her sanity, depends on it. She's inspired by a marital self-help book and books a weeklong counseling session in Maine, with its author, Bernard Feld (Steve Carrell). She tells Arnold she's already booked the trip, having paid for it with $4000 from her CD. He's annoyed that someone at his (accounting) office helped her access the money and he knew nothing about it. He tells her she can just go alone.
The next day she gives him his boarding pass and says she hopes he will be on the plane when it leaves the next day. She will be. Now, since we've seen Arnie at work and know he hasn't arranged for vacation time off, I think it's a little much that she basically gives him an ultimatum that he has to be prepared to leave for a week the very next day . . . or else.
Afraid of the "or else" (based on the fact that his co-worker's wife left him), Arnie gets on the plane at the last minute, grumbling all the way.
They meet with Dr. Feld who Arnie thinks is a quack. Carrell plays the role completely straight. So, don't go expecting wackiness from him. One wonders why Carrell accepted the part. It requires no effort from him. Perhaps, he just welcomed the opportunity to work with these stalwarts.
This movie works because the characters are believable. They have grown apart, but it's no War of the Roses. They don't fling wild accusations. There were no affairs, no impotence, no devastating trauma. They're two people who loved each other once, still love each other, but have grown apart. Arnie hurt his back years ago and slept in the guest room due to the pain. He never ended up going back to the master bedroom. They haven't had sex in almost 5 years.
We see him rebuff Kay's overtures early in the movie, but in therapy they reveal that it was Kay who stopped the sex first. Arnie says that sex stops being fun when you know the other person doesn't want it. So, he stopped asking. He doesn't say it, but eventually the lack of intimacy created a wall between them that he couldn't knock down, even when she asked. He still desires sex, desires her, but can't expose himself and open up without great difficulty.
The exercises that Bernie gives them work -- and that's the problem. When Arnie finds himself aroused, it creates more distance between them, not less. The focus is on the sex, but it's just a metaphor for the couple's psychological divide. Kay says she doesn't know why it's so hard to touch someone that you love. But the fear of being pushed away outweighs the potential thrill of being welcomed. Closed doors, closed hearts. Kay is in the Econolodge bed masturbating, something she hadn't done for years, because it only reminded her of what she and Arnie no longer shared. Arnie lies outside on the pull out couch, hearing her sighs, wanting her, but unable to move.
We see them make inroads in therapy, but Arnie runs away when Feld probes too deep and Kay is ready to end it and get a refund, exhausted from pushing too hard against an impenetrable force and, when Arnie is receptive, too afraid of making a fool of herself. We see them at their hotel packing to leave. But the next day they are back at Feld's office, ready to try again. We don't know how they worked through the road block, but it's clear that Arnie can't bear the thought of losing Kay, even if he doesn't know how to keep her. For her part, she tells Feld that Arnie is everything to her. Still, she thinks that if they can't come together, it would be less lonely being alone than it is staying with him. These two love each other and know they're loved, but don't feel wanted and are unable to fight through their insecurities, to find support on the other side. Bernie asks them isn't their marriage more important than their pride and they both say it is, but they say it to Bernie, not to each other.
Finally, things take an upturn and they have a perfect romantic evening, both straining to please the other and enjoying themselves immensely in the process. Kay had mentioned in therapy that Arnie scrunched his eyes closed when they kissed, as if he didn't want to see her. She felt he just wanted the sex, not her love. On this momentous night, as Arnie reaches a climax, she reaches up from beneath him and twists his head so he's looking down directly at her. That's when everything falls apart and Arnie's passion subsides. Kay takes this as proof that she no longer appeals to him. When he said he wanted her physically, he lied. Arnie objects, "It has nothing to do with that," but doesn't elaborate. Defeated, they return home. Arnie carries in the suitcases, leaves Kay's in the master bedroom and, though the audience is hoping he'll deposit his bag right there too, it is not to be. He walks down the hall to the guest room and closes the door.
One egg and one strip of bacon for breakfast. He'll be home from the office at 6 o'clock. Tax talk at the dinner table. Arnie is ready to fall back into their old routine, but Kay says she doesn't know if she can go back.
She packs a bag to leave. She's only supposed to be cat-sitting for a friend, but when we see her pack family pictures, we know she soon plans to leave for good. We hear her sobs from behind the bedroom door. It's not clear whether Arnie hears them too, but he certainly stops at the door, fingers its grooves. Wants to open it, but can't. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he finds the courage, goes into the room and he and Kay finish the mending that started in Maine.
Over the closing credits we see them renewing their wedding vows, with Dr. Feld presiding over the nuptials, then celebrating with the family. That might seem too sappy, but since it happened during the credits, one doesn't have to accept it as the true end of the movie, if it feels too contrived for your tastes. Since much of the movie felt so real, swallowing the obligatory happy ending is not especially difficult.
What resonated most with me though was not what ended well, but the night that went wrong. Arnie never explained why he couldn't consummate that romantic evening in Maine. Kay thought it was because he couldn't look at her, but I think the truth was he couldn't bear for her to look at him. The camera focused on Tommy Lee Jones' red face, engorged, every fleshy pock mark emphasized as Arnie heaved over Kay. There were no glamor angles in this movie, no gauze on the lens. The wrinkles showed and made the path into Arnie's head so easy. You really sensed how hard it can be to see yourself through someone else's eyes, if you don't feel their love is unconditional.
So often, rejection is just uncertainty. Arnie and Kay didn't get through to each other, as much as they let the other in.
Jones' "Arnie" possesses a gentleness that isn't apparent in the trailers. This movie isn't a masterpiece, but it doesn't take as formulaic a route as one might expect. The script is original not because it's brilliant or sharp, but because most of the words feel real. And if you go in thinking Meryl Streep could convey that realness more effectively than Jones, you'll be surprised.
Kay and Arnold have been married 31 years. To say they're in a rut would be an understatement. But Kay wouldn't mind doing the same things in and out, if they did them together. Instead, they're often in the same room (though not the same bedroom) but worlds apart. Arnold doesn't hear or see her anymore.
She doesn't just want a change. She needs one. Their marriage, maybe her sanity, depends on it. She's inspired by a marital self-help book and books a weeklong counseling session in Maine, with its author, Bernard Feld (Steve Carrell). She tells Arnold she's already booked the trip, having paid for it with $4000 from her CD. He's annoyed that someone at his (accounting) office helped her access the money and he knew nothing about it. He tells her she can just go alone.
The next day she gives him his boarding pass and says she hopes he will be on the plane when it leaves the next day. She will be. Now, since we've seen Arnie at work and know he hasn't arranged for vacation time off, I think it's a little much that she basically gives him an ultimatum that he has to be prepared to leave for a week the very next day . . . or else.
Afraid of the "or else" (based on the fact that his co-worker's wife left him), Arnie gets on the plane at the last minute, grumbling all the way.
They meet with Dr. Feld who Arnie thinks is a quack. Carrell plays the role completely straight. So, don't go expecting wackiness from him. One wonders why Carrell accepted the part. It requires no effort from him. Perhaps, he just welcomed the opportunity to work with these stalwarts.
This movie works because the characters are believable. They have grown apart, but it's no War of the Roses. They don't fling wild accusations. There were no affairs, no impotence, no devastating trauma. They're two people who loved each other once, still love each other, but have grown apart. Arnie hurt his back years ago and slept in the guest room due to the pain. He never ended up going back to the master bedroom. They haven't had sex in almost 5 years.
We see him rebuff Kay's overtures early in the movie, but in therapy they reveal that it was Kay who stopped the sex first. Arnie says that sex stops being fun when you know the other person doesn't want it. So, he stopped asking. He doesn't say it, but eventually the lack of intimacy created a wall between them that he couldn't knock down, even when she asked. He still desires sex, desires her, but can't expose himself and open up without great difficulty.
The exercises that Bernie gives them work -- and that's the problem. When Arnie finds himself aroused, it creates more distance between them, not less. The focus is on the sex, but it's just a metaphor for the couple's psychological divide. Kay says she doesn't know why it's so hard to touch someone that you love. But the fear of being pushed away outweighs the potential thrill of being welcomed. Closed doors, closed hearts. Kay is in the Econolodge bed masturbating, something she hadn't done for years, because it only reminded her of what she and Arnie no longer shared. Arnie lies outside on the pull out couch, hearing her sighs, wanting her, but unable to move.
We see them make inroads in therapy, but Arnie runs away when Feld probes too deep and Kay is ready to end it and get a refund, exhausted from pushing too hard against an impenetrable force and, when Arnie is receptive, too afraid of making a fool of herself. We see them at their hotel packing to leave. But the next day they are back at Feld's office, ready to try again. We don't know how they worked through the road block, but it's clear that Arnie can't bear the thought of losing Kay, even if he doesn't know how to keep her. For her part, she tells Feld that Arnie is everything to her. Still, she thinks that if they can't come together, it would be less lonely being alone than it is staying with him. These two love each other and know they're loved, but don't feel wanted and are unable to fight through their insecurities, to find support on the other side. Bernie asks them isn't their marriage more important than their pride and they both say it is, but they say it to Bernie, not to each other.
Finally, things take an upturn and they have a perfect romantic evening, both straining to please the other and enjoying themselves immensely in the process. Kay had mentioned in therapy that Arnie scrunched his eyes closed when they kissed, as if he didn't want to see her. She felt he just wanted the sex, not her love. On this momentous night, as Arnie reaches a climax, she reaches up from beneath him and twists his head so he's looking down directly at her. That's when everything falls apart and Arnie's passion subsides. Kay takes this as proof that she no longer appeals to him. When he said he wanted her physically, he lied. Arnie objects, "It has nothing to do with that," but doesn't elaborate. Defeated, they return home. Arnie carries in the suitcases, leaves Kay's in the master bedroom and, though the audience is hoping he'll deposit his bag right there too, it is not to be. He walks down the hall to the guest room and closes the door.
One egg and one strip of bacon for breakfast. He'll be home from the office at 6 o'clock. Tax talk at the dinner table. Arnie is ready to fall back into their old routine, but Kay says she doesn't know if she can go back.
She packs a bag to leave. She's only supposed to be cat-sitting for a friend, but when we see her pack family pictures, we know she soon plans to leave for good. We hear her sobs from behind the bedroom door. It's not clear whether Arnie hears them too, but he certainly stops at the door, fingers its grooves. Wants to open it, but can't. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he finds the courage, goes into the room and he and Kay finish the mending that started in Maine.
Over the closing credits we see them renewing their wedding vows, with Dr. Feld presiding over the nuptials, then celebrating with the family. That might seem too sappy, but since it happened during the credits, one doesn't have to accept it as the true end of the movie, if it feels too contrived for your tastes. Since much of the movie felt so real, swallowing the obligatory happy ending is not especially difficult.
What resonated most with me though was not what ended well, but the night that went wrong. Arnie never explained why he couldn't consummate that romantic evening in Maine. Kay thought it was because he couldn't look at her, but I think the truth was he couldn't bear for her to look at him. The camera focused on Tommy Lee Jones' red face, engorged, every fleshy pock mark emphasized as Arnie heaved over Kay. There were no glamor angles in this movie, no gauze on the lens. The wrinkles showed and made the path into Arnie's head so easy. You really sensed how hard it can be to see yourself through someone else's eyes, if you don't feel their love is unconditional.
So often, rejection is just uncertainty. Arnie and Kay didn't get through to each other, as much as they let the other in.
Jones' "Arnie" possesses a gentleness that isn't apparent in the trailers. This movie isn't a masterpiece, but it doesn't take as formulaic a route as one might expect. The script is original not because it's brilliant or sharp, but because most of the words feel real. And if you go in thinking Meryl Streep could convey that realness more effectively than Jones, you'll be surprised.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
The Dark Knight Rises (2012)
After the movie ended, I sat there until the last credit rolled waiting for the Easter egg peek at the next villain: it never came. It was then that I remembered that this was supposed to be the last part of a trilogy, so of course there are no spoilers to reveal for the next installment.
I realized then that it will seem hard to get excited about another Batman that does not have Christoper Nolan at the helm. It's not Christian Bale that I will miss. It's the look, the feel. Nolan's Gotham. Nolan's angst. Will anyone else be able to deliver anything that -- not satisfying -- but filling again?
At the end of this 2:45 hour epic, I realized that I'd spent the first 90+ minutes just waiting for all the puzzle pieces to come together. It wasn't that I didn't know where they all already. I just sat there waiting for them to move into position and suddenly, knowing created as much anticipation as not knowing.
We know from the start that Cat Woman and Batman will end up as allies. It's fun to watch that bond form. We may not know from the start that Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is Robin, but it gradually becomes quite clear. His dimunitive height is a clue. The fact that he is an orphan is another. The crowning revelation is not his first name, but when Batman tells Blake that if he's going to rescue people, he should wear a mask, not to protect himself, but those he loves. Blake's determination is just one of the reasons that I don't want this series to end. I want to follow him into superheroism, if not by Batman's side then on adventures of his own.
Finally, once Alfred leaves, we know that he will return and that was really the movie's high point for me. Maybe it's because this movie frequently relies on events that took place in the first two, building up our investment in the relationships. Maybe it's because Michael Caine is 79, has provided us with 50 years of wonder and I don't know how many times I'll see him act again or maybe just because it's hard to say goodbye, even when it's a happy parting, but I cried so much over Caine's last scene you would have thought I was at a showing of Terms of Endearment.
This movie is being reviewed everywhere and there's nothing I can add to everyone's impressions. I just want to write these notes for myself so that if I should rewatch the series at some point in the future I can remember what seemed significant to me today, in contrast to what sticks out to me then, when I've moved to another stage in my life and may perceive things differently.
First I'd like to address the complaint that Batman is not seen enough in the movie. Since I'm not a fan of action flicks, the more time the hero spends out of the costume is, for me, the better. I like to know what motivates him to put it on and what it covers rather than see how its aerodynamic qualities help him soar. I'm not there for the "Kapow" but if I was, it can hardly be said that this movie doesn't deliver on that punch. No matter how many minutes Batman spends on screen, there are plenty of fights and bat gadgets to ogle and the movie is certainly more about him than Catwoman, Bane or John Blake, so I don't get the airtime gripe.
On to the story: when we meet Anne Hathaway's Cat Woman she is a server at a party hosted at the Wayne estate. I know who she will come to be, but don't realize that she has already attained her villaint. After his last battle with Two-Faced in which he was left disabled, branded a murderer in the eyes of the public and lost his beloved Rachel he has become a recluse. He no longer manages his company or fortune and doesn't even attend events held in his name. Since the timid maid (Selina Kyle, aka Cat Woman) seems to be part of a catering group and is not a member of Wayne's staff, I'm not sure why Alfred tells her to take a tray up to Wayne's room. How does he know this strange woman is not a security risk? It seems like lax butlering to me. When she enters Bruce's cavernous, seemingly empty suite, I can't believe she starts poking around. How can she be sure she's not alone? In fact, since she was told that Wayne never leaves his room, she should be sure that she's not alone. Thus, her nosiness seems like great folly to me and I'm shaking my head.
Little did I realize that Selina could not care less if she is caught. She's not a burgeoning criminal, but already a skilled burglar and adept athlete, who easily escapes anyone who apprehends her even, or especially, Bruce Wayne. He comes upon her after she has already broken into his family safe and stolen his mother's pearls. They spar verbally. Since his legs are shattered and he only walks with the support of a cane, he's not much of a match for her physically. She easily escapes, the Wayne pearls encircling her neck.
After she's gone Wayne researches her identity with awe, rather than frustration over the theft, even when he tells Alfred that Selina also stole his fingerprints and he's not sure what nefarious use to which he might put them.
The fascination with Selina brings Wayne out of the shell, not to mention the house, he's been in for 4 years. Pretty soon he's out gathering information and Batman gadgets again. This to Alfred's chagrin. When Wayne finds there's a terrorist, Bane, building an invincible underground army, he warns Wayne that he's not powerful enough to fight him. Yes, he can recover his physical strength, but he does not have the mental will to live. Wayne has only known loss. He's come to expect it. It's become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He thinks that he must fight to the death, but Alfred thinks he should walk away. He doesn't remain tied to Gotham out of loyalty. He does it because he has a death wish and Alfred is tired of watching Wayne's die. This one will have to do it without him.
In one of those Good Will Hunting moments Alfred says that before Wayne returned 8 years ago he'd hoped he'd stay away. When he vacationed in Florence, he always daydreamed about sitting at a cafe and seeing Bruce at another table with a wife and maybe two kids. There Bruce would be basking in sunshine and happiness, things that Gotham can't offer. He'd see Bruce across the cafe and their eyes would lock, but they wouldn't even speak. Alfred would just know that Bruce was happy and leave. Well, I knew what happened when Chuckie painted a similar scenario for Will Hunting, but I didn't quite know where Alfred's statement would lead. I only knew that when Alfred and Bruce argued and then parted, their separation couldn't last.
Of course, the way that Alfred turns Bruce against him harkens back to The Dark Knight. He informs him that Bruce's love, Rachel, left a note saying she chose Harvey Dent (the Two-Faced villain) over Bruce and that Alfred burned it, to spare Bruce's feelings. He tells Bruce this now so that he won't use Rachel's memory as an excuse to stop living. Bruce thinks/hopes Alfred is only lying to manipulate Bruce into doing what he wants. He bids him a final goodbye and, the next day, Bruce wakes up in his mansion all alone. Later he finds he doesn't even have a key to enter the place. He's never needed one before. There was always someone to open the door.
Meanwhile, Bane is beginning to wreak havoc in the city and we meet Blake, a young uniformed cop determined to halt the evil uprising. Unfortunately, his boss, Foley(Matthew Modine) is more concerned with nailing Batman than fighting actual criminals. Sure, Batman was falsely accused of murder, but that was 4 years ago. What has he done to Foley lately? Bane has just entered the Stock Exchange, shot hundreds of people and stolen enough electronic information to clean out everyone's bank account, but when Blake tries to go after him Foley asks, "what's more important, catching a robber or catching Batman?" Huh? At that point, Bane was not a mere robber. He was a mass murderer. In fact, he still had hostages taken from the stock exchange with him. Foley's disinterest has classic seeds. The traditional law enforcement agencies always distrust the Superhero. They feel threatened by him, no doubt jealous of the worship bestowed upon him by the citizenry. The hero not only has to fight evil, but to combat the skepticism of good people. This is common, but it doesn't usually reach the extremes that Foley takes to ignore vicious crimes in his mad chase of the Masked One. At one point, I think he needs to be destroyed as much as Bane does.
As for Bane, he's rather mortal and pedestrian for a comic book villain, a body builder in a gas mask. Aside from his eloquent speeches, he smacks more of reality than imagination. I would have expected it would take someone more otherworldy to bring the creation that is Nolan's Gotham to its knees. However, as an allegory, perhaps the more concrete the evil is, the less likely the story can be dismissed as only fiction.
As Batman races to stop Bane's rampage, in the wake of the Stock Exchange rubble, an older policeman hears his bike approaching before Batman is even in view and he remembers the good old days. He turns to his young partner and says, "You're in for a show, tonight." The youngster helpfully shoots in Bane's direction, while Batman is trailing him. Batman gives him an impassive look and, chagrined, the rookie quickly backs off. 'Oops. Sorry.'
Batman tries to rally the troops against Bane and, basically, chooses Cat Woman as his second in command. For some reason, he thinks she's good at heart. I'm not sure why. All he knows is that she grew up poor. I suppose he feels she's still the needy girl, hungry, rather than greedy. She nurtures this belief by expressing her disdain of the wealthy and privileged, assuring him that she only takes from those who can afford it. Whatever her personal problems, he seems to place his trust in her before they've even come close to being resolved. He tells her to take him to Bane. She does, leading him right into Bane's trap.
With tears falling, she watches from outside a cage as Bane beats Batman to what looks like the death and breaks his back in two, pulls off his mask and tosses it aside, like so much rubbish. Selina then tries to leave Gotham before Bane comes after her. I don't understand Alfred, Selina and all of these people talking as if leaving Gotham will bring safety and protection. Alfred wasn't a recluse for 4 years himself. He kept up with undergound gossip. Like Selina, he knew that Bane's plans spread well beyond a city of $12 million people. He is threatening nuclear disaster that will destroy the world. So, I'm not understanding this "get out of town" mentality. Still, Selina makes a run for the airport, where she's detained by Blake. Bane has Batman. Is he dead, Blake asks. Selina's broken whisper is sincerely moving, "I don't know."
So, back at the ranch Bane has thrown Batman into a pit. The pit faces up to the sky, but no one can climb out of it. So, your despair is always tinged with hope that you can somehow make it up to the sun. The hope makes the misery even sharper. Many men have tried to get out, but only one has succeeded. I'm not sure how they all failed since the walls of the pit are lined with a series of protruding stones that look a lot like those rock climbing walls you see at the wall. With footholds that wide, even I could climb out of the pit. If they're going to pretend like it was such an impossible feat to get out, at least make the walls leading up slick and smooth, not the most easily scalable pit on the planet.
The other prisoners, broken old men, who have all tried to leave many times, rising up to the opening of the pit on a rope, only to come crashing down, battered on the jagged rock walls during descent, tell Bruce about the story of the only prisoner who ever got out. It was a child. The mother was thrown down there pregnant. That's where the baby was born and never knew any other life. Maybe that's why he alone got out. When he trapped Bruce, Bruce tried cutting the electricity to gain an advantage. Bane told him that he, Bane, was born in darkness. He didn't see light until he became a man. As the Batman, Wayne made himself accustomed to the darkness, but that's all Bane ever knew. Darkness was never a detriment for him. It's the light that he finds blinding.
Bruce now understands that Bane must have been the child in the pit. One prisoner says that when a plague hit the prisoners decades ago, acting as a doctor he tried to save Bane, but in doing so, he injured him badly and only having the mask over his face lessens the pain. I'm not sure how a gas mask (as opposed to a nice cushy bandage) helps deaden pain. I'm also not sure what treatment you can give a plague victim that would basically destroy their face. So, as far as an "origin story" goes, I think Bane's is pretty stupid. But whatever.
Anyway, the old men tell Bruce he will never make it because he's not afraid to die. If you have nothing to live for, you won't fight hard enough. Bruce says he's not afraid to die, but he's not going to die there. So, he tries to get up on the rope twice and fails. But then the men tell him that he should go the way the child did, without a rope. Duh? Why didn't they share that bit of info with him to begin with? Seems like passive/aggressive concealment to me. First of all, I've seen staircases more difficult to navigate than that wall, but that's a design problem I shouldn't hold against the plot. While the men might assume it's easier to ascend with a rope than without, since the only one to escape had no rope, why wouldn't any of them give that a try? Once Wayne gets a clue, he skeddadles pretty fast. It's all pretty hokey to me. But the higher he goes, the louder the cheers from the men below get, men who will never escape themselves, spurring him upward. They chant in a foreign voice, but their words mean "Rise! Rise! Rise!" As Wayne reaches the top with that chorus below, I get chills. I can't imagine a more thrilling trail to the movie's title. When Batman makes it out, my thoughts stay with the men who never will. But Bruce doesn't look back at them. He's headed towards Gotham.
Batman and Catwoman hook up. Bane has taken over the city, released all of the prisoners and launched a reign of terror, where the innocent citizens are overrun by the criminals. Batwoman enlists Selina's aid again -- even after the stunt she pulled the last time. She can't believe. How does she know that she doesn't like Gotham this way. Maybe she revels in the anarchy. Whether she does or not, Batman tells her that Bane has a nuclear reactor that's going to go off in a few hours, so it's going to be the end of everything, good and bad, unless she helps him. She concedes and hops into his bat plane. "My mother always told me not to get in the car with strangers," she intones. "This isn't a car," he replies.
Blake is on the ground trying to help the citizens, chief among them the boys from the orphanage that he grew up in. For whatever reason (given that a nuclear bomb is about to explode), he wants to get them on the bridge out of Manhattan, um, Gotham. But the police have been told not to let anyone exit. Blake tells them that the plans have changed. He's one of them. They can trust him. They need to have faith. They say that if keeps coming forward they will shoot him and if he persists further, they will blow up the bridge. Blake tests them. If he was hoping that they would stand down rather than injure a fellow cop, he was wrong. They shoot at him (his vest protects him) and then they blow up the bridge. He is livid, calling them SOBs. The priest caring for the boys is resigned. What would getting off the island would have done? The bomb would still have killed them all, the Father said. What's the difference? The difference is hope. Now, the boys have none, Blake tells him.
And that's a nice tie. Bane wanted to give Batman and the other prisoners hope of escaping to make their agony greater when they couldn't. Bane told Batman that he'd crush every last hope that he had, "Then, you have my permission to die."
Blake, on the other hand, thinks hope is the only thing that makes even certain death bearable. Blake sees no way out, but across town the Gotham police commissioner is about to face an icy death when someone throws a firecracker at his feet. He smiles and gets a phone call. A familiar voice on the other end tells him to light it. When he dies, a string of flame travels across the ice, runs up a building and lights up Gotham's bat signal, a symbol of hope that has long been dark. An incredulous Blake sees it miles away and knows he, the orphans, the world, all still have a chance. Is it believable that Batman would take the time to build a trail to the bat signal during that chaos? Yes, if it was the one thing that was needed to give desperate, frightened people the resolve needed to keep fighting.
In another location, Batman is cornered by Bane, but it turns out that his girlfriend, philanthropist Miranda Tate is the real villain. She was actually the baby born in the pit who managed to escape it. Bane was only a fellow prisoner who helped her. Her father (villain Henri Ducard from Batman Begins) hated Bane because his face was disfigured, but Bane's only crime was showing her love. Bane, a gloating brute up to this point, listens as she recounts her history, tears falling from his eyes. It was because her father left her mother that the pregnant was thrown into the pit where Miranda was born. So, she had always grown up hating the man . . . until Batman killed him. Then, she plotted her revenge in her father's name. She used the very weapon that Bruce Wayne's inventor, Lucius, (Morgan Freeman) built to defend the city to destroy it, by turning it into a nuclear reactor. What's even more ironic is that Bruce himself sold the weapon to her. After Bane's stock market electronic thefts left Bruce broke on paper, he thought that Miranda Tate was the only one left with enough money to preserve his defense projects. He was so grateful for her purchase that they ended up in bed together earlier (which was rather a hasty development for a man fresh out of seclusion and surprising, since I had expected Cat Woman to be his only love interest). Now, he realizes she was the enemy. Bane was just her servant.
She tells Bane she's off to launch the reactor, but warns him not to kill Batman. She wants him to live long enough to see the fire. Once she trots off Bane, wipes away his tears and is like, "You know you're going to die now, don't you? You'll just have to imagine the fire." Hilarious way to end the sentimental mood Miranda's words had created. Breathing payback Batman tells Bane he's going to see his plot demolished first, "Then, you have my permission to die." They battle and Bane is winning when Catwoman bursts in and just blows Bane away with an airy aside to Batman, "You know your position against guns? I'm not sure I feel as strongly about it as you do."
This movie doesn't have the humor that the other two possessed, but there are 4 or 5 moments that evoke deep laughs.
They get to the nuclear reactor and, seconds before it's about to go off, Batman hooks it up to the bat plane and flies it out to the ocean, so that it will detonate under water, hurting no one. His plan works, but an atomic plume goes off over the water, totally engulfing Batman's plane.
He's buried at the Wayne mansion which his will has bequeathed to the orphanage, to house parentless boys forever. An inconsolable Alfred tends the gravesite, blaming himself for having failed Bruce just when he needed him most.
Batman may be gone, but this time the police commissioner makes sure that Gotham will always remember him for the hero he was. A statute is erected in his honor. Blake thinks it small recompense for the price Batman made to save the lives of many who were ungrateful to Batman. He takes off his police badge and, undoubtedly, remembering his stand off with the cops on the bridge, tosses it aside, disillusioned.
He leaves the city with only a back pack. When a woman checks his identification she tells him he should use his first name because she likes it: Robin. We think he is leaving the city, but we find him walking instead towards underground waterfalls. Robin has found the bat cave.
Alfred is at a European side walk cafe. A lone diner, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. He glances up briefly and something catches his eye. It's Bruce Wayne seated a few tables away, facing Alfred. A pony-tailed woman sits opposite him. When she tosses her head, we see Selina Kyle's profile. Bruce nods at Alfred, slightly lifts his coffee cup in tribute. Alfred tilts his head in answer. Folds his paper. Rises and walks away. He says nothing, so that catch in his throat that I hear as he leaves is only really there in my heart.
I realized then that it will seem hard to get excited about another Batman that does not have Christoper Nolan at the helm. It's not Christian Bale that I will miss. It's the look, the feel. Nolan's Gotham. Nolan's angst. Will anyone else be able to deliver anything that -- not satisfying -- but filling again?
At the end of this 2:45 hour epic, I realized that I'd spent the first 90+ minutes just waiting for all the puzzle pieces to come together. It wasn't that I didn't know where they all already. I just sat there waiting for them to move into position and suddenly, knowing created as much anticipation as not knowing.
We know from the start that Cat Woman and Batman will end up as allies. It's fun to watch that bond form. We may not know from the start that Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is Robin, but it gradually becomes quite clear. His dimunitive height is a clue. The fact that he is an orphan is another. The crowning revelation is not his first name, but when Batman tells Blake that if he's going to rescue people, he should wear a mask, not to protect himself, but those he loves. Blake's determination is just one of the reasons that I don't want this series to end. I want to follow him into superheroism, if not by Batman's side then on adventures of his own.
Finally, once Alfred leaves, we know that he will return and that was really the movie's high point for me. Maybe it's because this movie frequently relies on events that took place in the first two, building up our investment in the relationships. Maybe it's because Michael Caine is 79, has provided us with 50 years of wonder and I don't know how many times I'll see him act again or maybe just because it's hard to say goodbye, even when it's a happy parting, but I cried so much over Caine's last scene you would have thought I was at a showing of Terms of Endearment.
This movie is being reviewed everywhere and there's nothing I can add to everyone's impressions. I just want to write these notes for myself so that if I should rewatch the series at some point in the future I can remember what seemed significant to me today, in contrast to what sticks out to me then, when I've moved to another stage in my life and may perceive things differently.
First I'd like to address the complaint that Batman is not seen enough in the movie. Since I'm not a fan of action flicks, the more time the hero spends out of the costume is, for me, the better. I like to know what motivates him to put it on and what it covers rather than see how its aerodynamic qualities help him soar. I'm not there for the "Kapow" but if I was, it can hardly be said that this movie doesn't deliver on that punch. No matter how many minutes Batman spends on screen, there are plenty of fights and bat gadgets to ogle and the movie is certainly more about him than Catwoman, Bane or John Blake, so I don't get the airtime gripe.
On to the story: when we meet Anne Hathaway's Cat Woman she is a server at a party hosted at the Wayne estate. I know who she will come to be, but don't realize that she has already attained her villaint. After his last battle with Two-Faced in which he was left disabled, branded a murderer in the eyes of the public and lost his beloved Rachel he has become a recluse. He no longer manages his company or fortune and doesn't even attend events held in his name. Since the timid maid (Selina Kyle, aka Cat Woman) seems to be part of a catering group and is not a member of Wayne's staff, I'm not sure why Alfred tells her to take a tray up to Wayne's room. How does he know this strange woman is not a security risk? It seems like lax butlering to me. When she enters Bruce's cavernous, seemingly empty suite, I can't believe she starts poking around. How can she be sure she's not alone? In fact, since she was told that Wayne never leaves his room, she should be sure that she's not alone. Thus, her nosiness seems like great folly to me and I'm shaking my head.
Little did I realize that Selina could not care less if she is caught. She's not a burgeoning criminal, but already a skilled burglar and adept athlete, who easily escapes anyone who apprehends her even, or especially, Bruce Wayne. He comes upon her after she has already broken into his family safe and stolen his mother's pearls. They spar verbally. Since his legs are shattered and he only walks with the support of a cane, he's not much of a match for her physically. She easily escapes, the Wayne pearls encircling her neck.
After she's gone Wayne researches her identity with awe, rather than frustration over the theft, even when he tells Alfred that Selina also stole his fingerprints and he's not sure what nefarious use to which he might put them.
The fascination with Selina brings Wayne out of the shell, not to mention the house, he's been in for 4 years. Pretty soon he's out gathering information and Batman gadgets again. This to Alfred's chagrin. When Wayne finds there's a terrorist, Bane, building an invincible underground army, he warns Wayne that he's not powerful enough to fight him. Yes, he can recover his physical strength, but he does not have the mental will to live. Wayne has only known loss. He's come to expect it. It's become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He thinks that he must fight to the death, but Alfred thinks he should walk away. He doesn't remain tied to Gotham out of loyalty. He does it because he has a death wish and Alfred is tired of watching Wayne's die. This one will have to do it without him.
In one of those Good Will Hunting moments Alfred says that before Wayne returned 8 years ago he'd hoped he'd stay away. When he vacationed in Florence, he always daydreamed about sitting at a cafe and seeing Bruce at another table with a wife and maybe two kids. There Bruce would be basking in sunshine and happiness, things that Gotham can't offer. He'd see Bruce across the cafe and their eyes would lock, but they wouldn't even speak. Alfred would just know that Bruce was happy and leave. Well, I knew what happened when Chuckie painted a similar scenario for Will Hunting, but I didn't quite know where Alfred's statement would lead. I only knew that when Alfred and Bruce argued and then parted, their separation couldn't last.
Of course, the way that Alfred turns Bruce against him harkens back to The Dark Knight. He informs him that Bruce's love, Rachel, left a note saying she chose Harvey Dent (the Two-Faced villain) over Bruce and that Alfred burned it, to spare Bruce's feelings. He tells Bruce this now so that he won't use Rachel's memory as an excuse to stop living. Bruce thinks/hopes Alfred is only lying to manipulate Bruce into doing what he wants. He bids him a final goodbye and, the next day, Bruce wakes up in his mansion all alone. Later he finds he doesn't even have a key to enter the place. He's never needed one before. There was always someone to open the door.
Meanwhile, Bane is beginning to wreak havoc in the city and we meet Blake, a young uniformed cop determined to halt the evil uprising. Unfortunately, his boss, Foley(Matthew Modine) is more concerned with nailing Batman than fighting actual criminals. Sure, Batman was falsely accused of murder, but that was 4 years ago. What has he done to Foley lately? Bane has just entered the Stock Exchange, shot hundreds of people and stolen enough electronic information to clean out everyone's bank account, but when Blake tries to go after him Foley asks, "what's more important, catching a robber or catching Batman?" Huh? At that point, Bane was not a mere robber. He was a mass murderer. In fact, he still had hostages taken from the stock exchange with him. Foley's disinterest has classic seeds. The traditional law enforcement agencies always distrust the Superhero. They feel threatened by him, no doubt jealous of the worship bestowed upon him by the citizenry. The hero not only has to fight evil, but to combat the skepticism of good people. This is common, but it doesn't usually reach the extremes that Foley takes to ignore vicious crimes in his mad chase of the Masked One. At one point, I think he needs to be destroyed as much as Bane does.
As for Bane, he's rather mortal and pedestrian for a comic book villain, a body builder in a gas mask. Aside from his eloquent speeches, he smacks more of reality than imagination. I would have expected it would take someone more otherworldy to bring the creation that is Nolan's Gotham to its knees. However, as an allegory, perhaps the more concrete the evil is, the less likely the story can be dismissed as only fiction.
As Batman races to stop Bane's rampage, in the wake of the Stock Exchange rubble, an older policeman hears his bike approaching before Batman is even in view and he remembers the good old days. He turns to his young partner and says, "You're in for a show, tonight." The youngster helpfully shoots in Bane's direction, while Batman is trailing him. Batman gives him an impassive look and, chagrined, the rookie quickly backs off. 'Oops. Sorry.'
Batman tries to rally the troops against Bane and, basically, chooses Cat Woman as his second in command. For some reason, he thinks she's good at heart. I'm not sure why. All he knows is that she grew up poor. I suppose he feels she's still the needy girl, hungry, rather than greedy. She nurtures this belief by expressing her disdain of the wealthy and privileged, assuring him that she only takes from those who can afford it. Whatever her personal problems, he seems to place his trust in her before they've even come close to being resolved. He tells her to take him to Bane. She does, leading him right into Bane's trap.
With tears falling, she watches from outside a cage as Bane beats Batman to what looks like the death and breaks his back in two, pulls off his mask and tosses it aside, like so much rubbish. Selina then tries to leave Gotham before Bane comes after her. I don't understand Alfred, Selina and all of these people talking as if leaving Gotham will bring safety and protection. Alfred wasn't a recluse for 4 years himself. He kept up with undergound gossip. Like Selina, he knew that Bane's plans spread well beyond a city of $12 million people. He is threatening nuclear disaster that will destroy the world. So, I'm not understanding this "get out of town" mentality. Still, Selina makes a run for the airport, where she's detained by Blake. Bane has Batman. Is he dead, Blake asks. Selina's broken whisper is sincerely moving, "I don't know."
So, back at the ranch Bane has thrown Batman into a pit. The pit faces up to the sky, but no one can climb out of it. So, your despair is always tinged with hope that you can somehow make it up to the sun. The hope makes the misery even sharper. Many men have tried to get out, but only one has succeeded. I'm not sure how they all failed since the walls of the pit are lined with a series of protruding stones that look a lot like those rock climbing walls you see at the wall. With footholds that wide, even I could climb out of the pit. If they're going to pretend like it was such an impossible feat to get out, at least make the walls leading up slick and smooth, not the most easily scalable pit on the planet.
The other prisoners, broken old men, who have all tried to leave many times, rising up to the opening of the pit on a rope, only to come crashing down, battered on the jagged rock walls during descent, tell Bruce about the story of the only prisoner who ever got out. It was a child. The mother was thrown down there pregnant. That's where the baby was born and never knew any other life. Maybe that's why he alone got out. When he trapped Bruce, Bruce tried cutting the electricity to gain an advantage. Bane told him that he, Bane, was born in darkness. He didn't see light until he became a man. As the Batman, Wayne made himself accustomed to the darkness, but that's all Bane ever knew. Darkness was never a detriment for him. It's the light that he finds blinding.
Bruce now understands that Bane must have been the child in the pit. One prisoner says that when a plague hit the prisoners decades ago, acting as a doctor he tried to save Bane, but in doing so, he injured him badly and only having the mask over his face lessens the pain. I'm not sure how a gas mask (as opposed to a nice cushy bandage) helps deaden pain. I'm also not sure what treatment you can give a plague victim that would basically destroy their face. So, as far as an "origin story" goes, I think Bane's is pretty stupid. But whatever.
Anyway, the old men tell Bruce he will never make it because he's not afraid to die. If you have nothing to live for, you won't fight hard enough. Bruce says he's not afraid to die, but he's not going to die there. So, he tries to get up on the rope twice and fails. But then the men tell him that he should go the way the child did, without a rope. Duh? Why didn't they share that bit of info with him to begin with? Seems like passive/aggressive concealment to me. First of all, I've seen staircases more difficult to navigate than that wall, but that's a design problem I shouldn't hold against the plot. While the men might assume it's easier to ascend with a rope than without, since the only one to escape had no rope, why wouldn't any of them give that a try? Once Wayne gets a clue, he skeddadles pretty fast. It's all pretty hokey to me. But the higher he goes, the louder the cheers from the men below get, men who will never escape themselves, spurring him upward. They chant in a foreign voice, but their words mean "Rise! Rise! Rise!" As Wayne reaches the top with that chorus below, I get chills. I can't imagine a more thrilling trail to the movie's title. When Batman makes it out, my thoughts stay with the men who never will. But Bruce doesn't look back at them. He's headed towards Gotham.
Batman and Catwoman hook up. Bane has taken over the city, released all of the prisoners and launched a reign of terror, where the innocent citizens are overrun by the criminals. Batwoman enlists Selina's aid again -- even after the stunt she pulled the last time. She can't believe. How does she know that she doesn't like Gotham this way. Maybe she revels in the anarchy. Whether she does or not, Batman tells her that Bane has a nuclear reactor that's going to go off in a few hours, so it's going to be the end of everything, good and bad, unless she helps him. She concedes and hops into his bat plane. "My mother always told me not to get in the car with strangers," she intones. "This isn't a car," he replies.
Blake is on the ground trying to help the citizens, chief among them the boys from the orphanage that he grew up in. For whatever reason (given that a nuclear bomb is about to explode), he wants to get them on the bridge out of Manhattan, um, Gotham. But the police have been told not to let anyone exit. Blake tells them that the plans have changed. He's one of them. They can trust him. They need to have faith. They say that if keeps coming forward they will shoot him and if he persists further, they will blow up the bridge. Blake tests them. If he was hoping that they would stand down rather than injure a fellow cop, he was wrong. They shoot at him (his vest protects him) and then they blow up the bridge. He is livid, calling them SOBs. The priest caring for the boys is resigned. What would getting off the island would have done? The bomb would still have killed them all, the Father said. What's the difference? The difference is hope. Now, the boys have none, Blake tells him.
And that's a nice tie. Bane wanted to give Batman and the other prisoners hope of escaping to make their agony greater when they couldn't. Bane told Batman that he'd crush every last hope that he had, "Then, you have my permission to die."
Blake, on the other hand, thinks hope is the only thing that makes even certain death bearable. Blake sees no way out, but across town the Gotham police commissioner is about to face an icy death when someone throws a firecracker at his feet. He smiles and gets a phone call. A familiar voice on the other end tells him to light it. When he dies, a string of flame travels across the ice, runs up a building and lights up Gotham's bat signal, a symbol of hope that has long been dark. An incredulous Blake sees it miles away and knows he, the orphans, the world, all still have a chance. Is it believable that Batman would take the time to build a trail to the bat signal during that chaos? Yes, if it was the one thing that was needed to give desperate, frightened people the resolve needed to keep fighting.
In another location, Batman is cornered by Bane, but it turns out that his girlfriend, philanthropist Miranda Tate is the real villain. She was actually the baby born in the pit who managed to escape it. Bane was only a fellow prisoner who helped her. Her father (villain Henri Ducard from Batman Begins) hated Bane because his face was disfigured, but Bane's only crime was showing her love. Bane, a gloating brute up to this point, listens as she recounts her history, tears falling from his eyes. It was because her father left her mother that the pregnant was thrown into the pit where Miranda was born. So, she had always grown up hating the man . . . until Batman killed him. Then, she plotted her revenge in her father's name. She used the very weapon that Bruce Wayne's inventor, Lucius, (Morgan Freeman) built to defend the city to destroy it, by turning it into a nuclear reactor. What's even more ironic is that Bruce himself sold the weapon to her. After Bane's stock market electronic thefts left Bruce broke on paper, he thought that Miranda Tate was the only one left with enough money to preserve his defense projects. He was so grateful for her purchase that they ended up in bed together earlier (which was rather a hasty development for a man fresh out of seclusion and surprising, since I had expected Cat Woman to be his only love interest). Now, he realizes she was the enemy. Bane was just her servant.
She tells Bane she's off to launch the reactor, but warns him not to kill Batman. She wants him to live long enough to see the fire. Once she trots off Bane, wipes away his tears and is like, "You know you're going to die now, don't you? You'll just have to imagine the fire." Hilarious way to end the sentimental mood Miranda's words had created. Breathing payback Batman tells Bane he's going to see his plot demolished first, "Then, you have my permission to die." They battle and Bane is winning when Catwoman bursts in and just blows Bane away with an airy aside to Batman, "You know your position against guns? I'm not sure I feel as strongly about it as you do."
This movie doesn't have the humor that the other two possessed, but there are 4 or 5 moments that evoke deep laughs.
They get to the nuclear reactor and, seconds before it's about to go off, Batman hooks it up to the bat plane and flies it out to the ocean, so that it will detonate under water, hurting no one. His plan works, but an atomic plume goes off over the water, totally engulfing Batman's plane.
He's buried at the Wayne mansion which his will has bequeathed to the orphanage, to house parentless boys forever. An inconsolable Alfred tends the gravesite, blaming himself for having failed Bruce just when he needed him most.
Batman may be gone, but this time the police commissioner makes sure that Gotham will always remember him for the hero he was. A statute is erected in his honor. Blake thinks it small recompense for the price Batman made to save the lives of many who were ungrateful to Batman. He takes off his police badge and, undoubtedly, remembering his stand off with the cops on the bridge, tosses it aside, disillusioned.
He leaves the city with only a back pack. When a woman checks his identification she tells him he should use his first name because she likes it: Robin. We think he is leaving the city, but we find him walking instead towards underground waterfalls. Robin has found the bat cave.
Alfred is at a European side walk cafe. A lone diner, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. He glances up briefly and something catches his eye. It's Bruce Wayne seated a few tables away, facing Alfred. A pony-tailed woman sits opposite him. When she tosses her head, we see Selina Kyle's profile. Bruce nods at Alfred, slightly lifts his coffee cup in tribute. Alfred tilts his head in answer. Folds his paper. Rises and walks away. He says nothing, so that catch in his throat that I hear as he leaves is only really there in my heart.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Avengers (2012)
I didn't see The Cabin in the Woods, so I finally had to catch The Avengers, just to keep my Joss Whedon Continuing Education credits current.
Chases, explosions and city-demolishing action are lost on me, so I have no opinion about those, but I found the characters likable and appreciated the humorous dialogue.
There's not much to say about this romp. It was fun, not deep. So, I'll just point out things that left me with questions.
I was not familiar with Tom Hiddleston going in and I found him especially good as the villain Loki. He's the bad guy up against 6 superheroes, so we know he's going to lose very badly (but oddly enough they don't kill him, I suppose out of deference to his brother Thor) and he's often made a buffoon. The script lets him puff up his arrogance just to make the inevitable deflation fun, so it would be easy for him to come off as weak or ineffectual. But he's not. He's never really threatening, but the movie is as much a battle of wits (or witty) as it is a battle of brawn. On that score, the polished Loki can hold his own against the other 6.
I knew a fair amount about The Hulk's origin story from the old Bill Bixby television series, but I still don't understand how much control Bannon's brain has over the monster. I suppose it's clear that he will destroy anyone who is around when there are slim pickings, but it seems that if he has a crowd of victims to choose from, Hulk goes after the bad guys first and helps his allies. Plus, he's cerebral enough to understand Loki's archaic ramblings, grunting that Loki is a "puny giant," after humorously pounding the villain like a ragdoll, to quickly end a proud speech exalting the superiority of Gods.
Hulk seems to understand and make choices fairly well. How unbridled is this beast really? Sure, after quelling all of their enemies temporarily, Hulk hauls off and punches Thor for lack of anything better to do (which reminded me of a hilarious Buffy scene when Angel, soul intact, slugs Xander declaring, "that guy just bugs me."), but he also actually rescues Ironman and screams in frustration (or grief) when it seems that Stark is dead. He was definitely controlling his violence to some extent. I don't know if this means the writer cheated a bit or if Hulk is really more complex than I thought.
I was also surprised that Hulk doesn't just jump really high. He actually flies for all intent and purposes.
This was my first time seeing Cobie Smulders outside of How I Met Your Mother. She slimmed down for the role and is sporting a sleek, futuristic haircut. Though her role was small, it was substantive and her character survived, so there's hope she'll make the sequel. Nice going for her.
Captain America was frozen for 70 years, yet when he and Stark meet, he doesn't seem to be completely unaware of who Stark is and Stark knows him too. It's almost like they have a history (did they develop one in some movie that I missed?). Stark mentions that his father idolized Captain America, so maybe he only knows the man's legend, but it seemed like they had been rivals in the past. I better go watch the last Ironman movie, to see what is eluding me.
I think it's ridiculous that Pepper didn't pick up her cell phone when Tony was calling to say goodbye, right at the end of his suicide mission. She knows him and the chances he takes. She knows that he is just the type of person who would try to get a message to her even while hurtling towards death. It would be not be a time for her to let it go to voicemail.
I know nothing about the backstories for Hawkeye and The Black Widow and found myself wanting to know more about their relationship. So, that would be a spinoff movie that I'm up for.
During all of the fighting, we saw the K fall off of the giant STARK building. I loved the ending where all but one letter has been destroyed. The "A" remains for Avengers. Nice way to end with the title.
Chases, explosions and city-demolishing action are lost on me, so I have no opinion about those, but I found the characters likable and appreciated the humorous dialogue.
There's not much to say about this romp. It was fun, not deep. So, I'll just point out things that left me with questions.
I was not familiar with Tom Hiddleston going in and I found him especially good as the villain Loki. He's the bad guy up against 6 superheroes, so we know he's going to lose very badly (but oddly enough they don't kill him, I suppose out of deference to his brother Thor) and he's often made a buffoon. The script lets him puff up his arrogance just to make the inevitable deflation fun, so it would be easy for him to come off as weak or ineffectual. But he's not. He's never really threatening, but the movie is as much a battle of wits (or witty) as it is a battle of brawn. On that score, the polished Loki can hold his own against the other 6.
I knew a fair amount about The Hulk's origin story from the old Bill Bixby television series, but I still don't understand how much control Bannon's brain has over the monster. I suppose it's clear that he will destroy anyone who is around when there are slim pickings, but it seems that if he has a crowd of victims to choose from, Hulk goes after the bad guys first and helps his allies. Plus, he's cerebral enough to understand Loki's archaic ramblings, grunting that Loki is a "puny giant," after humorously pounding the villain like a ragdoll, to quickly end a proud speech exalting the superiority of Gods.
Hulk seems to understand and make choices fairly well. How unbridled is this beast really? Sure, after quelling all of their enemies temporarily, Hulk hauls off and punches Thor for lack of anything better to do (which reminded me of a hilarious Buffy scene when Angel, soul intact, slugs Xander declaring, "that guy just bugs me."), but he also actually rescues Ironman and screams in frustration (or grief) when it seems that Stark is dead. He was definitely controlling his violence to some extent. I don't know if this means the writer cheated a bit or if Hulk is really more complex than I thought.
I was also surprised that Hulk doesn't just jump really high. He actually flies for all intent and purposes.
This was my first time seeing Cobie Smulders outside of How I Met Your Mother. She slimmed down for the role and is sporting a sleek, futuristic haircut. Though her role was small, it was substantive and her character survived, so there's hope she'll make the sequel. Nice going for her.
Captain America was frozen for 70 years, yet when he and Stark meet, he doesn't seem to be completely unaware of who Stark is and Stark knows him too. It's almost like they have a history (did they develop one in some movie that I missed?). Stark mentions that his father idolized Captain America, so maybe he only knows the man's legend, but it seemed like they had been rivals in the past. I better go watch the last Ironman movie, to see what is eluding me.
I think it's ridiculous that Pepper didn't pick up her cell phone when Tony was calling to say goodbye, right at the end of his suicide mission. She knows him and the chances he takes. She knows that he is just the type of person who would try to get a message to her even while hurtling towards death. It would be not be a time for her to let it go to voicemail.
I know nothing about the backstories for Hawkeye and The Black Widow and found myself wanting to know more about their relationship. So, that would be a spinoff movie that I'm up for.
During all of the fighting, we saw the K fall off of the giant STARK building. I loved the ending where all but one letter has been destroyed. The "A" remains for Avengers. Nice way to end with the title.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)
In most Comic Book hero movies you gave a 10 minute synopsis of the back history and then Krypton is forgotten altogether and Superman and Lex Luthor spend the next 90 minutes fighting to the death.
This time around, Spiderman's creation takes up a full hour of the movie. This film is even more beginny than Batman Begins was. We don't just see Peter Parker lose his uncle, we see the first goodbyes that shape his life, as his clandestine parents make a hasty departure, never to be seen again. Then, we enter John Hughes' territory and follow Peter's geeky travails in High School, where he's pummeled by the bully Flash and smitten by the caring Gwen. By the time he's actually bitten by the radioactive spider, we're more concerned with his feelings than with his new powers.
Even after he perfects the web-swinging and costume, the audience sees and hears, a boy in a mask, not the burgeoning legend. Superman never becomes a stately, deep-voiced hero in this film. Andrew Garfield is an engaging lead. Even though the actor is 28, he's credible as a teen, his shyly bowed head more believable than Spider-man's derring do.
Even before he got his spidey-senses, Peter was always a protector. Intervening when he saw schoolmates humiliated or misused, though he couldn't protect himself, much less others. He trespasses into a genetic testing facility and is bitten by a bionic spider more robot than insect. From there, his superhuman powers begin to emerge and humor ensues as he struggles to control, then perfect them.
At school, the newly invincible Peter puts the old bully Flash in his place. Curiously, he is scolded by his uncle for doing so. Ben asks if Flash is the same person who punched Peter. Peter says he is and Ben scolds that getting revenge on Flash must have made Peter feel proud. Well, what if it did? Why shouldn't revenge on a bully feel good. Ben may be worried that Peter has turned into a bully himself, but he never asked Peter why Flash hit him in the first place. It was because Peter wouldn't let Flash abuse others. He got beat up for doing right when he was a weakling and, after he gained super powers, he still didn't use them to dominate Flash until after Flash, again, terrorized a third person. Peter did not pick on Flash for self-gratification as Ben, unreasonably, assumes that he has.
Nothing in the boy's (mostly polite) behavior at home would have given Ben that impression of Peter. But I guess the plot won't get furthered unless Ben jumps to such conclusions. He lectures Peter until he feels alienated and falsely accused. Petulant Peter then fails to stop a robber at a convenience store and the free robber ultimately ends up shooting Uncle Ben. Focused on revenge, Peter anonymizes himself as Spider-man and becomes the city's vigilante, hunting down criminals.
It is Gwen's father, the police chief who makes Peter realize that in focusing on hurting the criminal, rather than helping the innocent, Super-man could, arguably, be causing more harm than good. Once his knowledge hits him, it's easy for Peter to choose saving a life over torturing the bad guy. But this is something that Peter already practicing in school with Flash, before he became part spider. Uncle Ben only wrongly accused him of doing less.
From there, Peter's attention turns to fighting a giant lizard, created by the man turned mad scientist who had once mentored both Peter and Gwen. In the end, with PG-13 rated ease, graditude, loyalty and a communal sense of good do as much to save the day as Spider-man. "Poor Peter Parker, all alone. No father, no mother, no uncle" the Lizard villain taunts. "He's not alone," Gwen's father responds, helping the ailing Peter to victory, before losing his own life.
Predictably, Gwen's father makes Peter promise to stay away from Gwen, for her safety, with his dying breath. Peter agrees and duly avoids the heart broken Gwen, who must face her father's funeral without him. However, sitting in a class room together, Peter murmurs to a wooden Gwen that the best promises are meant to be broken and we know the two won't stay apart for long.
So, the first chapter in this Spider-man reboot ends with our hero still in school, still learning, but with a promising future of sequels ahead of him. Hopefully, that promise is one that won't be broken.
Musings: I can't believe the director's name is truly Marc Webb? Tell me he changed it just for this movie!
This time around, Spiderman's creation takes up a full hour of the movie. This film is even more beginny than Batman Begins was. We don't just see Peter Parker lose his uncle, we see the first goodbyes that shape his life, as his clandestine parents make a hasty departure, never to be seen again. Then, we enter John Hughes' territory and follow Peter's geeky travails in High School, where he's pummeled by the bully Flash and smitten by the caring Gwen. By the time he's actually bitten by the radioactive spider, we're more concerned with his feelings than with his new powers.
Even after he perfects the web-swinging and costume, the audience sees and hears, a boy in a mask, not the burgeoning legend. Superman never becomes a stately, deep-voiced hero in this film. Andrew Garfield is an engaging lead. Even though the actor is 28, he's credible as a teen, his shyly bowed head more believable than Spider-man's derring do.
Even before he got his spidey-senses, Peter was always a protector. Intervening when he saw schoolmates humiliated or misused, though he couldn't protect himself, much less others. He trespasses into a genetic testing facility and is bitten by a bionic spider more robot than insect. From there, his superhuman powers begin to emerge and humor ensues as he struggles to control, then perfect them.
At school, the newly invincible Peter puts the old bully Flash in his place. Curiously, he is scolded by his uncle for doing so. Ben asks if Flash is the same person who punched Peter. Peter says he is and Ben scolds that getting revenge on Flash must have made Peter feel proud. Well, what if it did? Why shouldn't revenge on a bully feel good. Ben may be worried that Peter has turned into a bully himself, but he never asked Peter why Flash hit him in the first place. It was because Peter wouldn't let Flash abuse others. He got beat up for doing right when he was a weakling and, after he gained super powers, he still didn't use them to dominate Flash until after Flash, again, terrorized a third person. Peter did not pick on Flash for self-gratification as Ben, unreasonably, assumes that he has.
Nothing in the boy's (mostly polite) behavior at home would have given Ben that impression of Peter. But I guess the plot won't get furthered unless Ben jumps to such conclusions. He lectures Peter until he feels alienated and falsely accused. Petulant Peter then fails to stop a robber at a convenience store and the free robber ultimately ends up shooting Uncle Ben. Focused on revenge, Peter anonymizes himself as Spider-man and becomes the city's vigilante, hunting down criminals.
It is Gwen's father, the police chief who makes Peter realize that in focusing on hurting the criminal, rather than helping the innocent, Super-man could, arguably, be causing more harm than good. Once his knowledge hits him, it's easy for Peter to choose saving a life over torturing the bad guy. But this is something that Peter already practicing in school with Flash, before he became part spider. Uncle Ben only wrongly accused him of doing less.
From there, Peter's attention turns to fighting a giant lizard, created by the man turned mad scientist who had once mentored both Peter and Gwen. In the end, with PG-13 rated ease, graditude, loyalty and a communal sense of good do as much to save the day as Spider-man. "Poor Peter Parker, all alone. No father, no mother, no uncle" the Lizard villain taunts. "He's not alone," Gwen's father responds, helping the ailing Peter to victory, before losing his own life.
Predictably, Gwen's father makes Peter promise to stay away from Gwen, for her safety, with his dying breath. Peter agrees and duly avoids the heart broken Gwen, who must face her father's funeral without him. However, sitting in a class room together, Peter murmurs to a wooden Gwen that the best promises are meant to be broken and we know the two won't stay apart for long.
So, the first chapter in this Spider-man reboot ends with our hero still in school, still learning, but with a promising future of sequels ahead of him. Hopefully, that promise is one that won't be broken.
Musings: I can't believe the director's name is truly Marc Webb? Tell me he changed it just for this movie!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004)
I can't believe this movie is considered a comedy classic. I barely laughed and I have no hopes that the sequel will be anything but pathetic. While I would never say that a Judd Apatow movie would be on my Top Ten list of things to watch in the first place, I found this one less entertaining than most.
The only things that got a chuckle were:
1. The group's rendition of Afternoon Delight -- and that's only because I like the song and, while the writers thought it was funny, I actually found the harmonies quite pleasant.
2. Ferrell's phone booth melt down over the (apparent) death of his dog at Jack Black's hands.
3. The news team brawl, with Luke Wilson, Vince Vaughn Ben Stiller and Tim Robbins heading the other networks.
4. The news team photo shoot where Ron's old colleagues refused to look in the same direction that Veronica did for the photo, to show their solidarity with him. A small, but wacky moment.
Other than that, I found the movie one big snooze. Coming the year after Old School, if I'd seen it when it was new, I probably would have expected to like it as much, given the similar cast and I would have been quite disappointed.
Maybe it's the fact that it's supposed to be a period film and the whole idea of laughing simply at the contrast between our generation and the one before it seems, well, outdated and that eliminated 50% of the film's so called comedy for me. Ron Burgundy's red jacket and Veronica's skirt suit (with vest) just don't provide humor in and of themselves. So, if they set it in the past just so we could titter because people still used typewriters back then -- it wasn't really that funny.
The only things that got a chuckle were:
1. The group's rendition of Afternoon Delight -- and that's only because I like the song and, while the writers thought it was funny, I actually found the harmonies quite pleasant.
2. Ferrell's phone booth melt down over the (apparent) death of his dog at Jack Black's hands.
3. The news team brawl, with Luke Wilson, Vince Vaughn Ben Stiller and Tim Robbins heading the other networks.
4. The news team photo shoot where Ron's old colleagues refused to look in the same direction that Veronica did for the photo, to show their solidarity with him. A small, but wacky moment.
Other than that, I found the movie one big snooze. Coming the year after Old School, if I'd seen it when it was new, I probably would have expected to like it as much, given the similar cast and I would have been quite disappointed.
Maybe it's the fact that it's supposed to be a period film and the whole idea of laughing simply at the contrast between our generation and the one before it seems, well, outdated and that eliminated 50% of the film's so called comedy for me. Ron Burgundy's red jacket and Veronica's skirt suit (with vest) just don't provide humor in and of themselves. So, if they set it in the past just so we could titter because people still used typewriters back then -- it wasn't really that funny.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Men in Black 3 (2012)
Men in Black II fell so flat that I don't think anyone gave the third entry in the series much hope. The pessimism was compounded by the fact that long before the release there were rumors of trouble and delays on the set, friction between Will Smith and the producers and a bad script. However, none of that was apparent to me watching the film. It may not be blockbuster material, but there was nothing disappointing about the film.
The plot contains both action and sentiment and Will Smith's humor is always engaging. He is very similar, in look and manner, to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and there's not much wrong with that. It's not new, but that makes it no less charming.
Of course, Agent J (Smith) has to go back in time to save the world, but one feels that the world is actually secondary. He's really going back to save his partner's (K's) life. He loves the man. He misses him -- even though they've only been apart a day. He doesn't want him erased from his life. The universe takes second place to that very basic affection between friends. At one point, after J does return to 1969 to meet and assist a young K in killing a bad guy, K asks J if J has a girlfriend in the future. J responds, "I've got you." It's just sarcasm, but this movie shows that it's true. These men aren't partners or friends. They are family. And it feels like it. They've worked together for 14 years and even though the audience has been with them for all of that time, we do feel as if we've been part of the journey which, as it turns out, began even earlier than we think.
We meet Agent O (Emma Thompson) and discover that she and K had feelings for each other. Why they never materialized into something deeper between 1969 and today remains a mystery. Maybe that's being saved for the sequel. But it's somehow sad, just as the wall between Emma and Anthony Hopkins' characters in Remains of the Day was sad. J marvels at the moments of lightness and warmth he glimpses in the young (29 years old) K and he keeps asking, "Man, what happened to you." Young K just laughs and says, "I don't know, it hasn't happened yet." And you laugh, but you also smart a little. Whatever happens you wish it would unhappen, because you don't want K to live the next 40 years so cut off from his feelings, so alone. It's how I felt after reading Young Goodman Brown in school. Why did Goodman ever have to have that dream? It cost him so much. It cost him his Faith -- in more ways than most. Well, here, J still has people who love him 40 years later, but not in the way they could have, if something hadn't happened to change him.
I liked the fact that the psychic's words made J (and us) think that the only way that K could live is if J, himself dies. He was willing to sacrifice himself to save the world -- and K. His fight scene at the top of the crane with the villain, Boris the Animal, strangely reminded me of Buffy The Vampire's The Gift episode. Buffy also had to fight on a crane and to make the decision to jump/fall to her own death to save her sister -- and the world. That's the fate J was facing when he took the plunge.
As for the ending, as soon as the black military officer who helped them in Cape Canaveral 1969 said that his own first born child was there to watch the moon launch, I knew immediately who the man must be. What I didn't understand is why his life and death was kept a secret from his son (J). The officer was not one of the "Men in Black". He did not work anonymously. His job was with NASA and he performed it openly as a ranking commander. He was not responsible for hiding the existence of aliens from the public. He died in the course of helping on a top secret mission and was present when K killed the villain that would have destroyed the world, but because the officer witnessed something secret and died in the process that didn't mean they had to "erase" his memory. Couldn't they have just staged an innocent reason for his death, say he had a car accident or died during rocket testing. Surely they could have gained the government's cooperation in creating a cover up and faking whatever paperwork needed to support it. Instead, they don't explain the man's death and disappearance at all and young J grows up thinking that his father walked out on him. He just left and never returned, from what J knows. Another tragedy.
I liked the movie. Likable familiar characters in a script that not only utilizes their history, but builds and expands it. Humor with pathos.
SIDE NOTES
Nice little walk on by Will Arnett and something being done by Emma Thompson in scenes where America gathered by their tv sets to watch the moon launch. I think Emma (in a wig) played several of the women sitting in front of the tv, but by the time I realized it was her, the short scenes were over. Reminds me of the Night at the Opera rumor that Papa Marx played an extra who waved at the passengers on the departing boat, but also played one of the passengers -- waving at the people (including himself) down below on the dock. Emma seems to have played at least two extras in MIB3 and I don't know what other "in" jokes I may have missed.
The man who gave J the time machine (inherited from his father) ran out of the time he needed to explain how traveling memory worked, but J wondered why he could remember K in the present day (after Boris went back in time and killed him) but no one else could. The Time Machine man said it was because J must have been there, back in 1969. It turned out that J was, but so was O. She was involved with K back in 1969. Why didn't she remember him. Maybe the man meant that J was actually there when K died. He was present when the act happened. Maybe that's why he could remember and O couldn't, but that's kind of cheating with the plot. What time travel rules say that the people who were with you when you died in the past can remember you and how can that be explained in quantum physics in a way that isn't silly and contrived even by sci fi standards?
When J returns from the past and meets K for lunch, K, who only likes country music, is singing along to Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes Empire State of Mind. Is this a clue that something that occurred during J's time travel changed K and made him less intractable and closed than he used to be? We don't see O again, so we don't know if anything changed between the two of them, so that they're now in the present what they almost were in the past. The trip back enlightened J, but we don't know what it did to K, other than to bring him back from the dead.
The plot contains both action and sentiment and Will Smith's humor is always engaging. He is very similar, in look and manner, to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and there's not much wrong with that. It's not new, but that makes it no less charming.
Of course, Agent J (Smith) has to go back in time to save the world, but one feels that the world is actually secondary. He's really going back to save his partner's (K's) life. He loves the man. He misses him -- even though they've only been apart a day. He doesn't want him erased from his life. The universe takes second place to that very basic affection between friends. At one point, after J does return to 1969 to meet and assist a young K in killing a bad guy, K asks J if J has a girlfriend in the future. J responds, "I've got you." It's just sarcasm, but this movie shows that it's true. These men aren't partners or friends. They are family. And it feels like it. They've worked together for 14 years and even though the audience has been with them for all of that time, we do feel as if we've been part of the journey which, as it turns out, began even earlier than we think.
We meet Agent O (Emma Thompson) and discover that she and K had feelings for each other. Why they never materialized into something deeper between 1969 and today remains a mystery. Maybe that's being saved for the sequel. But it's somehow sad, just as the wall between Emma and Anthony Hopkins' characters in Remains of the Day was sad. J marvels at the moments of lightness and warmth he glimpses in the young (29 years old) K and he keeps asking, "Man, what happened to you." Young K just laughs and says, "I don't know, it hasn't happened yet." And you laugh, but you also smart a little. Whatever happens you wish it would unhappen, because you don't want K to live the next 40 years so cut off from his feelings, so alone. It's how I felt after reading Young Goodman Brown in school. Why did Goodman ever have to have that dream? It cost him so much. It cost him his Faith -- in more ways than most. Well, here, J still has people who love him 40 years later, but not in the way they could have, if something hadn't happened to change him.
I liked the fact that the psychic's words made J (and us) think that the only way that K could live is if J, himself dies. He was willing to sacrifice himself to save the world -- and K. His fight scene at the top of the crane with the villain, Boris the Animal, strangely reminded me of Buffy The Vampire's The Gift episode. Buffy also had to fight on a crane and to make the decision to jump/fall to her own death to save her sister -- and the world. That's the fate J was facing when he took the plunge.
As for the ending, as soon as the black military officer who helped them in Cape Canaveral 1969 said that his own first born child was there to watch the moon launch, I knew immediately who the man must be. What I didn't understand is why his life and death was kept a secret from his son (J). The officer was not one of the "Men in Black". He did not work anonymously. His job was with NASA and he performed it openly as a ranking commander. He was not responsible for hiding the existence of aliens from the public. He died in the course of helping on a top secret mission and was present when K killed the villain that would have destroyed the world, but because the officer witnessed something secret and died in the process that didn't mean they had to "erase" his memory. Couldn't they have just staged an innocent reason for his death, say he had a car accident or died during rocket testing. Surely they could have gained the government's cooperation in creating a cover up and faking whatever paperwork needed to support it. Instead, they don't explain the man's death and disappearance at all and young J grows up thinking that his father walked out on him. He just left and never returned, from what J knows. Another tragedy.
I liked the movie. Likable familiar characters in a script that not only utilizes their history, but builds and expands it. Humor with pathos.
SIDE NOTES
Nice little walk on by Will Arnett and something being done by Emma Thompson in scenes where America gathered by their tv sets to watch the moon launch. I think Emma (in a wig) played several of the women sitting in front of the tv, but by the time I realized it was her, the short scenes were over. Reminds me of the Night at the Opera rumor that Papa Marx played an extra who waved at the passengers on the departing boat, but also played one of the passengers -- waving at the people (including himself) down below on the dock. Emma seems to have played at least two extras in MIB3 and I don't know what other "in" jokes I may have missed.
The man who gave J the time machine (inherited from his father) ran out of the time he needed to explain how traveling memory worked, but J wondered why he could remember K in the present day (after Boris went back in time and killed him) but no one else could. The Time Machine man said it was because J must have been there, back in 1969. It turned out that J was, but so was O. She was involved with K back in 1969. Why didn't she remember him. Maybe the man meant that J was actually there when K died. He was present when the act happened. Maybe that's why he could remember and O couldn't, but that's kind of cheating with the plot. What time travel rules say that the people who were with you when you died in the past can remember you and how can that be explained in quantum physics in a way that isn't silly and contrived even by sci fi standards?
When J returns from the past and meets K for lunch, K, who only likes country music, is singing along to Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes Empire State of Mind. Is this a clue that something that occurred during J's time travel changed K and made him less intractable and closed than he used to be? We don't see O again, so we don't know if anything changed between the two of them, so that they're now in the present what they almost were in the past. The trip back enlightened J, but we don't know what it did to K, other than to bring him back from the dead.
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