Star Wars: The Force Awakens

When it was announced that J.J. Abrams would direct and co-write Episode VII of "Star Wars," the mounting pressure on him began. "Star Wars" is one of the most beloved movie franchises of all time and Abrams had astronomical expectations, particularly after the first three episodes were so controversial (and in my opinion, mostly bad). "Star Wars" fans are so protective that they currently have a love/hate relationship with its author, George Lucas, over his lackluster prequels and his decision to modify Episodes IV-VI for little or no reason. This phenomena is chronicled in a great documentary called "The People vs. George Lucas." And to be clear, Han shot first and miti-chlorians are BS.   

But George Lucas was on the sidelines for this round and it was all up to Abrams to invigorate the franchise. And that he did. "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" is so good, in fact, that it didn't have the immediate feel of being a "Star Wars" movie, which all have a delightful campiness to them. But this is partly because Abrams was so effective in revamping "Star Wars" with a new cast of characters for the future. I cannot deny, however, that my favorite aspect of the film was the return of old friends: Hans Solo, Chewbacca, Leia, Luke, and the droids. And how great was it to see the Millenium Falcon again? This intermingling of past and future was a great way to pay homage to the films everyone loves while also moving them forward.

Speaking of homage, it was quite clear that "The Force Awakens" conspicuously modeled itself on "A New Hope." Rey, the new female hero, works with robot parts on a desert planet and has a knack for technology, just like Luke Skywalker. Her planet lives in the shambles of the former Empire---I loved all of the fallen Empire ships and defunct imperial walkers. Rey rescues a droid, which turns out to be a cute, more expressive version of R2D2, with valuable information. She then meets two smugglers named Hans Solo and Chewbacca who help her get to safety. Oh yeah, the new version of the Empire called "The First Order" has constructed a new planetary doomsday device that the rebels have to destroy. Sound familiar? I have to wonder, maybe even hope, that the subsequent movies follow the homage pattern and make versions of "Empire" and "Jedi."

Perhaps the most interesting new character is Finn, a black storm trooper with a conscience who spontaneously joins the rebellion after he saw one too many of his friends killed in battle. While I think his character brings a new perspective into the hero lot, he does raise some questions. In the prequels, we learned that the storm troopers were all clones of Jango Fett. How then did we end up with a black storm trooper? The movie doesn't explain this, so I must assume that The First Order had new recruits or clones. Likewise, never in the history of "Star Wars" has a storm trooper second guessed his place in the Empire or had a moral change of heart. Again, we can only assume that The First Order's cloning or brainwashing protocol is inferior to that of the Empire. 

The best acting in the film belongs to Adam Driver (of HBO's "Girls") who plays Kylo Ren, a fantastic new villain in the making who happens to be the son of Han and Leia. While most "Star Wars" villains are calm and collected, Kylo Ren is very emotional, which will probably cause problems, even redemption, in the future. I must admit that I did breathe a sigh of relief when the movie thankfully did not include idiotic characters like Jar Jar Binx, a sin that George Lucas must consider changing in the future versions of his prequels. You did it once, George, why not again when it really matters? 

Overall, "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" is a great film filled with dazzling special effects, a new yet familiar story, and a cast of new good guys and bad guys for the future. Still, as I said before, this movie lacked the B-movie quality that endeared all of us to "Star Wars." The dialogue wasn't hokey, the acting wasn't unintentionally funny, and, most jarringly, blasters actually killed people. Compare that to the other movies in which a ridiculous barrage of of lasers might kill one person. This isn't your mama's "Star Wars" anymore. While it may take a bit of recalibration for this film to seamlessly morph into the franchise, it was as successful as a reboot can be, especially for something as sacred as Star Wars. Hats off to J.J. Abrams.     

Anomalisa

In Charlie Kaufman's second film, "Anomalisa," Michael Stone, a businessman and noted author, travels to Cincinnati to give a speech at a conference. In the speech, Michael explains his secret to good customer service: "Look for what is special about each individual, focus on that." But the events that take place around Michael's speech make us ponder more deeply about individuality and whether it even exists. How do we perceive individuality? Why do we fall in love with "extraordinary people" but then waiver in our feelings? In a familiar Kaufman theme, we are forced to confront the loneliness created by our emotional whims and the ultimate failure to connect (or reconnect) with others. And did I mention that the entire film, which plumbs the depths of the human condition, is inhabited by stop motion animation puppets? 

The use of puppets is an interesting choice for Kaufman but not totally unprecedented. In "Being John Malkovich," Kaufman posed questions about identity and the desire to control others as puppets in order to satisfy our desires. And control is exactly why Kaufman chose to use puppets; his thematic vision demanded it. Michael inhabits a mundane world in which everyone is insufferably the same. In his view, though they wear different accouterments, every person literally and figuratively shares the same face and voice (all the voices in the film, save two, are played my one man). As Michael lands in Cincinnati, he is haunted by a romantic break-up that occured ten years ago. He checks into a hotel named The Fregoli, which turns out to be one of Kaufman's psychiatric jokes. The Fregoli Delusion is the name of a psychiatric condition in which sufferers believe that all the people around them are really incarnations of just one person, who is tormenting them. While the one person tormenting him seems to be an ex-girlfriend, she is really an emblem of Michael's relationship failures and difficulties achieving lasting intimacy. The one person tormenting Michael is *drum roll* Michael.

Michael is a mopey fellow, a character trait that is noticeable in his posture and countenance. Much of the movie relies on facial expression and small movements, a challenge admirably met by the puppeteers. The facial features and movements are so good, in fact, that "Anomalisa" could easily have worked as a silent movie. At his hotel in Cincinnati, Michael clearly needs a connection, something he's not getting from his wife and family. He calls an ex-girlfriend named Bella and she agrees to meet with him that night. Although Bella seems uneasy about meeting the person who hurt her ten years ago, you can tell that Michael was very important to her and that his exit was extremely damaging. Upon meeting, Bella is very self-conscious and uncomfortable with revisiting her past. After Michael's plan to have a one night stand with Bella becomes apparent, she leaves disillusioned and hurt. Michael then meets two women attending the conference who idolize his business acumen. He pursues one of the women named Lisa, who exhibits a hyper self-consciousness and the self esteem of a teenager. Immediately, Michael comments on how Lisa is so different from everyone else. Physically, she differs from everyone else in the film in that she has a female voice and an individual face compared to a sea of people who look the same. When Lisa asks why he thinks that she is so extraordinary, Michael replies "I don't know yet. It's just obvious to me that you are."

While one can read "Anomalisa" as a positive and beautiful story celebrating individuality and profound connections, I think Kaufman has a more skeptical attitude. Michael's infatuation with Lisa is transient and stems from his emotional needs at the moment. In other words, Kaufman is suggesting that we may be attracted to certain people at certain times under very particular circumstances. There is not one person meant for us because circumstances change. Would Michael have found Lisa so "extraordinary" if he were not so unhappy in his marriage or recently rejected by an ex-flame an hour prior? "Individuality" may be a perception of others instead of inherently existing. Maybe we are all the same until the right circumstances align and fulfill the passing needs of two people.

Michael's attraction to Lisa owes to the fact that she is obtainable because of her low self esteem. Could Michael be rationalizing, even mythologizing his pursuit of an easy target by fooling himself that he has met his soulmate? Remember that Michael had a similar situation with Bella: he loved her but then left abruptly. Lisa and Bella are very similar in that they both lack confidence and fell for Michael's wild promises and overblown emotions. In a way, Michael is trying to re-find past love in his pursuit of Lisa. He wants a brand new yet familiar woman. Michael finally confronts his selfish rationalizations in a dream in which the hotel attempts to provide him with the ultimate "customer service" by hooking him up with employees who idolize his work and want to sleep with him. After all, wasn't it the hotel and Michael's book that brought he and Lisa together?

In the end, "Anomalisa" is not about love or soulmates; it's about the intoxicating emotion of meeting someone new and sharing a passing moment of passion and infatuation. It's about a short lived connection in which, as Michael says, you feel as if you are "the only two people in the world." In reality, Michael's fling with Lisa is more about his own selfishness and exhilaration, a fantasy to escape his everyday boredom. For Kaufman, those small moments are among the only true episodes of happiness that a person can feel because of its all encompassing, irrational nature. That's why Michael immediately fears that the world will conspire to separate he and Lisa.

Eventually, Michael experiences a withdrawal from transient bliss. He begins noticing all of Lisa's imperfections until she gradually becomes like everyone else and returns to the sea of faces. We get the feeling that all of Michael's past loves, including his wife, were once different too, but have sense regressed in his mind to ordinary. Still, as Michael returns home to his humdrum family life and Lisa copes with being used for a one night stand, both reflect that the rejuvenating experience was well-worth the sorrow because it was special and brilliant for a moment. Echoing Kaufman's themes in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," life experience, whether it causes sadness, joy or both, is the meaning of existence because it what makes us who we are, even for a moment. 

The Revenant

As Leonardo DiCaprio traverses the barren American northwest in search of revenge in "The Revenant," one quote continuously percolates in his mind: "As long as you can still grab a breath, you fight. You breathe... keep breathing." This is no easy task, as the film takes place in a desolate tundra teeming with bloodthirsty Indians, mercenary fur trappers, roaming wolves, and, most dangerously, as we find out, grizzly bears. There are many amazing adventure stories in the film canon, but none as profoundly intense, personal, and engrossing as "The Revenant," a feat that stems from the amazing directing of Alejandro González Iñárritu, fresh off his Oscar win for "Birdman." Iñárritu's style is very intimate and constantly weaves cameras in between people, trees, and animals in long unedited shots, which gives a feeling of actually experiencing what the characters are experiencing. He is able to show the vastness of the wilderness while also whittling it down using natural light to create a white out effect for smaller scale scenes. Most importantly, these close range shots highlight both the mental and physical suffering of the characters.

The plot is straightforward yet powerful. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Hugh Glass, a fur trapper on a group expedition somewhere deep in the American northwest. The trapper's camp is ambushed by Indians and a few of the trappers manage to escape into the wilderness. The battle scene between the trappers and Indians is a spectacular portrayal of anarchy, terror, and face to face combat. We are not shown two people fighting from a camera angle far removed from the action. Instead, Iñárritu weaves around the combatants so you can feel every stumble, every gasp for air, and every sharp feeling of pain. As the trappers venture out, Glass stumbles upon two grizzly bear cubs and is subsequently mauled by the protective mother. Again, the bear attack is shot with monstrous intensity, as if the audience were lying on the ground with DiCaprio next to a violent maelstrom. When Glass becomes incapacitated, three men stay behind, including Glass's son, to take care of him until he recovers or dies. When the men disagree on what to do with Glass as he continues to ail, one of the men, John Fitzgerald, ends up killing Glass's son and then tries to abscond. Glass makes a heroic recovery and then seeks revenge against Fitzgerald. 

As expected, Leonardo DiCaprio gives an Oscar-worthy performance. He is an intense actor and perfectly suited for the role. Tom Hardy also gives a noteworthy performance as John Fitzgerald, who is an interesting, if not sympathetic villain. While many villains commit atrocities out of pure evil, Fitzgerald is more a jaded, rational figure who does what he needs to survive. He carries a battle scar on his head from an attempted scalping at the hands of an Indian warrior, an ordeal that undoubtedly taught him a cruel lesson. One interesting contrast between the characters of Glass and Fitzgerald is what each took away from the Native American culture that permeates their world. Fitzgerald carries a harsh savagery with him while Glass learns spirituality, family and a sense of oneness with nature.

"The Revenant" is the best movie of the year. It is an original contribution to American film and boasts bravura directing and superb acting. To be sure, the film is truly a raw experience and can be emotionally draining at times. But, most of all, "The Revenant" is a celebration of the film medium and how it can be used to externalize the emotional innards within a character.  

The Hateful Eight

Quentin Tarantino's last few films have examined, even rewritten, the darker parts of modern history. We saw him create a new and satisfying ending to World War II in "Inglorious Basterds" and then inflict revenge on those who contributed to American slavery in "Django Unchained." In his latest movie, "The Hateful Eight," Tarantino once again revisits history with his sights on the social, political, and economic hardships of post-Civil War America. To this end, he uses a simple plot device to bring together a ragtag group of symbolic characters into a cultural time bomb. Several men from different backgrounds are caught in a blizzard and must take refuge at a country inn called Minnie's Haberdashery. In such close quarters, the men slowly come to realize who their friends and enemies are, and the distinction is minimal. The impending conflict is foreshadowed by Ennio Morricone's truly amazing score, a sinister and fractious piece of music that creates an unsettling suspense.

Kurt Russell plays a bounty hunter named John Ruth who symbolizes true justice. He's known as "The Hangman" because he always delivers his bounties alive so they can be executed in the locality in which they committed the crime. Russell comes dangerously close to chewing the scenery with a John Wayne-style delivery. Interestingly, Ruth is considered the most virtuous part of the cabin despite the fact that he continually and brutally beats up his bounty, a woman named Daisy Domergue. I suppose this is Tarantino's not-so-subtle commentary on the lack of women's' rights on the frontier. While "The Hateful Eight" has the requisite amount of N-words to make it a Tarantino film, the famed director still trades many of them for "bitch," now aimed at Daisy. Samuel L. Jackson plays Major Marquis Warren, a retired union officer who became famous for two things: his cruelty towards "Johnny Reb," and his long distance correspondence with President Abraham Lincoln. In many ways, Major Warren is the most interesting character in the film, one who represents the reality of emancipated slaves after the Civil War. His obvious hatred for white people is palpable. In fact, after taking away the guns of everyone in the cabin, he proudly states, "Only time when black folks are safe is when white folks is disarmed." Later, we find out that Warren's alleged Lincoln letter is a forgery designed to endear himself to white folks by taking advantage of their admiration of the slain president. Indeed, it is telling that Warren had to forge a letter from Lincoln congratulating him on his courage in the war. 

The cabin also hosts Sheriff Chris Mannix, a semi-famous figure because of his father, who headed a post-war rebel army of Confederates who just didn't think surrendering was an option. He speaks of earning "dignity in defeat" and professes the self-serving beliefs that Confederate revisionists would savor for a century: that the war was about honor and state rights. Mannix is in good company with General Sandy Smithers, a famous Confederate general played by Bruce Dern who's living out his days in a world that no longer makes sense to him without slavery. Tim Roth plays Oswaldo Mobray, an English immigrant who serves as the actual hangman for a nearby town. With Tarantino swag, he talks about the difference between frontier and civilized justice, the latter being dispassionate and righteous. Roth gives one of my favorite performances of the film. Michael Madsen plays John Gage, a timid cow-puncher who made some quick money on a ranch and is now visiting his mom for Christmas. Indeed, Tarantino quickly sets the stage for what will surely be a fascinating and bloody coming to terms with America's past. 

The most unexpected aspect of "The Hateful Eight" is that Tarantino totally blows it and takes the story into a silly Agatha Christie murder mystery that ends up being kind of dumb. I have the unfortunate duty of reporting that Tarantino has finally made a disappointing movie, one in which his flowery dialogue, gratuitous violence and childish revenge stories have become woeful and tiresome. He created the mortal sin of dressing up "The Hateful Eight" without anywhere to go. The film gets bogged down in a mystery about a poisoning and barely takes advantage of the cultural dynamic it created. Tarantino has been obsessed with revenge as of late, making films that seek to empower the historically downtrodden, specifically women, Jews and African Americans. Samuel L. Jackson's character has his revenge on the Confederate general but in the stupidest, most infantile way imaginable. The plot devolves into something that is well beneath Tarantino who previously made seven excellent films.    

Since the release of his "Kill Bill" franchise, Quentin Tarantino has continued to make slightly different versions of his Kung-Fu revenge epic, just changing the names of the good and bad guys. It's time for him to move on and create something wholly original, a trait that made him a household name. "The Hateful Eight" is not only lesser Tarantino; it's lazy Tarantino. While watching the film, I couldn't help but think of other great filmmakers who made similarly substandard films. Many auteurs are guilty of at least one or two. A comparative film that repeatedly came to mind was the Cohen brother's remake of "The Ladykillers," a ridiculous gaff by brilliant artists. The Cohen brothers quickly recovered their reputation with one of their best films, "No Country for Old Men." One can only hope that Tarantino makes a similar recovery so he can step into the pantheon again.