Review: "Maleficent"

Director: Robert Stromberg
Runtime: 97 minutes

I'm sure there are loads of think pieces out there blasting Hollywood for repeatedly giving cinematographers, visual effects supervisors, and the like the director's chair for big budget tentpoles. I'm sure those think pieces make many valid points, and I'm sure they make them quite well. Yet this review only has room to target one such person inexplicably charged with directing ("directing") a major star vehicle. His name is Robert Stromberg, and he deserves to be verbally tarred and feathered for the visually bloated disaster that is Disney's Maleficent.

The latest in a line of live action re-imaginings of classic Disney fairy tales (next up: Brannagh does Cinderella! No, really. It's a thing.), Maleficent easily deserves to go down as the worst of the lot. What should be an enjoyable, even if generic, showcase for a brilliantly cast Angelina Jolie, is a sluggish, ineptly-handled attempt at summer entertainment.

As much as the camera loves Jolie as the iconic Sleeping Beauty villain (now a tragic antihero), even she can't overcome Linda Woolverton's abysmal script and Stromberg's unbearably hack-y directing. Small moments here and there work (Jolie's handling of baby Aurora's christening scene is dynamite), but they're nothing more than drops in the ocean. 

And even though Maleficent is bad, it's shocking how baffling its badness truly is on all fronts. Despite a visual effects supervisor in the director's chair, there are a distracting number of scenes with jarring, shoddy green screen work. Not helping matters are the plastic-y CGI creations, which look like rejects from 2012's Snow White and the Huntsman. 

Just as bad is the editing, which is somehow the work of two people, and not a single, overeager film student. When the cutting isn't merely getting the job done, it goes of in puzzling, risible ways. There are artificial snap zooms, "dramatic" blurry effects, as well as other trademarks of the "more is better" school of editing. 

Before I become as big of a mess as Maleficent, I must return to Ms. Woolverton and her writing. There are cliches, and there are painful cliches. Maleficent is overflowing with the latter. Worst of all is the painfully forced comic relief, which puts wonderful actresses like Imelda Staunton, Leslie Manville, and Juno Temple in some truly embarrassing situations. I can't remember the last time I felt so, so bad for a group of actors working with bottom-of-the-barrel material. May they all find their way into a Mike Leigh movie as soon as possible. 

Alas, I'm losing focus. Elle Fanning is in this movie too, though her radiant self shows up far too late to undo any of the damage wrought by Stromberg, Woolverton, and their merry band of fools. The only thing done remotely right is the reworking of Sleeping Beauty's waking from true love's kiss. It's a genuinely nice touch (albeit eye-rollingly foreshadowed) that subverts the outdated love-at-first-sight ideology of the animated film. If only it were put to use in a story that was being told with some semblance of intelligence or care (I'd say "and," but I think I'd be setting the bar a bit too high). 

In fact, Maleficent is such a wreck that I don't even want to see it remade by more capable hands. Hollywood had its chance for a Maleficent-centric fairy tale for this generation, and it has failed spectacularly. I have enjoyed all of the film's major actors on multiple occasions (I'll overlook Oldboy, Sharlto Copley), yet there's no room to give any praise that's more than half-hearted. Jolie's devilish grin is nice and all, but even all of her star wattage is suffocated by the excess of visual effects and miserable craftsmanship. 

Jolie and company are lucky that their film opened on the same weekend as Seth MacFarlane's A Million Ways to Die in the West. By being put up against that would-be comedy, they have, by the grace of God, been made to look like the lesser of two evils. Yet the lesser of two evils remains an evil, and not even of the so-bad-it's-good variety. Millions upon millions were spent upon this soul-less mess of a movie. Do your part and make sure that Maleficent struggles to recoup its considerable costs. The actors' careers will remain unscathed, and hopefully Mr. Stromberg's will meet a swift end. 

Grade: D- 

Review: "Byzantium"

Director: Neil Jordan
Runtime: 118 minutes

We know vampires when we see them. No reflections, pale skin, fangs, an aversion to sunlight and crucifixes, and a taste for blood. Yet aside from the pale skin (which can be explained by the British heritage) and bloodlust, the vampires in Neil Jordan's Byzantium (adapted from Moira Buffini's play) couldn't be more different. They don't even have fangs, for one thing. Instead, they're outfitted with a nifty retractable thumbnail that can be used for puncturing. 

The surface details, however, are but the start of what makes Byzantium such a satisfying entry in the vampire film canon. Though its story spans at least two centuries, Jordan and keeps the film, which only has its momentary sluggish points, firmly locked on its characters. Though widely overlooked upon its limited release earlier this year, Byzantium deserves to be put in the company of Park Chan-Wook's Thirst and Tomas Alfredson's Let the Right One In as one of the best vampire films of the 21st century. 

The most compelling aspect of Byzantium's blood suckers is how they are - for the most part - ordinary. They have no extraordinary senses or super strength, making them much more vulnerable and compelling figures. This is complemented nicely by the mother/daughter and sister/sister dynamic between vivacious Clara (Gemma Arterton) and introspective Eleanor (Saoirse Ronan). Rather than stalk the big city, the duo are residents of an unnamed coastal English town, where Clara provides for them by working as a prostitute. Though their lives are relatively stable, the two soon find evidence that they're being pursued by a centuries-old order of their own kind. 

Complicating matters is Clara's involvement with kind-hearted local Noel (Daniel Mays), and Eleanor's burgeoning romance with her classmate Frank (Caleb Landry Jones). Through it all, the narrative hops into the past, exploring how the two ladies rose from impoverished origins before their transformations. At times the jumps to the past can feel clumsy, but for the most part Jordan is able to weave a quietly engaging tale, heightened by a chilly atmosphere and effective performances. 

Even the introduction of the teenage romance is a far cry from the cringe-worthy pining of the Twilight franchise. Though Eleanor and Frank's early encounters are among the film's low points, the gradual development packs a wallop once it comes to a close. Similarly, Ronan's performance also benefits the most from the progression of the plot. At first, she seems headed for the same lifeless territory of Kristen Stewart's Bella Swan. Yet as her character's stakes raise, and her morality comes into focus, she emerges as a conflicted and tragic figure, rather than a one-note moper. In the film's best scene, Ronan verbally dominates a teacher (Maria Doyle Kennedy), by barely exerting any aggression. It's a marvelous melding of pain and regret, all wrapped up in an icy, barely-perceptible threat. 

While the second half allows Ronan to take command of the screen, the first half is Arterton's show. The actresses' free-spirited, saucy performance keeps the tone from slipping into morose navel-gazing. With her sexy clothing, and surrounded by the bright neons of the local amusement park, Clara is content to live her life on the run to the fullest. Despite being the older character and the provider, she knows how to balance both her wild side and her maternal instincts. Arterton blends these two sides into a cohesive character capable of lust, violence, and compassion.

The roster of supporting cast members are solid as well, though their roles tend toward the one-note variety. Jonny Lee Miller stands out as a nasty figure from Clara and Eleanor's past, even as his domineering sneers are somewhat cartoonish. Sam Riley, meanwhile, is pleasant enough but ultimately disposable as one of the vampires trying to track Clara down. His role is more of a plot-point than a fleshed-out character, though the script never focuses on him enough for this to become a distraction. Landry Jones, however, manages a few nice moments with Ronan, even as they're used more to develop Eleanor than create a deeply-felt romantic connection.

Aside from Arterton and Ronan, the real stars of Byzantium are Jordan, cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, and composer Javier Navarrete (Pan's Labyrinth). Even some of Jordan's best work can, at first glance, feel choppy. With Byzantium, he's crafted one of his most fluidly paced endeavors. Only a portion between acts one and two starts to drag, and even then the director and his team keep the film afloat through the atmosphere. The framing, while never ostentatious, creates many small moments that add up, and Bobbitt's use of color is gorgeous in its range and vibrancy.  

Yet nothing sticks the landing quite like Navarrete's scoring. Ranging from classical arrangements to subtle electric guitars, the Spanish composer turns in some of his best work to date. Befitting of the story and Jordan's command of the imagery, the music is sinister, seductive, and even operatic when called for. Navarrete never overpowers the visuals or the performances. Instead, he accents them and helps them reach full potential, lending already striking scenes a perfect finish and after taste. 

Even though it runs nearly two hours, Byzantium's slow burn of a narrative is worth the investment. Despite the dip in the middle, Jordan has crafted a sumptuous modern vampire tale. For all of the blood that flows (there's even a scene of Clara bathing in a waterfall of the stuff), Jordan and Buffini have grounded the story in a character study of love, loss, and family. There are certainly bumps along the way, but so much of Byzantium flows so elegantly that the occasional dip or bit of convoluted history hardly matters. It's a character piece first, and a vampire movie second, which is all the more reason why it's such a bloody good time (couldn't resist).

Grade: B/B+

Trailer: "On the Road"

I don't remember whether or not Walter Salles' On the Road, an adaptation of the classic Jack Kerouac novel, was stuck in development hell, or was simply announced long before it even began casting. Regardless, the long-gestating (?) project has been completed for a while now, and at last we have our first look at some footage. I have to confess, I've been meaning to read Kerouac's novel for the past few years, but have yet to get around to it, so I can't really comment on whether or not the casting choices seem appropriate. What I can say, however, is that the talented that Walles enlisted gives me a lot of hope. First is Walles himself, who directed the wonderful The Motorcycle Diaries (2004). That too was something of a self-discovery road-trip film, so On the Road should be right up the director's alley.

The cast isn't too shabby either. Garrett Hedlund is an appealing, charismatic actor, and Sam Riley has already proven that he's capable of top flight work (2007's excellent Control). The supporting cast is filled with excellent actors, including Viggo Mortensen, Amy Adams, Kirsten Dunst, and Mad Men's Elisabeth Moss. There's also Kristen Stewart, in what appears to be the third major role. Stewart is certainly capable of delivering a solid performance (Adventureland), but unlike a great deal of the cast, she has yet to develop a consistency to her work. This makes her the film's wild card, which could prove to help the film a lot...or hinder it. On the Road, though slated for 2012, doesn't have a specific release date set for US theaters, so it will likely be a while before we get an answer. Maybe they'll even take long enough so that I can get my act together and actually read the damn book.