On September 17th, Stephen King tweeted a review of Eli Roth's new cannibal flick, The Green Inferno, praising it as a "glorious throwback to the drive-in movies of my youth." I find the endorsement from the Creepshow writer fitting, as The Green Inferno feels like it belongs right at home with any one of Creepshow's segments, inspired by horror comics and B-movies from the '50s. Blood's used a little more liberally now - I don't think an Ohio drive-in of the time would ever show an audience what happens when you try to catch a log traveling 50 miles an hour with your teeth - but The Green Inferno hearkens back to an era of pulp fiction: simple balls-to-the-wall entertainment sprinkled with political consciousness.
Roth, in an interview with the Los Angeles Times, described the movie as his take on social media activism, pointing out opposite extremes:
"And I saw a lot of people just reacting to things on social media. These social justice warriors. ‘This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.’ And they’re just tweeting and retweeting. They’re not actually doing anything. Or you see people get involved in a cause that they don’t really know a lot about and they go crazy about it. I wanted to make a movie about kids like that...who don’t really know what they’re getting into."
Justine (Lorenza Izzo) is Roth's innocent, an idealistic college student (that phrase feels redundant) who becomes interested in her campus' activist group, much to the chagrin of her dead-eyed, deadpan roommate (Sky Ferriera). Justine butts heads with the group's tree-hug-or-die leader, Alejandro (Ariel Levy), who mistakes her enthusiasm for "freshman" naivete. Nonetheless, he challenges her to join the group on a trip to Peru, where they'll protest the bulldozing of the Amazon rain forest and destruction of native tribal lands. The group arrives and sets up an elaborate PR stunt, which has just the right effect. Twitter blows up, world leaders chastise the company, and the bulldozing ceases. The team celebrates on their plane ride back home, but an engine fails and the plane crash-lands in the jungle, close to the natives' village. Little do the students know the natives are cannibals...
And you'll probably be able to figure out the rest from there. The movie takes quite a while to get started; the students arrive in the jungle at the halfway point, and before that, we're subjected to all the caricatured viewpoints of environmental activism. Roth sets up a few good points: Justine's dad (Richard Burgi), a UN attorney, notes, "we can't just go invade a country because they're doing something which we think is immoral"; Justine's whim to leave for Peru without any thought is chastised by her roommate. However, when the spears start flying and limbs start tearing off, the impact from social commentary is nigh-forgotten.
So if we're to drop any political pretense, how does the film fare? For one thing, the makeup effects are stunning. Greg Nicotero (Evil Dead II, From Dusk Till Dawn) leads the effects and they're just right: eye-popping, grotesque, unforgettable. The first time we see the Bald Headhunter (Ramón Llao), his yellow facepaint, tusks across the face, it is terrifying, an image so strong, it's used for most of the promotional material. The film features models, dummies, and camera tricks that pull off the harshest scenes well. It's an ode to good ol' '80s practical effects...which makes the CGI that much more frustrating.
When the movie uses CGI, it's stark, and contrasts violently with the practical. For some shots, like a plane falling out of the sky, I can understand the use, but for ants? Really? I bring up Creepshow again, where director George Romero used thousands of live roaches, having his team collect them by going to a cave, scooping a hole in bat guano, shutting off the lights and waiting for the swarm. The effect is chilling, one of the nastiest effects in horror history, released in 1982. In 2015, ants are computer-generated, and man, does it look fake.
In typical Eli Roth fashion, the horror is approached with a healthy degree of slapstick, and while the jokes feel sophomoric, by this point in the movie, I'm in a sophomoric mood. A scene with a "sick" girl in a cage leaves me giggling like a ten-year-old. Does my adult brain scold me for laughing? A little. But do I really care? Absolutely not. The characters, sans Justine, are crass, vulgar idiots, and though most of them don't deserve my hate (a disturbing trend I've discovered in recent horror - I'm looking at you, Unfriended), I don't find myself doling out any sympathy, so when they make stupid moves, I bust out laughing when they get their comeuppance. If Darwin's laughing, so am I.
The Green Inferno is a step above much of 2015's horror, and while I feel it would've been even more effective as a shortened section of an anthology, I have little complaints that actually affected my enjoyment. I've gone to scary movies this year hoping to lose my brain for an hour and a half, see some creepy imagery, and laugh at the ridiculous, and The Green Inferno is exactly what I hoped. It's an ultraviolent, gore-drenched cartoon, and for fans of horror comedies, you'll dig it. Bring your friends, sneak in a steak (cooked rare, of course), and have a blast.
Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
In Black Mass, Jimmy "Whitey" Bulger (Johnny Depp) dispenses advice to his young son, who's gotten in trouble at school, "It's not what you do, but when and where you do it, and who you do it to and with." This line sums up the film perfectly: Black Mass is a gangster movie with all the trappings of its genre - grisly violence, political corruption, and three F-bombs a minute - and in different hands, this would fall flat on its face. However, Black Mass has Johnny Depp, who, after a period of disappointments (Dark Shadows, Mordecai, The Lone Ranger, Alice In Wonderland, Into the Woods, and my personal worst offender, Transcendence), is revitalized, in his best role in over a decade. This cast brings the film to life, turning an otherwise standard mob story into a stylish, brutal odyssey.
In 1975, Boston is fought over by two opposing gangs: the Italian Angiulo brothers in the North, and the Irish Winter Hills Gang in the South, led by Bulger. The groups' rivalry has gotten the attention of the FBI, in particular, of Bulger's childhood friend, Special Agent John Connolly (Joel Edgerton). Wanting a high-profile case to rise up the ranks with, Connolly re-connects with Bulger and proposes an alliance in order to take down the Italians. Bulger, adamant against looking like a "rat," is reluctant, but ultimately agrees, using the alliance to start building an empire behind-the-scenes.
Black Mass is a movie of morals, and their gatekeeper is Whitey Bulger. He lives by the law of the clan - family comes first, what's he's earned is solely his, and anyone who becomes an obstacle is rewarded with a couple bullets in the face, and arms, and back, and torso, and you get the picture. We rarely see Whitey on his own; the movie's not the kind to spew soliloquies and tell-alls. We have to rely on his relationships to dictate how we should perceive him. To John Connolly, he's like an older brother; to the cops, he's the king of the gutter rats; to his mother, he's a goofy beloved son; to the community elders, he's a respectful man who's used his gains to better the town. In this regard, Whitey is an enigma; is he a bloodthirsty psychopath or a conservative man taking all actions to maintain the ideals of his worldview? Depp's performance sells all sides; he is on fire, slinking through rage, affection, mania, and stone-cold swagger, all at the drop of a hat. Every stare-down sends chills down my spine; in my screening, these moments equate to absolute silence.
Bulger's presence is felt at all times; director Scott Cooper, in a sense, makes him Boston's Batman ( before Ben Affleck does it next March), with eyes and ears in every crevice of the city. Boston doesn't quite reach the encompassing level of character New York does in Taxi Driver, but Cooper picks good highlights to help tie the character to scenery. As the film progresses, the people around Whitey find themselves subtly influenced, even transformed by his presence. Some adopt his ruthlessness or sense of loyalty, others become fearful, even cowardly. One gets a sense that Whitey has truly engulfed the city, shrunk it to where he can hold it in the palm of his hand.
If there's something to really fault Black Mass for, it's the movie's choice of framing, which automatically gives away the ending. In the movie's defense, the American gangster movie has remained true to its story arcs since the '30s, and from The Godfather to Scarface to Goodfellas, we've seen these arcs played out repeatedly. What differentiates these films are the characters, their motivations and worldviews. Where Tony Montana searches for power and status, Whitey Bulger is a man whose sense of duty towards his way of life consumes him, dictating and justifying (at least, in his mind) every single action he takes. The whole film takes you on a descent into calculated madness, and with an Oscar nomination-worthy performance from Depp, serves as a strong start to the fall season.
Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
He did it. He finally did it. I did my waiting, 15 years of it! After all this time, M. Night Shyamalan returns with The Visit, a film showcasing a more self-aware writer/director, who uses his infamous tropes to his advantage in crafting an uncomfortable, darkly comedic thriller. In a year of cookie-cutter horror, The Visit stands out as a movie that weaves around others' shortcomings, takes risks, and comes out the better for it.
Becca (Olivia DeJonge), an aspiring filmmaker, and Tyler (Ed Oxenbould), a freestyle rapper and self-proclaimed "ladies' man" (quite a feat for a middle-schooler), go to their grandparents' Pennsylvania farmhouse for a week, while their mother (Kathryn Hahn) is on a cruise with her boyfriend. This is the first time the kids have met their grandparents, as the mother's been estranged for fifteen years; Becca, hoping the trip will lead to some healing, is making a documentary of their trip to help bridge the two parties together. The grandparents, Nana (Deanna Dunagan) and Pop Pop (Peter McRobbie), are sweet, simple folk, but as the week progresses, the kids start noticing their grandparents' odd behaviors. Tyler is concerned, while Becca initially brushes it off as a product of being old (Shyamalan plays well with the fear of aging). However, as Nana and Pop Pop's actions become increasingly strange, the kids start to uncover the darker secrets lying underneath.
The Visit is a Shyamalan movie, so let's run down the checklist/drinking game rules for one of his flicks. Kids saying adult dialogue while adults do the opposite? Check. Stilted acting from the supporting cast? Check. Head-twistingly odd direction? Yup. Obvious commentary on the state of the film industry? Wouldn't be a post-Village Shyamalan film without it. The Visit distinguishes itself from something like Lady In The Water by working these tropes into the film, the characterization and plot. Becca's a young teenager who wants her documentary to be taken seriously, so it makes sense for her to talk grandiosely about how a swing rocking in the wind can produce a "naturally organic" emotional reaction or how she specifically writes tearjerker questions to force vulnerability. Shyamlan uses this cliché for characterization; this is a cliché with a purpose.
The film is a horror-comedy, usually exemplified by horror that softens up the scares with laughter. However, The Visit manages to hit bullseyes on both aspects. When it's funny, it's hysterical. When it's scary, it's bone-chilling. And while for other films, this back-and-forth can become detrimental, The Visit is so consistently odd and strange that it leaves an uncomfortable feeling, that when added to the quiet, spooky atmosphere, makes the scares work more effectively. The movie's like a fever dream you're not able to wake up from.
Acting's top-notch: Dunagan's Nana is one of the decade's best horror villains; the movie likes to show her head-on, and with her smile and chaotic creeping, she ends up sending shivers down my spine. Truly unpredictable, her performance is the scariest part of the film. DeJonge and Oxenbould are entertaining child actors, and manage to get through Shyamalan's "adult" dialogue well, without coming off as deadpan or the material seeming too far from their grasp. Perhaps this is due to age; I wonder if I'd find these characters as endearing if they were played by slightly older teens. Regardless, these kids have great chemistry, and carry the film very well. I find it shameful that nowadays I consider it a privilege to have horror protagonists I can watch for ninety minutes without wanting to gouge my eyes out due to their douchebaggery, but I'm in a Skinner-esque mood today; let's give credit where it's due.
Shyamalan, along with director of photography Maryse Alberti, makes one of the few (seemingly fewer with every passing year) good found-footage movies. The camera is often tilted at a dutch angle, or set on a table away from the action. It feels like an amateur's attempt at a documentary, without any unnecessary digital effects or shaky-cam to ruin the illusion. There's still direction here: a scene where the kids play rock-paper-scissors seems a little too well-framed to come off as an amateur's lucky break, but the shot's subtle enough that it works. This combination of improv with a steady directing hand makes the film work as found-footage without sacrificing any of the long hallways and awkward positioning that makes for an eerie atmosphere.
The Visit is not for everyone; the crowd I saw it with wasn't entirely sure what to think. They weren't sure if it was meant to be a horror spoof or taken entirely seriously, but from all the laughter and screeches in the back rows, everyone had a grand time. The film is jarring, awkward, surreal at times, but it leaves you feeling uncomfortable and tense throughout. One of the hallmarks of a good scary movie is that you don't feel in control when you're watching it; you may be able to predict some of what happens, but the devil's in the details, and the devil could be lurking around every single corner, nook, and cranny. With The Visit, Shyamalan has made his New Nightmare, an intelligent, self-aware horror film that blends all his greatest hits and proudly, unapologetically throws it in your face.
Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
Two years. I've been writing and creating content for two years. It seems surreal; I started this blog as a whim, as a shot in the dark, to see if I'd be satisfied writing about film. Here we are. To those of you who've read my reviews, from The Perks of Being a Wallflower to Turbo Kid, I thank you for your time, your comments, your criticism and support. I hope to keep on trucking, and keep on writing. So on the Man Without a Plan's second birthday, let's think in twos. I'm going to briefly count down my top ten favorite sequels of all time. Now, I know sequels can apply to more than just the second installment of any franchise, but for this list's sake, we're only going for number two (teehee).
Honorable Mentions:
Captain America: The Winter Soldier Rocky II Rugrats In Paris: The Movie Paranormal Activity 2 Oldboy - (While technically the second installment of Chan-wook Park's "Vengeance" trilogy, none of the movie's plots or characters are connected to the other films. Oldboy is a sequel only in a thematic sense; it'd be like if I considered Casino a sequel to Goodfellas. Because of this, I'm not comfortable placing it on the list, but to answer a "What if?" scenario, this would be #3.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 10) A Nightmare On Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge- Welcome to the part of the show where I try to Freddy's Revenge is regarded by fans to be one of the worst entries in the franchise, sandwiched between the original and Dream Warriors, arguably the best.Freddy'sRevenge gets flak for its '80s cheese and homoerotic undertones (Jesse/Grady slash fic, anyone?). However, like similarly maligned sequels Zelda II and Halloween III, Freddy's Revenge earns points for taking the series in a new direction. The movie takes a more psychological turn as Jesse (Mark Patton) feels he's becoming possessed by Freddy, not hunted by him. Throughout the film, Jesse finds himself in the dream world suddenly wearing Freddy's glove, almost driven to the brink of murder. Patton completely sells Jesse's spiral into madness in a slow, yet disturbed manner.
deflect rotten produce thrown at me from Internet commenters.
Robert Englund is still menacing as Freddy Kreuger, and being a product of the '80s, the film bolsters his performance with state-of-the-art practical effects - the scene where Freddy bursts out of Jesse's exoskeleton-like skin is gruesomely fascinating to this day. Sure, the film indulges in a few too many pop montages and corny dialogue, but it's all part of the fun. Freddy's Revenge breaths life into what could've just been a cash-grab sequel, and for me and other fans of Freddy, this is where we became sure: we were all his children now.
9) An Extremely Goofy Movie- Most people have seen A Goofy Movie, the animated National Lampoon's Vacation/The Wonder Years crossover no one knew they wanted. Disney put their spin on suburbia, and told a story about a father and son trying to remedy their relationship as the father goes through a midlife crisis, and the son attempts to escape the father's shadow.
An Extremely Goofy Movie is the same thing...done better. This film updates locations from high school to college, which I find to be the better move. Sure, Disney's parody of college life - the raves, frat boys, extreme skateboarders, hipster coffee shops, and of course, the classroom filled with thousands - is hysterical, becoming weirdly spot-on as my collegiate career develops. But college is also an environment of change, of re-evaluating one's place in the world, which is the film's focus and strength. Goofy's mid-life crisis worsens with developing "empty nest syndrome" and having to earn his degree to get a better job; Max, lost in the college environment and successful in the College X Games, is able to escape his father's shadow for the first time, but when Goofy enrolls, finds himself shoved back again. Both father and son are coming to grips with change and struggling to balance the past with the future, their needs with the other's.
As I grow up, I find these themes to be more pertinent, and the film serves as a reminder to re-evaluate the state of my own relationships and priorities to make sure what I want out of life is what I should be striving for. Not bad for a movie about anthropomorphic dogs.
8) Terminator 2: Judgment Day - Look at any list of best sequels, action, sci-fi, or '90s films, and you're bound to find Terminator 2 near the top of the list, if not in the number-one spot. It does what every good sequel should: improve upon the original, further story, develop characters, invent, challenge, and expand the movie's universe. Sarah Connor (Linda Hamliton) goes from innocent to soldier; John (Edward Furlong) goes from boy to man; and the T-800 (Arnold Schwarzenegger) challenges the notion of a robot's ability to be human, or to emulate humans, whatever one's interpretation may be.
As a thirteen-year old getting into movies, specifically science fiction and action, T2 has everything: robots, shotguns, motorcycles, vintage Guns N' Roses, explosions, and one-liners. And where a film like Transformers features the same elements, I find what makes T2 not only work, but excel, is the craftsmanship. James Cameron and his vision, to push the boundaries of action and character and technology is what makes this work. Look at the father-son relationship between the Terminator and John; look at when the T-1000 phases through the prison bars; look at the motorcycle-truck chase through L.A. All these showcase a creativity, an energy that's meticulously built to create tension, to astonish, to have us, the audience feel sympathy. Judgment Day pushed (and still pushes) the standard for movie-making higher.
7) Shrek 2 - The day I saw this film was my last day of 5th Grade, when I had aced my classes with flying colors and my dad took me to see Shrek 2 in theaters, before, that night, dropping me off back at school for the "End of the Year" dance. I hold both the beginning of summer and the dance as highlights in my memory (especially my awkward, yet vigorous shuffling to Outkast's "Hey Ya!"), but when I look back at it, what really made my day was Shrek 2: a wildly creative, joke-a-minute comedy that takes the foundation of the original and blossoms it into a full cinematic world.
Shrek had the titular character, Donkey, and Fiona; the sequel added Puss in Boots, the Fairy Godmother, Fiona's dad, Prince Charming, Pinocchio, The Big Bad Wolf, the Gingerbread Man, and the best dessert-based monster since the Staypuff marshmallow man, Mongo. The world boomed; somehow, from a swamp, woods, and two castles, we arrived at a Beverly Hills parody named Far Far Away, with enough puns to make even the snobbiest linguists chuckle, and as many references as you can think of, from Cops and Godzilla to the Little Mermaid.
And while other animated movies do this kind of heavy pop-culture referencing and bomb, Shrek 2, in the vein of its spiritual predecessor, Aladdin, never strays from the story or characters, which get even funnier, smarter, and more lovable. Not only is Shrek 2 better than the original, it's better by a country mile.
6) The Dark Knight - It's 'cause of the Joker. Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight is an exploration into the thin line between security and chaos, and analyzes both sides of the spectrum: crime-ridden anarchy vs. government-sponsored monitoring (replace Lucius Fox in front of that massive computer with George W. Bush and you'll get the idea). The movie's one of the most dialogue-heavy in the superhero genre, coming off more like a traditional crime drama than a movie about a costumed vigilante punching his way to justice. And for any other superhero movie, most recently Man of Steel and Fant4stic, this move would be suicide, but as I said, it's the Joker.
Heath Ledger's Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor was clinched before his untimely death; his momentum transcends the movie above the level of...well, The Dark Knight Rises. Ledger embodies previous Jokers, mainly Jack Nicholson and Cesar Romero, but brought a spin to the character. The Joker is a goofball, carefree. He's a maniacal gangster, but first and foremost, he's a sociopath, whose intelligence is his weapon. When he talks with Batman in the detention cell, we know who's in the right and wrong, but it's astonishing to realize, as the scene progresses, that the Joker is playing us, not Batman. If the world naturally leans towards anarchy, it only makes sense that one shouldn't fight this with pointless idealism, but rather join it. Though extreme, it's a realist view, and the Joker sells it well.
Of course, the film doesn't consist of solely seminars (no matter how much Nolan haters claim it does). The film belongs to the Joker, and in one standout scene after the other, he singlehandedly holds the movie up, and betters it as a result. Because of Ledger's work, The Dark Knight elevates Nolan's intelligence, ambition, and skill to masterpiece status.
5) Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers - The Lord of the Rings series is one I find myself re-evaluating every few years, and inevitably change my ranking of each film, because of whatever aspect of the film I tend to harp on at the time. As of now, I consider The Two Towers the best (ironically, the last time I thought about this, I placed it last).
Here lie the best moments of the trilogy: the introduction of Gollum, the battle at Helm's Deep, the fight between Gandalf and the Balrog, Saruman's reign over Isengard, Legolas boarding down a flight of stairs while shooting arrows into fools, and my personal favorite: Sam's speech at Osgiliath, near the end of the film. Watch it below (spoiler-heavy, pull out your Kleenex):
Sam highlights the crux of the entire trilogy in that one line: "That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it's worth fighting for." Despite the misery and tragedy that surrounds our heroes, despite the insurmountable odds they face, there is always hope, and with hope, they push forward to defeat Sauron and the evil he's spread. Director Peter Jackson edits this scene beautifully, and guides the entire film, through multiple complex subplots and countless characters to arrive at this point, and when he does, it's as if the final puzzle piece has fallen into place. He has given us, along with the characters, a moment of ultimate clarity that provides the strength to believe in hope and win the day. This movie brings the entire series together and is able to shrink it to the size of a pin - clear, concise, and complete. A film like that deserves recognition.
4) Evil Dead II - The 1980's are the Golden Age for horror, where classics like The Thing and An American Werewolf in London used state-of-the-art special effects to create ghastly creatures, sickening transformations that would make audiences worldwide tilt their head, lean towards the screen, and ask "How?" Look behind the scenes and you'll see immensely creative and resourceful artists and builders at work, using puppetry, animatronics, camera tricks, and of course, gallons of fake blood to make the horror as real as possible.
This is where Evil Dead II comes in. The first Evil Dead did a lot with a little, due to Sam Raimi's ingenuity with the camera and special effects (just take a look at that stop-motion melting scene), but in the sequel, Raimi turned the set into a madhouse, utilizing explosives, dummies, puppets under the floorboards and tables, and plaster molds to get just the kind of gruesome, or cartoonish, or unique shot he desired. In a chase where a demon crashes through both windshields of a car, Raimi's crew put a box around the camera and mounted it on a pole, ramming this through the car to achieve the demon's point of view without damaging the camera.
Evil Dead II is the Citizen Kane of horror-comedy. While movies like Dead Alive and Shaun of the Dead borrow from it, never has a movie before or after gotten just the right mix of screams and laughter, and done so with such a high degree of invention. Bruce Campbell's Ash is the marriage between Han Solo and Curly we didn't know we wanted; to see him flip around, contort his face, fight off disembodied puppets while spewing off some of the greatest one-liners in history is a treat that no one should deny themselves.
For fans of the film, check out this documentary that shows all the costuming and effects work done by Raimi and crew; you'll be stunned. If you haven't seen it yet, watch the film, then come back to this video.
3) The Empire Strikes Back - Well, it's about time this one reared its head. The Empire Strikes Back is regarded as one of the greatest sequels of all time, usually only placed behind The Godfather II. And honestly...it completely makes sense. Empire features some of the best moments in the original Star Wars trilogy: the battle at Hoth, the first showdown between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, Luke's training under Yoda, and Boba Fett. But these are just moments, and both A New Hope and Return of the Jedi can boast great, even greater moments. Why is The Empire Strikes Back not only a great sequel, but arguably, the best of all the Star Wars films?
Empire raised the stakes, developed and added characters, improved on the effects and action like most sequels, but I think what makes it last is its willingness to escape the plot. In essence, Empire is simply a long chase, as Darth Vader races to capture and eliminate the Rebel Alliance and its leaders, our heroes. But the movie takes time to show more planets, presents different aspects to the Star Wars universe we weren't aware of. This is the first time "The Force" is really explored, revealing a layer of spirituality and mythology we weren't aware of. Yoda even asks Luke at one point to ignore his vision of Luke and Leia being captured, and instead continue his training. One can argue both ways, that Luke isn't ready to take on Vader and should wait, or that Yoda is being callous and Luke has a duty to save his friends, but the feeling that's left in my mind is an idea that the story is part of a larger whole. The movie's universe isn't indebted to the plot, and as a result, feels much more real, like our world.
What draws me into Star Wars, and similar series like Star Trek, Doctor Who, and even non-space themed properties like Avatar: The Last Airbender, is a feeling of exploration, that one can wander through a particular property's world and discover more stories, more characters, more ideas than originally intended or explained. When done poorly, the film becomes unfocused, but when it knows how to give hints of what could be "out there", the movie becomes more than a movie. It turns to a place I can let my creativity run wild and explore as many possibilities as I can. This is why the extended universe is so gargantuan, the movie facilitates and welcomes such exploration. And sure, Star Wars does this throughout all six (soon to be seven) movies, but The Empire Strikes Back was the first time that I felt that anything was truly possible.
2) Spider-Man 2 - Looky-loo, Sam Raimi makes a second appearance on this list. Spider-Man 2 is one of the greatest superhero movies ever made, because of its ability to balance the super with the hero, and make Peter Parker just as intriguing as the wall-crawler. It's the closest any Spider-Man film has come to fully capturing the difficulties a superhero faces, with or without the costume.
Instead of thinking of Spider-Man as a superhero in the sense of Superman or Thor, a mythical being similar to a Greek god, think of him like a policeman, a civil servant who adorns his life with larger responsibility, a moral duty to the protection of his community. Superman and Thor struggle with their identities outside of being superheroes, but these moments serve to highlight how different they are from the rest of us, where Spider-Man's struggles highlight how similar he is. He works a crappy pizza delivery job, gets his homework done late, if at all, forgets about his girlfriend's play. Raimi infuses these scenes with humor, and Maguire's earnestness makes us sympathize with his plights.
That's not to say the film is laden with excessive dialogue or psychology; we see Spider-Man leap into action, stop bank robberies, save people tossed off of buildings, even stop a runaway train. Raimi's inventive camera work returns here; he feels right at home capturing the acrobatics of web-swinging, making for some of the most exciting, creative action ever seen in a superhero movie.
Alfred Molina's Dr. Octopus serves as a strong foil to Spider-Man; he serves as a window into a potential future for Spider-Man, one where his sense of responsibility, sense of duty to his community is gone, distorted by anger and misery. Molina is heartwarming and intense, furious while also pathetic; no villain in the series has ever come close to his range.
Spider-Man 2, while campy and corny at times, manages to treat the superhero like a character rather than an icon, and by doing so, humanizes Spider-Man better than ever before, providing audiences with a hero they can look up to. Cause if Spider-Man can earn his degree while pummeling crooks, who's to say you can't?
1) Toy Story 2 - Story time: as a kid (and even now as an adult), I was obsessed with Pokémon. I watched the TV show, played the video games, collected cards, the whole shebang. So when I heard that Pokémon: The First Movie was on its way to my local metroplex, I, as one would expect, lost my ever-loving mind. I begged my parents to take me, and after enough pleading, they relented. That Saturday, I grabbed a friend, hopped in the car, and rode for what felt like an eternity (probably only half an hour) to the theater. I saw the banner high above me: Pokémon: The First Movie. I bounced my happy ass in, waiting on the edge of my seat. You can imagine my confusion when the first shot of the film showed Buzz Lightyear.
My parents had hoodwinked me; because my father's company had partnered with Disney/Pixar, they had organized a free pre-screening of Toy Story 2. In order to disguise this from other patrons, the theater flashed Pokémon: The First Movie above the screening room. I was taken for a sucker, and I was pissed...for about a minute.
Toy Story 2 isn't only my favorite sequel, but one of my favorite movies of all time, Pixar's crowning achievement. It's intelligent, hilarious, creative, emotional, philosophical, lively, and downright beautiful. It's a movie that gets better with age, and I mean this not to say that I understand more of the jokes aimed at adults, or notice clever homages and Easter eggs in the background (though I do), but rather, I find it amazing that a movie about toys, featuring cowboys, spacemen, and Mr. Potato Head, can make me wax poetic about mortality, and how to come to grips with it.
Honestly, the whole series, to an extent, has this elephant in the room: Woody and Buzz are toys, and eventually, will become relics to Andy, either ignored over new toys or interests, passed on to other children, or inevitably, thrown away. And while the first and third films seem to brush this off with friendship and the happy ending of Bonnie getting Andy's toys, Toy Story 2 takes the question head-on, leaving the answer to Woody's conscious choice. Jessie was abandoned by her previous owner; won't Woody? Will it be safer to him to stay in the museum and be guaranteed a peaceful life, or take the risk and the emotional benefits that come with experiencing a child's love?
When I watch the film, I end up applying this similar question to my life, especially as I grow older. I'm nowhere near old enough to have a midlife crisis, but it's strange how much more aware I am of my mortality with each passing year. There are choices I make in reference to the manner I live my life, with the knowledge it'll eventually end. Toy Story 2 uses its plot to parallel these choices and showcase the way one should arrive to such a conclusion, by absorbing multiple points of view, and as a result, make an informed decision on the manner in which one's life will go on.
Pixar's talent has always been to make a fun adventure, a great and grand story, and showcase simple, beautiful truths inside the movie. While I feel something like Inside Out does great with the emotions and big concepts, the story surrounding it is a bit underwhelming. Not so here: the characters are phenomenal, the plot is creative and complex, the humor always hits bulls-eyes. Like my parents, the movie hoodwinked me. It gave me an imaginative and blissful experience, but underneath the surface, showcased a powerful message, a strong reminder of what one should value in life. That's great storytelling and fantastic movie-making.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, that's a wrap. If you haven't seen any of these movies, they all come with a high stamp/seal of approval, definitely check them out. Again, I must mention this: thank you all who have read the reviews, commented, liked, favorited, etc. Your support means the world to me, and inspires me to continue with this little cinematic odyssey. I'm two years in, going on three, and hopefully, many more. Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
Over the past few weeks, I've heard the following properties being brought up in reference to what Turbo Kid is like: Power Rangers, Mad Max, Borderlands, Mega Man, Indiana Jones, The Wizard, Jem and the Holograms, Dead Alive, Jet Jaguar, Last Action Hero, Shazam, and Scott Pilgrim. That seems about right. Let me try to sum it up - TurboKid is a Saturday morning cartoon for adults, with B-movie charm, lots of heart, and enough blood splatters to rival Robocop.
In the futuristic, far-off year of 1997, the Kid (Munro Chambers) is a lone wolf in the Wasteland, scavenging for trinkets and rarities to trade for clean water (which is supposed to look like watered-down soda, right?) The Wasteland is ruled by a sadistic bandit leader, the one-eyed Zeus (Michael Ironside), who, along with his buzzsaw-wielding henchman (Edwin Wright), terrorize the populace in search for the mythical water source rumored to bring life back to the Wasteland. He's opposed by a small rebel force, led by the gruff cowboy, Frederic the Arm Wrestler (Aaron Jeffery).
One day, the Kid sits on a swing set, reading his favorite comic book, Turbo Rider (think a fusion of the Red Ranger and Mega Man), when he's interrupted by a bubbly pink-haired girl (Laurence Leboeuf) whose name is Apple (To quote the Kid, "Of course it is.") Apple has a five-year-old's spirit in a teen's body: she's curious and excited about even the smallest things; she never stops bouncing or giggling; it's rare to find a frame where there's not the widest, sweetest smile on her face. The Kid is more reserved, rule-oriented, cowardly at the worst of times. Naturally, opposites attract and they hit it off, but when Apple is kidnapped and sent to the bandits, it's up to the Kid to muster his courage, team up with Frederic, defeat Zeus, and save his girlfriend.
The Kid, Apple, and Frederic (far right) formulate a plan.
The story's a Western; the effects are Horror; the characters can fit well in Sci-fi. Despite this, Turbo Kid weaves these elements together with enough seams left to pass as a love letter to these genres without feeling derivative. Directors François Simard, Anouk Whissell, and Yoann-Karl Whissell (forming the Montreal-based collective RKSS) do a lot with a little, overseeing inventive and immersive production design. They drench the film in '80s pop culture, with a groovy synth score, Indiana Jones and Karate Kid references, and seriously, just look at that chrome lettering!
The action's a blast, and Turbo Kid pulls no punches. If you've ever doubted a superhero's tenacity, how he or she can fire and take energy balls, destructo-rays like they're NERF darts, doubt no more. When the Kid fires his Turbo Glove, torsos come off, with only legs and a shower of blood left behind. Decapitated scalps spin around on heads like propeller hats; limbs are hacked off; getting shot multiple times over the course of a fight is common. RKSS takes it over the top, in the vein of the Evil Dead franchise, or the previously mentioned Dead Alive. If there's a scene here that can rival that film's gross-out horrilarity of a zombie grandma accidentally eating her ear that's fallen in the custard, just wait for the exercise bike.
However, for all the blood and pew-pew lasers, Turbo Kid is at its core, a story of friendship and the search for a sense of belonging. Most of this comes from Leboeuf, who steals the show. Apple's consistent joy (even when faced with the possibility of a sledgehammer to the noggin) is infectious. She draws my eye in every scene; Leboeuf's quirks and expressions make for the bulk of my laughter during the film. She's tough without ever sacrificing a sliver of cuteness, fiercely loyal, and incredibly intelligent...despite some ditziness. Her enthusiasm is inviting, and makes the Kid, as well as the audience, want to follow her on a crazy fun adventure. She and the Kid learn about each other, their fears and aspirations. This is a relationship that progresses naturally; whenever this pays off, it feels real; I believe they truly care for each other.
For 90 minutes, the film married my childhood and adult tastes, into an insane adventure that's equal parts nostalgia and completely fresh. It's a neon bloodbath, rainbow-blasted madness, a smoothie made out of the best pieces of sci-fi, action, cartoons, and surrealism. Rent it on Vimeo, or find it at your local theater, but regardless, if you want to fight off the end-of-summer blues, do yourself a favor and check this flick out.
Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.
