"Ex-Machina" Review

Recently, Hollywood has brought artificial intelligence to the forefront: Transcendence, Big Hero 6, Her, and the upcoming Avengers: Age of Ultron. Even films such as Lucy or Rise of the Planet of the Apes, less focused on the robotic, explore humanity's reactions to alternate sources of high intelligence, reevaluating our place in nature's mental hierarchy. It'd be easy, given the current inundation, for Ex-Machina to fade into the crowd. Instead, Alex Garland's (writer of Sunshine, 28 Days Later) directorial debut succeeds by asking the right questions: can human behavior be explained through biochemistry; are our minds just evolutionary taskmasters controlling husks of flesh; does our intellect make us human...and if not, what does?

Caleb (Domnhall Gleeson) is one of Bluebook's many young programmers. The search engine giant accounts for 94% of global internet searches (Google, as of this month, is at 88%, according to StatCounter). Caleb wins a company-wide lottery to spend a week at CEO Nathan's (Oscar Isaac) mountain estate. Initially excited, he's overjoyed when Nathan gives Caleb the task of testing out his AI prototype, Ava (Alicia Vikander), to determine if she possesses true consciousness.

Ava has a woman's face, but her metallic exoskeleton reveals otherwise. However, she isn't off-putting, like something from I Robot. Yes, the circuitry below her neck gives her face an unusual plasticity, and her limbs are clearly metal, but Ava has a sensuality that's soothing. Her structure has curves; darker panels on her chest and below the waist resemble a sports bra and shorts. It's not difficult to look past the gears, so to speak. Vikander brings the package to life; her performance transcends dialogue, presenting a wealth of naivete, curiosity, and frustration often in the span of a glance.

Resembling Pinocchio more than the HAL-9000, she is less a god and more a child, attempting to deduce sensation from its dictionary entry. Nathan asks Caleb if he thinks Ava simulates the behavior of liking him, or actually does. With Caleb's puzzled pause, the film suggests this is the final hurdle, the determining factor for artificial intelligence: the ability to identify when a being can tie the abstract to the concrete, the word to the concept. Hardly a revolutionary revelation, but one left to be conclusively resolved, one that needs to be at the forefront of the conversation.

The scientific inquiry is cradled by striking production design, marvelous cinematography. From the labrinyth of hallways and mirrors in Nathan's home (or research facility, as he refers to it) to the snow-covered mountains and lush valleys accompanying them, Ex-Machina draws me into its claustrophobic, yet soothing atmosphere.

Some may find Ex-Machina underwhelming: it doesn't explain every mechanical detail or tell the same "man v. machine" story we've been used to. Instead, Ex-Machina focuses on us, and how the advent of artificial intelligence can serve as a tool to better understand ourselves, our psyche, our evolution as a species. With each viewing, I draw more from the film, whether it be from a painting in a room, or the placement of an actress in a shot. This is a film that won't let its audience ignore its questions; it starts a dialogue, like all good cerebral thrillers do. 

Thank you for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.

"Unfriended" Review

Unfriended is the best remake of Paranormal Activity 4 we could have reasonably expected. 

The movie is a classic case of a decent idea gone wrong, an experiment whose execution leaves it a repackaged iteration of Feardotcom blended with the aforementioned Paranormal sequel (and not even #2). Crammed with stereotypes and desperately marketed (the trailer's preceded almost every video I've watched in the past two months), this is a lousy attempt by Universal to scrounge up whatever amount of money is available in the two weeks preceding Avengers: Age of Ultron.

After an embarrassing video is posted online, Laura Burns (Heather Sossaman) commits suicide, driven by the flood of comments telling her, "kill urself." On the anniversary of her death, a group of friends: Blaire, Mitch, Adam, Jess, Val, and Ken are chatting it up on Skype when someone going by Laura's username, "billie227", enters their conversation. Initially skeptical, the group tries to ignore it, but its supernatural presence plagues the teens, demanding they stay online or suffer death. 

The fear of being watched and obsession with watching others have been presented in films for decades, from Rear Window and Blue Velvet to Disturbia and last year's Nightcrawler.  In an age where we spend increasingly more time online every year, our identities aren't only exposed to our local communities, but the world; so for the "selfie" generation, a concept like Unfriended's makes sense. The movie all takes place on Blaire's (Shelley Hennig, Teen Wolf) laptop; we see her Skype interactions with the group, private messages on Facebook, search for info on Google. The digital setting offers opportunities for tension: a banner ad on a forum says "see who's following you;" "billie227" will answer Blaire's question before she sends it; menu options (often "delete") will suddenly disappear. Subtle moments like these help ramp up the weird.

However, for whatever tension and subtlety is there, Unfriended is 82 minutes of watching someone else on a computer screen. Throw in seemingly ceaseless scenes of teens screaming over each other about cheating, weed, and exes (when death is on the line), and the film grows near-insufferable. None of these characters leave an impact (except, ironically, Jess, for whom the number of pouts exceeds lines of dialogue; this makes me giggle), all stereotypical fodder for poorly-edited deaths. The latter half offers some chuckles; but by that point, I've already checked out.

What angers me, really, is the film's attempt to be some cautionary tale against cyber-bullying. Its characters are ripped straight from after-school specials, written so shallowly one can't relate to any of them. There's no emotional connection able to be made, so why would we care what happens to these people? When the film has an opportunity to hammer in the weight and damage such behavior can have, not only on the victim, but on the person responsible, it doesn't have the backbone to stand by its decision. Instead, it options for a cheap startle. Don't address this problem, one that has taken real lives, and dare treat it trivially. Show some respect for the dead.   

Unfriended is a cash grab. It fails at being a horror film. It fails in its morals. If you want a pulse-pounding, socially conscious thrill ride, go see It Follows; it's a better use of your time and money. Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off. 

"Illness" Review

     

         


Much of Raabia Ansari's Illness requires a basic understanding of Islam: its values and prohibitions. Those unaware of the significance behind the holy month of Ramadan and the concept of "nafs" may find themselves a bit confused. However, Illness keeps it simple where it counts, exploring faith's effect in one's day-to-day life in a manner relatable to most religious people.

Illness centers on a young man's (Adil Dadabhoy) hospital visit; he's lethargic, often with his head down, professing desperately to a nurse (Amy Mayo), "I can't control myself." Through a series of flashbacks, he reflects on prior events and how they've factored into his declining health.

Ansari directs subtly, giving scenes just enough information for an audience to comprehend the situation. With little dialogue, she relies on her actors and cinematography to get the job done. Dadabhoy wears melancholy convincingly (though a tendency to rub his eyes grows distracting after a while), and Mifrah Maqbool is understated, yet memorable as the doctor. Ansari's camerawork adequately tells the story, but blurs in and out of focus enough times to make me consider its artistic merit less than if the camera's working.

Regardless, Illness works. In the same manner as films like The Jazz Singer (though with considerably less blackface), Illness brings to light the difficulties faced by not only Muslim Americans, but members of all faiths, in balancing tradition and spiritual values with everyday culture. Never biting off more than she can chew, Ansari's firm direction drives the project forward, showing her clear understanding of how to bring a vision to the screen. Illness's success doesn't lie in its victory at this year's MSA Showdown in College Station, but rather in Ansari and her team's creation of a smart, focused socially-conscious drama.

Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.

"Let's Get Married" Review

Let's Get Married is a romantic comedy based on the popular 2013 Chinese TV show. Both movie and series examine the ups and downs of relationships, but unlike something like Sex and the City, the film centers on different characters than the show, choosing to follow it in spirit: glamorous and goofy.

The film navigates through four stories: Wenwen (Gao Yuanyuan) is the manager of a bridal boutique, dreaming of her own special day; Yi Wen (Bea Hayden Kao), a violinist, travels from Beijing to Italy for a competition, meeting Luca (Li Chen), a laid-back tour guide; Xiaoling (Zheng Kai) and Gu Xiaolei (Ivy Chen) are a pilot and stewardess debating whether it’s the right time to get married; Hotel manager Hai Xin (Liu Tao), feeling upstaged and ignored by her star chef husband Cao Depeng (Wang Zijian), begins to question her marriage after a nasty argument.

If four stories in two hours sounds like a jumble, it shouldn't; but somehow it is. The film's first half paces well, even if it tends to enjoy Wenwen and Yi Wen's stories more than the other two. However, by this time, I feel the stories are getting ready to wrap up. Imagine my shock when I check my phone and see I have an hour left.

This latter half slugs along, padding out stories for dramatic "tension;" but here's the rub: these stories are no Shakespeare. There's little surprise to be had, and the film treats the viewer as if they've never seen a romantic comedy. In essence, I'm waiting for the film to cross off moments from my mental checklist: the misunderstanding separating a couple, the realization a character has been an idiot to their significant other, the wedding scene, etc.

But just because I've seen films like this before doesn't nullify Let's Get Married's existence. The movie's bubbly, silly; and as a chef blows into a duck or a pair of costumed pandas suddenly pop into frame, I find myself giggling at the lighthearted absurdity of it all. Director Jiang Liu, who also helmed the TV show, gives the film a similarly glossy glow. He shoots Beijing and Italy with scrutiny, showing off every gorgeous angle both cities have to offer. Some of the camera techniques make me turn my head a little (including some choppy slo-mo that makes me giggle) but the whole film carries a chic flair I can't help but admire.

All in all, Let's Get Married is a sprinter: lively and energetic in the beginning, but drags more and more the longer it runs. It's not offensive or soulless like the worst rom-coms I've seen, but then again, I've also seen better. If you're a fan of the genre, give it a rental. Thank you all for reading; I'm the Man Without a Plan, signing off.    

"It Follows" Review

It's rare in recent years to find in mainstream horror a movie that doesn't succumb to what I like to call "jumpscare culture": the idea that fear starts and ends with loud noises and spooky little girls popping into frame. Paranormal Activity, Insidious, The Last Exorcism, and Ouija are only a handful of properties who've abused the formula to diminishing returns, a trend revealing how sick audiences are of the same tricks. To put it bluntly, we're in the midst of a lazy spell in horror, and need something to wake us up. Enter David Robert Mitchell's It Follows.

It's ironic that such an inventive, fresh horror film looks to the past as its foundation. It Follows oozes retro cool, evoking the late 70's/early 80's with its set pieces (typewriters, CRT televisions), fashion (in particular, a dress I imagine could be donned by Carrie), and equally tantalizing and menacing synthesizer soundtrack. Many reviewers have made the comparison to John Carpenter and I join the hive mind, citing Halloween as the prime example. While both films are set around the same time, they don't draw attention to it, evoking a timeless feel, like a campfire story.

Jay, at 19 years of age (Maika Monroe), is drawn to idealistic views of romance, sex, and adulthood. When she meets sexy, smoldering, mysterious Hugh (Jake Weary), she thinks these dreams are coming true; but after their first time, she wakes up tied to a wheelchair under a bridge, where Hugh imparts a disturbing revelation: he's been plagued by a murderous entity, transmitted sexually by his ex-lover, now imparted to Jay. The monster can take the form of any person (only able to be seen by any current or previous victim) and will not cease its pursuit until it kills; at that point, it goes to the last person, following the chain to the beginning. Hugh advises Jay to keep passing it on, but Jay hopes to find another way, with the help of her sister and friends. Regardless, the hunt is on, and no one is safe.

The Carpenter comparisons don't stop at production design; Mitchell relies on suspense, masterfully building tension and paranoia. Wide landscapes and frequent panning draws the eye to all corners of the screen, vetting every person to determine who could be the monster: a tendency Mitchell devilishly teases the audience with. With cinematographer Mike Gioulakis, Mitchell showcases Detroit in transition, juxtaposing a romantic suburbia full of playful kids and 50's-tinged movie theaters with urban decay, characterized by condemned buildings and industrial smoke. The city parallels Jay, both feeling the pressures exerted by the dangers they face, both losing their innocence, so to speak. It all makes for a grim, isolating environment that slowly constricts its grip on our nerves, beating us down just as it does Jay.

It's not new for horror movies to explore sexuality; look to the big three slasher franchises: Halloween, Friday the 13th, and A Nightmare on Elm Street. By now we know the cliches: promiscuous teenagers are destined to be interrupted by a knife to the throat, while the virgin heroine is often the only one left standing at the film's end. Where Mitchell's inventiveness comes from is his ability to transcend this extreme interpretation of the virgin-whore complex and explore gender discrepancies in using sexuality as a social identifier. 

From the beginning, Jay is identified sexually, whether it be from ogling pre-teens as she lays in a pool or through initial conversations with her sister, where the topic revolves around her sexual status with Hugh. After her first time, she's followed by the entity ceaselessly; the ramifications of losing her virginity are inescapable, seeping their way into Jay's perception of herself, her family, and men in general. When sexuality is at the forefront of a person's social identity, the objectification can cause psychological damage, especially if the person has been violated or raped. Jay's emotional and mental deterioration is put on display as the subject of every conversation is about her sexual past or how she can use sex to push the entity away. By doing so, Mitchell critiques the morality of the virgin-whore complex, revealing the negative repercussions such a social construct can impart on individuals, specifically women.  

Monroe (who starred in last year's The Guest, another 80's style thriller) plays the role with aplomb. She's vulnerable, naive, paranoid, tenacious, doing it all without strain. My compliments extend to the supporting cast (Lili Sepe, Daniel Sovatto, Olivia Luccardi, Kier Gilchrist), who avoid the stilted delivery and glazed looks young horror actors are often known for (an unfortunately timeless trope; this is just as bad in Friday the 13th as it is with Texas Chainsaw 3D). This is a strong ensemble cast, and the film sets aside time to let them play off each other, establish natural chemistry.

It Follows is not without its faults; the second half indulges in some of the worse cliches horror has to offer, which might leave audiences underwhelmed. However, Mitchell has dressed a modern exploration of sexuality and identity in simple, nail-biting terror, preying on our collective social fears. Meticulously crafted and expertly executed, this film is simply put, a must-see.