Review: "Macbeth"

Director: Justin Kurzel
Runtime: 120 minutes

There's rugged beauty in everything from the landscapes to the people in Macbeth, but sadly little poetry. Australian director Justin Kurzel has made a handsome and gritty adaptation of one of Shakespeare's best and most iconic plays, but never pushes beyond the surface of the Bard's language. In an odd twist, the best and most consistent aspect of this Macbeth comes from the lone non-native English-speaker among the principal players. In fleeting moments, Kurzel's stylstic ambitions find harmony with the source material, but these instance are the exception, rather than the norm.

Not much has been changed in this latest telling of the Scottish play. There are some key omissions (no "double double" chant from the witches; no "stars, hide your light" from Macbeth), but when it comes to words, Kurzel has hardly bastardized the material. At least on the page. Right from the start, this Macbeth strains for ominous atmospherics through Adam Arkapaw's rich, primordial images and Jed Kurzel's sinister, droning score. Were this an experimental, dialogue-free production, things might have turned out differently. 

Yet when the actors open their mouths to start working their way through the centuries-old dialogue, they fumble. Yes, even Michael Fassbender in the titular role. Most of the cast appear to be saying the words as if at a first glance at the script. There's some authenticity thanks to the guttural, mouth-full-of-glass accents, but no true connection. The words hang there when they should draw one in to this sordid tale as much as the visuals. Yet when Macbeth wonders aloud about whether or not he should kill King Duncan (David Thewlis), none of the source material's complexity registers. Shakespeare chose words carefully. Most of the actors here just try to get through them as if having a banal exchange over coffee.

A pity, then, that there isn't more of Lady Macbeth (Marion Cotillard) in Kurzel's film. The French actress, perhaps because she has to work harder to navigate the dialogue, ends up dominating the entire film. By the time the film is over, you'll be left wanting a revisionist take on the play that centers around Cotillard's interpretation of the character. Without even trying to put on an unnatural accent, she not only gets through the dialogue, but actually sounds as if she truly understands every little nuance of what she's saying. Though this production firmly relegates Lady Macbeth (one of theater's all-time great characters for women) to supporting status, there's no question as to who the star is here. Thankfully, one of the times in which Kurzel's direction works comes at the iconic "Out, damned spot!" sequence, a marvel of simplicity that is mostly done in a lengthy close up. Clad in white robes, illuminated by a pale shaft of wintery light, Cotillard almost makes the whole film worth it just for her work in this one scene. 

Other well-known moments from the play don't fare as well. The witches who deliver Macbeth's prophecy and Banquo's ghost are presented in visually inert scenes that do little to add mystery or distortion. Some allowance can be given to the witches, but when Macbeth addresses Banquo's ghost in a room full of people, it feels as if everyone else can see the specter as well. There's no sense of perspective, and a moment that should unsettle and haunt instead plods along. 

In trying so hard to pump up the visual component of his adaptation, Kurzel often misses the power of the dialogue. Had he stripped the text to the core and cut out as much dialogue as possible, this wouldn't have been such an issue. But in trying to keep the dialogue while also shoe-horning in visual flourishes (super slow-motion! apocalyptic red filters on the camera!), the film feels at odds with itself. Macbeth's talk of "sound and fury/signifying nothing," has, unfortunately, rarely felt more appropriate.

Grade: C+

Review: "Frank"

Director: Lenny Abrahamson
Runtime: 95 minutes

Michael Fassbender's mask-wearing singer/composer may be the face (and title) of Lenny Abrahamson's Frank, but the film's story belongs to someone else. That someone is Jon Burroughs, played by fellow Irishman Domhnall Gleeson (son of Calvary star Brendan Gleeson). Though Gleeson is our entryway into Frank's world of off-kilter, underground musician, he emerges as the most fully-formed character. He is more than an audience surrogate, which is a huge plus considering the slightly cartoonish characterizations of everyone else who appears on screen in this mostly winning dark comedy. 

When we first meet Jon, he's doing his best to compose a song based on what he sees around him, yet nothing is coming together. There is no magical moment of inspiration that ever takes place throughout the rest of Abrahamson's film, which further grounds the story's stakes in the real world, despite the broad strokes used in defining many of the characters. This is no Behind the Music/rags to riches story. Like last year's excellent Inside Llewyn Davis, it's a story of simply trying to get by, in hopes that something great will be not too far off. 

So even though Jon is taken with Frank's very alternative take on indie rock, he understands that they have a lot of work to do to finish a first album. Secluded away in the Irish countryside, the young man starts to document the band's progress through every tedious step (it takes almost a year before proper recording even commences). Along the way, he has to contend with the band's financial struggles, along with resistance from a duo of French band mates and the stand-offish Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal).

And then there's Frank himself, who's his own riddle wrapped up in a mystery (etc...). No one has seen Frank without the bulbous fake head at all, and no one has any idea what the reason for wearing the piece might be. Still, even with his expressive face concealed, Fassbender lends a surprisingly playful air to this bizarro band leader. He is an extreme example of the tortured artist that no one truly understands, yet Fassbender keeps him in check, never making him too broad or "out there" to the point where he loses his humanity. Despite the odd looking head-gear, Frank, along with Jon, comes off as a believable presence. 

Unfortunately, this isn't true at all for the rest of the band's members. Gyllenhaal has a great deal of fun with her prickly role, but the script struggles to push past her surface behaviors. More often than not, she's used to punctuate a moment with dour sarcasm, leaving her little to do for herself. The mumbly French duo are given even less to work with. 

Thankfully, Gleeson holds the film together quite nicely, even as Frank starts to drag its feet in the final act. The writing often seems too caught up in the eccentricities of given moments, and in doing so, forget to really sharpen the arcs of its major players. Gleeson and Fassbender, however, at least have material with some semblance of substance to work with, even as they're forced to make due with a wobbly foundation.

So even though the majority of Frank works, it's still a film that lacks strong focus. The final scene is both charming and bleak, an unusual combination that somehow works. Yet afterwards, the film's intentions seem a bit muddled. There are a number of big, rich angles touched on, yet it's hard to say which one the film really put as its number one priority. Despite some nice performances and a nicely honed, dark sense of humor, Frank often feels more like a novel bit of eccentricity, rather than a fully-formed work. Like Frank's band, Abrahamson's film is clearly onto something, but it's desperately in need of a great deal of fine-tuning. 

Grade: B-

Review: "X-Men: Days of Future Past"

Director: Bryan Singer
Runtime: 131 minutes

At once a sequel, prequel, and complete narrative overhaul, Marvel's X-Men: Days of Future Past certainly hasn't been shy about its ambitions. With casts from the original trilogy and 2011's First Class, returning director Bryan Singer, along with a plot involving time travel, Days of Future Past seemed like an unwieldy entity. After leaving the X-Men franchise to direct the leaden Superman Returns and the flat Valkyrie, Singer's return to the director's chair was understandably met with hesitation. Yet he and writer Simon Kinberg (atoning for the mostly awful X-Men: The Last Stand) have avoided running Marvel's prized mutant family into the ground. While the franchises of the various Avengers heroes are clearly Marvel's top priority, Days of Future Past returns the X-Men to their glory days. This is more than a step in the right direction. It's a full-blown resurrection, with plot, spectacle, and drama all skillfully woven together. 

This is most impressive when considering the important of time travel to DOFP's narrative. There are always plot holes that crop up when time travel arrives in a story, so it's important to manage everything else smoothly enough so the stakes get more focus than potential story-telling paradoxes. Singer, clearly reinvigorated by returning to this world, shows that he knows how to handle this world better than those peers that have sat in during his absence. Working off of Kinberg's smooth, straightforward screenplay, Singer and editor/composer John Ottman are able to keep things moving along beautifully, without every leaving key characters in the dust. 

That last bit is of special importance in this film more than any other X-Men adventure. Though we see plenty of mutants across the 131 minute duration, many are just there to fill the screen. Don't expect to learn more about the likes of Warpath (Booboo Stewart) or Fan BingBing's portal-creating Blink. They, along with several others, are just here to fill out the story's framing device which is this (take a deep breath): After Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) kills anti-mutant scientist Boliver Trask (Peter Dinklage), the world's governments pour money into Trask's Sentinel Program. The Sentinels are large, adaptable robots that, a la Skynet, eradicate mutants and their genetically mundane allies. With the future now a bleak dystopia, Prof. X (Patrick Stewart) and Magneto (Ian McKellan) come up with a last ditch plan. With help from Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page), they will send Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) into the past to reunite the young Xavier and Magneto (James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, respectively) to stop Mystique's mission, as well as its increasingly devastating consequences.

Once all of the time-travel mumbo jumbo is hashed out via's Stewart's effortlessly commanding voice, and Wolverine wakes up inhabiting his body as it was in 1973, the film really comes to life. Despite all of the VFX involved, Days of Future Past is never careless when it comes to digital trickery. The story and the quartet of Jackman, McAvoy, Lawrence, and Fassbender are the real draws here, and Kinberg gives each role enough room to breathe. While it's frustrating to see Page's role hollowed out (in the source material, she was the one who leapt back in time), the story's four leads and their various conflicts are still compelling. 

Rather than retread old ground, the first half of the film plays like an inversion of the very first X-Men (2000). Here, Wolverine has to step back and be both mediator and leader, roles he was in no way ready to take on when he first joined the X-Men. Meanwhile, young Charles Xavier is a depressed, alcoholic mess who has lost his way. Beast (Nicholas Hoult) has healed Xavier's legs, but the cost has been his tremendous psionic powers. Even though Wolverine is able to make Xavier believe his outrageous time travel story, the latter hardly feels like reconnecting with his mutant roots.

Though Jackman's Wolverine has always been a central part of the X-Men movies, his role reversal is a smart choice, and he and McAvoy play off of each other quite well. There are still traces of the cynical mutant's past in Jackman's performance, but here they're held back for the sake of urgency. McAvoy, meanwhile improves on his already impressive performance from First Class as the film's mentally shattered version of Xavier. The actor's vulnerability and desperation are given the weight needed to make us care, without digging so deep as to turn the film into a pretentious existential drama. 

Things only get better as Fassbender and Lawrence enter the fray. The former remains perfectly suited as the dogmatic Magneto, while Lawrence brings more genuine spark to Mystique than she did in First Class, where she was occasionally flat. Special mention should go to Evan Peters as the ultra fast Quicksilver, who is given just enough to be an enjoyable addition without leaving the film overstuffed. His part in the story is brief, but critical, and it allows Singer and co. to use Quicksilver's powers as part of the film's lightest, most enjoyable set-piece. Unlike the extra mutants in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Quicksilver's guest appearance here is superbly integrated, and it ends just in time to get back to the four established protagonists.

Every one of them has an agenda, yet the streamlined plotting ensures that motives remain clear without grinding the film to a halt. Days of Future Past is always moving, yet it never feels rushed outside of the exposition-heavy opening. The blockbuster it best calls to mind (and not simply because of the time travel aspect), is the 2009 reboot of Star Trek. The JJ Abrams film had a lot going on, yet kept its characters grounded amid all of the flashy effects to deliver an experience where the drama was earned, and therefore resonated. 

Backing up Singer's handling of the story and his main stars are some of his slickest, liveliest direction to date. Eschewing the rather bland color palette of most Marvel films, Days of Future Past is much more visually engaging than the standard summer tentpole. Newton Thomas Siegel's photography, especially in the 1973 scenes, is rich and textured, and lends an extra bit of believability to the fantastical premise and characters. He and Singer also have a bit of fun capturing some of the mutant action on 70s era cameras, further grounding us in a time period where the mutants stand out even more than they do in the present or future. Production designer John Mhyre, whose stacked resume includes superhero flicks and glittery musicals, does a stellar job with sets without going overboard.  

And then, of course, there are the visual effects. Though some elements are more cartoon-y than others (the future versions of the Sentinels), most of the VFX work is superbly handled. It only ups the stakes and the grandeur, rather than taking focus away from the story and characters. Even in the finale, which is filled with some truly massive effects (as well as hefty cross-cutting between past and future), the story's over-the-top emotional core stays front and center. 

Like last month's Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Days of Future Past succeeds because it bucks two major trends found in big-budget spectacles: being overly glib so that no drama interrupts the spectacle, or trying so desperately to be dramatic that all fun is squeezed out. Though Days of Future Past does reset the chessboard for the franchise, it still works as its own self-contained (albeit open-ended) adventure, one with an engaging story and engaging characters worth following. What could have been a jumbled, incoherent mess is, thankfully, one of the most assured and accomplished superhero films to date. As much as the franchise has stumbled over the past few years, Days of Future Past shows that when they're on their A-game, the X-Men are among the best in the business.

Grade: B+

Review: "The Counselor"

Director: Ridley Scott
Runtime: 117 minutes

There's no denying that Ridley Scott's career has seen its share of ups and downs. From the mastery of Alien to the outright boredom of Robin Hood, the director has always been somewhat at the mercy of his material. Plenty of directors aren't writers, but few big name ones have a track record that covers the entire spectrum between masterpiece and total failure. Scott's best work tends to come out of adequate screenplays that he can elevate (Alien, Gladiator), or in strong ones that he then makes even better (Thelma and Louise, Matchstick Men). The same is all too true with The Counselor, which sees the veteran helmer join forces with Pulitzer Prize-winning author Cormac McCarthy. 

Given the author's status and legacy, you'd think that any flaws to be found in The Counselor might somehow be Scott's fault. In a strange twist of fate, it's actually the other way around. The Scott-McCarthy union is far from a train wreck it's been proclaimed in certain corners. In fact, it's often quite enjoyable, even as it blatantly flies in the face of your average viewer's expectations. Scott's direction is some of his best in years, while McCarthy turns in an original screenplay that easily ranks among his weakest works. However, there's enough of the Old Testament bleakness from the author's strongest pieces that keeps the story afloat. Plenty of great novelists have made bumpy transitions to screenwriting. McCarthy is no exception, but in Scott's hands The Counselor is a strangely satisfying, albeit totally ruthless, tale of greed and its consequences. 

When we're first introduced to the titular Counselor (Michael Fassbender) and his fiance Laura (Penelope Cruz), they're wrapped in white sheets, closed off from the world at large by the thinnest of barriers. Given the man responsible for the story, however, it's all too apparent that it won't take much to trap these blissful lovers in the mire of the world at large. Like so many of McCarthy's novels, The Counselor is set near the Texas-Mexico border, and involves its share of shady figures with opaque agendas. This time, however, the author has turned his attention to the grisliest possible side of human decay: drug trafficking, and the violence that goes with it. 

As such, Fassbender is something of an audience surrogate, even though the actor fills in the blanks from the page quite effectively. After his opening exchange with Laura, far and away the most pure individual, he makes his Faustian pact with the likes of club owner Reiner (Javier Bardem), his girlfriend Malkina (Cameron Diaz), and middleman Westray (Brad Pitt). "You're not quite the straight dude people think you are," teases Reiner, and in a sense that's true. The Counselor's decision to dip his toe in the drug trade is a hint at his corruptible side. Yet compared with the likes of Reiner and Malkina, both dressed up in assortments of garish attire, the Counselor is largely just guilty by association.

Not content to merely establish this, McCarthy's script - as per usual - has more on its mind. As much as the film has been promoted as a blood-soaked thriller, there's very little violence over the nearly two hour duration. With no room on the page to fill with gorgeously-wrought passages about grand themes, McCarthy sticks a great deal of it in the mouths of his characters. It's a decision that provides any number of strong moment, but is still the film's Achilles Heel. As best as the cast try, there are some lines that are just too "written," and they feel clumsy coming out of the mouths of human beings, even ones as broadly symbolic as these. When Malkina tells Reiner that "truth has no temperature," the line lands with something of a thud. There's more to be said about Diaz's performance, but in this instance, the fault lies with the words, and not with the actor.

And since it's inevitable, it's best to just get this out of the way: The Counselor doesn't hold a candle to Joel and Ethan Coen's Oscar-winning adaptation of No Country for Old Men. No scene in this film reaches the cold, magnetic power of Anton Chigurh's strange conversation with a gas station attendant, for example. The Counselor is, undeniably, Mr. McCarthy operating at a broader level, which has its own advantages and disadvantages. The film tries to have it both ways, as a flashier sort of thriller than No Country, while still retaining its author's powerful essence. In a way, and I don't mean this as an insult, The Counselor is No Country for Old Men's pulpier, drunken cousin. 

So even though the material may not be as rich this time around, there's still a lot of good that Scott and his cast are able to wring out of the material, even as they stumble from time to time. Fassbender's nameless protagonist is a blank audience surrogate if ever there was one. Yet the Irish-German actor is able to find small ways of giving his character shadings of depth, even as he spends many of his scenes in a more passive position. And when it comes time for the Counselor to bear the fallout from his choices, Fassbender brings the same tortured intensity that he brought to his stunning turn in Steve McQueen's Shame two years ago, without any redundancy. Ms. Cruz, as the object of his affection, delivers lovely work with significantly less screen time. Laura is easily the sort of role who could have been cast with a nobody, left merely as a plot point. In Cruz, The Counselor finds an infinitely better option in casting the Oscar-winner, who is able to infuse her character with a warmth that makes one understand why the Counselor is so devoted to her. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the film's moral spectrum, Cruz's real-life husband, Javier Bardem, has a ball as Reiner. The last time the actor took on a character from McCarthy's imagination, he walked away with an Oscar. That's unlikely to happen this time, but Bardem turns a rather cartoony role into something surprisingly multifaceted. Mr. Pitt, as a slimy-looking, washed up cowboy, is also effective in small doses. He and Bardem do the best job of bringing out the (intentional) humor in McCarthy's writing, as well as the more sinister elements. A series of small roles rounding out the significant players are also effective, though none more so than Rosie Perez as one of the Counselor's clients. It's the sort of effortlessly effective performance that makes you wish Perez had much, much more to do.

I've saved Ms. Diaz for last, because her's is easily the most puzzling performance. Though she suits the role perfectly from a visual standpoint - adorned with tattoos, two-tone hair, and a gold tooth - her actual work is sadly less consistent. Diaz has fun with her two best-written scenes (one involving a priest, the other with her lawyer), but other scenes go from good to bad, often within a single line reading. For every chilly stare or malevolent bit of teasing that works, there are any number of moments that leave the actress sounding far out of her depth. Malkina is the sort of twisted femme fatale that should have been this film's standout. Instead, she's disconcertingly uneven, and there are too many instances where the blame lies with Diaz, rather than with McCarthy's words. 

Thankfully, Mr. Scott and his collaborators keep the whole thing moving along quite nicely, and deliver a polished, if frequently imperfect film. For all of its broader elements, The Counselor is still classic McCarthy, and Scott attacks the pulpy material with enough gusto so as to ensure more than a few stand-out moments. Working with recent collaborator Dariusz Wolski, the film is as rich and glossy as Scott's best, without ever suffocating the material. And, for a director known for staging marathon-length action sequences, he's able to rattle off the film's few flashes of violence with elegance and brevity. Relatively new composer Daniel Pemberton also makes a powerful impression with his ghostly score, which lends even the plainest of dialogues an undercurrent of impending catastrophe. 

One of the Counselor's most frequently used words in the film is "Jesus." Whether hearing something outrageous (a scene with Malkina and car that's sure to leave one talking), or horrific, this invocation of a deity is perhaps his last line of defense from the inky black world in which he's enmeshed himself. At first Fassbender's delivery is almost casual, as though he has no true need of the same religion that Laura holds so dearly. Yet as things inevitably go south, that delivery becomes gradually more panicked. Yet a hollowness remains, but with a purpose: the Counselor needs the intervention of a benevolent higher power, yet also realizes that he's gone past the point of saving. 

That's the sort of world that Scott mercilessly plunges one into, and it's certainly not for everybody. But either way, it's likely to leave you talking about something. In one early scene, the Counselor visits a diamond dealer (Bruno Ganz), who informs him that what defines a diamond are its little flaws, and that "The perfect diamond would be composed of nothing but light." That sentiment also applies to this icy gut punch of a film. It may be littered with imperfections, some particularly disappointing, but in a sense they help define what makes this film - Scott's best in quite some time - work on its own terms so well.

Grade: B/B+

Review: "12 Years a Slave"

Director: Steve McQueen
Runtime: 133 minutes

When a movie has you doubting its quality for its first half hour, it tends to send up more than a few red flags. That was the experience I had with Steve McQueen's third feature film, 12 Years a Slave. All of the festival hype about this being a masterpiece didn't even seem remotely present. Yet over the course of its grueling duration, the movie has a way of getting under your skin long before you fully realize it. This is a film that rights itself so powerfully that it manages to meet, and possibly surpass, its overwhelming hype.

Arriving nearly a year after Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained, Slave is quick to position itself as a polar opposite. Tarantino's take on slavery was brutal, but so stylized that it quickly arrived at winking hyperbole. That tongue-in-cheek revisionism is nowhere to be found in McQueen's film, which sternly cements itself as one of the definitive cinematic portraits of the horrors of American slavery. 

Yet for all of the brutality, emotional and physical, on display, 12 Years a Slave's approach is remarkably restrained. McQueen, working off of John Ridley's adaptation of the novel of the same title, has ample opportunity to bludgeon the viewer into numbing submission. As we follow Solomon Northrup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a free man captured and sold into the southern slavery machine, we are witness to unspeakable violence, as expected. But rather than reflect Northrup's own horror, the film spends most of its time depicting its atrocities with quiet detachment. Rarely has the concept of the banality of evil been so maturely transferred to the silver screen.

The effect is distancing at first, and it can make 12 Years a Slave difficult to fully engage with at times. There are moments made to elicit gasps of horror, but also any number of scenes presented so matter-of-factly that they appear determined to keep the viewer at arm's length. It's a strategy that could have proved damning in the long run. Instead, it all builds to a finale that packs what has to be the biggest emotional wallop of the year, and by quite a wide margin. 

The academically rigorous treatment that takes up most of the runtime is, secretly, the key to the film's success. By refusing to indulge in exploitation and wallowing in awfulness, the story clips along, capturing evil as ordinarily as possible, as though it were just another part of the day. The intelligence with which Ridley treats his characters, coupled with McQueen's vision, allow the film to work as an accessibly arty drama, as well as an honest and unflinching portrait of one of the biggest travesties in American history.  

And as the glue holding the story together, Mr. Ejiofor is tremendous, infusing Solomon with hope, determination, and despair without mugging. The middle of the story sees Solomon - with a new name, and reduced to little more than a cotton picker - as an observer and occasional victim. Rather than slip into laziness, Ejiofor infuses Solomon's defeated passivity with a tragic grace that only becomes more impressive as time passes. 

While Ejiofor carries the movie on his shoulders, he allows his co-stars the bulk of the film's flashier moments. As Mr. and Mrs. Epps, Michael Fassbender and Sarah Paulson make up one of the most despicable, yet frighteningly believable, couples in recent memory. Whatever their quarrels with each other, they have no problem abusing and manipulating the slaves as a means of attacking each other. As Mr. Epps watches, with mocking delight, his slaves dance, his wife catches him eyeing young Patsey (Lupita Nyong'o, also excellent). Her retaliation is to pick up a glass decanter and toss it at the girl's head, with all of the effort of tossing paper into a waste bin. It's a moment horrifying for its basic cruelty, the chillingly casual manner of its depiction, and implications it has about the Epps' worldviews. That the moment lasts but 10 seconds only  magnifies the scene's blunt force. 

At this point it almost seems pointless to point out the films flaws, considering how contained they are to the beginning of the movie. However, though the initial missteps don't undercut the power of the conclusion, they do start the film off in a puzzling manner that feels at odds with what follows. 

Rather than proceed in strictly linear fashion, the opening begins with a few vignettes of Solomon already on the Epps' plantation. Later, the film inserts brief flashbacks to Northrup's time with his wife and two children as they go about their life as free and respected members of society. The "payoff" that this structure delivers is little more than a condensed repeat of the opening scenes in a bizarre attempt to generate a moment of psychological tension. Compared with the elegant frankness of the film's majority, these moments can't help but feel rough around the edges. Hans Zimmer's early scoring contributions don't help matters, and threaten to send certain scenes careening off of the rails with their horror movie intensity. 

Thankfully, 12 Years a Slave's triumphs do more than make up for its failures. They absolutely demolish them. With all of the accumulated pain and suffering built up over the course of more than two hours, the film arrives at its shattering conclusion. It's an otherworldly combination of hopefulness about the story's end, as well as a cathartic end to a profoundly wrenching journey. McQueen's film could derisively be deemed his broadest and most accessible. However, by tapping into such a difficult subject matter with such precision, he has delivered a challenging, gripping story by staring evil in the eye and never once backing down. 

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

Review: "Haywire"

While The Hunger Games may have recently taken in over $150 million at the box office, the film is actually the second this year to feature a kick ass female protagonist. Steven Soderbergh's Haywire, despite underperforming, features this year's first breakout tough-as-nails heroine, in the form of Mallory Kane (Gina Carano, a mixed martial arts fighter). An ex-black ops assassin burned by her handlers via a set-up in Barcelona, Carano more than gives Katniss Everdeen a run for her money, even though Carano's acting is, when compared to Jennifer Lawrence, a bit lacking.

At its core, Haywire represents Steven Soderbergh at his leanest and most efficient. Though set in the present day, it carries the feel of a stripped down 1970s political action-thriller (minus most of the politics). For the most part, that's a good thing. Soderbergh and scribe Lem Dobbs' set ups are crisp and quick without feeling rushed, and the action is photographed and staged with a refreshing mix of clarity and lack of chaotic editing or shaky cameras. The aforementioned Barcelona incident, told largely only with images and David Holmes' excellent, varied score, demonstrates Haywire's best; there's a low key feeling to the action that slowly sucks you in and never goes overboard. This is a film that knows exactly what it wants to be, and there's never any hints that Dobbs' script is aiming for political commentary or deep characterization.

Unfortunately, the film is still hindered by what should be its greatest asset: Ms. Carano. Soderbergh has pulled out strong work from non-actors before (Sasha Grey in The Girlfriend Experience), but here he can't quite cover up Carano's inexperience. Carano has the look and presence to be the badass Mallory is supposed to be, and in the fight scenes she's great fun to watch. Yet every time she opens her mouth, the dialogue is delivered in tones that register somewhere between lightweight and robotic. Worse is that the rest of the ensemble are all pros, and don't have enough to work with to really go wrong, which only makes Carano's missteps stick out further. As nice as it is to have a tough, nicely paced action film centering on a female protagonist, there were moments when I wished that one of Carano's co-stars (mostly Michael Fassbender or Ewan McGregor) had been the hero instead.

It's a shame, because if Soderbergh had been able to pull a better performance, the film could have been the stripped-down, stylistically tame cousin of Joe Wright's Hanna. That film featured a few bumps in the screenplay, but the strong work from the cast (namely Saoirse Ronan's fiercely committed turn), along with the direction and excellent technicals elevated it far above its pedestrian origins on the page. Haywire doesn't have that, which makes its stark simplicity less satisfying than it ought to be. I have to give major props to Soderbergh and the technical team for creating such a fun, taut film, but ultimately Carano's stiff performance is too big a factor in the film's success, and she's really the only thing holding it back.

Grade: B-

Review: "A Dangerous Method" (2011)

It would be easy to dismiss A Dangerous Method, the latest from director David Cronenberg, as an overly dry, albeit fleet-footed adaptation of Christopher Hampton's play "The Talking Cure." As an examination of Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) and Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen), there's little that's revelatory or terribly insightful, despite the interesting subject matter. This is Cronenberg at his most calm, free of sensationalism or body trauma. And the film would almost be too calm if it weren't for one element: Keira Knightley's performance.

Tellingly, the film opens not with Jung or Freud (who is very much a supporting character), but with Knightley's Sabina Spielrein, a Russian woman sent for treatment due to "hysteria." And right from the start, Knightley grabs your attention, screaming at the top of her lungs, collapsing into bizarre laughter, and contorting her face in ways I didn't think fully possible without the assistance of CG. It's such a striking performance (I mean that in a neutral sense) that how you feel about the film may ultimately hinge on whether you find the actress' work intensely riveting, or wacky and over the top. That is, unless you're like me, and find that she oscillates wildly between the two non-stop, in which case forming a definitive opinion on Cronenberg's latest becomes somewhat more puzzling.

Covering roughly a decade in time, what's noticeable from early on is that Hampton's play (which he adapted himself for the screen) hasn't made the full transition so that it feels entirely cinematic. Granted, this is a film that revolves around conversation after conversation, and there are plenty of exteriors that help flesh out the locations, but at times it's not enough. In one early scene, Jung sits behind Sabina, with no other decoration in the room. The shot shows only two sides of the square room coming together in a corner, and the angle creates the sensation that we're very much in a set, possibly even on a stage with very convincing lighting. It's odd, because so many of the interior scenes (thankfully) lack this quality, but every now and then the staginess creeps through, whether in the mise-en-scene or the occasional transition that arrives too abruptly. The quickness of the transitions is perhaps the bigger flaw, as it throws off any sense of proper pace, and I counted several times when the film felt like it was ready to conclude, only to see it keep going. Thankfully it's never boring, but it also feels like A Dangerous Method feels content to play out scene after scene and then simply end, rather than reach a proper sort of resolution (which is done through, sigh, title cards detailing various fates).

And while the screenplay has a surprising amount of light humor and some compelling exchanges, it also has moments that are completely dry. These are usually scenes where characters are talking in language so technical, and so devoid of character, that it starts to feel like a lesson. It renders whatever theoretical breakthroughs people have totally unremarkable, when they should be the source of the film's most intriguing exchanges.

It's too bad, because there's really a lot to like, or at least admire, in the film. The production values are quite handsome, and Peter Suschitszky's cinematography is sharp, clean, and bright. Howard Shore's musical contributions, which basically amount to a single theme, are also quite effective. As for the performances, there are moments for everyone to shine, but the script isn't nearly as rich in exploring the conflicts as it ought to be. It all feels too sanitized, to the point where the much talked about spanking scene stirs little emotion. Of Fassbender's many roles this year, this is easily his weakest, by virtue of the academic nature in which Hampton writes the character. Mortensen has fun as Freud, but again, he's treated from an odd distance, and the academic approach hurts his efforts. When it comes to Knightley, I'm at a crossroads. She's either the best or worst of the trio, depending on the scene. Overall, though, it's too uneven of a performance to really exalt, as there are too many moments that feel overwrought that clash with scenes where the actress shines. At the very least, however, it feels like Knightley is really taking a risk, which is more than can be said for just about every other aspect of the film. A little more danger really would have been quite helpful.

Grade: C+

One step forward, two steps backward: Trailers to ring in 2012

Even though we're still dealing with awards season craziness, it's never too soon to start looking past the acceptance speeches and trophies, and into what cinema holds in store for us in the new year. Over the past two weeks, three trailers have emerged for three very big potential blockbusters. One is a sequel, while the other two are prequels (more or less). And all three have one thing in common: insanely high expectations.

When your previous film develops rabid fanboys, becomes a massive box office success, and scores an actor an Oscar, all while being a super hero movie, the next installment is under scrutiny from day one. That's certainly been the case with Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight Rises, the director's final contribution to Batman's cinematic legacy. Everything has been picked apart, and concerns have been raised regarding everything from casting to costume choices. With the release of the first full trailer, however, Nolan's latest is finally putting some (or at least, my) worries to rest. The trailer covers quite a lot thematically without spelling out the specific direction of the plot. It also gives us some nice looks at Tom Hardy as Bane, and Anne Hathaway as Selina Kyle/Catwoman, who shakes off her rom-com personality to inject a surprising amount of menace. The actions scenes look intense, and the idea of Gotham actually falling into chaos (a fulfillment of the Arkham breakout in Batman Begins) looks like an interesting way to bring Nolan's trilogy full-circle. Oh, and the creepy chanting that plays over the last half of the footage? Perfection.

Trailer Grade: A-

Next we have Prometheus, Ridley Scott's long-gestating prequel-but-it-sort-of-isn't to Alien. Boasting a stellar ensemble, the film's entire look is fantastic, and I can't wait to see more footage. We need another well made, big budget sci-fi flick to counterbalance the likes of Transformers. That eerie, monolithic face statue, as well as that strange crescent structure are enough to get me hooked from a visual standpoint. Even more interesting will be to see the creation footage that Scott and crew were reportedly filming in Iceland. On a nerdier note, it will be interesting to see how the film plays off of its mythically based title. Given the film's tag line, it's probably meant to be a rather dark variation. Scott has been a bit of a slump that past few years, but here's hoping that a return to sci-fi will help him return to his best. Love that gradual reveal of the title too.

Trailer Grade: B+

Finally, we come to the most troubled of the three: Peter Jackson's The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. The first of two films covering the novel (part two hits in 2013), the film has struggled to move ahead with production. Guillermo Del Toro was originally set to direct, before financial and legal issues delayed the start of shooting so much that he bailed. Jackson is back in the chair, which is reasurring that at least it will be the exact same vision as before. Let's just hope it doesn't end up feeling, stale, though. The footage is relatively simple, not showing anything epic, and focusing more on the characters and the lighter nature of the narrative. A lot of the footage still needs to be color-graded, but overall I'm very hopeful that the long-delayed return to Middle Earth will be worth it. The film is being shot on cutting-edge technology at the highest frame rate ever for a major motion picture. How this will affect the film, for better or for worse, remains to be seen, but at the very least it will help the film feel slightly different. Now if only we can get around to seeing some footage of Smaug...

Trailer Grade: B

Review: "Shame"

Steve McQueen really loves to make Michael Fassbender stare. Whether it's at a person, an object, or simply off into the distance, both of the director's collaborations with Fassbender have featured quite a bit of soulful/mournful staring. The difference in their second go-round together, though, is that this time the staring actually feels as though it has some characterization to it. Rather than hit a sophomore slump, McQueen and Fassbender have made a vast improvement in Shame, the director's examination of loneliness and sex addiction.

First thing's first, a confession: I'm part of that small group of film enthusiasts who wasn't won over by McQueen's debut, 2008's Hunger. Though it had moments of power, I was ultimately left cold by the director's attempts to use famed IRA hunger-striker Bobby Sands as a symbol of eternal dedication to a cause. As such, I was hesitant to endure another McQueen-Fassbender collaboration, even though I was momentarily impressed by what the director pulled off in that film. This time, though, by focusing on an issue as faced by a fictional person (and free from any danger of political bias, accidental or otherwise) McQueen has really hit it out of the park.

Shame revolves around Brandon (Michael Fassbender), a handsome (though I suppose that's a given considering the actor playing him), mid-30s man in Manhattan with a compulsive, all-consuming addiction to sex. His routine, however, is interrupted by the arrival of his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan). In the film's opening stretch, McQueen intercuts Brandon walking around his apartment naked with his attempted "flirtation" with an attractive woman on the subway. Though it initially feels slightly hollow, it does visually convey Brandon's state of mind regarding sex: it's not a matter of romance, it's about purely about the physical act. Without spoiling anything, the way Brandon's staring at the woman comes full circle functions as an obvious, albeit powerful statement regarding the character's transformation over the course of the film.

As Brandon, Fassbender caps off a stellar year that has finally given him attention he's deserved for a while now. He's made his mark in roles ranging from Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre, to a young Magneto in X-Men: First Class. In Brandon, however, the actor is able to end the year with a performance which goes beyond everything he showed before, which is no small feat. As in Hunger, this is a performance that doesn't rely much on dialogue, and more on physicality and facial cues. However, unlike Hunger, Shame actually gives the actor something to work with, sparse as the script may be. Instead of simply staring off into space, it feels like there's some meaning to Fassbender's long, silent looks, even if we're not entirely sure what they mean. There's no clear answer as to where Brandon's addiction comes from; the closest answer comes from a line from Sissy, "We're not bad people, Brandon. We just come from a bad place." That's it. And yet, under McQueen's guidance, that answer doesn't matter. What's important isn't the baggage that led Brandon to his condition, but rather how he deals with it. What could have become dull and repetitive becomes magnetic in Fassbender's understated, yet powerful presence.

Every bit his equal, despite her significantly small screen time, is Mulligan. Going as far away from her role in An Education (which scored the actress an Oscar nomination) as possible, Mulligan leaves quite the impression whenever she appears, particularly in her drawn-out rendition of "New York, New York." Where Brandon is sullen and introspective, Sissy is a live wire, and seeing Mulligan take charge of the role so fearlessly is impressive as hell. If anything, I wanted more interaction between the siblings, because it felt like there was so much territory in that facet alone that McQueen and co-writer Abi Morgan could have covered. That the script keeps itself so thoroughly focused on Brandon almost becomes a problem, because Sissy sometimes comes close to being underdeveloped to the point of being little more than a plot device. Thankfully, the power that McQueen is able to wring out of Brandon's story makes up for it, but this small issue is one that, if fixed, would only have made the film stronger.

As far as flaws go, there's not much else to go at. Though Shame's opening made me worried that the film would feel hollow, the performances and McQueen's direction manage to dig deeper than one would expect, and the climactic moments hit home. Some dialogue feels on-the-nose, as if McQueen and Morgan wanted to spell out Brandon and Sissy's issues rather than giving it a context. And though the film is edited and paced impeccably for the most part, one of the most important scenes goes on too long by about half a minute. It doesn't ruin the moment or drain it of its power, but after so many successfully executed long takes, it's surprising that a moment involving faster-paced cuts ends up feeling overly long.

On the artistic and technical front, however, the film is quite outstanding. In addition to the almost flawless editing, the film benefits from cold, crisp visuals, long takes (that rarely, if ever, leave one's mind wandering), and a combination of smart sound track choices and a limited score from Harry Escott. Though the movie may earn (just barely) it's NC-17 rating, it's anything but trashy or exploitative. The only shame greater than Brandon's would be to miss the movie (y'know, assuming you're old enough).

Grade: A-

Venice Review Round-Up: "Shame"

I have a confession to make: I'm really not a fan of Irish director Steve McQueen's acclaimed debut Hunger. Though parts of it are extremely well-made and compelling, the lopsided nature of the narrative, which centers on IRA member Bobby Sands' famous hunger strike, bothered me in ways that I wasn't expecting. Even so, and perhaps this is a weakness of mine, when I consider the amount of acclaim Hunger received, I feel inclined to give McQueen another chance with his second feature, Shame. Early word, as you'll see below, is getting off to a fantastic start, so maybe this time around I can actually get on board the McQueen bandwagon.

Variety - Justin Chang (N/A): "...more approachable but equally uncompromising drama..." "Even when he says nothing, which is most of the time, Fassbender transfixes."

The Guardian - Xan Brooks (4/5 stars): "Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan give dynamite performances..." "This is fluid, rigorous, serious cinema; the best kind of adult movie."

IndieWire - Oliver Lyttelton (A-): "...McQueen, like almost no other filmmaker, is confident enough to frame up and let the actors work, and it's the source of the film's most memorable moments..."

InContention - Guy Lodge (3.5/4 stars): "...[McQueen] has a consistently rewarding understanding of the narrative powers of composition..."

Time Out London - Dave Calhoun (4/5 stars): "...McQueen has immersed himself in a wholly different world and made a film that is similarly distinctive and exploratory and grasps you from beginning to end."

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy (N/A): "Driven by a brilliant, ferocious performance by Michael Fassbender, Shame is a real walk on the wild side..." "...may ultimately prove too psychologically pat in confronting its subject's problem, but its dramatic and stylistic prowess provides a cinematic jolt that is bracing to experience."

Venice Verdict: A powerful follow-up to Hunger, Shame shows director Steve McQueen embracing somewhat familiar territory with a bold, striking vision, with strong performances from Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan.

Venice Review Round-Up: "A Dangerous Method"

Another day, another major player making its debut in Venice. The next big one, and a big Oscar hopeful, is David Cronenberg's A Dangerous Method, which centers on the relationship between Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) and Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen). It's been buzzed about for quite some time, with many thinking/hoping that the film could prove to be Cronenberg's big break into the Oscars. Like many high-profile premieres, however, Method isn't making quite the splash that fans of the director and his cast (which includes Keira Knightley) had predicted.

The Telegraph - David Gritten (3/5 stars): "Much of this material...is frankly uncinematic, and Cronenberg has compensated with sumptuous locations..." "But it's Knightley that one remembers, for a full-on portrayal that is gusty and potentially divisive in equal parts."

The Guardian - Xan Brooks (2/5 stars): "What the spanking [scene] can't do, unfortunately, is knock some life into this heartfelt, well-acted but curiously underwhelming slab of Masterpiece Theatre."

IndieWire - Oliver Lyttelton (B): "Still, if the take off and landing are a bit bumpy, most of A Dangerous Method is fearsomely smart..." "But if anything keeps it from quite hitting the heights that it could, it's Hampton's script."

London Evening Standard - Derek Malcolm (4/5 stars): "...[Knightley] more than holds her own from the moment she arrives on the scene..." "It is a dark, troubling tale...with a calm appreciation of the passions that lay behind the trio's different views of treatment..."

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy (N/A): "Precise, lucid, and thrillingly disciplined...brought to vivid life by the outstanding lead performances of Keira Knightley, Viggo Mortensen, and Michael Fassbender."

Variety - Justin Chang (N/A): "...the film's most problematic element is Knightley, whose brave but unskilled depiction of hysteria at times leaves itself open to laughs."

Venice Verdict: It has a cool head, a compelling story, and features a trio of solid performances, but A Dangerous Method may be too cold and distant to consistently connect with audiences.

Trailer: "A Dangerous Method"

Once tipped to open Cannes (it will now open Venice), A Dangerous Method is the latest film from director David Cronenberg (A History of Violence, Eastern Promises). Known for his rather dark, gritty, and intense depictions of physical and emotional violence, the director's latest seems a bit mild in comparison...at least on the surface. The trailer is certainly cut to give the sense that this is a baity period piece with slightly darker subject material (but not too dark, lest it be off-putting to AMPAS' eldest voters). I'm a little put off by the amount of white/beige in the shots, it somehow looks like the post-production team is trying to use white to cover up for budget limitations, but overall this has the potential to be a fascinating look at two of history's most fascinating minds.

That cast certainly doesn't hurt either. Fassbender and Mortensen have both built up impressive resumes of powerful work, and seeing the two play off of each other could prove to be one of the acting highlights of the year. Yet as much as Fassbender and Mortensen have been touted as early awards contenders (the former in lead, the latter in supporting), it's Knightley who really steals the trailer. Granted, the role is engineered to be the most outwardly expressive, but this seems like a nice change of pace for Knightley, despite the film's status as a prestige period piece. Maybe it's finally time for a follow-up nomination to go with her Pride and Prejudice nomination...

Review: "X-Men: First Class"

Forget what they've been telling you. Turns out it's not the third time that's the charm, but the fifth. At least, that appears to be the current trend in past-their-welcome Hollywood franchises. It's already happened once this year with Fast Five (the series' only film to earn mostly positive reviews), and now it's happening again with X-Men: First Class, a prequel/origin-story/reboot of the mutant superhero franchise.

After two generally liked films, the X-Men franchise quickly took a nose dive with X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) and X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009). And even though there still appear to be plans for a (hopefully much better) Wolverine sequel, FOX apparently felt that it couldn't hurt to cash in on the prequel/origin trend a little further, taking us all the way back to the 40s and 60s. After an opening eerily reminiscent of 2000's X-Men, involving a young Erik/Magneto (Michael Fassbender) in a German concentration camp, we begin a fairly lengthy bit of globe trotting. In one story thread, we see Magneto become something of a Nazi hunter, while in a second, we see a young Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) and Raven/Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) recruited by a CIA agent (Rose Byrne) to examine the sinister Hellfire Club. Originally thought to be a Communist infiltration of America, it's actually run by Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon), a mutant himself, who is determined to use the Cold War to bring about the annihilation of non-mutants.

And despite a certain lack of surprises (we already know which major characters must live), Matthew Vaughn does manage to inject some style, and in turn new life, into the franchise. The 60s interior designs are richly filled out, in settings ranging from Charles' mansion, to Shaw's nuclear submarine. There's also some surprisingly good cast work. McAvoy and Fassbender are standouts among the ensemble, as two men with gradually differing opinions on what it means to be a mutant living among humans. Fassbender ultimately wins out, if only because the script eventually surrenders McAvoy's role and makes him little more than an emotional support for Fassbender's. Yet the two do have a great chemistry, and it's a shame that the film doesn't give us more of their relationship in its attempt to cover so many characters and set-up points. The way the film deals with Magneto's struggle to harness his powers produces some truly effective moments, but it's hard not to feel that there could have been a much grander, more emotional pay-off if said struggle wasn't stuck on the the end of a training montage.

And it's that montage, which comes right before the film's Cuban-set finale, where we can see some of the film's problems start to surface. First Class has a great initial stretch, up until Magneto and Charles finally meet, and a thrillingly put together final half hour. These bookends to the story effectively jump across locations and characters, establishing conflicts and executing fight scenes with a nice sense of clarity. Everything in-between, however, is not quite so consistent. Despite a golden 5 (10?) second cameo, the round-up and training of the young mutants is where everything gets a bit choppy. Not surprisingly, character struggles aren't exactly the most three dimensional. They exist for a little, and then YAY they're solved. Only those issues connecting Charles, Magneto, and Mystique have any real staying power, and despite some nifty powers among the ensemble, I wish they had taken more time to focus on this trio. For every good character interaction, there's something a little cheesy or clichéd. These usually aren't big issues, but they put some dents in the film's armor.

And as good as some smaller cast members are (Nicolas Hoult as Hank McCoy/Beast), others are, well, not. Case in point: January Jones as Emma Frost. As beautiful as she looks, the actress seems totally out of her league here, once again enforcing the notion that her work as Betty Draper on Mad Men is the only good performance she'll ever give. Less of a distraction, though perhaps a tad puzzling, is Rose Byrne as Moira McTaggart. In Byrne's case, the fault may lie more with the writing. Either way, though, for someone who is supposed to be tough and supportive of the X-Men, she has one too many scenes where her character is simply wide-eyed and astounded. It makes her look weak, and even stupid, despite her status as a CIA Agent. That said, at least she gets some chances to act, whereas many in the ensemble are just there. Azazel (Jason Flemying), a red-skinned mutant with a tail and the ability to teleport is more of a cool effect than a character. He still fares better than another henchman of Shaw's, who can create tornadoes, yet never gets a single line.

For all of its little faults, however, Vaughn and co. do deserve credit for restoring quality to a franchise that had taken a serious tumble. In putting more emphasis on exploring (some of) the characters, he's able to inject some scenes with a sense of purpose. When Magneto lifts a submarine clear out of the water, it's more than just a special effect. It's a moment of triumph for the character, one that is built upon his ability to master the trauma of his past. Scenes like this show First Class at its best, and what the series is capable of when some real effort and talent is behind the material. So while this latest installment may be far from perfect, and certainly not the best super hero film, it's a solid (re) kickstart to the franchise, even if it doesn't quite reach its full potential.

Grade: B-

Opposite ends of the spectrum: "Jane Eyre" and "Sucker Punch"

After several failed attempts to make it to the theater (please stay in Boston one more week, Of Gods and Men, I'm on my way), I managed to sneak in two viewings, and they were different, to put it mildly. One was an adaptation of a classic novel, and the other quickly revealed itself to be the wet dream of a 13 year-old anime/video game love trapped in a man's (and director's) body.

**I've also fallen woefully behind on the 30 Day Movie Challenge. Expect a massive catch-up post by the end of the week.

Jane Eyre - dir. Cary Fukunaga:

A brief disclaimer: I haven't yet read Bronte's classic novel. However, whether or not Fukunaga's film (from Moira Buffini's script) is faithful or not, the director's second film is a moody success, if a bit on the minor side. Opening somewhere in the middle of the story, we meet Jane (Mia Wasikowska) straggling across an empty, rainy English landscape. And from these opening moments, Fukunaga establishes his "bold new vision" (quoth the trailer) of Bronte's classic, and it really works. The first shot of Jane is practically a silhouette, appropriate considering how much of the color is infused in the sets and costumes. Fukunaga's film is sparse and generally un-romanticized, yet feels complete and quietly captivating.

And even though it's obvious that some sections of the novel have been trimmed or cut altogether, there's a steady, constantly engaging feeling that arises from the unhurried pace. Key to all of this, of course, is Ms. Eyre herself. Having successfully launched herself into the American conscience in Tim Burton's Eyesore in Wonderland 3D, Ms. Wasikowska is actually able to show off her capabilities as a leading lady here, and she does so with understated skill. I can't speak to whether or not she lives up to previous cinematic Jane Eyres, but she's certainly a damn good one, and her ability to communicate so much in the nuances of her performance, rather than through histrionics, is one of the film's greatest strengths. Matching her is Michael Fassbender as the conflicted Rochester, with whom Ms. Wasikowska has surprising chemistry. A conversation after Jane saves Rochester from small fire in his room, shot almost entirely in shadows, achieves a spectacular level of intrigue and hinted romance that is darker and sexier than anything Megan Fox (or her interchangeable counterparts) has ever done on screen.

Fukunaga's film also benefits from a roster of smaller roles (Jamie Bell, Sally Hawkins, Judi Dench), striking cinematography, and a delicate and dark score from Dario Marianelli (Pride and Prejudice, Atonement). However, despite its strengths, there are a few unfortunate missteps that even someone who hasn't read the book will be able to see. While Fukunaga's choice to open in the middle of the story works, when he returns to that point in the story, he lingers for too long, repeating too much footage as if he wanted to reach a specified run time by any means necessary. And in trimming down Bronte's work, certain scenes and character developments come across as too quick. When Mrs. Fairfax (Dench) mentions that Jane has been working at Rochester's mansion for three months, the revelation comes as surprise, as there's nothing resembling a transition to give us a feel for the passage of time. Similar events populate the rest of the film, to minor detriment. Yet while it isn't a masterpiece, or the new definitive silver screen "Jane Eyre," Fukunaga's second film establishes him as a diverse and daring director, one whose strengths far outweigh his shortcomings.

Grade: B/B+

Sucker Punch - dir. Zack Snyder:

I said that the two films in the post were on opposite ends of the spectrum. However, now it's time to see how extreme their opposition is. Having won legions of fans and haters with his first two films (300 and Watchmen), Mr. Snyder's latest film (his first non-adaptation) will likely only increase the passion with which people love or hate his work. Co-writing and producing an entirely Snyder-riffic vision, Sucker Punch can best be described as a CGI-flooded, faux-feminist clusterfuck of epic proportions.

It opens with surprising strength, in a silent intro/set-up as we meet Baby Doll (Emily Browning). After her mother dies and leaves her everything in her will, Baby Doll faces the wrath of her evil stepfather, who tries to rape her younger sister. After unsuccessfully shooting him (and killing her sister), Baby Doll is put in an insane asylum, where the head doctor is paid off to give her a lobotomy. While there, she meets a group of other girls, also wrongfully locked up, and they set out to escape. Kind of.

In a truly pointless bit of plot design that only serves to muddle the plot, Snyder inserts a second level of reality, before jumping off to his fantastical action set pieces. Here, the asylum is a front for a dance hall, where the inmates are made to perform erotic dances for wealthy male patrons. However, when Baby Doll dances (which we never see, because that would be sexist...unlike all of those shots of Baby Doll's legs and panties...), she imagines herself in a series of battle scenes. Translation, she's imagining herself imagining other things. This alone is enough to make Sucker Punch structurally non-sensical, and things don't pick up from there. The action scenes have their moments, but since we know it's all imaginary, there's no weight to any of what happens. It's just stuff. Really flashy, pixelated stuff. Granted, small moments of violence work, but without anything in the story or character departments to act as support, Snyder's fantasy collapses in on itself.

As for the cast, there isn't really much to it acting wise, although Abbie Cornish and Jena Malone try their hardest (a movie entirely about the two of them would have been much stronger). Browning, the film's lead, however, is something of a blank, while Jamie Cheung and Vanessa Hudgens smile, look worried, or cry while Oscar Isaac goes horribly over-the-top as the villainous Blue and Carla Gugino prances around delivering every line with a campy Polish accent. Jon Hamm shows up for no more than 2 minutes tops, projecting cool but getting absolutely nothing to do. Jon Hamm is a valuable resource, Mr. Snyder, please don't waste him. But worst of all is simply Snyder's insistence that this is something "deep" and empowering for women. That description couldn't be further from the truth. What's really here is the ultimate cinematic wet dream for fans of anime and/or video games who will likely continue to have to pay to be in the presence of beautiful women throughout their lives.

Grade: C-/D+