Review: "Godzilla"

Director: Gareth Edwards
Runtime: 123 minutes

The second that Godzilla's iconic roar blasts out of the speakers, you know that you've just witnessed the glorious rebirth of one of cinema's most famous movie monsters. After decades of silly ups and downs, Gareth Edwards' new reboot knows how to remind us all that Godzilla will always be king. If only the rest of the film were worthy of joining him on the throne. Edwards and co. create some stirring sequences, and they also keep the tone balanced between serious and silly. However, a lackluster protagonist and an uneasy focus on various members of the ensemble proves to be a considerable hurdle that the film is barely able to clear.

Faults and all, though, Edwards deserves credit for his handling of the towering monsters (yes, there's more than just the big guy). Restraint isn't a word that comes to mind when talking about a film involving cities being leveled, but it's rather on point here. Edwards handles the big reveal of Godzilla (Gojira, if you're feeling formal) gradually. This is a summer blockbuster/creature feature operating in the vein of Jaws or Alien, where the buildup, and the gradual flashes are more important that showing something in its full glory. 

To accomplish this, Edwards and DP Seamus McGarvey capture most of the mayhem from the ground level. We get a bit of a tail sliding away, a claw-like arm smashing into the ground, or a glimpse of Godzilla's scaly back. It's an inspired choice, and ensures that we, as viewers, look forward to seeing the monsters, instead of quickly growing bored of them. And when it comes time to let loose, Godzilla steps back just far enough to deliver the ridiculous action the character's legacy promises. 

Of course, in handling most of the action from the ground level, this means we have to pay attention to some humans too. Despite a stacked cast that includes (hi, Juliette Binoche) Bryan Cranston (bye, Juliette Binoche), Ken Watanabe, Sally Hawkins, and  David Strathairn the roles aren't terribly interesting or fun to follow. Cranston, at least, has a genuinely compelling emotional core that's effectively set up in the 1999-set prologue. Cranston's character is obviously a stock character (he's the mad man/conspiracy nut who's actually onto something), but the development the film affords his character puts the role far above similar characters. Meanwhile, Watanabe has some fun dispensing loony revisions of atomic history and spouting vague philosophical lines about nature's brutal ability to restore balance.

Everyone else mostly just does their jobs, with the exception being Aaron Taylor Johnson as Cranston's military-trained son. Johnson is also playing a stock character, but his feels totally empty, and even lazy; Charlie Hunnam's role in last year's Pacific Rim looks rich and nuanced in comparison. And, unlike Hunnam, Johnson has no fun characters to play off of. When the story is following Johnson around, the movie becomes a little less interesting, and makes you wish the monsters would hurry up and start causing mayhem again. 

With this human component left half-baked, Godzilla sometimes struggles to engage as it keeps teasing you with the history of the monsters, as well as the mystery of what they're doing now that they've been awakened. Most of the ensemble are also far away from the center of violence, leaving us with only terrified extras to connect with. 

Yet even with the deficiencies in the human roles, Edwards is still able to pull out some powerful visual moments as he keeps you waiting for the big finish. A scene of fighter jets losing power and dropping into San Francisco Bay is smartly used to build the vague sense of dread as the monsters approach. Even better is a freefall sequence that sends Johnson and other soldiers plummeting into the ruins of San Francisco from 30,000 feet. Red tracers streak behind them as they pass through layers of clouds illuminated by raging fires. The mix of painterly wide shots and claustrophobic POV footage is awe-inspiring, and there's not a creature in sight. 

And when the big fights start coming, they are appropriately big and clumsy. Here, Godzilla is a force of balance, meant to wipe out the insect-like creatures attacking human civilization. Yet his role as nature's proxy has no clear regard for human life. In his wrestling matches at the end, the big reptile does his fair share of property damage, all because it's a means to an end (how he's ever going to pay back the city of San Francisco, I have no idea). In between the epic tussles, Edwards finds room to insert moments of satisfying cheesiness. I'll avoid details, but there are certain gloriously over-the-top fight moves that are designed to leave audiences both cheering and laughing. 

Whether or not Warner Brothers decides to pursue a sequel, at the very least they've made an American Godzilla that can stand on its own (as well as erase the memory of the 1998 film). Most of that credit, however, belongs to Mr. Edwards, who has smartly brought the resourcefulness of his indie background to this big-budget extravaganza. The human elements get progressively weaker the further it goes, but Edwards still manages to hold our attention thanks to his inventive ways of never showing more than necessary. Faults and all, when this Godzilla roars, it's pretty damn hard to look at anything else. 

Grade: B-

Review: "Blue Jasmine"

Director: Woody Allen
Runtime: 98 minutes

Remove a few small items from the frame like cell phones, and Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine could take place almost anywhere in the past 50 years. There are no mentions of social networking or tablet computers, and the music (as always) is made up of jazz standards. In essence, Allen's latest could easily be a product of his output from the mid-70s and early 80s. Nowadays, Allen's films that receive a positive critical consensus often feel like minor pleasures, and a far cry from the good old days of his prime. By contrast, Blue Jasmine, despite its share of small flaws, feels like the first Allen film in years that feels like it belongs in the company of Annie Hall and Manhattan. 

A pseudo-retelling of Tennessee Williams' "A Streetcar Named Desire," Blue Jasmine still feels very comfortably like its own story. Whereas Williams' play (and its film version) only included the briefest mentions of the past, Allen spends much of his trim film jumping between past and present. This juxtaposition, in which we witness the rise and fall of Jasmine French (Cate Blanchett), lends the film an angle that makes it more relevant for a 21st century audience. When she arrives in San Francisco to stay with her working class sister Ginger (Sally Hawkins), Jasmine has more than her fair share of baggage. Allen, wisely, uses his flashbacks to gradually unpack it over the course of the narrative. 

The jumping between past and present could have undercut the film's development, but Allen's script is smart enough to use the two time periods to build on each other. Mostly known (and sometimes criticized) for his focus on the upper classes, his look at Blanchett and Hawkins' characters proves surprisingly well-rounded. In the end, both the fallen-from-grace Jasmine and the rough-around-the-edges Ginger have their share of problems, yet their differences ultimately make them incompatible of really helping each other. Ginger, playing the Stella to Jasmine's Blanche, gives Jasmine a place to stay after she loses everything, but that's about all she can really offer. By the time Jasmine leaves behind her cheating husband Hal (Alec Baldwin, effectively used) and flees to the West Coast in ruins, the damage has already been done. 

Very much like Ms. DuBois, Jasmine has a bit of a problem when it comes to nervous breakdowns, certainly not helped by her newfound addiction to booze and pills. In a nice referential touch, the titular character is named for Blanche's favorite scent, which lends an appropriately effervescent connection between "Streetcar" and Allen's bitter comedy of manners and malaises. The most obvious similarity here, basic premise aside, comes down to the leading lady, and Allen's transition could not prove more spot on for the 21st century. Whereas Blanche was a product of the plantation world, Jasmine comes from good genetic stock and managed to land herself a rich husband to whisk her off up to the 1%. 

As such, when Jasmine finally descends upon San Francisco, she brings with her a haughtiness that clashes with the earthier working class. Though Ginger does her best to put up with Jasmine's self-centered neurotics, her newest boyfriend (Bobby Cannavale, always an enjoyable presence) can't muster up the same amount of sympathy. Jasmine is far past counting on the kindness of strangers, and that's putting it mildly. In these clashes between the haves and have-nots, Allen's script achieves a more expansive vision, even as it functions as a freeform character study. Yet because his principal characters are sharply drawn, the relatively uneventful narrative still possesses a sense of free-flowing movement. 

At the film's core, of course, is Blanchett's Jasmine. The regal Australian actress seizes the role by the throat and never lets go. Having spent time performing on stage, and largely avoiding lead roles, it's electrifying to see her back in the spotlight, more alive than ever. It's a very big character, filled with nervous tics and mood swings galore, but Blanchett finds enough room in moments both big and small to avoid overacting. 

Sally Hawkins proves a nice counterpart as the film's second largest role, her earthy and casual turn an appropriate counterweight to Blanchett's alcohol-soaked theatrics. Despite the flashiness of Blanchett's powerful turn, Hawkins is never overshadowed to the point where her scenes are a distraction. As Allen charts the paths of both sisters, he remains remarkably balanced in exploring both women, who are two wildly different sides of the same coin. A host of supporting roles, filled out by Baldwin, Cannavale, Louis CK, and Andrew Dice Clay are also handled effectively as they prop up the rest of the story. 

Like Tennessee Williams' work, the performances and writing of Blue Jasmine take a few minutes to adjust to. The film may not have the full-blown melodrama that characterized Williams' work, but there are aspects of Blue Jasmine that feel more than a little heightened. As for Allen, where his script provides engaging material for the cast, his directing can be a little clunky. As effortless as the transitions from past to present seem in retrospect, there are times when transitions come off as rushed. Allen, who has been working steadily for years now, occasionally lets his need to churn out an annual film get the best of him. In the first 20 minutes or so, the performers already appear ready for take off, while Allen's direction feels in need of further refinement. However, once Blue Jasmine gets its hooks in, it becomes an immensely satisfying comedy, with just the right touches of darkness and Allen-esque neuroses. 

The prolific director is already gearing up to shoot a film for next summer, and he shows no signs of slowing down. Yet even though the director has already moved on to his next project, it's worth taking the time to really savor Blue Jasmine beyond Blanchett's stellar performance. This film, awkward opening moments aside, feels like a glimpse at the director in top form. More than just "this year's Woody Allen movie," Blue Jasmine is a funny, smartly-observed character study that is at once perfectly contemporary, yet still timeless in its themes and subject matter. 

Grade: B+

Two Gentlewomen of 2010: "Made in Dagenham" and "Easy A"

In most years, there's likely to be at least a handful of articles bemoaning the lack of strong roles for women. Thankfully, 2010 was determined to not become such a year, and on the large part has proven successful in both awards contenders and the unrecognized. And last night I was able to see two more films headlined by well-received leading ladies to add to the roster. Unfortunately, one was quite good, and the other was simply alright:

Made in Dagenham dir. Nigel Cole:

In 1968 the 187 female machinists at Ford's plant in Dagenham went on strike to protest for wages equal to their male counterparts. This is the set-up for Nigel Cole's film about the women who fought for equal pay, as led by Rita O'Grady (Sally Hawkins), a married mother of two. And while the story at its center may be compelling from a civil rights standpoint, Cole's film is slightly lacking, largely due to the screenplay. Outside of Rita, many of the other women in the factory come off as rather one-note, and even Rita herself doesn't feel fully formed. There are a handful of angles to be worked in, but the film doesn't ever appropriately settle on one, which leaves us with four strands battling it out for various degrees of importance: Rita attempting to lead the strike, Rita trying to keep her family together, the behind the scenes discussions among Ford execs, and the increasing importance of the recently-elected Labor government. The result it that it's hard to feel much connection to the strike, which give the film the feeling that it is simply going through the motions to cover all of the major angles of the story.

That said, the performances are solid and watchable enough to almost make you care. Sally Hawkins does the best she can as Rita, and she's certainly likable enough, even though most of her struggle is only given surface exploration. This trait seems to define the cast's work: talented people making the most of what precious little they've been given by the script. Geraldine James as co-worker Connie and Miranda Richardson as Barbara Castle add some spark as two women stuck in two very different situations, and Rosamund Pike nails her handful of scenes as a wealthy, educated women whose husband treats her like a bimbo. Others, like Andrea Riseborough as mega-beehive-d Brenda feel more like cutouts rather than charmingly colorful ensemble roles.

What it all boils down to is a film that is inspiring in subject matter, but not in execution. The performances and production values are nice, but nothing to write home about. Similar to Agora, Made in Dagenham wants to both examine the larger picture of a story while also creating a compelling look at a central female figure. Unfortunately, like that film, this one struggles to maintain its balance, and the result leaves little worth discussing, good or bad.

Grade: B-/C+

Easy A dir. Will Gluck:

And now we come to (surprisingly) the better film of the two, even though it's *gasp* a high school (fake) sex comedy. Starring rising star Emma Stone, Easy A tells the story of Olive Pendergast, a California high school student who, in order to make herself noticeable, allows boys (mostly nerds) to tell people that they either slept with or fooled around with her in exchange for gifts. And for the most part, what could have been either tedious or overly reliant on crude humor, Easy A succeeds thanks to its humor and Stone's extremely fun turn as Olive. And for most of the film's 85 minute run time, it's actually quite funny, and benefits from having a talented cast (including Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci as Olive's parents) to deliver the dialogue. Even in small roles like her breakthrough in Superbad, Stone has displayed good comic timing, and her first major lead role doesn't disappoint.

Unfortunately, other aspects can't quite measure up. Olive's often bitchy friend Rhi (Ali Michalka) doesn't work right from the beginning; she's too aggressive from the get-go, and the friendship never feels really convincing. Other aspects, like Bible-thumping students who serve more or less as antagonists, are too broadly drawn and feel like a cheap way of attacking holier-than-thou attitudes, and Olive's love interest (Penn Badgley) is a barely-there presence.

And yet despite the flaws (many of which start surfacing around the 1 hour mark), Stone holds it together with effortless charm and comedic skill. The movie around her isn't quite Mean Girls, but Stone herself certainly deserves an 'A' for her work.

Grade: B/B-

"Jane Eyre" (2011) Trailer

Certainly a bit darker and "thriller-ish" than I would have expected. Embarrassing admission time, though: I haven't read Charlotte Bronte's classic novel, so I can't really comment on what I think of the look in regards to the source material, or whether the actors seem to fit their parts. But overall, there seems to be an extremely gloomy air to this, with little gothic touches that make it feel like a camp-free cousin to Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow. Whether the March release date is a sign of bad things to come or not, this trailer doesn't exactly have me sold, even though I like everyone involved.