Director: Matt Reeves
Runtime: 130 Minutes
The bar set by 2011's Rise of the Planet of the Apes wasn't terribly high. Despite a few standout sequences (and one jaw-dropping moment), Rise suffered from lackluster human characters that dragged down the more compelling ape-oriented scenes. So to say that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is a superior sequel isn't a guarantee of greatness. But Dawn isn't just any other sequel. Though the humans still pale in comparison to the apes this time around, Dawn bests its predecessor in every conceivable way. This is a smart, full-bodied sequel that delivers its blockbuster moments only once they've been earned by the plot.
Set roughly a decade after Rise, Dawn finds the advanced apes, led by Caesar (Andy Serkis), making a life for themselves up in the Muir Woods. When we first see Caesar and company, it's been two years since they've had any contact with humans. At one point, Caesar and others ponder if there are even any humans left in the overrun remains of San Francisco. Yet, soon enough, a band of humans stumbles along into ape territory, threatening to reignite man/ape conflicts.
These humans are led by Malcolm (Zero Dark Thirty's Jason Clarke), who is on a mission to restart a dormant dam in ape territory that could give some power back to the human colony hiding in San Francisco. After a rocky start, humans and apes form a temporary alliance of sorts to assist Malcolm and his team with their plan. Of course, not everyone is happy about this cross species effort. Among the apes, the fearsome Koba (Toby Kebbell) feels that Caesar is too trusting of humans. Meanwhile, human leader Dreyfus (Gary Oldman) is more than ready to simply gun the apes down if it means getting to the dam faster.
Both sides have peaceful and bloodthirsty factions. Yet rather than simplify motivations, Dawn gives its various points of view some airing time before eventually picking a side. Dreyfus is still haunted by the loss of his wife and children after the outbreak of the Simian Flu (a man-made virus that got to the public at the end of Rise). Koba, meanwhile, is wary of humans after years of painful experiments performed in secret laboratories.
In giving the humans and the apes diverse angles, Dawn achieves a bit of nuance not often found in big budget summer fare. However, that's hardly surprising when one considers the franchise's history. The original Planet of the Apes was rife with socio-political allegory, and this latest installment is more than up to the task of continuing the tradition.
Director Matt Reeves, who rose to fame with the found footage sci-fi/disaster flick Cloverfield, deserves quite a bit of credit for the success here. Moving effortlessly from gimmicky techniques to more classical blockbuster filmmaking, the director brings a much more assured hand to this bigger, richer sequel. Reeves understands how to shoot even the mundane visual effects shots so as to maximize impact. And when it comes to the action, he proves himself more than up to the task of capturing the carnage with clarity. Without even making a huge deal of it, Reeves throws in a superb tracking shot that follows Malcolm running through a series of hallways as machine gun-toting apes tear through the surrounding rooms.
And even though the human characters remain secondary to the apes, Dawn represents an obvious step in the right direction. Clarke, Keri Russell, and Kodi Smit-McPhee have the most screen time, with each getting at least one significant moment that strengths some aspect of the human/ape dynamic.
The star, however, is still Mr. Serkis. Though Caesar has no singular 'wow' moment like he did in Rise, Serkis' motion-capture work is as commanding as ever. The truly astounding visual effects work beautifully gives detail to the physically demanding ape performances. Toby Kebbell is quite terrifying as the human-hating Koba, and Karin Konoval provides a lovely simian supporting turn as a wise orangutan with a penchant for reading.
The film's success on an emotional and visual front is so impressive that it mostly overshadows the occasional flaws in the script. Some of the human dialogue can be a bit stiff, and a few plot developments happen a bit too suddenly, yet overall Reeves' command of the story holds the entire thing together quite brilliantly. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is an ideal summer sequel. It's story is bigger and its stakes are higher, yet it also registers more deeply on an emotional level due to the care taken with the plot and (most of) the characters.
Grade: B+
Director: Roland Emmerich
Runtime: 131 minutes
There have been any number of articles and essays devoted to understanding our fascination with seeing major monuments destroyed for entertainment. Whether the cause of destruction is man made, natural, or extra terrestrial, there's a certain allure in seeing notable builds fall apart, knowing that they'll still be there when we walk out of the theater. Roland Emmerich is one of the few directors out there whose films have covered every aforementioned form of destruction.
The White House seems to be a particular favorite of his. Aliens destroyed it in Independence Day, and an apocalyptic tidal wave (wielding an aircraft carrier) snuffed it out in 2012. Clearly determined to destroy the Presidential abode in the remaining method (and complete his holy trinity), Mr. Emmerich is back with White House Down, which features all hell breaking loose on the grounds of 1600 Penn. in spectacularly moronic fashion.
After cementing himself as a star in 2012 with 21 Jump Street and Magic Mike, Channing Tatum has finally graduated to the status of action movie leading man. Unfortunately, Emmerich doesn't care to do anything to James Vanderbilt's script in order to give his leading man more to work with. The film puts Tatum front and center at the start, and tasks him with saving President Sawyer (Jamie Foxx) after a paramilitary group attacks the White House. Yet there are times when the action jumps to the various villains and worried government officials, and the action stalls for so long, that Tatum's Cale almost seems like an afterthought.
Tatum and Foxx are trying to have some fun with their ludicrous material (the Commander in Chief even gets to fire a rocket launcher), but White House Down quickly fails even as an exercise in dumb fun. Fast and Furious 6 set the bar early this summer, as it blended its intentionally and unintentionally funny pieces together to create a non-stop joy ride. Those behind White House Down are clearly trying to hit a similar target in their execution. Unfortunately, Emmerich's film is totally lopsided in favor of moments that are worth laughing at, rather than with. Every cliche and cheesy thing that's been done before shows up at some point, as though Vanderbilt was simply going down a checklist. Sadly, it's a rather long checklist, and the film outstays its welcome and runs on for more than two choppy hours. Where Fast and Furious 6 created an immediately engaging experience out of its brand of escapism, White House Down never comes together to the point that its silliness becomes truly entertaining.
It's almost tempting to assert that the film is a satire of likeminded films (such as Olympus Has Fallen, with which it shares a basic premise). Unfortunately, this theory is quashed at every conceivable turn. It's all too silly, groan-inducing, and earnest. And even if it is meant to be a satire, it's a satire that fails horribly. Moments that should excite in their insanity (a car chase on the White House lawn) are devoid of legitimate fun or tension. For the most part, it's all just loud (and hilariously complicated in the later stages). Compounding the problem is Emmerich's direction, which smothers his leading men, and ensures that they never have a chance to pop out of the frame like the stars they are.
The rest of the talented ensemble are simply left standing around from scene to scene chasing that fat paycheck. Maggie Gyllenhaal, as a secret service agent, does her best to lend some variety to scenes that give her little more to do than act concerned. Meanwhile, Richard Jenkins is left stranded in a role that mostly requires him to stand around looking blank. Meanwhile, James Woods and Jason Clarke growl and snarl to little effect as the main villain and his chief henchman. The former is saddled with a nonsensical motivation, while the latter is little more than a generic brute. It's a shame, because, as evidenced by his turn in Zero Dark Thirty, Clarke is capable to doing a lot with limited screen time.
The true stand-out from the cast, if there is one, has to be It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia supporting player Jimmi Simpson as an evil and eccentric master hacker. The role is far from being well-written, yet Simpson's performance makes its mark simply because it has a personality as artificial and cartoonish as the special effects. Watching Simpson prance around, play classical music, and suck lollipops in his newfound lair underneath the West Wing is pure insanity. It's also the closest that White House Down comes to being the sort of lunkheaded entertainment it strives to be. You'll likely laugh quite a bit at the film, but even the abundance of unintentional humor is difficult to recommend when the overall package is this drawn out, empty, and cringe-worthy.
Grade: D+
Director: Baz Luhrmann
Runtime: 142 minutes
I was lucky to see an unfinished cut of Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby way back in November of last year. The screening, which had unfinished VFX and temporary soundtrack selections, occurred only a month or so after the film was pushed from its original Christmas 2012 opening. Despite fearing for the worst, I ended up enjoying the relatively incomplete cut, and looked forward to the final version. Nearly half a year later, and I'm able to breathe a sigh of relief. My opinion of Luhrmann's film is basically unchanged, for better and for worse. Just as it was in November, this new Gatsby is littered with various and sundry flaws, yet builds to a mostly strong finish thanks to Luhrmann's surprising ability to tone himself down.
As far as the story is concerned, not much has been changed by Luhrmann or co-writer Craig Pearce. The only notable addition is that Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire), the story's wallflower narrator, is writing the story from the confines of a sanitarium. Other than that, it's the same story most of us read in high school with varying degrees of interest and/or boredom. Nick moves to West Egg next to the mysterious Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio), and must deal with Gatsby's attempts to win back his former flame Daisy (Carey Mulligan). Framing device aside, this take on Fitzgerald's novel has little in plotting that will enrage fanatical literary purists. The outrage is more likely to stem from Luhrmann's glitzy treatment of the Jazz Age, though even that anger feels slightly misdirected.
Those familiar with Luhrmann's films (or at least Moulin Rouge!) know that the director isn't one for subtlety or low energy. As such, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the film is frenetically edited, and that the visual design is opulent to the nth degree (credit should go to production/costume designer Catherine Martin, who has outdone herself). Fitzgerald explicitly condemned the empty decadence of the Roaring Twenties. Luhrmann dresses it up with stunning costumes and an eclectic soundtrack that blends contemporary pop and hip-hop with music from the novel's era.
It would be easy to dismiss this approach as completely missing the point, but I can only partially agree. Yes, Luhrmann doesn't harshly condemn the wild excess of the elites of the day. Yet by applying a grandiose music-video style to the parties, Gatsby's parties feel relevant for a modern audience. A more accurate depiction of a party from the era would be nothing short of off-putting strictly from a viewing experience. Luhrmann wants his audience to have their cake and eat it too, and he partially gets away with it. Above all else, he succeeds in capturing the time period infinitely better than the more "accurate" vision seen in the soul-crushingly dull 1974 adaptation with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow.
Even with the social satire pushed to the background, many of the themes of Fitzgerald's novel still come through, even as Luhrmann puts Gatsby and Daisy's romance front and center. Mulligan's Daisy is almost more complex on screen, as she shifts from exaggerated air-head to doomed romantic and back again. Mulligan occasionally gets stuck with some stiff dialogue, yet she largely overcomes this and creates a nuanced portrait of vapid indecisiveness. Joel Edgerton (as Daisy's brutish husband Tom) lands some similarly stiff dialogue, yet builds his character into an engaging, albeit one-note, antagonist. Side characters have little to do, yet have their fleeting moments to shine. Isla Fisher is giving it her all as the flamboyant Myrtle, though she barely has anything to do other than pout and party. More successful is Aussie newcomer Elizabeth Debicki as the mysterious (and very lanky) golfing star Jordan Baker, who plays a key role in the early part of the story. Debicki's character has been slightly downsized (mainly in the story's second half), but the actress remains fully present even when all she has to do is cautiously shift her glance amid the melodrama.
But no Gatsby adaptation can be a real success if the titular role is pulled off. And, even with his somewhat dodgy accent, DiCaprio rightfully walks away with the film. The pull between who Gatsby is and who he wants to be is palpable, but never hammered home. For all of Luhrmann's visual excess, he has managed to give his performers moments to poke through the pumped-up visual artifice. The lone exception is Tobey Maguire. In fairness, the role of Nick Carraway is hardly a juicy role to begin with. However, Maguire is ill-served as the too-mild-for-his-own-good Nick. Having the character narrate portions of the film with direct passages from the novel doesn't help matters, and often breaks up the flow of the emotional developments.
For all that Luhrmann gets right (work with his cast, entertaining visuals and sounds, some solid understated humor), his writing work often leaves something to be desired. While The Great Gatsby feels more coherent than Australia (which, though enjoyable, was trying to be three or four different movies), it sometimes moves with fits and starts. As much as the visual ticks (text on the screen, dissolves, layered images, etc...) liven the material, they sometimes rob moments of what little impact they were aiming for.
Thankfully, Luhrmann calms down once Gatsby and Daisy reconnect, and the second half boasts some scenes that are genuinely compelling, even in their melodramatic execution. As easy as it would be for me to dismiss the film as shallow fun, I was surprised that, even on a second viewing, I still found myself connecting with Gatsby's journey. It's not exactly a Greek tragedy (even Luhrmann wouldn't stretch Fitzgerald's prose that much), but even when the film built to its conclusion, I found myself stirred by the presentation, even if it was only an inch below skin-deep in terms of actual depth. For all of the missteps (big and small) along the way, Luhrmann's film is quite easily the best adaptation of Fitzgerald's novel. By playing to the narrative (the rekindled romance aspect), rather than the more general social critique, Luhrmann does what a director should be free to do with adaptations: make the material his own. Luhrmann doesn't need to make an adaptation that can act as a perfect narrative and thematic substitute for the book. That's what the actual book is for in the first place.
Grade: B-
Director: Kathryn Bigelow
Runtime: 157 minutes
It's difficult to write about Kathryn Bigelow's Osama Bin Laden drama Zero Dark Thirty after what's happened over the past few weeks. With the reviews, the controversies, and the responses to said controversies, what on earth is left to say? Well, let's start with the basics: it's a really damn impressive piece of film making that stands tall in a year filled with diverse narratives.
If you've missed any coverage of the film whatsoever, the story essentials are little more than the fictionalized account of the decade-long hunt to locate and kill Osama Bin Laden. And even though Bigelow's film, which reunites her with The Hurt Locker scribe Mark Boal, runs over 2.5 hours, Zero Dark Thirty knows how to make every moment count. Whereas The Hurt Locker truly was a character study, Zero is much more of a procedural set against our so-called War on Terror.
Yet even though the center of the story, Jessica Chastain's Maya, is often reserved and completely consumed by her job, Bigelow and Boal haven't forgotten to make her a character as well. When Maya first enters, she's practically a blank slate. Fresh off of the plane in Pakistan, Maya witnesses the much-discussed torture of a detainee. To answer the question of whether or not the film glorifies torture, I'll merely offer this much: Maya has no problem telling a detainee that giving honest answers will make his life easier, but she doesn't exactly look on with icy approval as she watches that detainee suffer at the hands of CIA agent Dan (Jason Clarke). What Bigelow and Boal have pulled off, along with Jessica Chastain's work in front of the camera, is one person's journey from being an outsider doing an uncomfortable job, to becoming unwavering in her determination to see everything through.
Where Zero Dark Thirty could have been simplistic, sugar-coated, and jingoistic, it is instead meticulous, blunt, and intense, without emotional manipulation. One could accuse the film of trying too hard to be objective, but that all gets blow away by the film's masterstroke: the raid on Bin Laden's compound in Abbottabad. Bigelow's strength comes from her ability to generate tension without going overboard, and the tactic pays off grandly here. The raid is intense, but not without the appropriate grimness (women shot and killed, children left crying and alone, etc...). Yet best of all is the treatment of Bin Laden's death. In different hands, such a moment would be completely overwrought. Bigelow and Boal, however, allow the death to unfold in a relatively anti-climactic fashion that couldn't be more fitting for the movie's tone and themes. Yes, the SEALs got the "bad guy," but what now? Where do they have to go next? What repercussions could this death have? Answering those questions would need a completely different film, yet it's important that Zero doesn't wrap everything up so neatly that it gives a sense of complete and total closure.
However, the film does allow the right level of closure for Maya. Chastain is mostly front and center here, and turns in another performance that capitalizes on her wide emotional range. As reserved as Maya often is, Chastain's work never feels lazy, and just because she's putting up a poker face doesn't mean she's not present. If anything, it means the exact opposite. Being present and listening is what Maya does in order to inch towards her goal, through every disappointment and disaster. The rest of the ensemble turn in perfectly convincing work, although few truly have much to work with. Stand outs from the supporting cast include the above-mentioned Clarke, as well as Jennifer Ehle as an older, more experienced operative.
But at the end of the day, the film is mostly a showcase for Chastain to quietly carry the film, and for Bigelow's extraordinary storytelling and atmosphere to shine through. The aesthetic may be roughly the same as The Hurt Locker, but there's no way to walk out of Zero Dark Thirty and think that she's made the same movie twice. The Hurt Locker used its characters to paint a portrait of various kinds of soldiers. With Zero Dark Thirty, Bigelow moves a step up the ladder in terms of authority. She's looking at the people behind the scenes, the little pieces that have to be assembled before the troops undertake missions like the Abbottabad raid. In doing so, Zero Dark Thirty, which opens with audio from 9-1-1 calls on 9/11, feels applicable to a wider range of people, because of how it weaves in the broader implications of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. It takes us from the moment of no return, all the way through an act of collective revenge, one that ellicits not cheers and grins, but solemn contemplation on what happened to us as a nation, and what we did, for better and for worse, because of those actions.
Grade: A/A-
