Overstreet's Favorite Films of 2014 — So Far

What are your top five favorite films of the year so far?

Most reviewers post their "Best of 2014 So Far" lists at the end of June, because that's the year's halfway point. But since a lot of films that qualify as 2014 films for American moviegoers because they opened in New York and L.A. in December won't be accessible elsewhere until January, February, or even March in other major cities, so, well... I figured I'd wait until the end of July to mark a more accurate cinema-year halfway point.

You can keep up with my moviegoing diary, first-impression notes, and list updates at Letterboxd.

Here's how the list is shaping up so far — but I won't be surprised if, by the end of the year, only the top 3 or 4 are still in the top 10. So many promising titles are still on the way.

And by the way, if you see titles on here that I haven't yet reviewed (my review archive is here), check back occasionally. I plan to catch up with all of them eventually. A review of As It Is in Heaven, for example, is coming up. And Something, Anything (yes, that's a real movie title) isn't available yet.


Boyhood (2014): A Three-Part Response

Here's a three-part post on Richard Linklater's movie Boyhood:

1) In which I interview my 7-year-old self, my 14-year-old self, and my 20-year-old self... and it turns into a tense and uncomfortable conversation about our differing perspectives.

2) Some reflections on just how meaningful this movie can be for us right now.

3) What some of my favorite film reviewers are saying about Boyhood.

Jeffrey Today: So, guys... you've just seen Boyhood. Before we get started, do you have any questions?

Little Jeff (7 years old): How did that kid get older while we were watching the movie?

Teen Jeff (14 years old): It took them 12 years to make the movie! Everybody in the movie got a lot older. That was obvious.  Even the grownups... they started pretty old, and got really old.

Jeffrey Today: They didn't get really old. They just got, you know, up into their 40s. Like me.

Little Jeff: Why aren't Mason's mom and dad together? And why are they always fighting?

Jeffrey Today: That's one of the things I want to talk about. Let's sum up: We watch Mason (played by young Ellar Coltrane) and his sister Samantha (played by the director's daughter Lorelei Linklater) grow up under the care of their loving but overworked mother Olivia (Patricia Arquette). Their dad, Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke), comes to visit sometimes.

We'll talk about the actors later. First, let's talk about this family. Mason Jr. and Samantha have a challenging life, a mix of blessings and hardships. What do they have going for them? What are their biggest challenges?

Jeffrey Overstreet at 7 years old, admiring a new Star Wars folder for school.
Jeffrey Overstreet at 7 years old, admiring a new Star Wars folder for school.

Teen Jeff: Mason and Samantha seem like a real brother and sister. They fight sometimes, but they like each other.

Jeffrey Today: Definitely one of the most believable sibling relationships I've seen at the movies.

Little Jeff: Their mom is really strict.

Jeffrey Today: Olivia is strict, yes, but she's raising them on her own. She has to be careful, right? Don't you think it's obvious how much she loves them?

Young Adult Jeff (20 years old): Can I say something? I think Mason Sr., their dad, seems pretty irresponsible. It's Olivia who is faithful to her kids. Mason Sr. wants his kids to like him, but he doesn't show much respect for what Olivia's doing to try to raise the kids right. Like, when he tells her that the kids will put on seatbelts in his car...

Jeffrey Today: You mean, that super-cool black GTO that he loves? He's pretty proud of that thing.

YA Jeff: Exactly. But then, he admits that he might not even have seatbelts for his kids to use. That's, like, a summary of his whole life and personality. He wants to be cool and reckless and free — and be a good dad — but he can't, because he's self-absorbed. He just wants everybody to like him. He doesn't do what a good parent does.

He and Olivia just weren't mature enough to be together and start having kids.

Jeffrey Today: Wow, that's a heavy judgment there, bucko. You sound awfully sure of yourself. You're 20 years old, and you're already planning to propose to a certain young woman. Are you ready for marriage?

YA Jeff: I think so.

Jeffrey Today: It would be easy to focus on pointing out who in Boyhood lives up to our standards of being "good" or "bad." But that would miss the whole point. Boyhood doesn't exist for us to cast judgment over the people we see. It's a picture of one particular family that can help us see ourselves more clearly. They make choices, they make mistakes, they grow, they change, they try to do better. Maybe we'll find new perspective on our own childhoods, or our own adulthood.

This film shows just what a huge responsibility it is to be a parent. Sure, it's a celebration of boyhood, yes, but it is also a lament. The pain in this movie rings very true, as if it's a very personal story for Linklater. Look at Mason Sr. and Olivia — they're so much like so many American parents, failing each other but still trying to be good role models for their kids. It's so easy to make promises in a rush of idealism and affection, dazzled by each other's goodness. But it's hard to keep those promises when the New becomes Familiar, and when we have to learn to live with each other's weaknesses. That's what love requires. And when we abandon love — thinking that we're doing ourselves a favor — we end up doing incredible damage to our families and ourselves. There's conviction and authenticity in every glimpse of the damage in Mason's family.

YA Jeff: Well, they should've known better.

Jeffrey Today: Young Adult Jeff, you're young and passionate and full of zeal. You feel ready for marriage. You might even be ready for marriage. But college years are a time when a lot of things change very quickly. It takes two extraordinary individuals to stay together through that time of self-discovery. Mason’s parents failed — sure, no doubt about it. But you, Young Adult Jeff, should be careful about being quick to judge. You have a lot of failures ahead of you as well. Life will teach you to be a little more humble and compassionate in time.

YA Jeff: What are you talking about?

Jeffrey Today: Never mind. Just... you'll see.

Little Jeff: I liked the parts with the kids best.

Jeffrey Today: The childhood scenes are often very joyful, because young Mason Jr. is making so many discoveries. He's full of questions and playfulness and wonder, and he's so often disappointed. That's part of what makes the movie so painful. It's a relief to see him go camping with his dad and having a good time.

I suspect that moviegoers will have very different opinions about which part of this movie work best, because they bring very different experiences to the theater with them. Some things will feel familiar, some things will seem strange. The Jeffrey Overstreet experience is very, very different from the Mason Jr. experience. Mom and Dad got married young, but they're still together almost 50 years later, and a great example of faithfulness and love. They've been trustworthy for each other and for me and my brother. That's a rare and amazing gift, and I'm grateful for it.

Teen Jeff: That made me feel very sad for Mason Jr. and Samantha all the way through. They don't have very good examples of how to be a grownup.

Jeffrey Today: True, but I find myself hoping they will learn from their parents' successes and their mistakes. Maybe they'll learn to value something more than their own immediate happiness.

12-year-old Jeff with his 6th grade science project.
12-year-old Jeff with his 6th grade science project.

Teen Jeff: I liked Mason Jr's mom when she protected him from the guy who drank too much. But I wish she hadn't gotten together with that guy in the first place.

Jeffrey Today: She was probably lonely. Raising two kids alone is hard work. And it probably felt good to find that someone charismatic and intelligent was interested in her. It's too bad she leads her kids into a very risky situation. But we can see her growing wiser... little by little. Mason Sr., too, seems to improve in some ways.

What happens when you lose your trust in the people who have a responsibility to love you?

Teen Jeff: You don't respect them. You don't want to live by their rules anymore. If they aren't responsible, why should you be?

YA Jeff: And that's why Mason Jr. is so rebellious in high school and college, doing lots of dangerous things.

Jeffrey Today: I'm sure that's part of it. But you can't blame everything on his parents. He bears some responsibility too.

Little Jeff: I liked the part where Mason Jr. rides a bike. And the part where he pushes his dad into the lake. That was my favorite. And he has a cool camera.

Jeffrey Today: Yes, you like the parts where he's playing and making things and figuring out who he is, rather than focusing on merely surviving. I love watching him discover a passion for photography. And it feels good to see him throw his dad in a lake, doesn't it?

Teen Jeff: I'd rather see him throw his stepdad off a cliff. That guy is really horrible. It's because he drinks. And later, Mason starts drinking.

Jeffrey Today: That stepdad is pretty horrible, you're right. But is that why Mason Jr. starts drinking?

Teen Jeff [thinks for a moment]: No, he drinks because of peer pressure. He's afraid that the bullies will pick on him if he doesn't play along.

Jeffrey Today: Exactly.

Little Jeff: Drinking is bad for you.

Teen Jeff: Drinking isn't just bad for you. It's bad for everybody. It makes them violent and mean.

Jeffrey Today: Okay, hold on. Being drunk can get a person in trouble. But Mason's mother drinks too, right? Does that make her a terrible person? Does she become a monster?

Little Jeff [looks uncomfortable]: I saw beer bottles on our neighbors' back porch. That's why I'm not supposed to talk to them.

Jeffrey Today: Well, eventually you'll learn that some people are wise to stay way from alcohol for their whole lives, while others enjoy it in a good way, and it enriches their lives. Mason Jr. and Samantha and you and me — we have to learn what's best for us and how to enjoy good things with self-control.

Besides, you can be just as terrible by not drinking. I can hear a kind of self-righteousness and condemnation in your voice, Teen Jeff, that surprises me. I'd forgotten how judgmental I was at your age. That kind of attitude will hurt your neighbors and it will ultimately hurt you too.

Jeff graduates from high school.
Jeff graduates from high school.

Teen Jeff: I think Mason and his family need the Gospel, or they'll never be happy. They never even talk about it.

[Awkward silence.]

[YA Jeff rolls his eyes.]

Jeffrey Today: Kid, I remember your zeal for the Gospel. You're quite the evangelical. And you're right — everybody needs the Gospel.

But let's talk about this after the review. Because I think that the Gospel is at work in this family.*

YA Jeff: So, you pretty much think it's a perfect movie then.

Jeffrey Today: No, not really.

The biggest problem that I have with the story is that Mason Jr. is made to be almost 100% sympathetic. It's a common experience at the movies — kids are made to seem like the smart ones, and grownups are almost always the irresponsible ones. Like Harry Potter in J. K. Rowling's novels, Mason Jr. is pretty much always innocent, and everybody around him is responsible for his problems.

People love movies that do this, because it means they can come away from the movie feeling smug at how smart they are, and how much the rest of the world is failing. Personally, I wish that we saw Mason making mistakes that have serious consequences. When I think back on my own life, I have no trouble identifying situations where I was very, very wrong. But Mason... he just drifts through one experience after another. Some of his choices and behaviors are more questionable, I think, than the movie suggests. If the movie was more honest about the effects of his own recklessness, it would have felt more true to me.

Do you see any weaknesses in Mason's attitude as he's growing up?

YA Jeff: He suffers because of his parents' poor judgment with relationships. But he's very quick to get heavily involved with the first pretty girl who pays close attention to him. So he'll probably end up in the same mess.

Jeffrey Today: He's definitely carrying on his parents' impulsiveness. But it's a very rare young man who has great wisdom and discipline in that department. I wasn't impulsive and reckless, but I was horribly jealous. I didn't take rejection well at all.

YA Jeff  scowls, feeling vaguely criticized by Adult Jeff.

Teen Jeff:  Mason's girlfriend is always staring at that cordless phone she's carrying. He's kind of mean to her about it.

Little Jeff: How does that phone work? It doesn't even look like a phone.

Jeffrey Today: Mason is pretty dismissive about social networking and its advantages. He could probably be less arrogant about it. But is he totally wrong? Isn't it true that social networking can have a huge influence on our in-person relationships?

YA Jeff: I don't know. Cell phones and the Internet aren't part of my life yet.

Jeffrey Today: Oh, right.

Further Thoughts on Boyhood

Dear Reader,

I could go on with this rather self-involved conversation, but I don't want to spoil the movie for you. And, frankly, I'm a little creeped out by talking to younger versions of myself.

boyhood-Boyhood_HiRes_2_rgb
Mason makes a discovery behind the house in "Boyhood."

So, here I'll offer a few more thoughts, doing my best to preserve the film's surprises for you.One of the joys of this film — one of 2014's most original and, for me, affecting motion pictures — is the experience of being surprised by life as it unfolds in ways that even the filmmakers were experiencing. Richard Linklater couldn't have known how history would develop when he started filming young Ellar Coltrane back at age 7. He had to improvise, to develop one chapter at a time based on how his actors, his opinions, his questions, and his world had changed. So in a way, watching this movie, we're watching more "real life" than usual.

What might audiences have thought of Boyhood if this ambitious filmmaking experiment had opened 25 years ago? We were, then, a population unaccustomed to "celebrating the moments of our lives" in moment-to-moment status updates and photographs with large communities if not the whole world.

I suspect it would have been doubly impressive and strange for them than it is for us — to see this boy, Mason Jr., and the actor playing him (Ellar Coltrane), mature scene-to-scene before our eyes from 7 years old to 19, even as the actors playing his family age 12 years age as well. It might have inspired us to go home, open scrapbooks, spread photos out all over the floor, consult our family members and old friends, and start constructing time-lapse expressions of our lives as a work of self-discovery. It might have sparked the invention of Facebook.

And that would have been supremely ironic, in a way, because while Boyhood is a provocation toward living more "examined lives," it is also an exhortation to live as fully in the now as possible, unseparated by screens and distractions and the myriad ways we hide ourselves from the challenges of real human connection. Notice how, even in scenes that have nothing to do with technology, young Mason's life is powerfully influenced by who has time for him, who listens to him, who really pays attention to him and shows him love.

boyhood-Boyhood_HiRes_3_rgb
Olivia reads to Mason and Samantha in "Boyhood."

If you looked through my own Internet-posted pictures, records of personal preferences, journal entries, and creative projects that reveal something of who I was, what I thought, what I hated, what I loved, from almost any year of my life, you could get a pretty good sense of what experiences have shaped who I was at any particular point on that timeline, and who I am today. You would find that the greatest blessings have come from the devotion of parents and family members, in-person friendships, and teachers. You would find that I found myself by acting, by making, by asking and wrestling, rather than just consuming.

I feel like I am watching Boyhood, as well as Girlhood, and various forms of Adulthood (especially Fatherhood and Motherhood) on social networking platforms all of the time now, browsing personal records to see a fuller picture of my friends and neighbors. Thus, this movie feels more like an inevitable product of its time — a film that captures and sums up a new phenomenon particular to this chapter of history — than some out-of-the-blue vision. But that's good. We need it, in order to ask (as young Mason Jr. eventually does) which is more important ... the life that is happening "in the flesh" around us, within reach, in personal connection, or the world that is available to us on screens, second-hand.

In a sense, Mason Jr.'s eventual inclination to unplug and be present with his family and friends is a criticism of all screens, even the one on which he now appears, in favor of personal relationship in the now... a value that Linklater has celebrated before in films as different as Waking Life and The School of Rock, A Scanner Darkly and Before Midnight.

What Richard Linklater has done here, drawing (I suspect) from his own experiences, is distill one boy's growth from elementary school uncertainties to cocksure college-bound young-adulthood. And in doing so he invites us — all of us, men and women, boys and girls, singles and spouses, parents and children — to ask ourselves a world of questions about the forces that have made us (parents, siblings, friends, teachers), the damage we've suffered, the glories we've seen, the desires and convictions inspired by those experiences, and the grace we offer and receive.

Mason sports a new luck... begrudgingly... in "Boyhood."
Mason sports a new luck... begrudgingly... in "Boyhood."

And the work of art he has crafted for us reveals, thank God, a family of warts-and-all human beings on the screen. Coltrane does an uncanny job of creating a character who matures convincingly onscreen even as the actor, whose true personality and inclinations remain a mystery to us, matures.

But for this viewer, it is the characters around Mason Jr. who are most intriguing. Ethan Hawke (as Mason Sr.) and Patricia Arquette (as Mason Jr.'s mother Olivia) are fantastic, delivering some of their best work as parents who, like most parents, are sometimes fabulous and sometimes complete failures, and I found myself believing in Mason Jr's sister Samantha (Lorelei Linklater) as much or more than I believed in the boy himself. And all of them give me some insight in the hurts and hopes we've sensed in Linklater's films throughout his impressive career. This is not an autobiographical film, but it's hard not to keep thinking about what his characterizations here reveal about his own childhood, his own relationships.

He is, of course, an artist of particular preoccupations and political inclinations. But, thank goodness, he is also a man more interested in guiding us into questions than presuming to draw conclusions for us. Isn't this what good therapists do — help people understand their troubles, hurts, hopes, and dreams by digging deep into memory and experience? Boyhood may have a sort of therapeutic influence for viewers — especially young people, as they think about the long-term effects of the characters' decisions. Most movies give us thrills through the drama of rash decisions and bold action, but we aren't encouraged to consider the implications of those actions. Boyhood gives you the big picture.

For example, what might at first appear to be a highly politicized scene turns out to be a set-up. We see Mason's father taking the kids out to post Obama/Biden campaign signs in the neighborhood, and stealing McCain/Palin signs from other people's yards. It's funny, but it's the kind of scene that has earned the film some criticism from (of course) conservative viewers. But while this might be a kind of winking admission of Linklater's political preferences, it isn't propaganda. It's a playful acknowledgement of a particular season in his characters' lives, one that can be rather humbling now that we stand at a distance and see how the dreams we dream so fiercely — in politics or any other aspect of our lives — rarely turn out the way we'd imagined. The audience laughed, in part, because even the most ardent Obama supporter will see just how idealistic and overreaching that campaign-season optimism had become. This isn't partisan politics — it's as true for supporters of Republicans as Democrats. (Any reviewer who thinks this movie is meant as a strike against the Democrats or the Republicans is letting politics distort their interpretation; Linklater is better than that. This film never stoops to anything so trite and dualistic.)

Mason Sr. bonds with Samantha and Mason Jr. in "Boyhood."
Mason Sr. bonds with Samantha and Mason Jr. in "Boyhood."

Rather than blowing any particularly discomforting moment out of proportion, audiences should step back and acknowledge that Boyhood is astonishing primarily because it is an American movie. The only projects that resemble it in cinema history are Michael Apted's "Up" documentary series (which tracks the growth of several real people from age 8 to age 56) and Linklater's own three-part, 27-year "Before" trilogy (also starring Ethan Hawke). The American film industry does not encourage artists to ask questions or make actual art. Linklater may not be much of a visual artist — Boyhood's biggest weakness is that its visual appeal lies, primarily, in its subjects rather than its composition — but he has expertly built a career by assembling elements we want to see (big stars, clever hooks, technical experimentation) and then weaving them into unexpectedly challenging tapestries. Audiences continue to line up for his movies, eager to see what they want, but coming away with the kind of Big Questions that they need.

Perhaps somebody will someday make a movie that depicts Richard Linklater himself at different points of his artist career. If that ever happens, audiences will be able to track the metamorphosis of one of America's most significant filmmaking imaginations.

Looking Closer at Boyhood

Matt Zoller Seitz at Roger Ebert.com:

Fixating on imperfections while discussing Boyhood would be as petty as criticizing the sculpting of individual stones in a cathedral. The totality matters. Even more important is our recognition that the totality is as fleeting as life.

Mike D'Angelo on Letterboxd:

More than a stunt, but it almost didn't have to be, given how inherently mesmerizing it is to watch a child grow up—for real—within a fictional context. ... Linklater wisely opts to focus almost entirely on glancing, offhand moments, which makes his occasional stabs at conventional drama—the abusive drunken stepdad stuff, in particular—seem all the more clumsy and misguided.

Scott Renshaw on Letterboxd:

Like so many of Linklater’s loose-limbed comedies over the years, when it’s on, Boyhood is really on—smart, clear-eyed and laugh-out-loud funny in a way that never feels like someone’s stopping to deliver a zinger. That’s doesn’t erase the stuff that’s hard to explain away as anything but clumsy, no matter how ambitious the project in which it resides. Recognizing that this kind of crazy idea might never be attempted again isn’t the same as wondering if [it] still couldn’t have been done better.

Josh Larsen at Larsen on Film:

The emotional power of Boyhood is cumulative. The tears come with the accrual of years. Boyhood is the essence of life softly played.

There is one sense, however, in which this emphasis on the ordinary is a limitation. Aside from his forays into rotoscoping animation (Waking Life, A Scanner Darkly), Linklater has never been a visually distinctive filmmaker. His strengths – and they’re considerable – lie elsewhere. ... This isn’t to say Linklater’s technique is incorrect, mind you, just that it didn’t fully stir the cinephile within me.

Alissa Wilkinson at Christianity Today:

Boyhood is a long film at 164 minutes. Nothing explodes. There's no villain, no superhero, no mystery to be solved. But it's compelling, enjoyable, heartbreaking, and, ultimately—well, I hate using the word, but it's inspiring. Leaving the theater, I felt like I needed to pay closer attention to my own life—to stop and just be.

So often at the movies, we see stories that teach us that only the remarkable moments are worth telling. Boyhood is an achievement in filmmaking, and it also does an important, countercultural thing: it reminds us that in the banal moments, the mundane relationships, the ugly rooms and the awkward phases—that is where we live out our lives.

Deleted Scene:

A Letter to the Zealous, Evangelical,
7-Year-Old Kid I Once Was
About the "Gospel" in This Movie

Kid, you've learned your Sunday School lessons well. You've been taught that there are two teams in the world — Team Jesus, and the Other Team. So when you look at other people, and they don't talk like they're on your team or act like they're on your team, you shake your head and say, "If only they had Jesus, they'd be fine."

But hey, Younger Self, you believe in Jesus... and yet you're still a mess. You have no room to be so smug and condescending about the state of other people's hearts. There are still places in our hearts that are broken and flawed. There are still places within us that need love and healing. Those folks you would identify as being on "Team Jesus" — who carry Bibles and pray and go to church and do things in Jesus's name — many of them show very little evidence that love is humbling them, changing them, transforming them into servants full of grace. Instead, many are self-righteous and judgmental.

And those people you have decided are totally "lost"? They're a mess, too. But Love is pursuing them, working on them, humbling and wrestling with them. Sometimes it's alive in them in ways that we cannot see or know — even if they don't give credit to Jesus or use your evangelical vocabulary. When they show love to one another, they are collaborating with Jesus whether they know it or not.

We're told that someday every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. Many Christians are very good at confessing, but not so good at showing God's love through humble action (that's the bowing part). Others are very good at showing how love is at work in their lives, but they've not come to a point of recognizing and confessing Love's real name yet.

So you'll learn, Younger Self, the world isn't as black and white as you think it is. You can't divide people into "the lost" and "the found." We're all, moment to moment, hour to hour, year to year, getting lost and finding our way in myriad ways, thanks to God's relentless grace. Thank goodness, Love never gives up.

Would Mason Jr. and his family fix all of their problems if they found Jesus? Probably not. But if you want to find the Gospel in this movie, 7-year-old Jeff, then look for the love. Is Love at work in their lives? Love is Jesus when he's not wearing his name tag.

 


The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014): Second Impressions

Under the cover of night, Monsieur Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) escapes from prison and finds that "The Divine Zero" (Tony Revolori) has dutifully arrived to rescue him...

M. Gustave:

How's our darling Agatha?

Zero [pauses — then, having learned well from Gustave that important information deserves to be related in poetry, he recites]:

‘'Twas first light when I saw her face upon the heath; and hence did I return, day by day, entranc'd: tho' vinegar did brine my heart -'

A siren blares, rocking the prison yard.

Zero is, um... alarmed.

M. Gustave [reassuringly]: 

Very good! I'm going to stop you because the alarm has sounded — but remember where we left off, because I insist you finish later!

Inspired, unexpected exchanges like this are what make the relationship between M. Gustave and Zero so remarkable.

And there are so many of them.

And that's just one of so many ways in which Wes Anderson packs every minute of this movie with something to enjoy.

I've just seen it a second time, this time on DVD. I was afraid that the film would be a much lesser thing on a smaller screen, where I couldn't lose myself in the extravagant set design. But no, it's still a blast the second time around. Somehow, it feels both more frivolous and more fun.

I love that Anderson seems as excited about Mendl's Courtesan au Chocolat as he is about everything else in this wacky wonderland. (The DVD and blu-ray feature a short documentary on how you can make the Courtesan au Chocolat in our very own kitchen.)

And Ralph Fiennes' performance should be (but won't be) remembered when award season heats up. He is one magnificent meatball...

... but too many unnecessary celebrity cameos weaken the sauce in which he marinates.

I know, I know — everything about this extravagant confection is deliberately excessive, like frosting and food coloring on... well... a confection. But I might have cared about Gustave and Zero a little more, and suspended disbelief a little longer, if Anderson hadn't lost all restraint and turned the second half of the picture into a demonstration of just how many stars will line up and do any little silly thing he asks of them.

Still... that's a quibble. This will be on my Top 10 of 2014 list. For a lot of reasons. Here's one: Has any film ever made presented so many magnificent sets? I had a flashback to watching Miyazaki's Spirited Away on DVD for the first time, and how I kept pausing the video just to state at those beautiful rooms. But with Grand Budapest, the music has such energy and momentum that I can't bear to interrupt it.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is now available on home video and streaming services. Here's a look back at my original, full review of the film.


Overheard at the Movies: Persecuted, Noah, Wish I Was Here, Life Itself, I Origins, and A Most Wanted Man

Does the film about Roger Ebert get a "thumbs up" at Christianity Today? Is Persecuted an "overwrought, alarmist cog in the paranoia machine"? Is Noah "laughable and silly"? Does Wish I Was Here peddle "mushy feel-goodisms"? And how is Philip Seymour Hoffman in A Most Wanted Man?

My own movie-reviewing work has slowed down this month due to the fact that I'm busy earning my MFA. (I am, however, prepping my review of Boyhood.) But I'm listening to the chatter about all kinds of films, and I'm jotting down excerpts of the most intriguing reviews. I'm also making short notes at my Letterboxd moviegoing journal.

Here are clips from a few intriguing things I’ve overheard at the movies this week from some of my favorite film reviewers...

1.

Alissa Wilkinson at Christianity Today on Life Itself:

Only bad art allows for a single interpretation (that's what we call propaganda, actually). Good art opens space for us to have a multitude of experiences, depending on what the viewer brings to the table. Good art isn't complete until the viewer completes it.

In his work, [Roger] Ebert helped us see movies that way: vibrant, vital parts of our communal experience, made fuller by each of us who watches it and then discusses it with others. Movies help us think about who we are and how we live together. And as a movie, Life Itself is a heartfelt, clear-eyed tribute to a master.

2.

Scott Renshaw at Letterboxd on Persecuted:

This delusional fantasy melodrama from writer/director Daniel Lusko — about a popular evangelist named John Luther (James Remar) who is framed for murder when he refuses to support a vaguely sinister piece of legislation called “Faith and Fairness Act” — plays like a version of The Fugitive where the one-armed man is liberal America. And it’s not even a coherent, internally-consistent delusional fantasy melodrama, with everyone doing the stupidest possible thing at all times, and characters whose motivations emerge and vanish at a whim, but often should involve mustache-twirling. ...  [B]etween the non-stop second-unit footage of Founding Father statues and waving flags, and the red-meat-for-the-base warnings about what the gub’mint is prepared to do to get its atheistic way, it just plays as another overwrought, alarmist cog in the paranoia machine.

And here's Mike D'Angelo at The Dissolve on Persecuted:

Roughly 73 percent of Americans self-identify as Christian, and the notion of a non-Christian U.S. president remains all but unthinkable, yet faith-based movies reliably depict Christianity as if it were a minority belief system that’s perpetually under attack. Persecuted takes this ideology to such a ludicrous extreme.... If Persecuted wasn’t such a dire thriller, its sweaty fear of pluralism ... might at least be amusing. Unfortunately, writer-director Daniel Lusko can’t even devise a simple innocent-man-gets-hunted scenario.

3.

Vic Sizemore at Good Letters on Darren Aronofsky and Noah:

A concise observation by Matt Zoller Seitz gave support to what I suspected: “This is…an immense, weird, ungainly, often laughably overwrought and silly movie, an amalgamation of elements from various literary and cinematic forebears.” After seeing the movie, I disagree. Overwrought maybe. Laughable and silly? No.

I have read both that Aronofsky claims to be atheist and that he does not. From his previous movies, I think it is safe to say that whatever else he might be, he is a seeker. He is asking the big questions. As I once heard someone describe a writer, “He has his hook baited for Leviathan.”

I went into the movie assuming that he was not a believer in any dogmatic way, was not intending the movie to work on an anagogical level. There was no point worrying about claims he is making about how things actually happen in the realm of the supernatural. It seemed best to view his take on the experience of the believing soul phenomenologically.

4.

Keith Phipps at The Dissolve on Zach Braff's Wish I Was Here:

When the film doesn’t strain for twinkly enlightenment, it stoops to find the easiest possible joke. ... It’s admirable for Braff to want his own vision for the film, but the results reveal that it wasn’t a vision worth fighting for in the first place. “God can be whoever you want Him to be,” a rabbi tells Aidan at one point. That pretty much sums up the mushy feel-goodisms the film peddles as if they were the long-suppressed secrets of the universe....

5.

Nathan Rabin at The Dissolve on Anton Corbijn's A Most Wanted Man:

A Most Wanted Man is light on action setpieces and long on political gamesmanship and moral ambiguity. It inhabits a world of shadows and complexity....

Corbijn is a music-video veteran, but his direction is surprisingly understated and methodical, less concerned with individual images or standalone sequences than with closely watching his characters as they closely watch each other, often through surveillance equipment. Corbijn favors a desaturated color palette that makes Hamburg look like a grim industrial hellhole, which adds to the film’s feeling of bone-deep exhaustion, captured in Hoffman’s dryly witty performance as a man chasing one last shot at redemption with the knowledge that he’s almost assuredly doomed.

A Most Wanted Man is a cold film that examines its characters from a clinical distance, but its iciness gives way to raw emotion in a powerful final sequence...

6.

Jackson Cuidon at Christianity Today on I Origins:

To its credit, the movie doesn't frame science and faith as incompatible. But it does a fairly bad job of characterizing both science and faith. On the one hand, it's only the most rigid logical positivists (like Richard Dawkins or Bill Maher) who would argue that you need proof of something's existence for it to be a "real thing" — for instance, love, which plenty of non-believers would claim is something other than a bunch of chemicals in the brain.

And on the other hand, there's no sense of a coherent faith proffered in the movie. Sofi believes in a living statue, to some extent, and in reincarnation, and has a Zoroastrian logo hanging around her neck, but it's never clear what effect this belief has on her life, if any. It's just sort of there for Ian to disagree with or find childish, but it doesn't make her less afraid of death, and doesn't seem to make her stronger, or more independent. If anything, the faith presented in the movie is just an institutionalized irrationality—is not wanting to know anything about anything, because mysteries are sexy and exciting.

Trailer Mix: Which Trailer Works for You?

Okay, moviegoers... today's questions are: Which trailer is most effective? Which one makes you say, "I'm going to see that!" And why?Read more


Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014): A Looking Closer Film Forum

Movie Reviewer so busy! Movie Reviewer scrambling to keep up with interesting movies this summer. Movie Reviewer not have time yet for Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.

But Movie Reviewer reading lots of interesting reviews from respectable critics...

This week, Movie Reviewer gathers perspectives from Kenneth Morefield (1 More Film Blog), David Ehrlich (Letterboxd), Josh Larsen (Larsen on Film), and Willow Catelyn (who confesses up-front "okay so like im a little bit drunk so bear with me.")

So, Movie Reviewer wonders — how does Matt Reeves' movie measure up to reboot directed by Rupert Wyatt?

Morefield:

It is better. Not by much, though, and not where it counts the most. It's better on the level of spectacle, but the storytelling remains shaky at best. Its implications about us also remain troubling—and not in a good way. ... [It] runs into the same problems that bogged down Rise. The rebooted franchise may not be following the exact mythology of the originalPlanet of the Apes series, but does anyone think there is not going to be a war? The filmmakers are more interested in plot (how will the sequence of events unfold to lead to the inevitable?) than in suspense or conflict. So the second act drags on way too long; it's like watching the middle innings of a baseball game on tape delay after you've already been told the final score.

Greydanus:

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is so not the sequel to Rise of the Planet of the Apes I expected or was prepared for. Nothing in the well-made but prosaic 2011 reboot hinted at the power of this film, a worthy successor to the best of the original films, with their cautionary parables about man’s inhumanity to man set in a topsy-turvy Twilight Zone world of intelligent apes and animal-like humans. ... ...[T]he blockbuster triumph of Rise has been replaced in Dawn with a powerful sense of tragedy and loss, rooted in real moral fury at the ignoble impulses and attitudes that sabotage human well-being.

Movie Reviewer's main problem with first film — Humans pretty ridiculous, but apes ... awesome. Same problem this time?

Morefield:

... [As] with its predecessor, Dawn doesn't give its human community even a modicum of pragmatism, outside of the sympathetic protagonist (or his family nucleus). So we have nobody to root for once the war starts.

Larsen:

Dawn becomes an enthralling portrait – at once intimate and epic – of two civilizations on the brink. The movie’s central tension comes in discovering if the survival of one necessitates the destruction of the other. And so when chaos erupts, it’s not only the action that engrosses us ... but also what is at risk for everyone involved.

First film grim, apocalyptic—suggested that humans doomed to punishment they deserve. Second film, more hopeful? What meaning we get from sequel?

Morefield:

The franchise's unwillingness to take sides, its insistence on what Charles Krauthammer once dubbed "moral equivalence," is its most puzzling and dissatisfying feature. For most of the film the scales are tipped in the apes' favor: humans kill each other while apes live in peace. But by the end even Caesar is admitting that "I always thought ape better than human […] I see now how much like them we are." So that's it? In the collective (nations, species) we're all equally flawed, and we're cursed to fight endlessly, since the most impressionable of us will always be swayed in their fear and hate by those who would appeal to their most bestial instincts? Can we never be inspired to live in conformity to higher ideals (whether religious or political)? The film's answer appears to be a resounding "no."

Greydanus:

Dawn offers a remarkably robust allegory of the insidiousness of “us vs. them” ideology: of the tribalist tendency to assume the moral, cognitive or ontological superiority of the in-group, and to define those outside the group as other, as malicious, untrustworthy or worse. Even Caesar, sitting in judgment of one of his own, first finds it necessary to place him outside the group. This is required in a way by his own principles — but it also highlights the importance of moral realism in a fallen world. Gratifyingly, the film offers this allegory without devolving either into a naturalistic equating of humans and animals or a “noble savage” portrait of corrupt civilized men vs. primitive apes living in harmony with nature.

Women... insignificant in first film. More important in sequel?

Ehrlich:

[W]omen are of so little consequence to this movie that Captain America 2 is practically Daisies by comparison. Makes it tough to swallow that the standout performance in the film is delivered by a woman in the guise of a man (Karin Konoval as the orangutan Maurice).

Catelyn:

It's not like I went into it thinking it would rock my feminist world but it gets frustrating watching tentpole after tentpole being boys club movies.

Any last words?

Greydanus:

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is both a deeply humanistic film, in the best sense of that word, and a deeply pessimistic one. It recognizes the importance and urgency of efforts to work for peace and the futility of such efforts in many times and places.

Larsen:

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes’ biggest achievement may be that it continued to make me care about these decidedly unreal creatures. And – through them – to reconsider themes that art has explored even before Shakespeare, all the way back to the Greek tragedies. Now, I’m not saying Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is equivalent to Julius Caesar. But they’re both artfully rattling the same cage.


Overheard at the Movies: Magic in the Moonlight, The Insider, Planes: Fire & Rescue, Mood Indigo

Here are clips from a few intriguing things I've overheard at the movies this week, regarding Woody Allen's new movie; my favorite Michael Mann film; Disney's latest talking-vehicle adventure; and the latest fantasy from Eternal Sunshine's Michel Gondry...Read more


The Prince of Egypt Returns...

Didja hear? Disney's asked the writer of Transformers to pen the script for a live-action version of... Dumbo

Seems to be the thing to do now: Turn animated classics into live-action versions that nobody wants.

Along the same lines, remember Dreamworks' animated epic The Prince of Egypt? Well... doesn't this look an awful lot a live-action version of that? 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yl9fEnGH7nM

(Here's a better high-rez version of  the trailer.)

Yes, Ridley Scott — director of Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, and Prometheus — is bringing back Moses (Maximoses?) in Exodus: Gods and Kings.

Read more


Summer Reading Bargain: Auralia's Colors is Less Than $5 at Amazon

Auralia — Original artwork by Kristine Macasieb.

Are you ready to go back... to the Expanse?

Do you remember the colorless city called House Abascar?

Do you recall the mischievous artist who emerged from the woods, revealing colors no one had ever seen before?

Did you glimpse that shadowy behemoth that lives beneath the surface of Deep Lake?Read more


Up (2009): Looking Back at Pixar's Remarkable- ... SQUIRREL!

This summer is the fifth anniversary of the theatrical release of Up, and it is standing the test of time as one of Pixar's greats. If it weren't for the "dogfighting" at the end, which took things a bit too far for me (talking dogs — okay, I'll go there, but talking dogs that fly airplanes?), I'd be tempted to call it a masterpiece.

Here's my original commentary on the film, which was originally published at Good Letters, the blog hosted by Image, on July 24, 2009.

NOTE: The following article discusses specific plot details that qualify as "spoilers."

Thirty years ago, I watched Richard Pryor sell some balloons to Gonzo the Great at a county fair.

As Gonzo eyed those colorful helium-filled spheres, Pryor went for the hard sell: “I have guys come in all the time. Sometimes, they'll get a buncha balloons for their girls, and...they go gaga for it.”

Gonzo’s eyes widened. “Gaga?” He grabbed the balloons and, much to his surprise, they carried him skyward. Laughing with wild abandon, the daredevil shouted, “I can see the whole world!”

I wanted to cheer. The Muppet Movie swept this awestruck nine-year-old up out of his simple, earthbound life, and impressed upon him that even the flightless could find ways to fly.

I feel a similar, childlike joy when Carl Fredricksen — the crotchety geezer of Pixar’s new film Up — sends his rickety house up into the clouds. Borne away by a balloon bouquet, Fredricksen’s off for one last adventure.

Fredricksen always dreamed of taking his wife Ellie to Paradise Falls in South America. And we want him to succeed, because the opening scenes of the film have made us care about this grouchy character. Through 20 minutes of near-silent cinema, Pixar’s storytellers give us a crash course in Fredricksen’s history.

We watch their friendship blossom in childhood. Wide-eyed dreamers in pilots’ goggles, they chart a course for adventure together. But their hopes are spoiled again and again — financial troubles, a miscarriage, and a parting that comes too soon.

Fredricksen ends up alone, his dreams fading in their picture frames. That young boy with the goggles and a balloon called “The Spirit of Adventure” has become an old man wearing thick glasses and carrying a cane.

When the threat of a retirement home sends Fredricksen into a balloon-powered escape, he carries what’s left of his life with Ellie along with him. It’s his last attempt to find the world of his boyhood dreams — where the streets have no name, where paradise hasn’t been paved.

It would seem a lonely adventure. But Fredricksen discovers a stowaway: a boy scout named Russell. Russell’s a new incarnation of Karl’s younger, bolder self. He hopes to be a full-fledged Wilderness Explorer. He’s only one merit-badge away from fulfilling that dream. What’s left? “Assisting the elderly.”

Ultimately, Russell’s going to help Karl do more than cross the street. He’s going to help him cross oceans...and an abyss of despair.

For Fredricksen’s house isn’t just a sentimental attachment — it is also a symbol of paralyzing grief. It’s “baggage.” Once he reaches his destination, he drags his airborne house along behind him by a garden hose as if it were the world’s heaviest kite. By contrast, Russell’s backpack is a burden packed with tools he can use to help others.

Put off by heavy human drama? Don’t worry — there are plenty of familiar Lost-World conventions here. A tropical wonderland. Colorful critters. A legendary monster. Anxious escapes from fang-baring beasts. And a madman lurking in the wilderness.

Up embraces these conventions as opportunities for enhancing and embodying its themes, even as it deliver hilarious comedy. As I’ve said about several films from Pixar — Up has much to offer children, but far more to offer adults. We’re so entertained, we don’t realize until afterward that we’ve been exploring difficult questions:

  • How faithful are we in the promises we make?
  • What happens to a boy when his father abandons him?
  • How do we sustain our dreams when life disappoints us?
  • What happens when we shut ourselves off from human community, focused on controlling the world around us?
  • What happens when we open ourselves to the risk of relationship?

Everything at Paradise Falls — from the talking dogs to Kevin the Bird-monster — helps us understand the hearts of our human characters.

Kevin’s more than just an exotic bird. She — yes, she — is trying to get back through the wilderness to her crying babies. Her primal attachment to her chicks reminds us of our own fundamental responsibilities. In trying to help her, Fredricksen and Russell are expressing their own desire for family.

Kevin also asks us to consider how we respond to all that is wild, beautiful, and mysterious in the world. When the adventurers run into Charles Muntz, the legendary explorer who was a hero to Karl and Ellie, we quickly see that there is a right way and a wrong way to respond to mystery. Fredricksen and Russell want to help the bird thrive, but Muntz wants to claim the creature as a trophy to advance his own maniacal ego.

Muntz has a balloon of his own: an ominous, missile-shaped zeppelin. He patrols the wild in search of new conquests for his own exaltation. He’s cut himself off from human community, surrounding himself with obedient dogs. To his troubled visitors, Muntz boasts that he plans to “keep the best for himself.”

During their wild adventures in the air, Fredricksen and Russell are learning how to live exciting lives while earthbound. A relationship becomes their final frontier — one in which sharing makes everything meaningful. At last, Fredricksen can let go of his baggage and fulfill the dreams that he and Ellie shared. Russell finds the father figure he needs—an adult who will succeed where his biological father failed.

Our last glimpse of them — as they play a mundane game on an ordinary street corner—tells us that they don’t need South America anymore. The Spirit of Adventure is alive and well in their friendship.

One might speculate that Up succeeds because of the way it brings these questions to life through story instead of sermonizing. And that’s true.

But I suspect that the film’s levity is also essential to its success. Director Pete Docter and his team have soaring imaginations — not just for narrative, but also for imagery. I suspect they were influenced by the same elevating entertainment that thrilled me as a boy.

I laughed out loud when Russell, baiting the elusive bird out of the jungle, shows Fredricksen the bait that did the trick. “Chocolate?” Fredricksen gasps. The boy brandishes the candy bar in triumph, and declares, “He goes gaga for it!

Aha. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who found lasting inspiration at the sight of a crazy daredevil carried off into the sky by a bundle of balloons.