The Girl In The Spider’s Web Review (Minor spoilers, and they’re only spoilers if you haven’t seen the trailer)

I never expected The Girl In The Spider’s Web to hold a candle to Fincher’s Dragon Tattoo, but I like the cast and director enough that I expected it to be at least solid. Claire Foy was also no small part of my anticipation; I haven’t seen The Crown but she’s given two of my favorite performances of the year with Unsane and First Man so I knew I was going to see it as soon as I could because of her alone.
I still cannot believe what I just witnessed.
Alvarez’s direction, at its best, is brisk and tight, but these moments are few and far between.
A notch right below its best is solid but “off”. Sometimes he clearly has some interesting framing and editing in mind but at these moments it always feels like there’s a few shots more than necessary, and whatever interesting ideas he had in mind don’t come to fruition. Other times he’s trying to incorporate two different styles, going for a sleek sort of perfectionism and a gritty handheld. I’m not opposed to these different styles being in the same movie, the same scene, or even separated by a single cut but Alvarez seems to just have no idea what he’s doing in combining these styles, and it doesn’t help that at its worst he’s clearly trying to do gritty handheld just for the sake of gritty handheld.
And don’t get me started on the crosscutting.
So that’s his direction at its high points, which I would say makes up maybe 30-40% of the movie. The rest is aimless and atrocious. Two or three shots more than necessary becomes 5 or 6 and the movie dwells on things it has absolutely no reason to. It’s aimless and atrocious.
The awful filmmaking might have been endurable if the script was any good; as incompetent as the filmmaking of The Predator was I at least appreciated the majority of the script and its attempt at economic storytelling.

But

Yeah

No.

The whole thing is devoid of personality that it is so, so desperate for. Any sense of (dare I say) “edge”, sexuality or dark humor feel tacked on because “that’s what a Lisbeth Salander movie should have, right?” Unlike Fincher’s film, in which the characters struggles and the forward motion of the different plots are beautifully in sync, there is no synergy between the character development and the plotting. There are designated “emotional moments”, designated “plot moments” (which take up the meat of the movie) and an occasional forced overlap that you can’t really blame on the actors because they aren’t given squat to work with. Fincher’s film is full of character whereas the most Spider’s Web can give us is “let’s have the characters be sad for a little bit about their traumatic past/love triangle.” The build up of Camilla Salander is also incomprehensible and dramatically inept; the film can’t decide if she’s supposed to be an unknown, mysterious figure or “the one that Lisbeth didn’t save” and it leads to her presence being all over the place. (Though she has a monologue that’s, mercifully, one of the only effective parts of the movie visually and dramatically).

Alvarez also seems to want to show off by having long stretches of no dialogue (which you’d think would be a mercy); I don’t know, maybe he wanted to show off his “visual storytelling”. Regardless, these moments are only memorable in the sense that I noticed them and spent their entirety waiting for him to do something interesting or dramatically effective with them. This theoretically could have happened if the generic, royalty-free sounding score wasn’t lazily slapped on for every second, but I guess we’ll never find out.

Anyway, the movie’s garbage, and that’s a shame. The only thing I can hope for is that its financial failure could maybe possibly theoretically inspire Sony to finally go through on the sequel to the 2011 film with the original cast and crew, the way the Jason Momoa Conan reboot got a sequel up and going for an Arnold Conan movie (which was also cancelled). But as the likelihood of that happening is non-existent, I’m gonna do my best to just forget I ever watched this thing and still look forward to Alvarez’s Don’t Breathe sequel and whatever Foy and the rest of the cast will do in the future.

 

Motivating the Motiveless: How Halloween 2018 (Possibly) Gets the Laurie/Michael Dynamic Right

A key element that’s been a part of the Halloween franchise has always been one of the key focuses of criticism; the familial relationship between Laurie Strode and Michael Myers. This element was added in Halloween II for what honestly seems to be no other reason to me than to add a twist to shock people and to justify the existence of the movie beyond “now Michael kills other people.”

The fact that this twist remains a crucial element of the rest of the franchise is neither here nor there for me regarding the majority of them. I pay no mind to the twist whenever I watch the original movie and focus on Michael as the motive-less force of nature that he is, and if I ever watch films 4-8 I just accept them for what they are.

“Okay, now he’s after his niece.”

“Okay, now he’s after his great nephew.”

“Okay, now he’s after his sister again.”

But this makes the first Halloween II an unfortunate outlier in the franchise; while I can enjoy the movies that followed it with the pre-supposition that his motives are family based, Halloween II intentionally and violently changed our original understanding of Michael Myers, and all because they needed a new hook to bring audiences in. I can bite the bullet and enjoy the sequels (well, those that are enjoyable) since at their very core they’re about Michael’s family motivations but Halloween II sought to change the core of the original film and that’s what makes it difficult to watch.

To make this a bit clearer; if Michael Myers in the original Halloween was a brilliant marathon sprinter, Halloween II was like watching his legs get chopped off, and the rest of the franchise was this marathon sprinter trying to prove himself as a weight lifter with a focus on upper body strength. I’m fine with watching him do his best with weight lifting, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to enjoy watching the injury that forced him to go to a different sport.

(To get this out of the way, I actually love the Rob Zombie movies. He actually tried to explore this element that had become an essential part of the franchise beyond simply trying to make the plot cooler, and in doing so he strongly fleshed out the character that Michael had become over these years and made his films his own beast, and did so in a way that by no means endangers what makes the original Michael terrifying. Zombie’s Michael is an entirely new Michael and I like that new Michael in a way that I am still able to appreciate the 1978 Michael. No imaginary leg removal for who’s been redefined as a weight lifter from the get-go, basically)

When it was announced that the franchise was getting a rebootquel that ignored every entry that followed the original, much had been made of the fact that writers Jeff Fradley, Danny McBride, and David Gordon Green tossed aside the sibling twist that became so essential to the franchise. When the trailers further revealed Laurie Strode to be in full Terminator 2 Sarah Connor mode, I personally assumed that Michael would look at her as a nemesis in the same way that Laurie saw him.

This assumption of Michael’s personal investment in Laurie Strode wasn’t just assumed by me but by characters in the film; we see it in the podcasters making a documentary about the incident in 1978 and in Michael’s new doctor. The former have misguided hopes that bringing Michael and Laurie together will instigate some sort of response out of the silent murderer, and his doctor presumes that the only thing that’s kept Michael alive the last 40 years is so he can find and kill Laurie Strode.

She’s presumed to be “the one that got away.”

There also seems to be a possible meta suggestion from the film itself that Michael has now fixated on Laurie in a similar sense that Laurie has fixated on him, that the other is the Great White Whale to their own Ahab, during a comedic scene in which Michael is waiting to try and kill a teenager. This teenager just drunkenly tried (and as such miserably failed) to make a move on Laurie’s granddaughter, who rejected him. As the teenager sits in his misery, he sees Michael and mistakes him for a neighbor, only to ask Michael “if there’s a girl he wants but can never have.”

(Or something to that degree, can’t find this quote online yet)

The line is obviously funny (at least I thought it was) because Michael is being pitted against a woman he tried to kill 40 years ago.

But I don’t think he’s fixated on Laurie in the same sense that Laurie is fixated on him. She’s not “the one that got away”. She’s the one who just won’t die; the thorn in his side, the fly in his ointment.

He’s just trying to do his thing and slaughter droves of innocent people and that pesky Laurie just won’t piss off.

This, in a sense, does lead to Michael “fixating” on Laurie by the end of the movie, but there are multiple factors in play here and I would argue none of them relate to Michael having this undying need to kill his Great White Whale. The first is the twist of the secondary villain that’s found in Michael’s doctor; unlike Loomis, who wanted Michael locked up forever, Michael’s new doctor is a crazy person who was more than happy that Michael escaped so he could find out why he the killer takes pleasure in….killing. The doctor wants to “experiment” with him in an uncontrolled environment with Laurie Strode, who the doctor, again, incorrectly presumes is the reason Michael has stayed alive all these years.

Michael is either brought to Laurie or Laurie brings herself to him. And I think this means Michael looks at her the same way he looks at the mechanic whose clothes he steals or the podcasters who have his mask; as tasks to be taken care of so he can do what he wants to do.

She’s just a more important task.

Does this perspective undermine the intention behind Laurie’s characterization?

Hardly.

If Michael is a force of nature once more, this only establishes Laurie as a fellow force (Halloween: The Force Awakens?) to be reckoned with.

None of this necessarily elaborates on how the movie itself handles these elements, and there’s a good chance I’m not even right; I await for the input of fellow Halloween fans on this post (provided anyone reads it). I also think it’s a movie full of interesting ideas and it touches on them well, and it’s certainly a tense, entertaining watch, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something currently missing.

But that’s another discussion for another time. For now, I commend the movie for at least having an interesting idea on how to handle a sibling-free Laurie/Michael dynamic down down. The pieces are there, the structure and foundation solid, it’s just a question of whether the movie completely works that I don’t feel comfortable in answering yet.

How Not To Do A Credits Scene, As Shown By Venom

Before I go further, I’m going to provide links to the two best credits scenes there ever were. The first is for Iron Man, the second for Split.

Iron Man

Split

The Iron Man will be primarily referenced throughout this writing but a reference to the Split sequence will be imbedded as well.

I watched the credits scene for Venom before I saw the movie itself; it leaked online and I was curious to see how Woody Harrelson’s wig looked in action (I saw a leaked picture of what he looked like before I saw the leaked footage of the credits scene which I saw before the movie.

I liked the movie btw. It’s not very good but Hardy escalates it in a way that I haven’t seen a lead escalate a movie in quite some time.)

As expected, it introduced Woody Harrelson as Cletus Kasady, otherwise known as Carnage. Fans predicted the actor would be taking the part the moment rumors about his casting arose and those predictions were only cemented when he confirmed he’s “just in a little fraction of the movie, but I’ll be in the next one.”

The scene itself is two minutes. And it is a very bad two minutes. It has very bad dialogue and very bad filmmaking. And this is a shame, because while I’m not a comic aficionado, I know Cletus/Carnage has a sizable following, and I’m sure the people awaiting his cinematic experience would have wanted something more….

….cinematic.

The scene goes as follows; we get a wide shot pushing in on a prison. We then get…another wide shot of the prison, this time circling around it with a motorcycle riding towards the entrance. We overhear Eddie speaking to the symbiote, with Eddie informing the symbiote that he has to keep quiet until he’s done with the interview.

We then get a shot of a prison door leading down a hallway opening. Eddie and a guard walk through. This exchange follows:

Guard: “You ask me, they’re dumb to let him call the shots. The second he asked for your to interview him, I’d shut that shit down.”

Eddie: “Well, you know the FBI. They’re just taking advantage of the only time he’ll ever speak to anyone one on one. They’re hoping I might help identify some additional bodies.”

Guard: “FBI don’t work up close and personal with him. The FBI will have to identify YOU if you don’t follow the rules!”

……….30 seconds into this and already a few problems have arisen.

They’re trying to build up that this is a dangerous guy Eddie’s gonna be talking to with a limited amount of screen time. So I get it; they don’t have a full movie to build him up properly. Using dialogue to build him up is, you know, fine too!

But none of this build up effectively conveys that Kasady is dangerous. Not in any meaningful way. Sure, the general concept behind the dialogue is fine; the guard expresses disapproval of anyone talking to him because he’s dangerous and insane. Eddie responds with a justification that also, in fact, establishes that he’s dangerous and insane. The guy has killed so many people that the FBI is A. after him and B. DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A FIXED COUNT ON HOW MANY PEOPLE HE’S KILLED.

But it doesn’t work dramatically. You have two guys walking down a hallway as a build up to meeting a dangerous serial killer. This is even putting aside Kasady’s place as one of Brock/Venom’s most famous enemies; it’s being conveyed in a casual conversation with some employee down a semi eerily lit hallway.

Not even a particularly frightening hallway. We don’t even get the ol’ “showing a bunch of different scary murderers in generic prison cells so when we get to the more protected prison cell we’re wondering why this guy needs a more protected cell.”

It’s just a semi dimly lit hallway.

(Worth noting; my proposal of showing other murderers to juxtapose Kasady with is not the direction I think they should have gone. More on that later.)

I’m not against using simplicity to set up big reveals. I’m not even against it in credits scenes; at their core they’re about as simple as you can get. They’re “setting up” a movie but they’re not like a trailer where they have the entire movie to choose from exciting footage and create a separate work of art that is entirely centered around anticipation for the movie. With the credits scene, you have two minutes or less to write a scene that dramatically functions in relation to the movie that just happened. They require simplicity.

But simple doesn’t have to be this stupid or….boring.

Let’s look back at Iron Man’s credits scene; it’s arguably the most iconic comic book credits scene since the creation of the concept. The set up for the Avengers is accomplished with great anticipation with two guys briefly talking in a living room.

But what’s the set up for the Iron Man scene? Firstly, we’ve had the previous two hours to appreciate just how rich and powerful Tony is. Jarvis is essential to this; he’s an AI who helps run his company.

When Tony walks into his home, Jarvis welcomes him home and his voice dies down. This grabs our interest; the technology of the superhero billionaire we just spent the entire movie following has been overridden! We’re wondering what’s happening!

This is one 9 second shot and it’s already done better set-up than the roughly 6 shots and 37 seconds we’ve seen so far.

Eddie is then taken through the first of what appear to be 3 other barriers separating our killer from the rest of the world. Another is a gate that the guard lets Eddie through, and Kasady is in a cage.

The closest thing to secrecy we get regarding Kasady is a shot of the words WELCOME EDDIE written in blood on a wall. Also in the shot are his legs.

The movie then cuts to a close-up of Kasady (whose hair they really, really should have thought out more).

I’m not going to get into a shot-by-shot analysis of what awaits us, and with the exception of the last line (which, don’t worry, I will get into), the dialogue is mostly fine. Kasady talks about what they might talk about, makes some comment about a particular blood splatter, and asks Brock to walk closer so he can be in more visible light. (There’s still enough distance between Brock and Kasady for physical proximity to not be a factor here).

The first problem with the rest of this scene (excluding the last line, which is a special kind of awful all by itself) is simple;

There are too many shots of Kasady’s face.

From the first close-up to the last, we see his ugly mug far, far too often. The direction makes no effort to conceal him, to make his presence frightening or mysterious. The first shot of his face has literally no impact (excluding whatever response you might have to his wig; Simpsons fans, for example, may be under the impression that Sony is actually building up to a live action Simpsons crossover starting with Sideshow Bob).

It just proudly shows us his face. Contrast this with the respective reveals in Iron Man and Split. In Iron Man, yes, we hear Fury talk, but it isn’t until the first of his two reveals that we see his face, the first reveal being the “holy shit it’s Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury!” reveal and the “holy shit they’re gonna make an Avengers movie!” reveal. Split takes its sweet time vaguely referencing its prequel Unbreakable, this reference being cemented by the push-in on none other than David Dunn in one shot.

The Venom scene, on the other hand, just flaunts Kasady’s face around. No discretion, no interest in impact, just “oh, Woody Harrelson’s in the scene now, let’s show his face and the ugly wig that’s attached to it.”

But, of course, there has to be a big “OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH MMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN” moment at the end of this scene. It is a credits scene, after all.

And the scene certainly……….tries.

On the last close-up of Kasady, he says;

“When I get out of here…

…and I will get out of here…

…there’s gonna be carnage.”

He then smiles.

Cut to black.

…..now, let’s review.

The line is terrible enough as it is but there’s just…no build up to it whatsoever. Nothing. Brock walks into more revealing light as requested, and then Kasady has his “OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH MMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN” moment.

Really, from start to finish, this entire scene takes little to no advantage of the dramatic opportunities present.

Now here’s an alternate take on how this scene could have been handled that does take advantage of the dramatic opportunities present.

The movie can keep its two wide shots of the prison. Maybe cut out Brock and Venom’s dialogue, maybe not; it’s whatever.

Then we cut to a brief scene between Brock and the warden or whatever in some office inside the prison. I’m not going to provide an exact script of what should be said in this scene that will never exist, only an overview of the information and character dynamics that should be conveyed.

The information that should be kept is that Brock is the first person Kasady has openly spoken to one on one since being arrested and that the FBI is aware of it and is hoping to get information from him. Have Brock be aware of both of these things, and have him be excited by this. This is a big break for him and he thinks he can help the good guys. Win-win.

Also important is to use the warden to, oh I don’t know, establish how dangerous he is. Have him briefly try and convince him to get out of it; it’s a credits scene so it can’t go on too long so maybe with an intense look on his face he asks “and there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this.”

….WAIT

I’VE GOT IT

First shot in the office is a shot of the warden, he very bluntly asks “there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this.”

Cut to a shot of Brock making a (reasonably) enthusiastic case for why this is a good thing.

Cut back to the warden.

“And there’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this.”

Cut to the door opening to Kasady’s cell. Keep the shot with his welcoming message. Keep his dialogue for all I care. Give him some physical presence, but don’t have him look at Brock (yet)

And don’t

I REPEAT

DON’T

Show his face until the last moment

Save the close-up and the creepy smile until the last possible moment.

Now, to lead into what this last moment is, we’re gonna have to really get into why that last line is so bad.

The problem with the last line of dialogue (besides there being no build-up) is how absolutely abysmal it is at appropriately setting up the character in question. He’s more or less just saying “I’m gonna do bad stuff when I get out of here”, and using the word “carnage” is too stupid and on the nose.

So what would have been better?

Once again, do what Iron Man and Split did and go for a more subtle name reveal.

Imagine if, during the Split credits scene, after saying “Mr. Glass”, Dunn got up to leave….only to turn to the camera and finish the movie with:

“I heard the guy that took him down was….unbreakable.”

This thankfully does not happen, he just says Mr. Glass’ name to establish the tie in.

Also imagine, if you will, that during the Iron Man credits scene, after Fury reveals his name, he says “I’ve got some friends who’d like to see if you’re interested in………avenging.

No, he introduces himself, and he cites The Avengers in a way that’s simple, effective, and honest. They get you excited about The Avengers by, in fact, citing them, but it’s not some moronic pun. He’s a government guy, talking about a government initiative, so you use both of these simple things by referring to The Avengers as a government initiative. It gets the name across in a way that’s dramatically appropriate to what we’re talking about, gets fanboys excited, scene’s done.

So how could they have done this with Venom?

Have the “OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH MMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNN” moment be the reveal of Cletus’ name. Don’t tell me “oh well that might not reveal to everyone who he is!” Anyone that liked the movie that doesn’t know what the credits scene means is going to be googling or asking their slightly more knowledgable friends who that was. M. Night Shyamalan embraced the fact that the teenage-opening-night-horror-crowd seeing Split opening night wouldn’t know who Bruce Willis’ character was so he thought it’d spread some effective word of mouth with these teenagers finding out through research.

The same can be said of the few people seeing Venom who don’t know who Carnage is.

So end the scene as follows (generally speaking)

When Eddie walks into the light, have him take out a recording device (he is here for an interview after all) and have Eddie say something to get his name out. This shouldn’t be hard; here’s here for an interview, go with something like;

“Would you like to introduce yourself?”

THEN

Have an empty frame and have Cletus’ head enter it with that creepy smile, and just have him say;

“Cletus.”

*cut to black*

Using Scope Both Retroactively And Preparatively: How To Prepare Audiences For Bigger Sequels, How that’s Changed With The Cinematic Universe, And What This Means For the Future of Marvel

Blockbuster sequels will tend to use set pieces, images or dialogue from their predecessor as a means of both re-establishing prior themes and a promise that the sequel will have a larger scope. What’s interesting is that while studios have always been sequel hopeful for their blockbusters, these formal ideas were previously always retroactive, with the filmmakers looking back on the predecessor as they’re making the sequel and finding a way to incorporate these familiar images and moments.

But this has changed with the advent of the cinematic universe. With as many as eight films being planned at a time, studios can now establish an image, set piece, line of dialogue or some other formal idea in an early film in preparation; the thought of how it can be expanded upon in a sequel is left in the back of our head.

Basically, in the pre-cinematic universe era, the sequel would ask “remember how awesome that was?” But in the cinematic universe era, the predecessor can now ask “see how awesome this is?”

Both questions are followed by:

“Wait until you see how awesome it gets.”

To explore this, the Marvel Cinematic Universe will be the focus. For the retroactive usage, The Avengers and its sequel Age of Ultron will be looked at, whereas the preparative usage will be explored by way of Captain America: Civil War and both Avengers: Infinity War and the untitled fourth Avengers film.

The first Avengers film is about the title characters starting out with a rough foundation and ultimately coming together to take on a greater threat. Their rough foundation is established in a shot that occurs about halfway through the film, in which the group is arguing with each other, this being influenced by Loki’s scepter. The shot will be linked below.

In the above shot, there are different arguments going on between different characters. The camera flows through these arguments in an unsettling manner, tilting slightly to compliment this sense of unease, of all this being wrong. As this shot eerily moves through the different arguments, we never see the characters in the same composition until the final one to signify that there is no overall unity amongst what is happening. An argument between two characters will flow into an argument between different characters, but none of them are arguing about the same thing. Example; Thor’s dialogue with Fury leads to a response from Natasha, which leads to a separate argument between her and Banner. Just because Thor and Fury’s argument starts the one between Natasha and Banner doesn’t mean that Thor is a part of that argument. Thor doesn’t even look at Natasha. They’re all segregated.

They are shown in one composition together, and it is the final one in the shot. That the final composition of this shot is upside down is obviously there to be an appropriate culmination of the segregation of the prior pan; the only unity here is in that none of them get along with each other. There is no unifying conversation, no unifying goal, no unifying trust or friendship amongst any of them.

The surreal camera movements, segregation through these surreal camera movements, and upside down nature of the final composition is all here to establish that none of this is as it should be. This is supposed to be a group of heroes with complimentary strengths, not people with different motives arguing amongst each other.

During the climax of the film, after they decide to stop using their differences to segregate and use them to instead unite, the inverse of this shot occurs when the Avengers come together. (the shot ends at 2:32)

Instead of surreal camera movements that move unpredictably through different arguments, the camera circles around our heroes with certainty and precision, with a clear purpose of giving each hero their own composition, their own moment. Instead of different arguments that never culminate, the characters are all looking at a common enemy. And instead of an upside down closing composition of them all together to establish that they are segregated, we get a strongly framed, right-side up closing composition of them all together, at long last united.

This is the establishment of the climax. Now that they’re all together, they’re all ready to take on a threat that only this group of heroes can take on. There’s also something to be said about them all having their backs to each other and looking at different Chitauri. Just as they’re not looking at the exact same singular enemy, neither do they all have the exact same strengths, but their different strengths all compliment each other. This is important because we later get a busy long shot a little later in the film (it’s :40 seconds long and concludes at that very time in the below clip)

The Avengers are not shown all together in a single composition during this entire shot, but this is different from the unnerving shot that was previously cited to imply segregation. They are, once again, all fighting the same enemy and the respective character moments flow together and are complimentary. Black Widow’s composition flows nicely into Iron Man flying, Iron Man flies down to fight with Cap, he flies up again to flow into a composition of Hawkeye, whose arrow takes us to a composition of Thor and Hulk fighting together. We never see them all together in one single composition, but rather than implying motive segregation, this only reinforces their unity as they all have a common foe. Even if they’re not all in the same composition, they work together tremendously.

This is the foundation that Age of Ultron is built off of, and it is a foundation that is re-established in the opening sequence.

In this opening, we get another long shot of the Avengers working together, their respective character moments flowing together effectively. Towards the end of the shot we get a slow-motion composition of them all together, again implying unity (that composition arrives at about :49 seconds in the above clip). Not only this, but the shot being (relatively) replicated is when the scope of the first film is at is highest, its most “awesome.” So within Age of Ultron’s shot both the scope and foundation of the characters of the first film are re-established; it opens on something “awesome” and familiar to plant us in our seats and leaves us wondering where the sequel could go.

So, we have an example of the retroactive usage of scope and images to prepare us for the film we are watching. But now that sequels are being announced as certain movies are being filmed, what might filmmakers do as they are prepping both a film and its follow-up? Appropriately, we find this again in the MCU; this time it is found in relation to a foundation established in Captain America: Civil War and built upon in Avengers: Infinity War and the currently untitled fourth Avengers film.

Captain America: Civil War was the first movie to use new digital 2D IMAX cameras, which was used for the 15 minute airport fight sequence. IMAX cameras are typically associated with “select sequences”; you save the best cameras for the “most epic” or dramatically important scenes (which tend to go hand in hand with blockbusters), and the airport fight sequence is the largest action scene in the film.

That being said, it is not the most important fight scene dramatically. That would be the final fight, in which Iron Man takes on Cap and Bucky upon finding out Bucky (against his will, of course) killed Iron Man’s parents. This itself is an important action sequence, so why weren’t the IMAX cameras utilized for this scene? Or for any of the other big action scenes, for that matter?

The answer is found in how the airport fight sequence relates to the next two Avengers films, which shared the same directors as Civil War. The airport fight sequence is the only sequence to utilize every hero that is present in Civil War, which isn’t just a sizable roster; it featured the most heroes yet seen on screen together in the MCU.

The idea behind utilizing the cameras for this scene is ultimately to establish the nature of the entirety of Avengers: Infinity War/4. Kevin Feige has said as much;

“In Civil War we had a sequence that took place in an airport, and that really became a test scene for us for a couple of reasons. The first was, we never had that many characters interacting with each other before in one sequence. It was also a test for those IMAX cameras. To say, ‘can we utilize the sheer enormity of the frame’. And the answer quickly was yes.”

Essentially, the use of IMAX cameras in that one Civil War sequence knowingly establishes for the audience what the entirety of Infinity War/4 are going to be. If Civil War only needed IMAX cameras for one scene, that Infinity War/4 will utilize them for their entire runtimes establishes them as, essentially, a feature-length “select scene” (not dissimilar to how Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part II was compared to being a feature length third act. It should be noted that neither of these comparisons are, to my estimation, negative). This is interesting because it shows that Marvel is taking advantage of the audience knowledge of upcoming films in the way studios would take advantage of our knowledge of prior films. Even if we don’t realize it, I believe these retroactive and preparative means of scope and storytelling still register to us and are worthy of note.

There are those that will look at this cynically. Marvel’s penchant for serialized storytelling and sequel setup is essentially being embraced by what I wrote about Civil War and its respective Avengers follow-ups, which I admit. I will simply respond to that by saying I am in no way trying to force people to like these movies or for them to love the nature of setting up other movies.

If anything, my best hope here for anyone that doesn’t care for the MCU who was kind enough to take the time to read this just got a little something out of this. If you took the time to read this despite having those issues, then I hope you got a little something out of it and apologize if you didn’t.

I’m not going to pretend that these movies aren’t financially motivated. Disney did not invest somewhere between $300-$400 million into Infinity War alone out of charity. They invested that much because they knew they’d get their money back and then some, and they want us coming back fom more. But I think these financial motivations establish artistic parameters that can be analyzed artistically. Papa John’s may sell pizza for money, but that doesn’t change the fact that their pizza still has ingredients and a manner in which these ingredients are brought together that we can (in the case of Papa John’s, negatively) look at from a cooking perspective.

But I’m not going to end this piece with a plea for people to respect the MCU artistically. These movies have their fans and their detractors and I’m fine with that.

I’m instead going to end this with food for thought regarding where this emphasis on expanding scope will go.

I think it won’t necessarily lead to constantly making movies bigger and bigger and bigger but instead will emphasize on allowing filmmakers to tell their own stories within the parameters provided. If that requires an epic, so be it. If that requires a small story, so be that! After years and years of promising bigger and delivering bigger, Disney and Marvel should know that this universe requires a diversity and elasticity to keep the brand as a whole alive. Now that we’ve had these films get as epic as they can ultimately get for the time being, the MCU will officially be ingrained in our culture that will allow even the “smaller” material like Spider-Man Homecoming (or even the Netflix shows) to have a place and audience without needing to build up to an Avengers film.

Essentially, the MCU has become so expanded that it can do whatever it wants without its previous structure centered around building up to “the next big movie”.

I can’t find a source on this but I believe I read somewhere that Marvel will forgo the “phase” system (where the films essentially functioned like episodes of television and the Avengers film would be a season finale). I believe this is the right way to go. These films are so ingrained in our culture that they can live freely amongst themselves and have massive events when necessary and not out of obligation. No longer will each film exist to set up the next Avengers crossover but exist on its own merits.

And I’ll be there for all of them.

The Cloverfield Paradox and Potency For A Plot Twist

(Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox and Eden Lake)

I have no idea where to start with this movie.

I really don’t.

I’ll just start with the Cloverfield franchise resurrection.

10 Cloverfield Lane wasn’t without its problems. Anyone that knew about its production history could easily tell that the third act was the result of rewrites that were brought on when the film was changed to Cloverfield’s “blood relative”, as J.J. Abrams put it. But the meat of the film was so strong that a tacked on generic third act didn’t hurt it too much. Plus the very ending is excellent. And while I was certainly hoping to see Clover, the monster whose design I so intently anticipated 8 years prior, the idea of a Twilight Zone style film series was interesting enough for me that I awaited whatever would come next.

But more than this, I liked the idea of the producers giving filmmakers chances on exciting original material, even if that material had a brand.

Which brings us to The Cloverfield Paradox.

Oh boy.

To the credit of him and the producers, this might be Abrams’ best and most controversial marketing move yet. A friend of mine (who was fond of the movie) wrote;

“Netflix and JJ Abrams just announced to the world at large with a teaser trailer that they will be releasing a new movie in the “Cloverfield” series. We haven’t seen anything of it, didn’t even know what it was called or what it was about really (still don’t, actually). Tonight was the first thing anyone had seen anything of it.

And it will be available to watch on Netflix tonight.

Low key, this could have some very serious and significant ramifications for movies, marketing, and the theater going experience. It’s both exciting and kind of intimidating.”

This is, in some ways, a simple risk, and given the reception the film is getting it’s being (rightfully) associated with Paramount trying to dump the movie as soon as possible, but what an exciting risk, particularly given how reflective it is of modern cinema distribution. This is something that theoretically could have happened 5 years ago but it certainly wouldn’t have. In addition, I and many others essentially felt all the anticipation we had with Cloverfield and Lane brilliantly condensed into a few hours. The idea of a genuine Cloverfield follow up, something that was hinted at for years and briefly dreamed about upon the announcement of Lane, wasn’t just confirmed, it was going to be on our TV sets within a few hours.

I just wish the movie lived up to it.

Before I get into everything, I’d like to point out that I have many friends (one of whom was the source of the prior quote, something he wrote before he saw the movie) who really dug this movie, and I’m glad they did. I look forward to discussing it with them more to hear further insights. There’s also a few things and issues I’m going to get out of the way in order to show what I’m going to emphasize on.

Firstly, just as with 10 Cloverfield Lane, The Cloverfield Paradox started out as another project entirely, a space station thriller (comparisons to Alien, Life, or Event Horizon have been made) titled God Particle, and after some rewrites it was turned into an entry in the Cloverfield franchise. I don’t want to assume that the rewrites simply added a subplot to tie this into the Cloverfield universe, but it’s safe to say there is a core space station horror movie here that, in some sense, is reflective of what God Particle was originally supposed to be. I’ll say that the core movie we have is a mixed bag, with some great horror elements and ideas but a script that even a terrific ensemble like this one couldn’t save.

That said, though my focus will certainly involve acknowledging the core film and its aspirations, this is not going to be a review of that core film. The criticisms I will focus on remain constant whether or not the core film is good or bad.

Secondly, when I saw the Super Bowl spot for Paradox, knowing the original concept before it was Cloverfield-ized, I thought they would have changed it so it became a thriller about people on a space station knowing full well about the original Cloverfield monster and their involvement with it and trying to stop it. This turned out to not be the case, and I think that could have been a more satisfying Cloverfield follow-up, but I won’t get into that either. That would be more fan fiction than it would be film criticism, and while I will get into some “what ifs” with my criticisms, I feel my criticisms stay true to the core aspirations of the film instead of suggesting the film should be about something else entirely.

Thirdly, there were things discussed via viral marketing for the first Cloverfield regarding the origins of the monster. These origins are, beyond a single solitary doubt, ignored/retconned in this film. I rather liked those origins, but they were “blink and you miss it also you have to look into the viral marketing to find out their significance” so it’s not like everyone who saw Cloverfield knew about them. We’re not talking about the X-Men cinematic universe’s plot holes here, so I won’t be criticizing these either.

Instead, my focus here will be on the Cloverfield elements, and how integrating them not more, but less into the film while maintaining these connections (such as, most importantly, the final shot) would have benefited the film substantially.

So, let’s begin by getting the general plot of the movie and its connections to the first out of the way.

The world has an energy crisis, and because of this, the nations of the world have created the Shephard Particle Accelerator aboard the Cloverfield Station. If it works, we’ll have renewable energy forever and ever.

This brings us to the Hamilton’s, a wife and husband who lost their children to a fire. They are the bridge between the original God Particle story and the new Cloverfield elements. At the encouragement of Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton joins the crew of the Cloverfield Station.

However, there’s controversy regarding the Cloverfield Station. These concerns are explained to us by a Professor who had criticized the project, bringing his criticisms under an umbrella term called The Cloverfield Paradox. According to the Professor, the Paradox means that…like….all the particles smashing will mess up…space time, or something, and this won’t just interfere with our dimension at the present time, but could alter our past and future and interfere with countless dimensions.

(Hello, world-building and future Cloverfield movies)

After two years of failed tries, one attempt actually works….but after it works, the Earth has disappeared.

So, Professor Plot Device was right. The Earth is gone and the crew may very well have ended the lives of eight billion people.

Except we find out fairly early on (before the crew!) that this isn’t true. Some time after all this is established and the crew still doesn’t know what happened, we cut back to Mr. Hamilton back on Earth, where some ‘splosions start occurring and it turns out there’s an unseen monster attacking. And so begins a subplot the film continuously cuts back to. This subplot involves Mr. Hamilton driving around, finding a little girl amongst some wreckage, driving around with that little girl, going to a bunker, informing her parents she’s okay, all the while texting fellow people about all this crazy monster stuff and waiting for updates on the missing Cloverfield Station from some Government Guy.

Meanwhile on Cloverfield Station, we learn they’re in another dimension, and they’re trying to get back to our Earth so they can utilize the energy they’ve finally maintained. And when they do (there’s a lot more that happens, I’m just keeping it as simple as possible), Mr. Hamilton is alerted by Government Guy that the station has returned and that the damages to the station have forced the surviving crew to come back to Earth. He starts screaming at Government Guy to tell Mrs. and the other survivor not to come back to Earth.

We then have a shot of the station’s escape pod returning to Earth. It’s miniscule, but visible, and it then disappears beneath the clouds.

Immediately following this in the same shot, an enormous monster appears above the clouds, clearly being of the same species, as well as clearly dwarfing, the creature we saw in the first Cloverfield (it was a baby, after all). The monster is roaring, and the film ends on this dour note. (we don’t see this, but given where the escape pod fell into the clouds and the size of the monster, the surviving crew’s ship presumably either fell into the mouth of the beast or crashed into the body).

It’s worth noting that these connections and their implications are fairly clever. For example, J.J. Abrams established from the time that the first Cloverfield came out that the monster in the film is a baby. I’m of the opinion that Mama and Papa Clover were put in one dimension and Baby Clover was sent to the dimension we see in the first film. Meaning the closing shot is that of a parent who is screaming in agony after losing their child.

But as cool as all of this is, and as excited as I am about the world building of this franchise in the future, we have to look at the core film of The Cloverfield Paradox and how the handling of these world building elements ultimately don’t compliment the core film at hand. This is, in my opinion, the fundamental flaw of the film.

When I learned about the general concept of God Particle, a big portion of the tension came from the idea that, as the Christian doctor on the Cloverfield Station Monk (John Ortiz) points out, they could have ended the lives of 8 billion people.

I mean, the Earth could be gone.

As someone that was haunted as a child by that one-shot episode of Dexter’s Laboratory that ended with Dexter and Mandark destroying planet Earth, I have to say, what a terrifying concept.

And the film completely obliterates this tension for no other reason than to tie it into the other Cloverfield films (and as I’ll point out, they could still have maintained a connection without obliterating that tension!) Going further, there is an isolation based tension the film strives for with the core God Particle story, which focuses on a crew who has no idea what is going on back on Earth. Cutting back to Earth as the film does is just completely, unequivocally contrary to that tension.

I mean, these tensions are based in being in one location and not knowing certain information. The scenes that cut back to Earth MAKE FOR TWO LOCATIONS AND PROVIDES INFORMATION!

It leads to the film not having a focus and wondering what this is all leading to. As the plot continues forward on the station, I found myself wondering “what’s the point of them going back?” as I was watching the movie.

To make matters worse, the Earth scenes once the interdimensional conflict happen are terrible. Firstly, they don’t effectively establish the state the Earth is in. Mr. Hamilton comes across one destroyed building and spends a scene of the movie safely driving on a highway, which seems to imply we’re just dealing with the single infant monster in a single city and not multiple monsters 10 times its size occupying the planet.

Secondly, they don’t even have the decency of being well written. We’re introduced to the girl he has to save in a deeply bizarre moment in which she’s standing frozen in the middle of rubble and screaming “HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP” with a dead expression in her eyes.

(I sincerely hope this girl’s career as an actress is not at all hindered by these scenes that consisted of last minute direction in poorly handled reshoots.)

So when the film reaches its conclusion and the what would have been a brilliant closing shot occurs, I found myself in a state of confusion. On one end of the spectrum was “well, no shit, of course they were going back to an Earth with a monster, you kept cutting back to that very situation for no reason other than to remind us it was happening”, and on the other end was “wait, it was that bad? The monsters were that big? The planet is supposedly overwhelmed with monsters and that’s how Mr. Hamilton was responding to the whole thing?”

It’s stupid, empty storytelling. It’s nothingness that ends in nothingness.

……HOWEVER.

All this being said, I am not, in any capacity, against the prospect of an ending that makes the conflicts of the film in retrospect irrelevant.

What I’m asking for is storytelling potency, which in this case would have been accomplished in utilizing a plot twist.

Take Eden Lake. The meat of the film is centered around a couple (Kelly Reilly and Michael Fassbender) being terrorized and tortured by evil teenagers. At the end of the film and after killing some of them, the surviving Reilly escapes, only to search for solace in the wrong house; it’s the house of the ring leader, and we learn that his behavior was encouraged in him by his abusive father. When the father learns that Reilly killed some of the other teenagers, he both denies any wrongdoing his son may have done and takes revenge for the dead teenagers by torturing her to death.

(Quick aside; Eden Lake’s ending is an ending that is heartbreaking and devastating in a way that I’m not used to with horror. It’s vicious and sad. It explores the familiar idea of “violence begets violence”, but strengthens it by exploring the concept of blood lust being satisfied by monsters because the monsters use “justice” as an excuse. It’s also strengthened by a terrific cast, particularly Reilly. It’s an excellent film that I will never see again and I highly recommend it.)

There’s a brilliant manner in which Eden Lake establishes its twist, and it’s something The Cloverfield Paradox could have learned from. There’s a scene early on in Lake where Fassbedner attempts to confront the father of the ring leader (this is when they were just being harassed; the brutality hadn’t started yet), leading to a tense set piece in which Fassbender mistakenly trespasses and has to escape the house. It is in this scene that the father’s abusive and violent tendencies aren’t outright shown but are certainly indicated at.

By planting this seed, we aren’t completely taken by surprise when the ending comes, and by focusing on Fassbender and Reilly trying to survive without any cutbacks to the ring leader getting the shit beaten out of him by Daddy, the ending’s retroactive impact on the rest of the film hits us all the harder.

Now to utilize these lessons from Eden Lake and get into what I think The Cloverfield Paradox should have done.

When I finished Paradox, I initially thought more impactful images of a monster overrun Earth during these cutbacks would have made for a stronger film.

In one way, I was right, and in another way I wasn’t. As I feel I’ve made a valid case for, the constant cutbacks, no matter what they consisted of, have diluted the story and made a messy, unfocused film.

That being said, the film is still in desperate need of effective imagery to sell the concept of an Earth overrun by monsters to make the ending work.

So, here’s what I propose should have happened. Again, I don’t think this is fan fiction so much as it is looking at the film as how it is and how the material could have better served itself.

Keep Mr. Hamilton as a character to ground the story, and especially keep his first scenes with Mrs. Hamilton prior to the interdimensional stuff, but instead of cutting back to a useless subplot, add something to the sequence when the Cloverfield Station works but is sent to another dimension. We instead cross cut that sequence with a scene of Mr. Hamilton going outside to look at some portal, maybe some freak electric storm….honestly, anything, just something visual. This would be the last shot on Earth before the end of the movie.

That visual signifier, the portal, electric storm, whatever it need be, would truthfully be related to the coming of the monsters. But as we wouldn’t cut back to Earth until the end of the movie, this visual signifier would compliment the tension of the crew wondering if they had destroyed Earth; it would lead us to think it was related to Earth being destroyed.

When we learn it hasn’t been destroyed, we presume the visual signifier was just part of the station disappearing and pay it no mind, as we have to focus on the rest of the conflicts at hand.

Now, when we cut back to Earth at the end of the film, our attention would have been entirely focused on the main plot; getting the Cloverfield Station back to Earth. Now not only has that happened, but the Earth will have limitless energy. So we think we’re heading back to a happy ending! Hurrah!

This is when the film would cut to a similar scene to the one we saw in the final film, but instead of Mr. Hamilton being in a single bunker with one child that he’s protected, cut to him in a larger bunker overrun with injured people trying to survive after the chaos of the monsters has occurred. He’s informed of the return of his wife and the other survivor to Earth and responds with his “tell them not to come back” moment.

This leads to us being confused and scared as to what exactly has happened on Earth, and when we continue to the final shot, we don’t know what Earth they’re landing on…with the final shot of the larger monster properly changing the tone of the ending.

This would give a potency to the ending of the film retroactively making the rest of it irrelevant. It wouldn’t be something we were waiting for, it would be something that had a seed planted that we would ignore, only for it to come back and bite us in the ass.

Some might argue that this wouldn’t negate the issue of the Cloverfield elements being tacked on.

I disagree. I think in focusing on the story the way it does that this could have been some minimal but outstanding world building being perfectly combined with the core storytelling of the film.

Of course, none of this would solve the issues of the meat of the script being pretty bad, with actors desperately trying their best to elevate it (aside from Chris O’Dowd, someone I normally like who seems to have resigned to the fact that his character is comic relief.)

But would I take an okay space station thriller with a bad script and excellent world building over an unfocused disaster that does few favors to the world building and no favors to the film itself?

Any day.

13 Hours and Michael Bay’s Place in the Film Vs. Digital Battle

This isn’t so much a review of the film as it is a brief look into Bay’s place in, dare I say, cinema history, specifically his place in the current film vs. digital battle being waged.

I hesitate to say “if you know how you feel about Bay, you know how you’ll feel about this movie” or something to that degree. While it’s accurate, I think Bay and cinema are more interesting than that and shouldn’t be dismissed so easily. But I’m saying it now because I think even Bay’s harshest critics should take a look at the movie from this perspective.

The advent of digital cinema has been met with both criticism and open arms. Those that embrace it have done so for different, sometimes complimentary reasons. One way to look at it is from an efficiency perspective, an “easier” and cheaper medium to replace film, while another way to look at it is for its own unique photographic traits that are distinguished from film.

The efficiency mentality can be found in interviews with David Fincher, who liked being able to shoot his movies faster and being able to look at the image immediately without having to wait for dailies. But this mentality has its own artistic merit, as some directors view it as a way of having more artistic control over a project. James Cameron said as much regarding CGI and how he would have made Titanic if he had the tools he had today;

“If I did Titanic (1997) today, I’d do it very differently. There wouldn’t be a 750-foot-long set. There would be small set pieces integrated into a large CGI set. I wouldn’t have to wait seven days to get the perfect sunset for the kiss scene. We’d shoot it in front of a green screen, and we’d choose our sunset.”

George Lucas also referred to these distinctions in an interview with American Cinematographer;

“There is the very real issue that you are going from a photographic medium to a painterly medium, and for those who are really wedded to the photographic process, that’s going to be a tough thing to get around. It’s very much like going from frescoes to oils – one is very rigid, very disciplined, very definite about the way it works, and the other is much more open, offers you more options and enables you to manipulate the pictures more, and I think that bothers people.”

But with this mentality can come a desire to replicate that “film look” as its called. Filmmakers like Michael Mann reject that and used digital cameras for their own distinct look. His first primarily digitally shot film, Collateral (whose cinematographer, Dion Beebe, also shot 13 Hours) used digital cinematography to capture the L.A. night as its own character. This unique digital look can be found in this following clip;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DX9JNJThhxY

But the initial rejection of digital cinematography primarily came from it being lesser when it started, which was accurate. Michael Bay was a part of this rejection, and expressed as much when he was forced to shoot Transformers: Dark of The Moon digitally in 3D, as modern 3D cameras are exclusively digital and Bay wasn’t satisfied with the place conversions were at the time to convert an entire movie. Still, even though he shot the film in 3D, he wasn’t initially happy about it.
“Digital, no matter what people tell you, it’s bullshit. They say, “Oh, it looks just like film.” It doesn’t look like film and never will. And it’s like those people that are telling you are technicians. But I will be able to tweak film better than you tweak a digital image, because it just can’t hold really bright skies to this black thing. You have to favor one thing. If I favored her, that would go much wider.

Whereas film, you would be able to get more blue out of it or whatever. And you can’t really do that with digital. So they’re lying to you when they say it looks just like film. It doesn’t. And when you shoot 3D, technically you give up some color, you give up some sharpness, you give up brightness. But you get the added benefit of seeing 3D.”

Dark of The Moon also rejected digital’s unique photographic traits by trying to go for “that film look”, even shooting and converting as much as 30% of the movie on film. These were reserved for things like slow-motion shots or shots that Bay wanted a higher “resolution” on.

Bay’s next film, Pain and Gain, wasn’t shot in 3D and so he went back to film. When he did Transformers: Age of Extinction, that was in 3D and therefore required digital cameras.

But he did something different this time.

Having used IMAX film cameras for Transformers: Revenge of The Fallen three films prior, Bay decided to use newly developed digital 4K IMAX 3D cameras for AoE. These cameras are not as good as IMAX film cameras, but they are breathtaking, and new digital IMAX cameras have been developed since that are inching closer and closer to IMAX film quality (these cameras were used first in Captain America: Civil War and will be used in Transformers: The Last Knight).

Originally intended for select sequences, he went to shoot 60% of the film with the cameras, going so far as to request IMAX develop him another one. The movie definitely maintains that film look, but there are many shots that are very Mann like, embracing digital’s unique photographic traits. Examples of this can be found starting at 6:18 in the following clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UExyaN8AHGw

The scene is not presented in its native IMAX ratio, but as someone that owns the edition of the film that maintains the ratio, I can verify that many of these shots originated from IMAX cameras.

I think Age of Extinction’s place in film history is tremendously important. If IMAX is the pinnacle of image quality, the destination at the end of the path, and IMAX cameras were originally film only, then it follows that film was the path to that destination, and thus the film look was associated with the path.

Age of Extinction’s digital IMAX images flip this notion on its head. The destination remains the same but there is a new way to get to this destination. New options. A new path.

But even so, Age of Extinction’s exciting embracing and celebration of digital as its own format remains connected with the necessary evil for 3D mentality. He still shot it digitally because he was shooting it in 3D.

And this is where 13 Hours comes in.

Shot digitally in 2D, Bay, one of the strongest, most adamant film advocates in this battle, has embraced the format without any sense of it being a necessary evil. The 3D necessary evil is not present, and while efficiency purposes were also present in his decision, he doesn’t degrade or dismiss the format by nostalgically striving for “that film look.”

He shot it digitally and wanted digital images. And if someone as stern and strongly involved in his imagery as Michael Bay has embraced the format, one can only wonder what the future of cinema will look like.

BEN!

Force Awakens spoilers ahead 

 

The death of Han Solo either came as a total surprise or was something you knew the moment Ford was cast in The Force Awakens. As a fan of Abrams and his Star Trek sequel Into Darkness, which many criticize for going a route it “shouldn’t” have gone, I was excited to hear that TFA was a Star Wars “remake”, as I think STID‘s use of our “knowledge” of the events of Wrath of Khan was effective and relevant to both films (WOK is about legacy, reflecting on the past, STID is about potential, earning that legacy). I think TFA does something similar for the death of Solo; we (or at least some people) “knew” Han Solo was going to die, for reasons either related to the “mentor death” always happening in the first of each Star Wars trilogy or our knowledge of Ford’s own distaste for returning.

 

This is something I’ll get into in more detail another time; right now, I want to talk about a fairly famous and effective line that seems to have had an impact. That is Solo’s getting Kylo Ren’s attention by shouting his real name; Ben.

 

I think the moment is terrific, but something that leads up to the moment is less terrific. It’s not in the scene itself, but in a prior scene, and it relates to how he’s referred to in the entire film.

Throughout the majority of the film, he is referred to as Kylo Ren.

When we come across his Ma and Pa, though, he’s referred to differently; in the only scene between the two, he’s referred to as “our son”, and before they go their separate way, “our boy.”

 

That scene in question in question is, disappointingly, flat. I think Abrams has a talent for not letting his characters be tools to explain plot or not particularly fleshed out motivations. He lets them be people, something George Lucas never really grasped in the Prequel Trilogy and something Irvin Kirshner not only understood but actively sought after for The Empire Strikes Back, as you can see in an interview he has regarding the movie.

 

 

 

I would also recommend listening the commentary for ESB. 

 

 

That talent is not on display in this scene between Leia and Han. They spend the scene discussing and explaining what happened between the two of them, of what happened to Kylo, how it affected them. We don’t feel the history between the two of them here, despite a good sum of us experiencing it firsthand in the Original Trilogy. There’s no genuine sense of emotional tension, concern, no real sense of longing between the two. Just a general sad tone that surrounds out but never defines it. It reminds me of Jurassic World, relying constantly on references, hoping we’ll appreciate them because we love the first Jurassic Park, but never really standing on its own. I think the rest of the film (mostly) does this terrifically (chess game sequence and R2’s introduction not included), as did STID, so that Abrams dropped the ball on a scene involving two pivotal, wonderful characters that we know and love is disappointing.

 

That said, the impact of how they refer to their son is notable, and helps flesh out the scene in which Solo and Ben come across each other, in particular, him saying “Ben!”

When Solo shouts, it’s a paternal, near scolding manner, and that this is the first we’ve heard his name gives the two a strong sense of history that we (or at least I) don’t feel really in Han and Leia’s encounter. Perhaps this is because Abrams assumed we would have inherently felt it because we knew these characters (a fuck-up I expect of Colin Trevorrow, who I hope develops some “creative differences” with Disney soon). Regardless, we’ve been kept relatively distant about Ben’s history. We know that Han is his father, Leia his mother, and that he was drawn to the dark side. But it’s in this scene, when Han is not talking about being his father but showing it, with his real name being revealed without any of us having prior knowledge about it, that his story feels complete. That the past he’s been running from, trying to bury, exists.

 

And I think the majority of the build up to it is great. Ben’s dynamic with Snokes, his not-so-thinly-veiled contempt for Han and even Rey…all wonderful. And that this is where we learn his real name is terrific.

 

I just wish the way Han and Leia referred to him prior was a bit…better.

Quick Krampus Considerations

I saw Krampus two weeks ago. Just some quick thoughts about it, and comparisons to Trick R Treat.

There are blatant similarities between the two. They’re both horror films that are about about ancient, demonic forces punishing people for…improper celebration of Holidays. They differ in a few ways, and these ways speak primarily to Krampus’ weaknesses.

The primary differences are the story structure and the Holiday they are celebrating, and where the horror comes from from that celebration. To start, there’s a consistency to Trick R Treat. It’s celebrating Halloween, and it celebrates horror by bringing it to life, and the punishments are for those that don’t respect the traditions of the Holiday.

Krampus’ punishments are for similar purposes, but instead of having a consistency with the culture, Krampus seeks to contradict. This is made apparent in the (perfect) opening sscene, consisting of a slow motion, Black Friday esque Holiday shopping war zone, edited to (if memory serves) “It’s Beginning to Look  A Lot Like Christmas”.

Basically, Trick R Treat’s punishments come from a failure to celebrate horror, whereas Krampus’ come from a failure to celebrate joyousness, peace on Earth, and all that.

These new intentions don’t inherently make Krampus a lesser film by any means. It just gives it different things to accomplish. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.

One thing Krampus needed to do was function as a family drama, something it often doesn’t. When I say this, I’m not decrying Krampus’ horror elements, but its human elements. The characters are fine, and have solid moments, but so much of the humor and even the dynamics comes across as forced, contrived. Dougherty’s direction of the actors is hit and miss, which I think speaks to why Trick R Treat works so well. It had more stories, more characters, and, frankly, less time for them to screw up with each of them.

There’s also the horror elements. They often work, and there’s a great deal of creativity put into things like the designs (I’m not of the anti-CGI mindset but good lord these practical effects are breathtaking), but there are times when the horror and contradictions don’t go beyond a frightening version of a familiar Christmas item attacking characters with the help of a violently shaking camera. These sequences don’t amount to much more than “gosh, look at how crazy this is!”, and are particularly disappointing in comparison to the creativity Dougherty put into the horror and lore of Trick R Treat.

There’s plenty good in the film, of course. As I said before, the designs are brilliant, the ending is haunting, and there’s plenty of inspired moments. I just…felt like writing about these issues.

So there.