Moonrise Kingdom (Wes Anderson)

The eloping lovers.

I have always been fond of Wes Anderson's works but, strangely, was never entirely awed by any of them. Personally, I find his works more to be testaments in great character handling rather than pieces that truly exemplify great storytelling. Perhaps it's just a matter of taste. 

I commenced watching "Moonrise Kingdom" with zero expectations. Yes, although many reviewers are already branding it (and maybe quite prematurely at that) as one of the true best films of the year, I have veered myself away from that perspective simply because I do not want to be disappointed. But hell, them reviewers were right; "Moonrise Kingdom" is indeed something really, really special and, to some extent, even quite spectacular. I have never really thought that I would ever describe a Wes Anderson as something that oozes 'spectacle' but there you go. Wes, the truest hipster filmmaker out there, has just upped his ante, and it's something that's worthy of some genuine celebration. 

On one side, there's Bruce Willis, Edward Norton and Bill Murray (as always). On the other, there's Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton and some surprising bits of Harvey Keitel. Though Wes Anderson is really not known for casting unknown actors to play his ever-quirky characters, "Moonrise Kingdom's" ensemble cast is just awe-inspiring. 

The story concerns the emotional misadventures of two troubled pre-adolescents (Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward), their budding romance, and their subsequent decision to run away from their parents in the name of whatever their concept of love is. For a film that's focused mainly on two young, peculiar lovers' awkward elopement, the film's cast is amazingly heavyweight. But "Moonrise Kingdom's" screenplay (penned by Roman Coppola and Wes Anderson himself), although not as articulately weird as some of Anderson's previous efforts, is very strong and emotionally direct that it has rendered the supporting adult characters to be as essential (sometimes even more so) as the two young ones. In hindsight, with the film's patented tableau-like sequences and a musical score that sarcastically serenades the abundance of dry wit and dark humor in it, "Moonrise Kingdom" seems to be treading the usual path towards a very typical Wes Anderson film, which may also result on a slight frustration on my part as a viewer. 

But with every film, Wes Anderson seems to be bent on constantly topping himself by taking on a more ambitious, visionary and expansive palette than the last. From India ("The Darjeeling Limited") to the woods ("The Fantastic Mr. Fox"), he is capable enough to create his creatively personal and quasi-fantastical versions of these environments. In "Moonrise Kingdom's case, he has successfully outdone himself even more. Aside from the fact that he has conjured up the fictional island of New Penzance out of thin air, he has also creatively integrated a detailed description of its terrains by way of the narrator (played by Bob Balaban), a short, gray-bearded man who enters and exits scenes for no apparent pattern and reason. 

Serving as the arena for the two young lovers' mutual, albeit strange affection, New Penzance, as the story progresses, also seems to take on a character of its own. Aside from the populating characters whose offbeat demeanors paint the whole island with faded hues, the island has its own air of life that's quite reminiscent of some far away fairy tale lands. This is the kind of place where fantasy and reality has once figuratively met, made love and subsequently separated in bitter, contemptuous tears. New Penzance, despite of its visual serenity, is a place of colorful anomaly. It is an island of bittersweet desperation and tender angst. It is a haven of regret and love both at its faintest whisper and most thunderous cry. 

Without much pretense in dialogue and eccentricity in characters (the characters in this film are, by far, the most conventional of all Wes Anderson films), Wes Anderson was finally able to subtly connect with me by just letting his visuals and his sweet tale of naïve love utter the things that are otherwise unspeakable by the tongue. To some extent, "Moonrise Kingdom" has even reawakened the quiet poet and the adventurous camper within me. Finally, I have found the Wes Anderson film that I am looking for. On second thought, maybe it's the one that has found me.

FINAL RATING

Fargo (Joel and Ethan Coen)

A cold-blooded murder.

"This is a true story".

That is the opening statement here in "Fargo" which, more or less, automatically connotes the utter seriousness of the film's noir-like predicament. With seedy criminals like Steve Buscemi's funny-looking Carl Showalter and Peter Stormare's psychotic Gaear Grimsrud initially populating the screen with their presence, and with William H. Macy's Oscar-worthy performance as the awkward car dealer/equally awkward kidnap mastermind Jerry Lundegaard making the film more fascinating to watch, it's easy to foresee the unfathomable consequences that their weird chemistry and premeditated kidnap scheme would bring about.

And with that penetrating, albeit untrue claim, it is but common for the film to depict a criminal situation with diabolic relentlessness. But Joel and Ethan Coen, even though how limiting the film's genre and premise may be, are just too darn versatile, brilliantly sardonic and oddly comic to be hindered by limitations.

As a result, not only did we get a well-executed, wildly comic crime film, but, more significantly, also an unstoppable cinematic tour-de-force that wallows in cinematic perfection, be it in terms of characterization, the desperate plot or the finely photographed (by Roger Deakins) titular setting itself.

But if there's one reason that separates "Fargo" from other films, it surely is its peculiarly rhythmic dialogue. Delivered in all its integrity by the cast, especially by Frances McDormand as the pregnant police chief Marge Gunderson in what may be the most wisely chosen of all Oscar Best Actress winners, "Fargo's" tongue-in-cheek screenplay gives it an otherworldly comic feel with an originality that makes its own stand even when compared to Tarantino's uniquely trivial dialogues that has been an alternative staple for the crime genre ever since "Pulp Fiction" altered the stream of popular cinematic culture.

The film's story, told in a narrative that mixes violence, laughs and pity, involves Jerry Lundegaard, a car dealer that is waist-deep into money-related problems, and his plan to kidnap his own wife (by hiring the aforementioned criminal duo above) so he can 'monkey business' his way into collecting a million dollar ransom, which his filthy rich father-in-law (played by Harve Presnell) would pay.

But then the Coens couldn't just allow themselves to give us a smarter, calmer and cooler Jerry or a more organized and systematic Carl Showalter and Gaear Grimsrud either because if that's the case, as common sense would always say, there won't be enough grounds for a film. Instead, they gave us a Jerry in the form of the great William H. Macy that is superficially smart, ostensibly calm and just a tad bit cooler than a panicky little rat who's merely dragging his own hide out of an unexpectedly nightmarish situation that he himself has created.

Shrouded in criminality and founded in frustration, "Fargo" is a double-sided film much like the Coens' later adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men". On one side, "Fargo" is an individualistic tale of a cornered man nearing himself into financial crumble and unnoticeable isolation who just happened to have formulated a perverse idea as his last resort. On the other, it's your common police procedural with a not so common police chief on the bloody trails of Showalter and Grimsrud, both of which are not really the smoothest of low-lives

If Tommy Lee Jones' Ed Tom Bell in the Coens' later "No Country for Old Men" displays the elegiac sentiments of a geriatric policeman who witnesses the Texan landscapes' criminal evolution with melancholic eyes, Marge Gunderson is a fast-thinking, no non-sense woman that is wholly focused on her work that, despite of the icy entirety of Fargo, always see every day as a beautiful one.

Naturally appealing and sometimes even condescendingly-toned, Frances McDormand proved in this film that she is one of the most agile actresses out there while at the same time effortlessly integrating her portrayal of Marge Gunderson into the pantheon of great film heroines. Marge may not be the most immediately memorable but she definitely is the most unique.

As time passes by, as I repeatedly watch "Fargo", my main reason for revisiting the film is becoming less and less about the plot itself but more and more about the characters and the wonderful dialogue.

When their masterful rookie effort "Blood Simple" was released in 1984, Joel and Ethan Coen were hailed as 'fresh' talents representative of the neo-noir world. After "Fargo", it was never the same for them, and they haven't stopped since then. But out of their wonderful body of work, "Fargo", after all of these years, still stands tall as their towering masterwork.

FINAL RATING

Primal Fear (Gregory Hoblit)

The altar boy.

As much as it is a powerfully fearless courtroom drama, "Primal Fear" is a film better remembered as the shockingly brilliant cinematic debut of Edward Norton. But to limit this film solely for that fact does not do "Primal Fear" justice. True, it was Edward Norton, with his performance that I wouldn't bother to call as one of the great ones in recent memory, who has carried the film from its brutal opening scenes up to the shocking conclusion, but let's not count out Richard Gere. I have to admit that I have not watched a full Richard Gere film prior to "Primal Fear", as I've thought that, based on some snippets that I've seen from some of his works, he's merely playing himself on all of which I've partly seen. And with 'all', I mean two or three films, so they're not much for me to judge.

Nonetheless, Richard Gere is seemingly at his comfort zone playing an arrogant, cocky, scene-stealing hotshot lawyer named Martin Vail that ostensibly takes cases because he just likes the money and the attention. But with the film judging him worthy to be its hero, Gere convincingly transformed from such a charismatic prick into a silently desperate anti-hero that may or may not care for his client's fate, an altar boy named Aaron Stampler (masterfully played by Edward Norton) who 'allegedly' murdered a prominent Catholic Bishop, but still proceeded to defend him because his instinctive hunch tells him that the boy is innocent.

Meanwhile, on the side of the prosecution, there's Janet Venable, played by Laura Linney with reckless fervor and dry wit, a lawyer who takes on the role of prosecutor in the case more because she wants to keep her job (she's continually being pressured by her boss, John Shaughnessy, portrayed by John Mahoney) and less about unraveling skeletons better locked tight inside a closet. Surprisingly, both Gere and Linney had wonderful chemistry together, as their slightly humorous vibe makes the off-courtroom scenes seem to take on a bit of a comic tone, which personally makes those said scenes easier to watch even with all those barrister jargon being spontaneously thrown in the air.

"Primal Fear", with its initial narrative spark that fully promises a tangled murder story, may be much more deceptive than how you may initially think it would be. With a story (thanks to the source novel by William Diehl) that involves the Catholic Church and some muckraked revelations here and there, the film, with us viewers not knowing what we're really in for, is founded upon an evolving and sharp-edged murder case that may look isolated yet can really be something much more, but then again, can just be the other way around.

With this simple a cyclic narrative flow, "Primal Fear" has been way more effective in conveying complexity through its roundabout revelations and logical beatings around the bush to achieve a certain coherence to support a conclusion that may otherwise be deemed too simple, but one that will ironically make you ponder for hours on end even by the time the credits finally run out and all else are black.

Director Gregory Hoblit, a man whose career surprisingly never took off after this very impressive film, has painted a cinematic Chicago that's like a Gotham City that never was. Modernistic in its immediate towers and skyscrapers, depreciated in its mid-dwelling apartments and almost dystopian in its underbelly, cinematographer Michael Chapman has given Chicago a proper look to accompany the film's tone and also to disassociate and contrast the murdered bishop's posh house with those of the less unfortunate ones.

Whenever one hears the term 'courtroom drama', it's easy to expect some larger-than-life speeches given by the main characters, be it the lawyers themselves or the haplessly accused ones. We've seen Paul Muni's numbing speech in "The Life of Emile Zola", we've witnessed Gregory Peck's "In the name of God, do your duty" monologue as Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird", and we've breathlessly beheld the lingual battle between Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men".

"Primal Fear's" courtroom scenes, on the other hand, never had any big-time dialogue exchanges or killer monologues. Instead, facts are treated as facts, while short-handed evidence and wrong choices of words equate frustration and seem like nothing more. The film, after all, is truly more focused on what it has to unravel than what it has to say.

To succeed on film at a young age, there are mainly two extremes: it's either you're really, really good at what you do or you just had the looks (sometimes it's even a case of nepotism). Norton, with his brilliant acting chops, stumbled and stuttered his way into cinematic prominence. He surely has taken the hard way. Indeed the path of a true actor.

FINAL RATING

Transformers: Dark of the Moon (Michael Bay)

Bumblebee and a backdrop in ruins.

Although I really did not find the much-hyped 'Apollo 11' plot that fascinating (I still believe that this one's a messy little exercise in narrative disjoint) and the introduction of Rosie Huntington-Whiteley's character anything other than a forced casting decision due to Megan Fox's departure, "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" is nonetheless still an enjoyable blockbuster thrill ride where it feels like you're no longer watching a big-budgeted movie let alone a film. A theme park ride, more like.

As the film bombards everything that moves with explosions, collapsing things and flying men, as one's ideas about the limits of human stamina and survival impossibility blurs into a little spot in the film's array of robotic showdowns (and structural meltdowns) for domination, freedom and some 'can you top that?' on the side, we may not know it, but with a dumb blockbuster like "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" in front of our very 3D-ridden eyes, it's too overwhelmingly flamboyant to ignore, and just too visually phenomenal to pass.

Alright, I, for one, hate Michael Bay. His films are nothing but thick collectives of machismo sandwiching a thin narrative and paper weight characters, except for "The Rock" which I really like. Believe me, I'm ready to denounce this film with all my might, but as the film reaches the plot's conflict which I found to be much more perilous and engaging than I have imagined, my ready-made hatred towards the film diminished like how people in the film disappear when they're hit by those Decepticon beams. I'm just completely drawn in by the intoxicating CGI-fest that this is.

Is it the"Forrest Gump"-esque 'famous people' visual composites, the film's pseudo-political pretense or Ms. Whiteley's bosom? Of course, I really cannot pretend that any of those trivialities is the real reason why I liked the film, because the genuine one is two pure, simple words: action scenes. For me, however high a critic's intellectual capacity is (except for those who think that they're utterly superior that they cannot admit it to themselves) and encompassing his/her film knowledge is, there's still these sets of films that really cannot be denied, visuals and entertainment-wise. The likes of the first "Transformers" film (not counting the second one because that one's a real stinker), "Avatar" and every other superhero features, these are movies that are shown and will stay for what they are and nothing more. No psychological complexities and artful avant-gardism, to say the least. Just pure old movie fun catering not to any specific demographics but to anyone ready to surrender their minds in exchange for some fun. And here in "Transformers: Dark of the Moon", I wholeheartedly did.

Now, the supporting cast, for a change, are very likable in a silly and limited kind of way, but that's how it is. Frances McDormand, John Turturro and John Malkovich, who unknowingly assembled for some sort of a mini Coen brothers' cast reunion, are by all means effective, except for Malkovich who, after some scenes or two, really failed to leave an assurance to what his character is all about. The Witwicky parents are still here but their running time are reduced extensively, and I'm grateful for that.

Tyrese Gibson and Josh Duhamel are there for the absolute macho presences and Patrick Dempsey is a messily cliched villain inserted to counter the film's larger-than-life-and-earth villainy. Now for Shia "CGI Baby" LaBeouf, there's not much to say except that he runs, jumps and runs a lot. Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, although the leading lady, shouldn't have even been in the film in the first place. I think Megan Fox still should have played the leading female character because this third film leaves a space for a potentially climactic emotional crescendo between her and LaBeouf's Sam Witwicky character.

Now, from a messy plot and a mediocre cast performance, how did I still rate the film 'higher than fair'? Well, because I think that for a third film that speaks of such generic tagline as "Earth's Last Stand", although its cinematic posture wobbles constantly in the entirety of its running time, it still strongly held its own on the way to a climax that is one hell of a ride worth taking and buying tickets for.

If "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" is a self-confessed (I think) 'so-so' in terms of plot execution and character fleshing, its lengthy climax has created a new, indelible standard in CGI action set pieces. Hundreds of Robots and a metal snake + a city to destroy and some heroic humans = a guilty pleasure. A truly spectacular one at that.

FINAL RATING