Everyone's a critic, especially me!

"I know to trust my own true mind" - Melchior Gabor

[popculturepundit]

Moana (2016)

It opens with the familiar Disney castle logo, accompanied not by the orchestral fanfare we’ve grown accustomed to, but a solo female singing in Tokelauan (a Polynesian language), joined by a fuller choir, with even more added impact as drums pound beneath their voices. Before the onscreen action even starts, we are immediately cued that this is a very different kind of Disney movie.

Moana, the latest feature from Walt Disney Animation Studios, is nothing short of a masterpiece. If Zootopia is (and it is) a gift to the mind, with its snappy dialogue and complex social undertones, Moana is a gift to the heart, operating on more of an emotional plane than an intellectual one.

There are moments of almost-overwhelming beauty, such as the toddler Moana meeting the living, personified water. In a completely wordless scene, the waves reveal a shell in the shallow end of a beach. Moana happily trots toward it, and the ocean gradually retreats further and further back, welcoming her to come closer. It’s a spectacular moment of youth, discovery, and destiny, and feels like something out of a Terrence Malick film, not a mainstream animation studio.

This scene, and many others, are heightened by spectacular music. Directors Ron Clements and John Musker (who brought us The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and Hercules, to name a few) are no strangers to crafting the animated musical, and Moana delivers moments as good as anything they’ve done. The songs are staged in very imaginative, artistic ways: “How Far I’ll Go (Reprise)” as a montage of Moana choosing to leave her home behind, “You’re Welcome” as a colorful mixed-media frenzy. The easy choice would have been to stage these numbers literally, and these veteran directors still have plenty of tricks up their sleeve.

What’s also notable about Moana, and possibly its strongest trait, is how it reshapes what a Disney Princess is. Early on in the film, her father trains her how to be Chief of the Motunui and she goes through the motions of being a functional leader. She advises her people on where to plant crops after the harvest fails. She assists in building projects. She even butts heads with her father on where the fishermen should sail. This is truly the first time we’ve seen a Disney heroine functioning as a ruler – not in passing broad strokes, but actually taking on the responsibility of a leader.

Moana is another great entry in the immensely strong contemporary Disney canon. Its innovative storytelling, rich music, and terrific heroine will cement it as a story to entertain families for generations to come.

[popculturepundit]

[andreii-tarkovsky]

David Lynch during the filming of Mulholland Dr.

[popculturepundit]

I’m still too scared to look at the screen during this part.

[dialnfornoir]

[popculturepundit]

Life is the Bubbles

Nobody loved The Little Mermaid as much as I did. The music, the adventure, the characters, and the high-stakes drama – it was all two-year-old me could ask for in a movie. He could watch it every day, so he did. As soon as his big sisters were off to school, the daily Little Mermaid ritual began: climbing into his VHS cabinet, shimmying out the bulky white plastic case between Lady and the Tramp and Mary Poppins, jamming the tape into the VCR, and immersing himself into the story of Ariel.

The Little Mermaid was such an important part of his everyday routine. Nobody could love it as much as he did.

Except the thousands of fans who also attended a screening of the film at the Hollywood Bowl. Followers of Ariel of all shapes and sizes, from little princesses to full-grown adults cosplaying as Scuttle, the real show on display was the breadth and diversity of all the people this movie touched.

In the era of Netflix, it’s so easy to enjoy entertainment wherever and whenever we please – often from the comfort of home. But it’s another experience entirely to go out, get dressed up, buy an expensive ticket for a movie you’ve already seen, and take part in a collective, collaborative entertainment event. The film screening was enhanced by the presence and enthusiasm of a motley crew, cheering as Ursula gets defeated, stifling tears as King Triton destroys Ariel’s grotto, and whistling when Eric finally “kisses the girl.”

His childhood routine, of watching and re-watching The Little Mermaid, was a mostly solitairy one – with Mom stepping in every 80 minutes or so to rewind the tape. It was something else to experience this film with a crowd of thousands, authentic kids and kids at heart, who also watched it every day growing up, now no longer alone.

[popculturepundit]

WORK, WORK: REPETITION AND CIRCULAR SONGWRITING IN “HAMILTON”

Look at where you are. Look at where you started.

Most songs, whether on the radio, on stage, on film, follow the basic “Verse-Chorus” structure. If the Chorus is the “thesis,” or point of the piece, the Verse is the “body paragraph,” providing specifics, examples, additional color to flesh out the key message of the Chorus.

The music of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton shatters this convention. Its score can be described as less like a traditional book musical, and more like an opera, set to a hip-hop, R&B, and pop score. A few numbers fit within traditional song templates (there are nearly 50 songs), while the bulk of it is more on the operatic side, with musical moments and ideas presented, then swirling to another phrase, then back again.

Hamilton is almost the anti-musical, presenting what I consider “circular” songs: presenting one single instance, frozen in time and/or inviting us in media res, flooding us with context, then snapping back to the present. They have elements of the traditional “Verse-Chorus” template, but have a unique structure all to their own.

One example of this is the terrific introduction to The Schuyler Sisters. Three high-class ladies hit the New York scene, introducing themselves by name: “Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy: the Schuyler Sisters.” Led by Angelica, the trio rebuffs men’s romantic advances for more intellectual pursuits: discussing Thomas Payne’s Common Sense, politics, and gender equality. They all agree that “History is happening in Manhattan, and [they] just happen to be in the greatest city in the world.” The song expands, as a hearty ensemble joins them for another chorus before we lock back into the opening refrain: “Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy: the Schuyler Sisters!”

Not only is this song immensely entertaining, but it leaves a considerable impression for essentially starting and ending at the same place – the opening “Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy” introduction, rather than the song’s chorus. In the narrative proper for this show (excluding the opening number), literally the first words out of each sister’s mouth is her name – seemingly the basest level of introduction. The song turns out to be anything but, as we learn more about the different personalities, attitudes, and minds of these modern, well-rounded women. The reaffirmation at the song’s conclusion, their re-introduction, nails this home. They’re at the same place they were when the song started, but we’re not – three minutes later, we’ve been remarkably introduced to the Schuyler Sisters.

This songwriting in media res is even more profound for Angelica’s lead song Satisfied. She toasts the marriage of Eliza to Alexander Hamilton: “A toast to the groom, to the bride, from your sister who is always by your side. To your union and the hope that you provide, may you always be satisfied.” The number then literally “rewinds,” back to when Angelica first met Hamilton. She reflects (via rap) how quickly she judged him before passing him off to the instantly-smitten Eliza, regretting her choice now that the former has fallen for him herself. At the same time, however, she reminds herself that as the oldest sister, she has a responsibility to marry rich and look out for her sisters’ happiness. To have taken Hamilton for herself would have broken both 18th century codes.

The liquid piano line glides us back into the present, as she repeats her toast from the beginning – but now weighed down by the understanding and acceptance of her choice. Her tongue-twisting rap and rapid turn of phrase illustrates how quickly her mind works and all the thoughts and fears running through as she realizes, all in one instant, she will never be satisfied.

The traditional approach would have been each song concluding with the main Chorus, but instead, the songs wrap around back to their introductory phrases. The Schuyler Sisters and Satisfied are just two examples of how Hamilton turns the musical on its head, from classical “move-the-story-along” songs, to literally stopping the narrative action, working backwards to contextualize a key moment, then moving forward.

The effect of each song is less from a “message” driven home through a Chorus, and more in the reaffirmation of the opening phrase. To hinge a song on the repeating of a single phrase once, rather than multiple times (as a Chorus would have been), is an admirable exercise in restraint and creates an even greater musical impact. Hamilton is a remarkably rich score with terrific numbers, but these “circular” songs stand out among the best for their uniqueness and memorable power.

[criterioncollection]

Sophia Loren making pizzas.

[popculturepundit]

Fake Criterion cover for Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966)

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Fake Criterion cover for X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

[popculturepundit]

Postcards from a “Palm Springs Weekend.”

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“What does all our love amount to?”

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Couldn’t decide which one I liked better - two fake Criterion covers for Disney-Pixar’s “The Good Dinosaur.”

[popculturepundit]

Weekly Round-Up: October 25-31, 2015 This "victory lap" of the final week before Halloween turned out pretty interesting. Typically I save the universally acclaimed masterpieces of horror (The Exorcist, The Haunting, Rosemary's Baby to name a few) for this key period - due to unexpected time constraints plus wanting to just see more new movies, I ended up with a unique assortment. (Am I the only person who's ever seen Haxan and Escape to Witch Mountain back-to-back?)

Paranormal Activity: The Ghost Dimension (2015) - This marks the sixth movie that follows the same infrastructure, but this saga can't stop being entertaining, compelling, and remorselessly scary. In this (supposedly) final entry, once the terror starts going it doesn't stop. Without spoiling too much, for a final film, it really does wrap up the mythology of the series and explain why these events transpire (even going back to the very first film). I know these movies don't work for everybody, so I'd say RECOMMENDED to the casual viewer and REQUIRED for fans of the Paranormal Activity saga.

Alien: Resurrection (1997) - The premise of the fourth and (currently) final of the Ripley Alien films feels straight out of fanfiction (dead Ripley is cloned and is a super-Ripley, who maintains some but not all of her memories from the first three movies). Unfortunately the storyline feels like a rehash of what we've already seen, though there are new elements to broaden the complexity of the Alien species, and actually tie into Prometheus (the prequel most people are mixed on, but I personally love) pretty well. NOT RECOMMENDED unless you're an Alien completist.

Mulholland Drive (2001) - Possibly my favorite movie of the 2000s, and certainly swirling in my list of top movies. David Lynch's neo-noir thriller is both hauntingly familiar and wholly original. Even if the (incredibly rich) narrative doesn't quite click upon first viewing, the emotional journey supercedes the logical one. This is the rare film that challenges your mind as much as it moves your heart. REQUIRED.

Häxan (1922) - This movie was only on my radar due to its inclusion in the Criterion Collection and on their list of "Scary Movies" (which the previous film is on, too). A very odd, silent, pseudo-documentary on witchcraft, sweeping across history recreating scenes of rituals, the Inquisition, even nuns gone wild. This is a movie where the sum of its parts feels greater than the whole, with specific vignettes & images standing out while the overall journey is less riveting. RECOMMENDED (for the film buff only).

Escape to Witch Mountain (1975) - This was actually my first time seeing Disney's wacky 1970s sci-fi mystery. Two (very likable) kids with mysterious powers are pursued by Ray Milland and the lousy psychiatrist from Halloween, and many cool special effects ensue. RECOMMENDED.

The Others (2001) - Genuinely emotional horror film about one mother protecting her children from the new presence invading her home. This feels like the tragic ghost story film Guillermo del Toro keeps getting close to making, but The Others takes the cake. (Tidbit: I only saw this movie when it came out because, at the time, I had a crush on Nicole Kidman.) HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) - This masterpiece speaks for itself. Top-notch family entertainment in every way, boasting a wildly imaginative cast of characters, superb score by Danny Elfman, and wonderfully clever premise. Another landmark film in the era of the Disney Renaissance. REQUIRED.

What did you see last week to celebrate Halloween?

[popculturepundit]

Weekly Round-Up: October 18-24, 2015

My ambition when I started this blog in college was to write essays about every movie, good or bad, that I see – but given the sheer volume of films I regularly plow through, plus the tough spot of forcing myself to write about movies I may simply not care enough about, I quickly realized this was an impossible dream. A more manageable alternative is to write quick, high-level takes on my movie views. The ones that strike greater thought and introspection will certainly warrant a lengthier blog post (sooner or later), but this way I can stay engaged with the community on a more regular basis. It’s almost Halloween so of course the horror/thriller movies are ramping up and will carry over into next week — but from this past week, I watched (in addition to a disc of Dark Shadows, which I’m slowly but steadily working through):

The Witches of Eastwick (1987) – Fun, darkly outrageous (but still classy) comedy. Strong acting across the board. Recommended.

What We Do in the Shadows (2014) – Very clever mockumentary about contemporary vampires and werewolves. Recommended.

The Wicker Man (1973) – Genuinely chilling horror mystery/thriller that builds up to a terrifying climax and doesn’t let go. Highly recommended.

What did you see last week?

[popculturepundit]

Fake Criterion cover for Kenny Ortega’s Descendants (2015).

[popculturepundit]

Blow Out (1981) A silent killer stalks a house of female coeds. He leers at them from the windows, breaks in, corners a young woman in the shower. As he raises his knife, she lets out a half-assed, laughable scream. The opening scene of Brian de Palma’s Blow Out, which we later learn to be a sound effect dub session for a second-rate horror flick, plays as a perfect prologue to this crime thriller: exploring the connection (or disconnection) between what we see and what we hear, weighted by the underlying theme of exploitation of women by men. A sound man (a young John Travolta in his prime) is out on a recording session in the outskirts of Philadelphia, as a car flies off a bridge, with a man and woman trapped inside. He is too late for the man (an up-and-coming politician) but successfully rescues the woman – a living, firsthand witness to the accident. Fearing the woman may be next, the two pair up and dive deeper to solve the mystery –listening extensively to the sound man’s initial recording, plunging into alternate personae, even charging headfirst into the face of danger. Their major breakthrough comes by procuring video of the incident, and meticulous editing to map the two media together. Certain plot elements, as well as atmosphere set by the gritty crime underworld, were reminiscent of de Palma’s excellent Dressed to Kill, though it was through these similarities that I came to further appreciate Blow Out’s own strengths:       First, though the captivating performance by Nancy Allen. In Dressed to Kill, she too wears many hats, as a high-end call girl / seductress / detective, paired surprisingly by the personality and charm of a typical girl next door. In Blow Out, however, she is a hopefully naïve, tragic heroine, as vulnerable to the men around her as the coeds from the slasher flick in the movie’s prologue. Her effective performance really illustrates her strong acting chops. Second, Blow Out has a terrifically innovative use of the split-screen. In addition to capturing multiple images of action and dialogue (as does Dressed to Kill), the split-screen choices further map the subconscious journey from sound to image. As Travolta’s character is outside at night, recording audio, he hears sounds from afar, as the camera reveals blurred images of them – only to come into focus, as he (and we) identify their source. Not only is Blow Out a nail-biting, and surprisingly moving, crime drama, but the overall discourse in which it operates – this relationship between sound and image - permeates the entire film, supporting not only the narrative but provoking interesting questions about the media of film. As an audience, we may be just as naïve as Nancy Allen’s character, taking what we recognize for granted, and too often lack the conspiracy theorist’s perspective, embodied by John Travolta’s character. This fascinating notion solidifies Blow Out as an important film not only from its exciting plot, but also from its broader implications toward the media of film.

[popculturepundit]

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) My experience watching the Coen Brothers’ musical Inside Llewyn Davis ranged from sheer magic to frustrating bleakness and back again. Its circular nature makes me curious to revisit, though my initial viewing left me less floored than I had been about halfway through. The first half, the film’s strongest act, is a masterful recreation of the folk scene of 1960s New York. Beautifully shot imagery, of muted colors and deep shadows, paired with very strong music, evoke a time and place many of us will only dream of. Of course the reality of the situation, particularly that of struggling guitarist Llewyn Davis, is anything but a dream, as he crashes couch to couch, heckles other folk performers, and gets girls into jams. Not that Inside Llewyn Davis is some romanticized take on this era; the East Side was undoubtedly full of Llewyn Davises, doing their rounds in artistic circles for a shot at a hit and finally striking it big. But seeing Llewyn in his element, facing the struggles that surely rings true for others in that time, is where this film really hits its stride. Where it falls off is through a very long detour to Chicago and back; while plot elements are revealed, Llewyn doesn’t seem to evolve much from this experience, making the 20-30 minute stretch of the movie seem less than necessary. Particularly as he returns to New York, finding himself back in the same situations as where he started, his character arc isn’t quite as satisfying as perhaps intended. I could be completely off - the point may be that Llewyn is so numb to the rejection and failure, he’s past the point of epiphany and growth, and the narrative succeeds in this plateau of maturity. From my perspective however, the film did not seem to go much of anywhere. Not that it really needed to, either; the setting and exposition were constructed beautifully. I liked the vision of 1960s New York and wanted to see that better established. From the initial glimpses into the folk subculture, I began to expect an alternate version of Robert Altman’s Nashville but about another time and place in American music (which would be terrific - I’d want to see that movie). It also must be said that Oscar Isaac’s performance as the titular Llewyn Davis is remarkable. I hadn’t seen him in anything playing more than a small supporting role, so to set him center stage, and have him sing, showcases his abilities wonderfully. From this movie alone, he is absolutely a talent to keep an eye out for. There’s a lot to like about Inside Llewyn Davis; despite its murky middle, the story is bookended by a strong, fully believable view of 1960s New York, supported by a solid, starmaking performance by Mr. Isaac.