Review: "Dawn of the Planet of the Apes"

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+

AFI Fest 2013: "The Congress"

Director: Ari Folman
Runtime: 122 minutes

Five years after the masterful animated doc Waltz with Bashir, Ari Folman returns with The Congress, an overly ambitious odd duck that gets just enough right to avoid being a failure. Blending sections of live action and animation, Folman's foray into fiction filmmaking once again features dazzling visuals, even as them come trembling under the weight of unwieldy concepts and themes. Robin Wright's central turn is compelling in both physical and animated forms, and has great fun casting the actress as a version of herself.

For all of the bright, downright trippy animation that fills the second half of The Congress, the film's outlook on modern desires and priorities isn't exactly a happy one. Opening in the not too distant future, the film's first shot is a worn down looking Robin Wright listening to a demeaning lecture from her agent Al (Harvey Keitel). There are references to everything from bad career choices to bad choices in men (Wright was once married to Sean Penn), and it feels all too plausible, despite the undercurrent of humor. One wonders, in a system still filled with such an unfortunate amount of sexism and double standards, how many similar conversations have taken place behind closed doors. 

Things for Robin don't exactly improve when she meets with executive Jeff Green (Danny Huston, laying the sleaze on thick) offers her a troubling opportunity. The aging actress will have the chance to receive a steady flow of income if she takes part in a new process that will allow the studio to scan her entire being (mind, body, and soul), thus allowing them to manipulate and control her every move on screen. The other part of the agreement, however, is that the actual Robin Wright, the one not contained on a computer chip, can never act again in any capacity. 

Folman's set up is, despite some iffy acting moments from Keitel and others, quite effective. Though it's none too subtle about the message, there's enough winking humor to offset the heavy-handedness. Even with Wright loosely playing herself, there's a general avoidance of in-jokes about her career, thus allowing this Robin Wright to exist as her own character. 

Only when we first enter the animated section of the film does The Congress fail to fully gel. Folman has a great deal of fun with the visual style, but his handling of the rules of the animated world are fuzzy-headed at best. Robin's presence in the animated zone (an actual, separate place from the live action world) never feels convincing. The character is left to wander around (and occasionally hallucinate), but she lacks true conflict or motivation. The introduction of the mysterious Dylan (Jon Hamm), sadly, fails to ignite much interest as well. All hell breaks loose in the animated zone, yet it's difficult to feel any sense of tension because the zone still feels so overwhelming and vague as a place. 

Thankfully, Folman eventually remembers to give his protagonist a goal, which gives the animated portion a long overdue sense of narrative momentum. The animated zone's dream logic still frustrates, but the amusing imagery finally comes coupled with the sense of a world with a sense of purpose. Despite Wright's valiant efforts, however, The Congress is more of a director's (and animator's) film than an actor's piece. The actress' voice work in the animated section is vulnerable and human, but Robin Wright the character is ultimately not given enough for Robin Wright the actress to work with. 

On the other hand, when Folman's direction clicks, he delivers some truly arresting moments. For all of the uneven execution throughout, Folman does at least deliver when it comes to the ending. Aided by Max Richter's simple, atmospheric score, and a gut-punch of a visual transition, The Congress ends on a sobering, inexplicably emotional note. Even with all of the hazily drawn characters, concepts, and themes, enough of it sticks along the way that the last 15 minutes dazzle in their own quiet way. The Congress may not be the grand slam follow-up to Waltz With Bashir that it could have been, but there's certainly enough going on that makes it worth going way down the rabbit hole into Folman's relentless vision.

Grade: B-