Movie Review: Star Wars - The Force Awakens

Star Wars VII – The Force Awakens (2015)

PG-13

5 Stars out of 5

Director                                J.J. Abrams
Writer                                   Lawrence Kasdan, J.J.Abrams, and Michael Arndt
Cinematography                 Daniel Mindel
Music                                    John Williams

Harrison Ford                     Han Solo
Mark Hamill                        Luke Skywalker
Carrie Fisher                       General (nee Princess) Leia Organa
Adam Driver                       Kylo Ren
Daisy Ridley                        Rey
John Boyega                       Finn
Oscar Isaac                         Poe Dameron
Lupita Nyong’o                  Maz Kanata
Andy Serkis                        Supreme Leader Snoke
Domnhall Gleeson            General Hux
Max von Sydow                 Lor San Tekka
Simon Pegg                        Unkar Plutt

 

Imagine the social and financial pressures on J.J. Abrams as he labored to bring to life part VII of the Star Wars saga. After Disney purchased Lucas Film (which included the saga) in 2010 for $4 billion, one knew the drive to successfully re-boot the series would soon begin. George Lucas had ideas for parts VII through IX and a recommendation for the director of VII; only his director recommendation was adhered to, and thus Abrams got the job. Based on the financial success of VII (fastest movie ever to reach $1 billion) or the endless discussion of the movie’s fans on the internet, one could easily believe that Abrams has done what the studio and the fans wanted: created an exciting addition to the Star Wars saga, one that has left the fans desperate for the next entry. However, Abrams has accomplished more than just excited the fans, he has more than pleased the critics as well. “The Force Awakens” may well use a script that is to some extent derivative to part IV – A New Hope (1977), but he and fellow writer Lawrence Kasdan (writer for parts V and VI) have infused this new edition with humor without destroying tone such as in part I and the lamentable Jar Jar Binks; has brought back beloved characters from IV – VI; has utilized FX to wonderful effect, has created a series of mysteries that will keep the fans sitting on pins and needles until part VIII comes out; and has directed his cast of returning stars and stars-to-be with easily the best acting in the series to date. “The Force Awakens” is a treasure and a fine reminder of the wonder that the movies can bring to the public.

“The Force Awakens” reprises many themes from “A New Hope”, beginning with a secret message entrusted to the care of a “droid”. Max von Sydow as the experienced and world-weary version of Obi wan Kenobi has come into control of a map that promises to lead to the missing Luke Skywalker. Von Sydow’s character, Lor San Tekka gives the chip containing the map to a Resistance fighter pilot, Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) on this movie’s desert planet, Jakku. Poe must quickly give the chip to this movie’s version of R2D2, BB-8, as the encampment where the transfer of the chip has taken place is quickly over-run by a platoon of vicious storm troopers; storm troopers now working for the Empire’s replacement, The New Order. BB-8 flees into the desert, while amongst the storm troopers a clearly troubled trooper pauses during the ensuing slaughter. This trooper soon to be known as Finn (John Boyega) catches the eye of this movie’s version of Darth Vader, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). BB-8 will soon be saved as he runs into the wasteland by Rey (Daisy Ridley), a feminine version of Luke in part VII. Finn and Rey will join forces to get the chip to the Resistance. Along the way, they will encounter each of the three principles from parts IV through VI (Harrison Ford as Han Solo, Carrie Fisher as General Leia Organa, and Mark Hamill as Luke). They will also meet several new characters; one of the most significant being Maz Kanata (Lupita Nyong’o) for the good guys, while the emperor has been succeeded by Snoke (Andy Serkis). To avoid too many spoilers, I will go no further in describing the plot; sufficient to say, there are lots of light sabers, TIE fighters and action for all lovers of this series of movies.

That Abrams and Kasdan have chosen to bring in so many elements from “A New Hope” has created some level of criticism, but since they have done it so artfully, I actually applaud their efforts. By using part IV as a kind of framework to build on, Abrams and Kasdan have a kind of launch pad from which to introduce a series of new characters and many new mysteries: who are Rey’s parents and why was she left on Jakku, how was Snoke able to lure Kylo Ren to the dark side, and the central adult component to the theme of the series - in a universe of competing dualistic forces, can one force ever achieve a final victory over the other. The mythic elements that Lucas used in the parts IV through VI were the thoughtful parts of movie series that otherwise was merely another exercise of moving the Western genre into the Space Opera genre. When Lucas was able to bring in the elements of a fallen father figure, his savior-like son, the fight of good and bad, and a variety of similar themes again using the dualism concept, he was able to elevate the Star Wars saga to a higher level of art than mere Space Opera. Sadly, he lost this thread when he used parts I through III as little more than an introduction to part IV. Having re-launched the series with such expertly controlled use of humor, action plotting, acting, and reference to father/son relations during the struggle between good and evil, it will be very interesting to see if part VIII can continue the momentum.

“The Force Awakens” is an excellent addition to 2015’s string of science fiction-based movies. Like “Mad Max: Fury Road” or “Ex Machina”, “The Force Awakens” has shown that intelligent story telling can fully utilize the science fiction genre to tell a story in a novel manner; and in the case of “The Force Awakens” can tell the story with good use of humor, great music (John Williams comes back for part VII), excellent special effects and some very competent acting to tell the story in a fashion that can be both commercially and artistically satisfying. 2015 may be the year when the leading contenders for best picture at the Oscars will all come from the science fiction genre. “The Force Awakens” is a movie just about anyone will not only enjoy, but may well love.

Movie Review: "Jurassic World"

Jurassic World (2015)

PG-13

3 Stars out of 5

Director                                Colin Trevorrow
Writers                                 Colin Trevorrow, Derek Connolly, (and Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver)
Cinematography                 John Schwartzman
Visual Effects                       Phil Tippet (ILM), Tim Alexander
Music                                    Michael Giacchino

Chris Pratt                           Owen Grady
Bryce Dallas Howard         Claire Dearing
Irrfan Khan                          Simon Masrani
Vincent D’Onofrio              Vic Hoskins
Ty Simkins                           Gray Mitchell
Nick Robinson                     Zach Mitchell
B.D. Wong                           Dr. Henry Wu

 

Once upon a time in America, a time when circuses roamed the land, one could make a good argument that there was a public demand, if not a clamor for more exotic, bigger, and louder entertainment. How many tigers could one man control with a whip and a chair, or what wild new, death defying stunt would Harry Houdini pull? But today in late 2015 is this still the norm? Sure the David Copperfields and David Blaines of the world continue to play one up-manship with their stunts, and one could certainly make a good argument that Hollywood continues this trend with one comic-book inspired/ city wrecking movie after another. I wonder how bored the public might have become with the concept. If there were an amusement park like the one portrayed in “Jurassic World”, would the public really be so bored with mere dinosaurs such as T Rex and Apatosaurus that attendance would drop off; drop off to the point that the park’s scientists would be compelled to gene splice together something bigger and more ferocious, in order to pull in the public?

This question occurs to me as I think back to “Jurassic World” and its theme of corporate rapaciousness coupled with public demand for thrills; thrill that must be made bigger with the passage of time. I do applaud the effort by the writers to blend in some contemporary themes from modern life, but this theme of public boredom rings hollow to me. There is no argument in my mind as to whether greed and the profit incentive drives and will continue to drive much of human behavior, most certainly corporate behavior.  But this theme and the various two-dimensional characters in "Jurassic World" are symptomatic of my biggest complaint with the movie, and that is the writing. As odd as it might seem for a movie about dinosaurs, the writing just does not seem believable. Nevertheless, kudos to writers Trevorrow and Connolly for writing a story that tries to meld such an idea into a movie whose only real purpose is to answer the question: what would happen if T Rex got into a fight with a dinosaur spliced together with the DNA from T Rex, velociraptors, tree frogs, chameleons and who knows what all else. However to return to my complaint about the writing for one last moment, this latter concept of fighting reptilian carnivores conflicts with another theme shown in the movie, the treatment of animals in confinement. It seems counterintuitive to me to create a film that rests on a pedestal of massive dinosaurs fighting in order to make the movie exciting and appealing to the modern audience, while at the same time including the theme of animal mistreatment in zoos, etc. This seems like a cinematic version of “having your cake and eating it, too”. Ah well, it’s a movie about dinosaurs, why bother worrying about writing, acting, or logic; let’s get to what’s really real in this movie: special effects.

In this re-boot of Steven Spielberg’s 1993 “Jurassic Park”, director Colin Trevorrow has tried to bring back the story line from the first movie in this series. There are various nods to the original story in terms of props and evil-doers (e.g. Dr. Henry Wu played by B.D. Wong as the chief scientist is in both movies), and even in some small nods such as the restaurant on the park’s main street named after the lead special effects make-up director in the first three Jurassic movies, Stan Winston. (Winston died in 2008 and the restaurant’s name is a nice acknowledgement of his contributions.) However, Trevorrow’s chief accomplishment in his directing is the manner in which he suggests the violence the dinosaurs are capable of doing without graphically displaying it. There is a scene where T Rex approaches a bound sheep but concludes with only a spray of blood – this scene is also amusing from the point of the older of the two boys featured in this movie, Zach (Nick Robinson) as he ignores the T Rex in order to focus on his iPhone. Another scene of note is one in which a monstrously large (if that description has any meaning in this movie) dinosaur jumps from the water to swallow whole a Great White Shark. Trevorrow’s best accomplishment though in staging the various violent dinosaur encounters is his ability to make use of suggestion via flashing velociraptors in front of the screen with various actor extras (aka dinosaur chow) in the background. By doing many of the human/dinosaur interactions in this manner, Trevorrow is able to create both tension and fear and to do so without excessive amounts of gore; which would probably have drained away the anxiety, anyway. One thing this movie most definitely is, is exciting.

The human component of the movie focuses on Navy veteran Owen (Chris Pratt) as the trainer of a group of four velociraptors and Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) as the park’s Ops manager. Owen knows everything (how to train and treat dinosaurs, when they’ve been mistreated, when they go bad, etc.), while Claire knows nothing (how to care for her two nephews, apparently even how to manage her personal life, or choosing to run in high heels from T Rex after she intentionally went to lure the monster). This odd fifties style of male/female behavior patterns is yet one more theme in this movie but unlike the others defies comprehension. Is there some point to dumbing down the woman, while exalting the man? Other members of the cast not intended to become some dinosaur’s meal is the park’s corporate CEO, Simon Masrani (Irrfan Khan), and Claire’s two nephews, Zach and his younger brother, Gray (Ty Simkins). The acting by Pratt and Howard is fine, but in my opinion, young Simkins actually had the only chance to play a character that was realistic throughout the movie, and his acting really helped make this character believable. Vincent D’Onofrio made his appearance as the stock bad guy, Vic Hoskins; a representative of the gene splicing firm working with the park. It struck me that the Hoskins and Dr. Wu characters were in the movie primarily to set up a sequel, and from what I have read just such a sequel is planned for 2018. For the third highest grossing picture in the US and the world history, this comes as little surprise. And it certainly underlines the hypocrisy I allude to above with respect to rapacious corporations – how is Universal’s production of the Jurassic Park movies any less avaricious than the fictional park’s parent corporation referred to in this movie?

“Jurassic Park” was a fun summer blockbuster. If you want to see dinosaurs fighting, or would like to see superb CGI and animatronic versions of said dinosaurs, this is quite definitely your movie. If you are looking for something more, well you know full well any movie about dinosaurs is not likely to feature strong writing and acting, and “Jurassic World” will not fail you in any such expectations. You know it’s a popcorn movie and nothing more; a well-made and well-directed one, I admit. So, get yourself a bag of popcorn and enjoy this movie for what it is.

Movie Review: "Life Itself"

Life Itself (2014)

R

5 Stars out of 5

Director                                Steve James

Martin Scorcese
Werner Herzog
Ava Duvernay
Ramin Bahrani
Roger and Chaz Ebert
Gene Siskel

 

What is truth? In a piece of fiction there can be some confusion between truth and artistic license when the writer chooses a historical person or event for his topic. But in a documentary that by definition chooses real people, real historical events as their topic, the truth becomes even more difficult to describe. If the documentarian simply “cherry picks” his facts and does so without deception or distortion, has he still actually told the truth? In Steve James’ thoughtful and seemingly complete review of Roger Ebert’s adult life as a movie critic, Roger Ebert’s adult life is laid out for all to see, warts and all. Though to continue the thought I started with, when the documentarian is as clearly enamored with his subject as James is with Ebert, I inevitably wonder what might have been left out of the movie.

James is brutally unstinting is his depiction of Ebert’s sad physical state near the end of his life in 2013 from cancer. Ebert had been undergoing treatment and multiple surgeries following a 2006 diagnosis of thyroid cancer. That initial surgery and presumed cure for this normally easily treated cancer led unfortunately to several subsequent surgeries; ultimately Ebert had his lower jaw removed. This prevented him from speaking, eating or drinking, and it certainly created a new, shocking physical state for him. Despite this latter fact though, Ebert steadfastly insisted that his actual situation be presented clearly to the public, without any attempt to mitigate it. Thus, in James’ film the viewer is shown in graphic detail Ebert’s final state, even as his nurse vacuumed out his trachea. His discomfort is there to be plainly seen. It is shown along with his emotional state, which is also quite definitely not the upbeat, life-loving person that Ebert evidently was most of the time.

At fifty Ebert married the love of his life, trial attorney Chaz (Charlie Hammelsmith). Into his previously single life came one of the most positive influences in Ebert’s life. Her affection and devotion to Ebert as he neared the end is heartbreaking to witness. Chaz joined Ebert’s mother and father as the undisputed anchors and major positive influences in Ebert’s life. Famously not so simply positive on Ebert was his long term professional relationship with fellow critic Gene Siskel. The sections of the movie that deal with the birth, maturation and end of this fruitful relationship are most definitely the most interesting part of the film. For Ebert as the confident and assertive single child grown to adulthood being forced to share the stage with an equally self-confident entity such as Siskel, was a tremendous challenge for both. James shows in unblushing detail the outtakes of the two quarrelling and struggling for control of the television series. And yet following Siskel’s own death to cancer (brain cancer in his case), Ebert came to the conclusion just how instrumental to Ebert’s development as a critic, TV personality and indeed as a man Siskel had been. The scenes immediately following Siskel’s death visibly haunted Ebert. One big lasting effect on Ebert was his decision to not follow Siskel’s decision to pass away privately; how much Siskel’s decision influenced Ebert’s choice to have the effects of his cancer play out in public seems pretty clear in this film.

Also of great interest is the close relationship Ebert had with many in the movie industry (e.g. Martin Scorcese, Werner Herzog, Ava Duvernay, Ramin Bahrani, and the director of this film, Steve James). It seems very reasonable to wonder how such close relationships could affect Ebert’s objectivity towards the work of each of these gifted directors (all comment extensively on Ebert during this movie). James points out though that such close relationships were the norm in previous times between composers and their music critics. That could be so, and James does display one movie of Scorcese’s (The Color of Money) where not only did Ebert savage the movie, but Scorcese went so far as to say that Ebert’s criticism was educational, more so than painful. Again, I re-raise the question of truth in such discussions. When the material and reviews are as subjective as movies and their criticisms, or when the interviewee is clearly a close and indebted friend such as Scorcese was to Ebert, the outside observer is justified in wondering where the line between truth and near-truth might lie. To help underscore the relationship between Ebert and Scorcese, James has Scorcese discuss how at a low point in Scorcese’s career, he had considered suicide. Ebert at that time with Siskel’s cooperation invited Scorcese to Toronto during a film festival to win an award. By Scorcese’s account, this would turn his career and life around. This is a beautiful and touching story and I would not want to demean it in anyway, but I really must wonder about the nature of the objectivity in their relationship when two such men were so emotionally connected.

There is emotion galore in James’ film. Each of the featured guest directors share at least one story about how they felt a tight bond to Ebert. Sometimes as in Duvernay’s case it was due to an article written by Ebert on one of her films, or as in the case of Bahrani the active role Ebert played in Bahrani’s career via Ebert’s positive focus on Bahrani’s films. A similar argument could be made for Herzog, though Ebert surely did not make Herzog’s career, he just as surely helped spread the word on the genius so often displayed by Herzog. With “witnesses” such as these, can “Life Itself” be said to be a depiction of the truth of Ebert’s life? Perhaps, but whether James is guilty of selectively choosing his commenters (all are positive throughout the film) or not, the viewer gets a sense they understand who Ebert was and how he came to be the man he was at the end. He had his warts (overdrinking early in his life, a take no prisoners point view when he wanted his way), but in the end, he was a gifted man that led in many ways a charmed life. I have read many, many Ebert reviews and I always try to learn from each experience. Watching “Life Itself”, I felt I have learned yet more, if not movie criticism, then quite definitely about humanity and life itself. This is a movie really worth seeing.

 

Book Review: "Lafayette and the Somewhat United States" by Sarah Vowell

Lafayette and the Somewhat United States (2015)

4 Stars out of 5

Sarah Vowell

274 pages

Sarah Vowell has carved a niche for herself in the history section of your local bookstore. With previous books such as “The Wordy Shipmates” (2008) or “Unfamiliar Fishes” (2011), this former NPR editor has shown she is more than capable of blending her snarky/comical vision of American History interpretation with a liberal dose of commentary on the events she summarizes for her readers. In the case of “The Wordy Shipmates”, she described the history of Puritans in 17^th century Massachusetts, while in “Unfamiliar Fishes” she weaved a tale of late 19^th century American imperialism in the Philippines, Guam and Hawaii. Now with 2015’s “Lafayette and the Somewhat United States” she builds a story about one of America’s ardent early supporters, Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert de Motier, aka the Marquis de Lafayette.

The Marquis was a wealthy, recently orphaned, and newly married nineteen year old hungry for glory when he reached America in 1777. He left France with a coterie of like-minded Frenchmen looking to take part in military actions – partly to fight against the country long considered their most determined foe, Great Britain, but also because many of them were unemployed military veterans languishing during an unusual peacetime. Not so with the Marquis, he was the quintessential adolescent male, eager for adventure, lacking in experience, but full of idealism. He reached America at a time when the American congress and their Continental Army were awash with a rich variety of European soldiers and adventurers seeking employment and expecting to walk right into leadership positions within the American army. George Washington, many of his American staff and congress were largely fed up with the whole problem by the time Lafayette arrived. Somehow, his youthful enthusiasm and his connections within the government of Louis XVI made him a party apart from so many of his fellow Europeans. He was appointed a major-general, one without a single soldier reporting to him, and placed on George Washington’s staff. While this was surely not the exact reaction Lafayette had hoped for, his close proximity to Washington allowed him to forge a lifelong friendship with a man destined to become a singular American icon.

Lafayette would after about six months on Washington’s staff be finally allowed to lead a small party into combat at the Battle of Brandywine where he would receive a leg wound from an enemy gunshot. Much later he would play a role in helping to corral the English general Cornwallis at Yorktown in 1781. What took place between his initial exposure to battle and his final military participation in the American Revolution is where Lafayette really earned his place in American history. Partly because of his enthusiasm for the American cause and because of his connections to the power brokers in the French government, Lafayette was able to lobby the French government for the Americans (alongside Benjamin Franklin and fellow Frenchman, the French Foreign Minister, Charles, comte de Vergennes). Despite his military performances for the Americans at Brandywine, the battle of Rhode Island and the siege of Yorktown, likely Lafayette’s most significant contribution to the American revolution was the role he played in convincing Louis XVI into sending a significant amount of French naval and army forces to America, to recognizing the American revolutionary government, and to lending millions of Francs to the Americans; and after the war, not done yet, he worked with Thomas Jefferson to establish trade agreements between France and the United States. It is abundantly clear; the likelihood of success for the Americans as they sought their freedom from the English without the French would have been exceedingly low.

As one reads through Vowell’s narration of events, the reader may find themselves as I did murmuring to themselves, “I didn’t know that”. Vowell reviews some of the military battles that took place during the War for Independence, but she really doesn’t spend much time on the battles and only a little more time on the back door attempts to persuade Louis XVI to essentially bankrupt his country in an attempt to help the Americans and hurt the British. (Indeed, it is probable that Louis’ efforts for the Americans led in part to his dethroning in 1792, a mere nine years after the 1783 Treaty of Paris granting the Americans their independence from the English.) No, most of the appeal of Vowell’s writing in general and in “Lafayette and the Somewhat United States” in particular lies with her humorous digressions. She is as likely to spend as much time writing of her discussions with the violence-abhorring Quakers that own the land where one of Lafayette’s memorials sits, as she is in discussing what battle the memorial commemorates. That Vowell feels a philosophical kinship to the Quakers is made clear in this book and in some of her previous writing as well.

Another big strength of her work is the manner in which her digressions from the main themes of the American Revolution veer into directions that help de-mythologize the various fathers of that revolution. With few exceptions (Aaron Burr and Benedict Arnold are standouts) primary actors in the formative years of the United States are generally regarded by modern Americans as being faultless. Vowell gives examples of Washington’s temper, of the back-biting and self-serving efforts of several people to displace Washington as commander-in-chief to not only replace him, but to replace him with their own illustrious selves (General Horatio Lloyd Gates in particular, but not uniquely). Or even more amusingly, the grumbling and complaining that came out of the Congress while they were forced to bunk two or more to a room in York after abandoning their early capitol of Philadelphia to the British. Their carping to Washington about losing Philadelphia almost seems to be as focused on their new living arrangements as to Washington’s abilities as commander-in-chief.

In short, this is a highly readable and amusing review of events during the American Revolutionary war against Great Britain. Vowell moves through the many of the primary events in a brisk manner and brings a very curious set of eyes to those events with respect to the manner in which she describes the main actors and their motivations. If there is a weakness to her writing, at least in this book, then it is that there are sections where Vowell ventures so far afield from the central subject material, you may find yourself wondering what became of the Marquis. However, if you have an interest in the American Revolution, are curious to learn more about the Marquis de Lafayette and the role he played in that revolution, and would like this whole tale served up with a vigorous infusion of satirical commentary, then this could be your book. It was for me the third such book by Sarah Vowell I’ve read, and I have more than enough reason to read her next book based on my experience with this particular foray into American history.

 

 

Movie Review: "Jupiter Ascending"

Jupiter Ascending (2015)

PG-13

2.5 Stars out of 5

Writer/Directors                Andy and Lana Wachowski
Cinematography                John Toll
Music                                   Michael Giacchino
Art Direction                       Charlie Revai (Supervising Art Director)

Jupiter Jones                       Mila Kunis
Channing Tatum                 Caine Wise
Sean Bean                            StingerApini
Eddie Redmayne                Balem Abrasax
Tuppence Middleton        Kalique Abrasax
Douglas Booth                   Titus Abrasax
Maria Doyle Kennedy       Aleksa

 

In 1984 David Lynch tried to bring to the screen Frank Herbert’s masterpiece, Dune. The movie was visionary in many ways with remarkable artwork and a sense of just how alien a human civilization far into the future could be. That being said, the movie was something of a mess; perhaps a cinematic example of one’s grasp not equaling one’s reach. In the book, Dune was a fully realized world of customs, cultures, characters and yes, the basics of science fiction, technology and action sequences. But can such a wide ranging world vision be also fully realized in a single two or three hour movie? David Lynch failed to do so in “Dune”, and now the Wachowski siblings have failed as well with their 2015, “Jupiter Ascending”. Somewhat like “Dune”, the Wachowski’s have tried to grasp just how alien a human civilization could be (while telling a young woman-centric tale), but like Lynch their reach has just as surely failed to create a story that both incorporates a vision of that alien universe and a coherent story line that has any kind of connection to the viewing audience.

The film starts off in a mildly promising manner as it describes how Jupiter Jones’ (Mila Kunis) parents meet and fall in love in St. Petersburg, Russia. After losing her husband during a robbery, Aleksa (Maria Doyle Kennedy) flees to America with her soon to be born daughter, Jupiter. Jupiter grows to be a young woman that works as a maid to the wealthy. The audience is led to believe Jupiter has dreams beyond cleaning toilets. Meanwhile, the film shifts to the Abrasax siblings: Balem (Eddie Redmayne), Kalique (Tuppence Middleton), and Titus (Douglas Booth). These three scions of a powerful family seem to come straight out of a play by Shakespeare (King Lear?). They war amongst themselves even as their wealth comes from “harvesting” planets such as Earth. The harvest consists of sacrificing the populations of the galaxy’s various Earth-like planets in order to create a type of youth serum. These early parts of the story are reasonably straightforward, but the story then gets intentionally byzantine as it tries to detail how the three Abrasax siblings vie with one another to capture Jupiter. You might reasonably wonder why a toilet-cleaning Russian émigré to America would be such a hot target. Evidently, Jupiter is an exact genetic match for the deceased matriarch to the Abrasax family, and thus a threat or a target of one sort or the other to Balem & Co. Sent in to “rescue” Jupiter is Caine Wise (Channing Tatum), a gene splice from human and wolf genomes. Fortunately for Jupiter, her future beau looks more human than canine. In any event, a series of CGI and live action stunts quickly ensues as everyone jockeys to control Jupiter.

According to statements made by Lana Wachowski, she was inspired by Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz” when she co-wrote this movie with her brother. Her intent was to show that strong female characters could find a way to solve their problems without resorting to the tactics employed by males. That may have been her intent, but what she and her brother have produced is a series of meetings between Jupiter, her companion/protector Caine (i.e. Toto) and the three Abrasax offspring; each meeting linked by standard sci-fi CGI pyrotechnics. Admittedly, the stunts and CGI are impressive, most notably an extended fight above Chicago. But the meetings are repetitive and inane: Jupiter is asked in two of the three meetings to sign away her genetic rights, the audience knows this is a big mistake, and at the last moment, Toto/Caine rushes in to save her. This script, poorly defined as it is, is still clear enough for the average viewer to look at it, yawn, and mumble to themselves, been there, done that. Was this script really written by the same authors that wrote “Cloud Atlas” (2012) – a truly thoughtful and coherent film with something to say about the endurance of love, the abuse of the weak by bullies, and the ravages being wreaked upon the Earth?

I am fully willing to grant the Wachoskis’ and their Art Director, Charlie Revai high marks for an intriguing vision brought to the many alien set pieces. Much of the wardrobe and clever notions as to what gene splicing might do, or what a far future robot might look like were quite entertaining. And there were multiple sequences where humor was well done; most notable was a longish segment wherein Jupiter had to run a bureaucratic gauntlet to gain her genetic rights. This latter part of the movie had a scene between robots of identical appearance but opposite agenda contesting one another, and yet one more segment played by Terry Gilliam of “Brazil” (1985) replaying a scene from “Brazil” as he finally grants Jupiter her rights. The other technical aspect of the movie worth commenting on is the score by Michael Giacchino. I may be in the minority based on other reviews I have read (reviews that commented favorably on the score), but I found the score to be bombastic; though it was fully in sync with the whole notion of a movie played as yet one more comic-book inspired film.

If one wants to see a movie propelled by special effects, “Jupiter Ascending” may be the movie to see. But I found it seriously disappointing. The art work, the costumes, and the hints of ideas as to just how exotic a human civilization could become suggest to me a movie with much more depth than just one more action-packed space opera. This movie could have been like “Cloud Atlas” a movie that used science fiction to explore ideas and themes that could not be explored in any other genre. Instead, it settled for one more example of the comic book movie genre, never really getting into any ideas worth thinking about. Frankly, if a fun, mindless space opera is what you want, go see “Guardians of the Galaxy” (2014); it’s better made, more logically written and much more entertaining.

Book Review: "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1997 in English)

4.5 Stars out of 5

Haruki Murakami (translated by Jay Rubin)

613 pages

With thirteen books to his name, Haruki Murakami is the widest sold novelist in Japan. The genre he operates in defies definition: from pop culture to crime to the anti-establishmentarian/existential likes of Don Delilo or the Joycean realm of Thomas Pynchon. He is also a novelist that frustrates many modern Japanese critics. He writes about the Japanese and their lives but sprinkles his books with a very heavy flavoring of Western pop culture, and (presumably even worse to some critics) his writing style and themes are heavily influenced by Western writers, notably Franz Kafka in addition to Delilo and Pynchon. “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle”, his novel published in 1995 in Japanese and beautifully translated by Jay Rubin in 1997 is not in many ways an exception to the previous characterization. And yet it is an exception in that this book is clearly a work of art; perhaps slightly flawed art, but art nevertheless. Unlike some novels that achieve commercial success and only strive for critical success, Murakami actually achieves both with “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle”. This book is wild mixture of styles and themes, some like the Russo-Japanese battles in Manchukuo during WWII will be new to most Americans, but the deeper stories of spousal alienation, free will and a sense of purpose in modern life will be highly relatable to anyone that ponders such topics.

Like a typical Murakami novel, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle” tells the tale of a Japanese male that seems to differ markedly from the prototypical Japanese male. Toru Okada is unemployed, supported by his hard working wife, and quite content with the situation. To make the contrast all that much clearer, Kumiko, Toru’s wife, has a brother that is Toru’s near opposite: the most alpha of alpha males. The book begins with a missing cat. As Toru searches for Noboru Wataya the cat named for Kumiko’s domineering politician brother, Toru finds an abandoned house on an alley; an alley with both ends blocked to through traffic. He meets also a fellow slacker in the form of sixteen year old May Kasahara. May is out of school following a near fatal motorcycle accident, an accident she caused. Following the first of many quixotic conversations with the death-obsessed May, Toru turns for help in finding the cat to a psychic recommended to Kumiko by her brother, Noboru.

Into the picture in physical and dream form come the Kano sisters, Creta the medium and her sister the former prostitute, Malta. The sisters named for two of the islands in the Mediterranean start Toru on his journey out of everyday Japan into an altered reality involving a Kafkaesque hotel, a mysterious woman and her tormentor. As the book progresses, the wall that separates Toru from “reality” and the hotel’s meta-reality becomes thinner each time Toru makes the passage. Indeed, one significant theme of “The Wind-up Bird Chronicle” is the blurring of the definition of what is real and what is not; and even whether there is any significance to the question of their difference. Aiding Toru in his passage between these alternate realities is the discovery by Toru that if he spends time in an abandoned dry well on the property of the empty house on the alley, he can enter his dream state with less effort; less effort, but not without a kind of price.  For upon the completion of his first experience in the well, Toru emerges from the well with a black mark on his face. The symbologies of his facial mark, sitting in the depths of the well, a trapped woman/”Kumiko”, and a demonic adversary/”Noboru” are also themes that appear in various forms throughout the book.

A significant consequence of the mark on his face for Toru is that he meets yet another woman, Nutmeg Akasaka. Nutmeg is a wealthy woman that like Creta makes her living by helping people (always wealthy, influential women), though in Nutmeg’s case, she does it by absorbing their pain. Nutmeg is losing this ability when she meets Toru and deduces the significance of Toru’s mark is not that of Cain, but quite the contrary. Like Nutmeg, Toru can now via his new mark (which warms with each encounter) take on Nutmeg’s former role as a healer.

These various scenes from Toru’s reality-based and dream-based life are mixed with several realistic tales from Japan’s invasion and subjugation of Manchuria during WWII. The connection between the WWII scenes and the contemporary ones involve the facial marks, dry wells, family connections, and the contrast between the hyper-realism of a vicious war with Toru’s waning sense of reality. In all likelihood, this novel’s depiction of the Japanese occupation of Manchuria, their subjugation of the native Chinese, the eventual Russian victory over the Japanese, and their post-war treatment of the captured Japanese soldiers must be especially germane and painful to the modern Japanese. More to the point though, the stories from China lay the groundwork for Murakami’s position on how political machinations can result in incredible pain, and even more so on how such events can shape a nation’s personality. Is the modern Japanese a latent soldier as he works to exhaustion each work day, a kind of robot in the original sense introduced in K. Čapek's play R.U.R. ‘Rossum's Universal Robots’ (1920); that is forced labor; or as the title of the book suggest, wind-up bird. Toru’s slacker vision for himself offers an alternative way in life.

In terms of literary style, the surrealistic hotel and the odd way Toru responds to May’s commentary hearken strongly of Kafka (see “The Castle”, 1926; or “The Trial”, 1925). The most memorable strengths of this book are the beautiful spare language that blends so well with the concept of humanity as little more than automatons; that is wind-up toys/birds. Murakami introduces the wind-up bird via the fact that the sound of a wind-up bird being wound is only heard by a gifted (cursed?) individual such as Toru, and only just before some pending tragedy. The wind-up bird motif is clearly more than just an ill omen, it is a metaphor for each of us as we move through life. Are we merely robots operating according to someone else’s (a politician/demon) programming? Murakmi also explores the concept of language/programming via Nutmeg’s son, Cinnamon. Cinnamon is a brilliant but mute young man who does many things for his mother, including programming her computer. His character serves as yet another metaphor, this one for a sentient being that operates without language and as a kind of introduction to the analogous concept of controlling via a program.

Having moved through these various ideas of political manipulation of the people, of what a real man is supposed to be in terms of free will, Murakami brings the various disparate parts of his book together with a final confrontation in Hotel Kafka between Toru and his adversary/”Noboru”. It is not much of a spoiler to say, that Toru physically confronts his foe. He is able to “free” the woman/”Kumiko” but loses her in the process. The point is, Toru has found a path to himself by finding a way of defining himself not as being a particular part of society, a wind-up bird doing what it is programmed to do by social convention, but rather as a man defined by his values.

Murakami’s depiction of Man in “The Wind-up Bird Chronicle” is a brilliant but challenging discussion of the question, what is Man. The one potential weakness is that it is possible he utilizes too wide a variety of stories and means to move through this philosophical territory, and that finding a link amongst all of them to his conclusion is somewhat obscured by the process. As for me, I found the effort to be difficult, but worth making; a kind of strength rather than a weakness. I highly recommend this book.

 

Book Review: "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt

The Goldfinch (2013)

3.5 Stars out of 5

Donna Tartt

784 pages

Donna Tartt’s 2013 bildungsroman “The Goldfinch” has renewed an old argument: can popular books also be great works of art? Tartt has written three novels over the past thirty odd years. Her first “The Secret History” (1992) met with considerable popular and critical success, while her second “The Little Friend” (2002) with much less so from both quarters. “The Goldfinch” was received with great commercial success with its thirty weeks on the NY Times Best Seller List plus the 2014 Pulitzer Prize for fiction. And yet and despite critical praise from the likes of Michiko Kakutani, chief critic for the NT Times, there are several critics of note that consider the book to be little more than a variation of the Harry Potter stories in terms of intrinsic merit; this one may be for adults but it suffers from an improbable plot and simplistic language. I must confess, I found the narrative at times engrossing and amusing, but all too often in great need of an editor that should have been forced to trim about a third of the book away. It is clichéd and much too long to say what it has to say. The language can be colorful and many of the similes entertaining, but it is in the end, really not that good a book with respect to dialog, structure or believability.

“The Goldfinch” begins as homage to a Dickensian theme: an orphaned boy surrounded by colorful characters, some exotic, some wicked and mean, and a very few genuinely interested in loving and caring for the boy. Theodore (Theo) Decker as a thirteen year old visits the Metropolitan Museum of Art with his mother. She as an aspiring Art Historian has spent a lifetime admiring a particular painting: The Goldfinch by a Dutch master, Carel Fabritius. A terrorist’s bomb at the museum robs Theo of his mom and thrusts him briefly into the arms of an aged and dying antiquarian, Welton (Welty) Blackwell. As Theo sits in the rubble of the blast with Welty, Welty pushes two items into Theo’s hands. These two objects, Welty’s distinctive ring and Fabritius’ masterpiece are carried out of the museum by a stunned and confused Theo. Theo returns home with both objects not yet knowing his mother’s fate. Even as his situation and his mother’s death become clear, Theo’s straits worsen. Theo’s absent father is an alcoholic that has abandoned his family several years before, and Theo’s only other family is his paternal grandfather, an even more unpleasant character than Theo’s father. For a brief period, Theo gains a brief respite as he spends some interim time with a rich friend’s family, the Barbours. Theo is soon surprised by the return of his missing father to reclaim him; a father that (of course) has more than one motive for returning to his son.

Before Theo’s father Larry can drag him off to Larry’s new home in Las Vegas, Theo makes a trip to Welty’s antique furniture store. Theo was able to piece together some of Welty’s dying comments plus an inscription on the ring to find the store. There he meets the one positive Pole Star in young Theo’s life to be, Hobart or Hobie. Hobie is Welty’s partner and co-guardian of Pippa, another survivor of the bomb blast. It is clear that Theo bonds quickly to the pair; to Hobie for his kindness, to Pippa for their shared tragedy. But in keeping with Dickens, Theo is pulled from this potential homely salvation to the harsh lights and life of his father’s home in Las Vegas. It quickly becomes clear why Tartt’s has chosen Las Vegas for the dissolute Larry’s home. Larry drinks, does drugs, gambles, and ignores his son except to use him in an attempt to steal; into this den of iniquity is where Theo meets his best and possibly worst friend, Boris. Boris is like Theo a lost boy, the neglected only son of another abusive and alcoholic father. Indeed, with the exception of Hobie, there is scarcely a single male character in the entire book that couldn’t inhabit one of Dickens’ books as villain.

The youthful Boris as the “artful dodger” is perhaps the most amusing character in the book as he colorfully swears in his Russian-tinged vocabulary and grammar. Besides providing most of the comic relief in “The Goldfinch”, Boris also introduces the despondent Theo to the world of drugs. Theo and Boris spend several years together “attending” school, stealing food (as of course their fathers’ provide virtually no support), and getting high, drunk, or both. Here was a missed opportunity for Tartt to deal more intelligently with the grieving boy’s desperate state. It was a classic case of telling instead of showing. We are told (endlessly) that Theo gets high, but there is little emotional connection between the reader and Theo’s inner turmoil and depression. This unhappy interlude in Theo’s life is followed by a mildly dramatic flight across the country in a Greyhound bus back to New York once Theo has become truly orphaned.

Theo returns to NY and Hobie. He spends a few years learning (as does the reader in considerable detail) Hobie’s trade as a restorer of antique furniture. However, rather than following in Hobie’s restorative footsteps, Theo turns to the sales’ side of the business, and in keeping with his now mature character, turns to a new life of crime. In the meanwhile, he has stashed the Fabritius painting in storage, never even opening its wrapping to look at it. To be sure the painting is a metaphor for Theo. The painting of the chained and somewhat forlorn but also somewhat hopeful bird is certainly a good stand-in for the recently bereaved Theo at thirteen. However, the hidden and unexamined painting is also a good stand in for the directionless and self-deceived twenty-something Theo. Into this life, an angry victim of Theo’s adult larceny enters the story, Lucius. Lucius has pinned together information to both prove Theo’s chicanery with “antique” furniture sold as authentic and the theft of the missing painting. “Fortunately” for Theo his old friend from Vegas, Boris also reenters the scene. Boris has like Theo become an adult criminal, though Boris’ criminality is of an undefined sort. In any event, he and Theo make a rapid trip to Europe to get Theo out of the fix he and Hobie are now in due to Theo’s fraudulent antique furniture sales. The book ends with one of the most disappointing book endings I have ever read; a bizarre attempt to place Theo’s life and thus the book on some kind of moral and philosophical plane that is far higher than the events described in the book.

There are aspects of the book that I admire. Tartt has clearly gone to considerable effort to learn the intricacies of how antique furniture is restored, of the hidden messages by the Dutch Masters in their paintings, and in developing a voice for a Russian émigré to an English speaking world. However, each of these positive points are countered by negative effects: for example, how many of the 784 pages were spent in service of describing the importance of matching wood grains when doing a restoration, of how scratches are made in long used furniture and how color of wood stain fades based on use? It can be an interesting subject, but in what manner does it add to this book. Is the reader to assume that like wood grains Theo and Boris are somewhat alike and yet not? This seems pretty unlikely. Or to what end is the endless description of how Theo and Boris got high or Theo’s multi-day hallucinations in his Amsterdam hotel help us to understand the characters, their lives, let alone the human condition? And while I did find Boris’ voice frequently amusing, Tartt has him say a variety of what to me seem anachronistic (language-wise) comments. Additionally, his conversations with Theo followed such a pattern you might just as well describe and re-describe a groove in one of Hobie’s antiques. Boris would start an explanation, a usually befuddled Theo would mumble “what”, Boris would veer off topic, Theo would threaten to leave, Boris would say something not really explanatory but sufficient to capture Theo’s attention, and then finally (mercifully) Boris would explain whatever it was that Theo needed to hear. This problem of two people leaving things unsaid and the consequences that come after drives me nuts in a sitcom; words fail to describe how irritating or how often Tartt uses this trope.

Tartt closes the novel in a most exasperating manner. Theo has reached a kind of plateau in his life. He seems to have finally found a path to follow that is truer to Hobie and his lost mother. That is all well and good. But then as his character is at last nearing his final departure, Theo launches off into a series of strange soliloquies of his and Boris’ lives, and of the meaning of life. The reader is at once led to understand that Theo is not truly nihilistic (despite a lengthy diatribe that clearly shows the contrary) but that Theo’s purpose in life like anyone that finds beauty in art has found that which is truly eternal. Meanwhile, Boris sums up his life with a variation on Popeye’s “I am what, I am”, “I do heroin because I want to, not because I have to”. The problem here isn’t the triteness of either philosophy (though one could make such an argument), it is rather that Theo’s commentary is such a jarring excursion from the narrative form of the novel. Instead, it seems like little more than Tartt having realized she has failed to illustrate her point via the life of Theo she must now have him explain himself to her presumed adolescent readers. Because in the final analysis, this is a book written with simplistic, graceless language, stock characters, a story seemingly about a young man’s early life but in fact about his unbelievable adventures with his druggie buddy. To whom is this book intended, someone interested in the human condition, if so, turn away. If a long unbelievable story about a drug abuser’s adventures is your métier, here is your book. It might have been a popular book, but it does not appear to be a work of art to me.