AFI Fest 2013: "Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom"

Director: Justin Chadwick
Runtime: 146 minutes

Despite its soaring shots of South Africa and a narrative that spans decades, the "epic" biopic Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom feels like it belongs on a small screen in a classroom. Specifically, one presided over by a teacher suffering through a hangover, and too tired to deal with teaching those damn kids. Despite handsome production values and Important subject matter, this sporadically compelling portrait of Nelson and Winnie Mandela is ultimately a history lesson disguised as a genuinely compelling prestige drama. 

As biopics go, Justin Chadwick's film is appropriately titled. Nelson Mandela's journey was a long one, and Long Walk to Freedom is a long movie. Unfortunately, the two and a half hour runtime is exhausting, rather than exhilarating. Nelson Mandela's story is incredible, but as written by William Nicholson, it plays more like a history lesson that only momentarily comes alive as a drama. Stars Idris Elba and Naomie Harris are committed to their roles, but  their roles mostly leave them with little to do other than emote bombastically.

To the film's credit, however, it does effectively communicate the level of violence faced by blacks under apartheid without becoming exploitative. Following depictions of the Civil Rights Movement (The Butler) and the horrors of slavery (12 Years a Slave), Mandela is the next in a line of films that actually take on issues relating to black people, which is certainly commendable. It's too bad, then, that unlike those other films (or the present-day Fruitvale Station), that Chadwick's film feels didactic, rather than wholly dramatic. Though arguably less episodic than The Butler, William Nicholson's screenplay lacks the necessary character examination needed to sustain a film for two and a half hours.

With Mandela's childhood glossed over in bad Terrence Malick-lite montages, we're dropped into the story with him as a young man in college. It's one of the few times the film actually skips over a significant portion of Mandela's life, although in this case more omissions would have been welcome. Mandela is swept up in the anti-apartheid movement so swiftly that his motivation (aside from the obvious desire for equality) as a character feels empty. We know he's going to join the struggle, and the film doesn't try to delve any deeper into the man's decision to risk being such an outspoken activist.

At least the side of the film focusing on Winnie Mandela gives a look at the source of her more militaristic mode of activism (albeit superficially). Yet as Mandela's complicated and equally galvanizing wife, Harris sometimes overreaches with her performance. A painfully tight close up of her face in a jail cell is made worse by the actress' tear-soaked mugging.  

There's so much important, fascinating history covered in Mandela, but in this particular package it's difficult to get caught up in much of it. As a portrait of turbulent recent history it has some value, but as drama it only grabs you for only a few moments in its lumbering runtime. Like so many decades-spanning biopic films, less would have resulted in so much more.

Grade: C

Review: "Pacific Rim"

Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Runtime: 132 minutes

With so many summer tentpoles designed to launch franchises, there's something refreshing about a film willing to start at the end. Pacific Rim, the latest film from Mexican monster maestro Guillermo Del Toro, condenses an entire story's worth of exposition into a swift opening reel that could practically function as its own open-ended short film. With big visuals and a smattering of exposition from protagonist Raleigh Becket (Charlie Hunnam), Pacific Rim establishes the beginning of its world, and then gives itself room to comfortably exist in that world for the remainder of the story. It's a structural decision that pays off in spades, and ensures that this simple, crowd-pleasing effort provides maximum entertainment. 

Del Toro and co-writer Travis Beacham haven't necessarily created a truly original story. The set-up, which shares DNA with everything from Godzilla to the acclaimed anime Neon Genesis Evangelion, is more of a template for Del Toro to do what he does best: create phenomenal creatures to wreak havoc. Those creatures are known as kaiju, and they emerge, in good ole sci-fi fashion, from a trans-dimensional rift in the Pacific Ocean. One by one, they lay siege to cities, and humanity fights back by creating monsters of its own: giant robots, with two pilots (one for each brain hemisphere) called jaegers. In other words, it's the sort of narrative a 12 year old boy might come up with on an afternoon left at home alone with his action figures. 

That youthful enthusiasm is present from the start, even as it's channeled through the vision of a skilled visual craftsman. As Game of Thrones composer Ramin Djawadi's score surges underneath, and we see two pilots lock into their massive machine, it's hard to feel anything but pure giddiness. For all of the grandiose destruction on display, Del Toro strikes a tone that is light, yet still sincere and fun.

Rather than bog the narrative down in the dire circumstances and existential worries of the characters, Del Toro and Beacham create just enough surface character development for one to engage. Raleigh is dealing with a previous trauma involving his former co-pilot, while new pilot Mako (Rinko Kikuchi) struggles to control her emotions and memories while merged in the robot's core. And then there's commander Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba), the man desperate to hold the jaeger program together, even as the world's governments withdraw their support. 

The story's sense of finality (humanity is in a last ditch attempt to close the oceanic portal) is present, but never to a degree that it sinks the story. The characters may be largely exhausted by the toll of the fight for survival, yet the film is anything but gloomy. Barring a few dips in its character-building sequences, Del Toro's pacing is engaging and fluid. The robots and kaiju are massive (and captured from angles to highlight their scale at every turn), and their clashes are appropriately epic. Yet, despite the stakes, this is not a case of a film's apocalyptic violence becoming overbearing and numbing. Even as most of the battles take place at night, in the water, and in the rain, there is a sense of clarity to the (stunningly-rendered) clashes. 

The fun of the whole experience is more than enough to compensate for the cliched characters. Some are nicely handled (Elba is always a formidable presence), while others are merely functional (Hunnam is a blandly appealing lead), but under Del Toro's guidance, even the cliches become largely enjoyable. Similar to Gore Verbinski's Rango, Pacific Rim sets out to take all of the typical cliches of monster movies and mecha cartoons and simply mash them together with a knowing, polished eye. 

So even though Del Toro and Beacham don't infuse the script with the same level of bizarro wit than lifted Rango above its own cliches, the pair still craft a story that builds nicely to a satisfying conclusion. Though hardly meant to sear any images into your imagination (aside from the monsters), Pacific Rim is an unqualified success of geeky boyish enthusiasm. Del Toro has been given a budget that dwarfs those of all of his previous film, and it's a joy to see his visual imagination blown up on such a massive scale. A more complicated narrative would have only prevented the film from being the sort of straightforward joyride that it winds up being. Rather than try and bring the emotional depth and striking storytelling of efforts like Pan's Labyrinth to the monster genre, Del Toro has opted to sit back and play with his digitized creations. Usually it isn't fun to watch someone else play with their toys (especially if it's a video game). Consider Pacific Rim a nutty exception to the rule.

Grade: B/B-

"The Wire" (2002 - 2008)

Much to my embarassment, I only got around to watching HBO's acclaimed series The Wire recently. And by "recently," I mean this morning. I don't usually write about TV aside from a post or two about the Emmys, but seeing as David Simon's series struck a chord with me, I felt that writing this came rather naturally. So, here it is. One thing that no one is really asking for: a review of a five-season show that ended in 2008.

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 I’m going to try and keep this short(ish), because I usually find writing about TV weird. Why? No idea. Anyway, I’d heard great things about HBO’s drama The Wire for quite some time. Somewhere during my senior year of high school, I decided to finally start renting the series. I made it through four episodes, and I was just starting to really adjust to the show’s style and pacing, when, for some reason, I kept putting off with the show. Flash forward roughly four years and, thanks to the magic of HBOGo (you’re welcome), I picked up right where I left off. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to get back into David Simon’s world.

What’s most immediately impressive to me after finishing the series finale (literally only hours ago) is the above-mentioned world. TV has the benefit of being able to explore both characters and setting at a more gradual pace than film, and no show has made the most of that the way The Wire has. By the time the series segues into its final minutes, you come to realize how much the city of Baltimore is as big a character as McNulty, Kima, or Stringer Bell. 

Even more striking, in retrospect, is how the show covers different facets of the city without feeling forced. The jumps from the streets, to the ports, through the legal system, and finally to the media are structured by season, but it never becomes overly conceptual. The progression, especially from seasons three through five, is executed so seamlessly that I’m tempted to label the show one of the most consistent dramas I’ve ever seen. Episode to episode and season to season, The Wire is that rare show that gives off the feeling that the entire thing was intricately, immaculately planned out before the first episode aired.

The only rough patch among the bunch, if any, is perhaps the transition between the first and second seasons. Characters and arcs reappear across multiple seasons in The Wire, but the way certain aspects come in and out of focus in season two feels a little extreme. After getting adjusted to the show and becoming involved with the plot and characters of the first season, seeing said plot and characters pushed to the background to make way for the port stories caused the pacing to drag. Obviously McNulty, Lester, Kima, Bunk, and their co-workers remained prominent, but the other side (Stringer, Avon, etc…) seemed to pop up all too infrequently. On its own merits, season two probably succeeds much more, but coming after the set-up of season one, the port-related plots sometimes drag.

Yet once season three starts and we jump back to the streets, everything comes together with stunning execution for the rest of the ride. By the end of season one, I was aware that I was invested in the characters. Yet Simon grounds their personalities so deeply in their work that you often don’t realize how much you care until some little moment comes along and makes you smile, or laugh, or get a lump in your throat. That the series does this without resorting to melodrama is even more of an accomplishment.

The performances, all around, are wonderful. The chemistry between and among the ensemble is what really sells it all, and allows various characters’ rises and falls register with sincerity. With an ensemble this wonderful, I hate to pick favorite, but let’s just say I was always paying attention the most whenever Lester, Kima, or Carcetti were on screen. That said, my favorite individual moment of the entire show has to come in season four, when Bunk notes that Beadie trusts McNulty, and McNulty smiles back and his friend and confirms the statement. Of course, there’s always Clay Davis’ pronunciation of the word “shit,” if only for the laugh factor. Yet the show still deserves credit for the portrayal of its characters placed firmly outside of the law, as it never resorts to making them into over the top villains. Like the police and government officials, they remain people first. It’s a vision of both sides of anti-drug enforcement that is rarely achieved on the big or small screen.

The show also knew how to incorporate violence, and never rushed through scenes in order for a gun to go off. Quite the opposite. This is a layered, steadily paced character-drama to the bone. HBO sometimes ventures into self-parody with the levels of sex and violence it shows, which only makes The Wire’s execution stand out more. When violence hits, it’s never overblown. Like the rest of the show, shootings and beatings feel completely natural, and they pack an appropriately grim mix of intensity and shock.

And, from a strictly storytelling perspective, I adore how Simon and his collaborators executed such a dense narrative without ever really holding the audience’s hand. This is a show where every scene really mattered, because some name or piece of information that popped up in episode two could wind up being part of a major development five episodes later. Even the gradually divergent subplot of Bubbles (Andre Royo) felt necessary, and its arc is among the series’ most satisfying.

Ultimately, this is a rare breed of TV show. It treats its audiences like adults, refrains from melodrama or sensationalizing, and yet still boasts memorable characters (I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention OMAR), and stirring drama. Simon’s show simply puts itself within the broader canvas of its setting. The developments for the characters and the story are important, and we understand how they are important to the people on screen. But, at the end of the day, The Wire has enough intelligence to give its subject matter a conclusion that befits its consistent treatment across five seasons and 60 episodes. In a simple montage that all-but concludes the series finale, we see how so much has changed, and yet so much still remains the same. I didn’t really follow through on my promise to keep this short, but at this point I don’t care. Masterworks like this deserve more than a few sentences.

Season One: B+/A-

Season Two: B+

Season Three: A

Season Four: A+

Season Five: A

Series Grade: A

Review: "Prometheus"

Down to its title, Ridley Scott's Prometheus, the director's return to science fiction after three decades, has some lofty ambitions. Opening with shots of a primordial earth that recall moments of last year's The Tree of Life (well, until the hulking white alien shows up...), Scott's film, written by Jon Spaihts and Lost alum Damon Lindelof, though executed beautifully in terms of atmosphere, can't quite muster the courage to fully follow through on its somewhat lazy attempt at grandiose wonderment about our place in the universe. Still, the film's successes, of which there are plenty, deserve credit, and as far as being an engaging, well-crafted ride goes, Prometheus hits all of the right notes, even as it fails to launch into the same legendary stratosphere as Scott's previous sci-fi endeavors. 


After a beautiful prologue that captures the mysterious origins of all life on earth (DNA strands exploding out of a single, towering creature as it decomposes), the story proper begins with a team of archaeologists in Scotland. At a cave in the Skye Islands, the team has discovered a 35,000 year old cave with a painting that appears to show a large figure pointing toward a cluster of stars. Chief among the group are Dr. Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace) and Charlie Holloway (Logan Marshall-Green), who are also romantically involved. Their discovery, the latest in a series of digs conducted over several years, finally gives them enough evidence to receive funding from the powerful Weyland Corporation to find the star cluster, and see if there are any planets capable of sustaining life. The goal, at least for the archaeologists, is to see if mankind can truly meet its makers.


And, for roughly 45 minutes (an hour?), Prometheus remains set in a state of calm, just as Alien did decades ago before letting hell break loose. We witness the ship's Peter O'Toole-idolizing android, David (Michael Fassbender) waking the ship's crew up from deep sleep, and though David's presence sets the scenes apart from the complete stillness of Alien's opening, there remains something oddly magnetic about the sequence. It's in this first hour that Scott shows what made his first two forays into sci-fi so special: a willingness to take time, and slowly build a sense of place and atmosphere. Whether it's on board the titular transport/research vessel, or on the planet the crew lands on, the production design and visual effects create a remarkably tactile world, one that doesn't feel overly reliant on nice-looking, but plastic-y digital creations. As captured by cinematographer Darius Wolski, the locales of Prometheus posses a cold, at times slimy sheen that only adds to the overall feel. Even in the dark, subterranean exploration scenes when the team first enters a massive pyramid, there remains a sense of clarity to the imagery.


That the film gets the tone right so early on is an obvious boon to the overall effect. The performances are effective as well, although the size of the cast means that there are quite a few throwaway characters who are merely there for bad things to befall them. When the actors come through, however, they shine, even as Spaihts and Lindelof's script leaves them lost in space without much in the way of arcs. Rapace, most famous for being the original girl with the dragon tattoo, makes an appealing heroine, with a nice mix of vulnerability and steely determination. The combo comes in handy when the actress is required to go through a bit of Cronenberg-esque body horror in a scene that, while never reaching the impact of a certain moment from Alien, will surely leave many uncomfortably squirming in their seats. Fassbender's fastidious android is also fun to watch, with his mix of calculated distance and semi-human behavior proving to be one of the film's most intriguing mysteries. It's one of the few times that Fassbender has avoided injecting a true element of emotional vulnerability into a role, and thankfully it pays off and makes David more interesting to watch. Marshall-Green, as the science-first counterpart (as contrasted with the Christian Dr. Shaw), has some nice moments as well, although he's ultimately not given much that distinguishes him from the lower rungs of the ensemble aside from more face-time. Finally there's Charlize Theron, in her second icy role of the summer, remaining pretty one-note, while still being a compelling presence. Watching her yank David aside to pull information out of him is one of the most suspenseful scenes in the film, and there's nary a slimy monster in sight.


And speaking of slimy monsters, don't worry, Prometheus has its share. Whether it's the serpentine first creature the team encounters - which, when closed up, looks like an icky, pale tulip from the bowels of hell - or the tentacled menace that finds its way into a crew member, the creature designs and effects all come through. They're entirely CGI creations, yet they're rendered and shot with such skill that they feel uncomfortably real and dangerous. Only a large, squid-like monster fails to feel fully tactile; the bigger the creation, somehow the less real it feels.


Yet for all of its strengths in production design, direction, and atmosphere, Prometheus has, to invoke another name of myth, an Achilles Heel. The culprit is, unfortunately, the script. After opening such grand possibilities on the thematic front with the opening, Spaihts and Lindelof settle for a more routine execution that never quite follows through on its potential. The quest for mankind's origins and our place in the universe becomes more plot-point than theme, so that even when the film reaches its conclusion, it fails to inspire the same sense of awe that the visuals do. The direction manages to elevate the material and create some truly exceptional moments, but by the time Prometheus settles into its hectic final act, the weaknesses of the writing become too apparent to ignore, even as the film remains an entertaining journey. The first encounter with an alien creature, though effectively unsettling, is undermined by the outright stupidity of one minor character ("hey, look! some creepy snake creature. I should totally try to interact with it! No way that it will do anything aggressive!"). Character development also gets tossed aside, even with Shaw, the character most ripe with potential for a full, satisfying arc. As things get more hectic, Prometheus simply abandons attempts at ideas in order to simply satisfy the thrill-ride quota, which ends up leaving the last act feeling overly long. There's a handful of mini-conclusions that feel like they should segue into the very end, only for the film to keep going.


Yet despite its flaws, it's hard to deny that Prometheus succeeds in enough places (though perhaps not brilliantly so) that it works, even as it devolves into a more standard sci-fi thriller as it progresses. The ideas are admirable on paper, though on screen they feel more like hastily sketched out premises that the writers forgot to follow through on. Still, once one removes the pretense of Spaihts and Lindelof's writing, what remains is still a rollicking, atmospheric, gorgeously-rendered slice of science fiction, filled with enough tension and thrills to make it memorable, albeit not to point where we'll be talking about it years from now. Whereas Scott's other two sci-fi films both made significant stylistic and thematic contributions to the genre, Prometheus is merely a nicely-handled entry that boosts its profile, without doing anything to give it a special place in the sci-fi canon. 


Grade: B

[EDIT]IMAX & Theatrical Trailers : "Prometheus"

It may be unconventional (and inexcusably nerdy), but I think this may be my favorite thing to happen on St. Patrick's Day this year: the release of a brand new IMAX trailer for Ridley Scott's Prometheus, which is doing its best to not get mistaken for an Alien prequel...even though it might be one anyway. The trailer keeps the suspense up without giving up an ounce a plot, which I really love, especially seeing as we're in an age where big-budget films spoil 2/3s of the film in their promotional material. The production design and VFX look outstanding, and the cast is, as I've said before, loaded with charisma and talent. There may be no Sigourney Weaver among this group to grab a surprise Oscar nomination, but at the very least we can rest easy that this blockbuster material will be played out by actors with range and depth, and that's always comforting. Ridley Scott has certainly had his ups and downs over the past decades, but his return to sci-fi continues to look extraordinarily promising.

Trailer Grade: A

And now, just a day later, we have a full-blown theatrical trailer. This is the first time that any proper sense of plot has been revealed, and yet still, Prometheus remains shrouded in mystery, and the marketing team deserves high praise for it. There's enough here to let people in who want a taste of the plot, but no hints toward the actual progression of events (other than the crew landing and discovering things aren't as they seem). And despite how high the bar was set with the film's teaser trailer and IMAX trailer (the one above), the marketing team has truly outdone themselves here, giving us an incredibly intense look at a richly conceived and gorgeously rendered sci-fi world. Clearly the film relies heavily on VFX work, yet it all looks so beautiful and textured that it lacks that plastic, weightless feel that plagues so many overblown summer spectacles. Look out, Christopher Nolan; The Dark Knight Rises officially has its biggest competition (at least in terms of likely quality, if not box office) of the summer. Welcome back, Ridley Scott.

Trailer Grade: A+