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Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)
Victim of the hype machine?
As I was walking home from Sam Raimi's "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" with two friends of mine--one of which is more or less a Marvel fan--we talked about how this one was more of a miss rather than a hit in the MCU's long lore. And while he agreed on the fact that this could've been better, he blamed its flop on the hype.
This is a movie starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Strange--arguably the super-hero with the most creative abilities in the MCU and also the most philosophical. It's directed by Sam Raimi, the mastermind behind the original Spider-Man trilogy and its theme involves multiverse travel. So, yes, of course it was hyped. But were these expectations not justified, especially considering how ingenious the 2016 prequel was? Personally, I think that while hype can raise expectations in the ridiculous, it wasn't the case with this movie. This is simply an average Marvel film. One which stretched its multi-dimensional plot too thin--even for Marvel standards.
Admittedly, while I knew this movie was going to be less than impressive as I have seen some reviews prior to watching it, I really didn't see any issues until the very ending. The only thing I was thinking up until that point was how I was going to rebuke all these critics for not knowing how to have fun again. But the abrupt breaks Raimi decided to stop his run on were so unexpected I was almost shocked. Whether it was studio interference or simply an emergency writing unraveling, I don't know. The point is "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" decided to cut its own cord in a brutal enough manner to sustain quite a bit of damage as if Marvel Studios' great dark shadow was breathing down Raimi's neck.
It's a shame to see such potential simply breeze through the multiverses--literally; especially considering that this movie had a plot twist early on, really building up on itself. P. S. Though--this is the Marvel movie with the best visual effects yet--and that's saying something.
Jackass Forever (2022)
Jackass assemble!
As I looked at the increasingly insane scenarios these daredevils keep putting themselves through I slowly but surely came to the realization that this is a great movie. Greatness is bound to no rulebook except execution, it can take any form possible. Even if that form means having a penis-monster ejaculate all over a miniature version of the cast, plus Tony Hawk coz why not?
The exact moment I realized this is great is when I saw the risks these men--and a woman--are taking, the physical tolls this puts on them and how blatantly they laugh in the face of doom--whether that doom is a hungry bear or a testosterone-fueled bull. That being said, these real-life avengers all have their roles, some more honorable than others.
Knoxville is their Tony Stark or Captain America--but he fits the personality of the former more--as he has the ideas which sometimes go unannounced to his team in the form of pranks. Chris Pontius is the silent lieutenant, always on the giving end of things, whose charm and weird, transsexual attire paint him as almost an outside observer, or an evil mastermind if you will, as I can't help but think that most of these gauntlets are his ideas, believable considering he has a writing background.
But if you thought Steve-O was going to take the worst of hits, it's actually Danger Ehren--whose nickname is more than adequate--who I will remember the most for a particular scene involving himself tied to a chair with honey and meat all over him and a bear let loose. You can feel genuine fear on his face especially at the end of the scene when the bear started to bite at his hand and the bear-handler had to get in quickly. It gives me an idea of how these invincible titans of dumb laughs feel their youth stripping away from them so they'd better have no regrets.
But there's more than just the risks they take that make Jackass stand out more than Evil Knievel on a motorcycle; is how conceptual they make each of their stunts. Take, for instance, the scene in which they launch Johnny tens of feet into the air from a cannon reminiscent of old circus traditions. The scene is not about them launching Knoxville into the air. It's about the rise of Icarus, who rose up too fast and too high and suddenly fell to the ground. We even have a theatrical intro, told by the ever-flamboyant Pontius. Johnny is even dressed the part--wings included. As he reaches the peak of his height, in the midst of what is about to be a scary fall, he doesn't forget to literally spread his wings.
It's these little details which amount to great execution in any form of art known or yet unknown to man. In one of the final scenes, we are even treated to an actual accident as Knoxville gets a broken neck from being hit by an angry bull. You know it's real when even Steve-O stated that "not even in my darkest days" would he get in that bull pit. The danger of the stunt proves how much respect Johnny has for his crew. Like a military commander, he wouldn't make his soldiers do anything he wouldn't do and they give him mutual respect in return. And again, Knoxville was dressed as a magician performing a trick, at no point did he involve the bull in his presentation. At the end as he came out of the hospital his first concern was whether his little magic trick looked good on camera.
The level of the danger and risks these aging yet forever young pain addicts undertake here is what both excite and worry me. So, don't feel guilty vicariously watching them unravel as this might be one of the very last times you will witness them before they fade into oblivion.
The Power of the Dog (2021)
The power of the underdog
Phil Burbank is a methodical and ruthless genius. His tongue cuts deep into anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. His words are chosen carefully yet effortlessly, built to dismantle and subdue those who would have the smallest chance of standing in his way. He is as smart as he is disgusting. And, he is Benedict Cumberbatch's best performance of his career.
Taking the lead role of the charismatic rancher confirms the actor's sarcastic wit is not specific only to his recurring Dr. Strange in the MCU, but rather is part of his own talent. This sarcasm might as well become his shtick, having the potential to grow unless he does a Nicholas Cage and binge-picks everything thrown at him.
But let's not get derailed.
"The Power of the Dog" could only be directed by a woman. Its perfect pace could only be designed by a feminine touch. Jane Campion unravels two hours of sustained tension which go on subdued for as long as possible. This is a patient movie, one which treats its characters with respect and gives a lot of time to their thoughts to manifest not necessarily into words, but more into actions.
This drama contains many revelations among its ensemble cast which complement each other in flawless fashion. Take the two brothers, Phil and George Burbank (Jesse Plemons), the former a well-educated but now high-society despising rugged cowhand of the land, and the latter a more feminist white collar gentleman marrying a weeping widow which Phil hates and brings her to the brink of self-destruction and step-fathering her emasculated, shy son which is perfect cannon fodder for Phil--you slowly get the picture which is just brimming with conflict and spectacular drama.
This is where the movie shines, though. It has the rare ability of resisting operatic drama, keeping its emotions and animosities subdued, yet still keeping them blunt. It's a testament to the focused skill of its director/writer who repays attentive viewing constantly, especially at the end.
Speaking of attentive viewing, it's nowhere near the level of Nolan's intimidating contraptions or David Lynch's trolling in the likes of "Mulholland Dr." This simply demands that the viewer stays put as it eventually wraps itself around to its opening line almost too good to be true: "When my father passed, I wanted nothing more than my mother's happiness. For what kind of man would I be if I did not help my mother? If I did not save her?"
The ambiguous line is made completely clear by the end. I never thought something as abstract as balance could be so satisfying.
The Batman (2022)
The most beautiful Batman movie ever made
Let's get this out of the way first: "The Batman" is not a fun movie to watch. That doesn't mean it's bad. But it does take itself really seriously. Which it should, when your main character is brooding 24/7. It seems director Matt Reeves finally made a movie which I feel the caped crusader himself would watch.
Timing out at just short of 3 hours, "The Batman" is like the ultimate anti-Marvel formula. It avoids creating gaps for comedic timings, and--despite still being a blockbuster--it's not afraid of having a bigger focus on a complex detective plot. For many, including myself, this modern noire style is an approach long overdue for the dark knight himself. A dark knight which is at his most scariest version.
Casting urban emo vampire Robert Pattinson as the titular character created a dark knight which inspires hope as much as it does hopelessness. Whenever he joins a scene, Academy Award winning Michael Giacchino's score lands immediately. It is loud, unescapable and monumental showcasing the inevitability of the fate of whoever is foolish enough to stand in the dark knight's way. That being said, this is the most beautiful Batman movie I've ever seen. Greig Fraser's cinematography plasters a dramatic visual tone over the entire thing. It is sad but hopeful.
But going back to the Bat--or better--Bruce Wayne, he has to be the most distant implementation of the playboy billionaire we've had yet--I wouldn't even call him "playboy". Unlike in other movies, in which Wayne starts James Bond-flirting and is strong enough to flex his money to reduce suspicions, Pattinson's Wayne is a man of few--albeit striking--words, both in and out of costume. He truly is far gone, a tortured soul reminiscent of Pattinson's "Twilight" years--except this time it's actually good. Speaking of flirting, Zoë Kravitz's Catwoman is carrying her own emotional weight as well. So much so, that when she and Batman share a kiss, it doesn't even feel like pleasure, but more like a painkiller.
Indeed, pain seems to be the weight Reeves is placing on his characters. It is something necessary for his overly serious approach to work. There has to be enough drama to justify all this movie's depressing tendencies. Speaking of which, Paul Dano's Riddler is about as blunt as mental disorders can get. His performance is a career highlight, one which inspires fear, despise and even empathy.
"The Batman" is almost too long--almost. Its complex plot which seems to thicken more as it unveils more of its secrets is worthy of a detective story. It often contains montages of visual and poetic acuities and while not all its revelations are as shocking as they want to be, they are all worthy of your time--yes, the entire three hours.
Don't Look Up (2021)
Adam McKay is a bad boy
Adam McKay--and his movies by extension--are tough guys. He is the type of director who believes a heavy and preachy hand gets the job done. But for such a leftist progressive movie like "Don't Look Up" this is pretty conservative, not to mention ironic.
Don't get me wrong, the targets for his film's ruthless coldness totally deserve it. Take 2018's "Vice", in which Iraq War architect Dick Cheney is undramatically stricken with a heart attack now and then; or his best movie yet, "The Big Short" which is only that good because he has no shortage of targets: big banks, big businesses and even us who were not careful enough to think twice before how we go about buying a house or even investing in real estate.
In "Don't Look Up" the target is ignorance itself. Whether that is represented through media, pop superstars or absurdist conspiracy theorists it doesn't matter. What matters is the strange way in which he deals with right and wrong. Half of the characters--like US President Orlean (Meryl Streep) and her Chief of Staff son Jason (Jonah Hill), not to mention tech mogul Peter Isherwell (Mark Rylance) are so ridiculous that you'd think they came out of an Adam Sandler movie. I get this is McKay's way of pointing out ignorance but it just comes out as leftist propaganda.
This exaggerated antithetic approach gets its point across on the surface, but lacks insight. For McKay, the best way to express political and social ignorance is by making fools out of the culprits instead of deconstructing their arguments through clever writing or self-destruction. It is, indeed, very propagandistic.
In the end, "Don't Look Up" brutally scratches the entire surface of the rise of pseudo-science, misinformation and even absurdist shamanism that attempts to thwart science back into the Stone Ages and as a wake-up call I couldn't agree more with it. Yet its revolutionary stance does nothing to help the artform condemning this movie's praise to be reduced to a great example in social ignorance.
It's a central wake-up call from a social point of view, but nothing more than a glorified anti-misinformation campaign from an artistic point of view.
Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)
Your friendly neighborhood therapist
As I went to the cinema to see Marvel and Jon Watts' third installment of Tom Holland's teenage Spider-Man we had the usual discussion about the differences between a Marvel movie and everything else. And while I had, in the back of my head, Scorsese's claims that Marvel movies are nothing more than entertainment--a claim which I still think is a bit too harsh--we both agreed that this giant's agenda does not contain artistic ambitions--at least not at the expense of the entertainment.
Our disagreements came at the statement on whether we consider "funny" and "entertaining" enough to produce a great movie--while I believe these are positive traits, they can only do so much and can rarely reach greatness. He scuffed at my pretentions and said: "Marvel knows how to make feel-good movies"--I was almost jealous at how good he put it. This is as straight-forward and as blunt as it gets.
So, while "Spider-Man: No Way Home" is not much more than entertainment, it's top quality entertainment: calculated, sprinkled with Marvel's trademark humor which is often placed among the darkest of situations yet somehow never seeming out-of-place. But these are all generic characteristics, fitting of most Marvel films. What really makes this particular movie stand out, though, is its ability to shift seamlessly from joy to agony, from achievement to loss and from celebration to tragedy. Towards its ending, it moved me more than most Marvel movies did and it contained more morality than I expected.
In a way, despite its economic approach--not to mention the silly way in which the plot was catalyzed--this movie reminded me of the late Stan Lee's emotional wisdom when he created this universe. As Spider-Man learns what it means to be a hero, so do we, as an audience, get a refresher on the importance of sacrifice and forgiveness. Here, for instance, the villains are viewed through very different eyes. In the interest of not spoiling, I will draw a social parallel towards mental health--and the patience and understanding the long-sufferers of these conditions require from the rest of us. Here, Tom Holland's Peter Parker acts as a therapist of sorts, a social idealist whose fixation on second chances almost rivals that of Batman's own no-killing-permitted moral code.
The second half of "Spider-Man: No Way Home", which encompassed tragedy, showed me a side of Marvel which I haven't seen since "Infinity War". It is made of moments when even the wittiest of jokes know to step aside so that the movie's hero can grow. It's only a shame that Marvel is too good at pure-blood entertainment--not to mention it makes them too much money--to ever consider attempting anything more.
Dune: Part One (2021)
Revolution in the air
Denis Villeneuve is a genius.
What I mean by that is, in fact, not reflected in "Arrival" which is his best feature film yet. The genius of Villeneuve is not in his ability to make great movies, but in his cunning which he uses to mask all his projects into potential masterpieces. "Dune" is so magnanimous in its presentation and ambition that I almost did not see its political ramifications and social standards--not to mention its flaws.
From the very start, Villeneuve and cinematographer Greig Fraser--who worked on other showers like "Rogue One" and "Zero Dark Thirty"--form a lethal duo and their mission is to sell you this movie as the herald of what might be this Century's own Star Wars Trilogy. This is completely delusional and highly unlikely, although it's admittedly too early to tell. At the beginning, "Dune" behaves like a slideshow, passing through its heroes and villains, manifesting its visual acuity in order to impress and to force the viewer to sink his/her head in its lore which has popular culture ambition. This is impressive and intimidating, but also leaves a dry taste and it stops being impressive after it sinks in.
Eventually, "Dune" finally shows its teeth in its social views which are predominantly populist and leftist, but also highly Islamophilic. But this is a science-fiction picture so it has blockbuster potential. Villeneuve is aware of that, so he made sure not to get too philosophical or insistent--he has no intention of becoming a Hollywood martyr and has no obligation to do so.
Even so, there is a sense of revolution in the air. It's all contained in the old story of the American colonist falling in love with the indigenous world he was sent by the powers that be to destroy and conquer, therefore rebelling against the said powers. Here, the American colonist is the young prince Paul (Timothée Chalamet) to the noble family Atreides; the indigenous world is the plum planet Arrakis which contains the most valuable asset in the galaxy, known as spice--a drug that extends life and enhances mental abilities, also used in space navigation; and the powers that be are all encompassed in the mysterious Empire whose so-called emperor makes all the decisions.
But while "Dune" follows this recipe to perfection, its hero is never alone. Paul is most of the time in the company of his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) although their relation--at least in this first third of the trilogy--doesn't get much beyond the stage of the rebellious teen hating his mother only because it's a phase. There is more to them than that, but not much effort is made here.
"Dune", in the right hands, could be the big machine's greatest nightmare--a sprawl of socialist subliminal messages while being far from idealistic and closer towards reality. Yet I doubt that is the direction is going to take here. It's too valuable from a financial standpoint to ever be put in the proper hands and while as a blockbuster Villeneuve is more than qualified to handle it, I am afraid is set to become the very thing it's fighting against.
Schumacher (2021)
Safe and sound
I think more than a month passed since I watched this documentary. The reason for waiting that much to write this review is because there really isn't much that this documentary covers that isn't already well known about the F1 legend. It is more of a celebration of the man than a characterization.
I am of course not saying that the man doesn't deserve all the praise he gets. He is a 7-time Formula 1 world champion, with 5 consecutive titles from 2000 to 2004. And while his many records are slowly being overtaken by the now maverick Lewis Hamilton there is no doubt he is part of motorsport history--a legend. His success only makes the tragic skiing accident which rendered him in an unfortunate state all the more regretful.
Yet this documentary strays away from focusing on that. Michael is nowhere to be seen except from stock and archive footage. As his wife Corinna states: "Michael protected us so now it's time for us to protect him". This obviously makes absolute sense from a personal point of view, yet the artform suffers. I know I sound cold, but art demands sacrifices and this documentary's linear presentation of his various successes on the track only serves as a reminder to let people know he is still alive and fighting. While this is a noble calling, it serves no insight into the personal life of the man except perhaps telling us that he loved to party and also loves his family.
All of the above are beautiful things and it is nonetheless a real struggle for me to dislike Netflix's work. But this secrecy--which again, makes absolute sense--serves no artistic purpose. This is a slideshow of safe and mostly well known information. But I will say this: if there's anyone who has earned to be immortalized on our screen doors, that person is Michael Schumacher--now if only the cold cinephile in me would like this celebration more.
Superbad (2007)
Spitting bars
The intrinsic beauty of Greg Mottola's "Superbad" is its flow, a movie paced like a hip-hop track, one whose lines--written in a semi-biopic way by funnymen Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg--are delivered with verbal atrocity and cool rigor making this one of the funniest movies ever.
It's a movie which cheats in sustaining excellence by lining up hectic events after hectic events. It all starts when two co-dependent high school seniors--Seth and Evan, whom the writers named after themselves, played by Jonah Hill and Michael Cera respectively--plan to go all out at their final graduation party. How? By providing the booze. But guess what? They're underage. So they convince another buddy of theirs, Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) to get a fake ID and be the buyer. You can see where this is going. From here on now, chaos ensues. Chaos which I will not spoil because this movie is worth seeing for oneself.
What I will discuss, though, is the element which ties it all together and keeps the ride bumpy but also interesting--the chemistry between Seth and Evan. Evan got into Dartmouth College, he is more of an introvert, a guy who doesn't pick fights and just wants to have a good time. And then there's Seth. He is an eclectic, energetic mastermind who does most of the brainwork. They both want the same thing but is the difference in their approach that keeps this fresh.
I don't know how much of themselves writers Rogen and Goldberg poured into these two characters, but they are outcasts. And while Evan looks like he's at the acceptance stage of his societal situation, Seth's fervor is unquenchable. So much so, in fact, that he is willing to steal to get his way. It's peer pressure put on himself, by himself. The way Rogen and Goldberg succumb their characters into troubles brought on by adolescent woes only makes their comeback more triumphant.
But is this a coming of age movie? I don't think so. It's too brief and too funny for that. Besides the many existential questions brought on with maturity, the movie is also more bothered to make fun of itself in an attempt at peer recognition. Of course, there's nothing wrong with that because it works--I laughed and now I think Seth and Evan are cool.
Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
Virtuoso
"Kill Bill: Vol. 1" finds its director Quentin Tarantino weaving his stylized action with such a mastery that anyone whose eyebrows aren't too high up couldn't help but be in awe. This is blood, gore, violence and sex uplifted to an artform. More than separate stylization, style its embedded in this picture to the point where it becomes inseparable from its plot. This is a director who is not afraid of using his power and making his spot. Tarantino movies are obvious on who is directing them, this more than any of them.
The movie is filled with characters virtuously crafted with a freedom which dares to challenge the standard norms of storytelling and progression. Describing its locations and people would make one succumb to poetry not necessarily because of their beauty but rather because of their details. Consider the final confrontation which takes place in a Japanese garden. There is a traditional Japanese fountain from which water constantly flows and during the tense pause, our attention is drawn to it and its rhythmic sound materializes the pace.
Consider the plot: after awakening from a four-year coma, a former assassin known only as The Bride (Uma Thurman) wreaks vengeance on the team of assassins who betrayed her. Despite being left for dead in a pool of blood, she survives. The first scene, pictured in black and white, has her laying on her back covered in an all too picturesque blood. The gruesomeness in some of these scenes is so beautifully crafted and written in such a sexy manner that I almost felt guilty for admiring it too much.
The plot then doesn't bother too much about making too much sense. The Bride gets revenge. That's about it. On that purpose, she easily travels from a comatose American hospital to Japan for her first target: mob boss O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu). The story of her upbringing is a tragic one. This is one reason why Tarantino decided to film it in anime. Witnessing the death of her parents at the mob to only then get her revenge and her first kill at 11. While you still feel the tragedy, the style prevents you from weeping and, instead, crafts an admiration in the viewer's mind towards her.
This sneaky feminism--despite unraveling in front of our very eyes--goes almost unnoticed under the sprites of blood. But before accusing Tarantino of being all style no substance, he made sure to drag these ladies through hellish ordeals, and gave them a look and aura which emanates his trademark dangerous stance they pose. The most obvious is O-Ren's protégé, the 17-year old Gogo Yubari (Chiaki Kuriyama) who doesn't flinch for a second when she spilled the guts of a rich snob who wanted to have sex with her. "It is me who is penetrating you" she says as he dies. Her schoolgirl uniform combined with the array of wacky melee weapons she uses makes her an in-and-out anime character brought to life--with all the coolness that entails.
No doubt, the 4th film by Quentin Tarantino is made by a director/writer who sees miles ahead in front of him. He is in full control of his universe yet this never feels compulsive because of what a wacky, emotionless and ridiculous universe it is. If he were to play the violin, this is not an operatic part, but rather an avant-garde piece of solo bravado from a rock-n-roll song.
Idiocracy (2006)
Exercise in frustration
In a very strange and especially worrying way, Mike Judge's "Idiocracy" sends its point across. Please, read books, learn, don't let us become this. You can start with this review.
Another in the what-if category, "Idiocracy" points out that five Centuries from now on, the world will be dominated by subpar intelligent people for the simple reason they reproduce faster. The first shot is of a couple who are way into the 3-digit IQ's and are overthinking whether they should have a child in this "economic climate" and not soon after we are told the husband died to add to the pile. Antithetically, 2-digit IQ's are spreading in more ways than one.
Of course, it annoys me that "Idiocracy" limits intelligence to how high your IQ is, but the point is clear and blunt. The post-apocalyptic world it creates is as scary as it is impressive in its design. This garbage-addled realm of infinite pollution and urban decay all-covered in cheap commercial-inspired graffiti and cyberpunk machines is where Private Joe Bauers (Luke Wilson) wakes up to after being subdued to a top-secret government hibernation program and being forgotten.
It's quite the shock to comprehend a reality in which everyone you ever known it's long gone but that's where "Idiocracy's" insight stops. What follows is a run-of-the-mill adventure whose details--really--are irrelevant. The movie quickly gets its point out of the way and for most of its runtime is confusing comedy with frustration. The potential that was wasted there even adds to it.
In the end, "Idiocracy" is more annoying than noble. It presents its case in a very blunt albeit simplistic manner which is made worse by Wilson's boring nice-guy persona.
Contact (1997)
Religion. Science. Politics
Robert Zemeckis' "Contact" can be a very flawed movie if you want it to be. Yet it avoids accruing any critics from my side because of how daring it is. It finds itself at the universal crossroads between science, religion and politics. Other movies have been there as well but no other has put the question so bluntly: "Do you believe in God?"--if yes, why and if not why not?
It is ambitious, pretentious, it engages existential questions without worrying too much about how logically absurd it is. This is why most people would hate it, but it is exactly why I love it so much. It contains many panoramic frames, but unlike other movies is not trying to show just how small we are, but rather it wants to contain everything--from a field of radars, to a sci-fi machine and space itself.
Movies like "Contact" rarely succeed, but when they do their due is usually great. Zemeckis knew that Carl Sagan's novel takes place in almost a parallel universe so he has no issues with adapting logic to its own benefit. If the message is insightful and powerful enough, the result is a masterpiece, if not, is a laughable dud. Luckily, "Contact" insists on many taboo themes and does them well enough to come out on top.
Each character is well-defined and have very flushed out principles. From Doctor Ellie Arroway (Jodie Foster) the secular scientist who makes finding life on other planets an obsession more than a job to religious author Palmer Joss (Matthew McConaughey) carrying the flag of belief and able to appear almost everywhere for some reason and to opportunist David Drumlin (Tom Skerritt) who is a good guy, but doesn't flinch when the moment arises. In a way, he wants the same thing that Ellie does, yet he lacks Ellie's emotional wisdom. Her love for the stars is perhaps a result of her mother's early death; deep down is her she is really searching for.
In the end, "Contact" doesn't answer any questions about life on another planets, but that is because Sagan's reliance on science and its lack of facts regarding spacefaring--any answers who could've been given are hypothetical at best. Instead, "Contact" focuses on emotional reactions, reactionary beliefs and both rational and spiritual experiences. The love Sagan shows to both secularism and faith is what made this movie earn my respect.
Nomadland (2020)
On the road again
Chloé Zhao's "Nomadland" is a movie built on subtlety. It is a sneaky report of institutional injustice towards the lower-to-middle class, labor unions and a person's very soul. The link between its fragility and brutal realism relies in its lead character, Fern, portrayed by the everblooming Frances McDormand whose personality only seems to grow with age.
A woman in her sixties, Fern, after losing everything in the Great Recession, embarks on a journey through the American West, living as a van-dwelling modern-day nomad. They are like modern explorers, except there is nothing left to explore on the outside, this exhibition being more about a person's inside. Fern is a strong woman--the type of characters fitting McDormand perfectly--but she suffered great loss and she feels like she doesn't belong anywhere. It is why she refuses any opportunity to sleep under a roof with friends and family who will gladly have her. She lives in a van.
In that aspect she is joined by actual real-life nomads led by the charismatic Bob Wells. Each of them feel like they are home on screen, this is because Zhao simply filmed them in their environment. Fern's interaction with each one of them feels like a documentary while not getting to factual as to negate emotional wisdom. As we watch we see that each of them were hard-working women and men--there is even a Vietnam war veteran. Therefore you cannot help but ask--how did they come to this? The answer is stuck somewhere around trickle-down economics and political abuse.
Some of the most powerful moments in this movie come from the life experiences of these people especially Bob Wells. His voice is as charismatic as he is, a homemade life philosopher who never passes as a cult leader, but as an actual wise consultant. His optimism is from experience. "One of the things I love most about this life is that there's no final goodbye" he says in a warm tone. It's the hope in the desert and the meaning of the constant scenes of desolate roads which also denote a natural beauty well known but not well experienced.
Not only her power, but Fern also earns respect through her dedication to her husband. After he passed away, she had a chance at love again, but she reluctantly and elegantly refused. Subtle in its power, meaning and message yet not to a subliminal level, "Nomadland" finds director Chloé Zhao at her most focused.
Mank (2020)
Smart, and knows it
No, I don't mean the lead character, genius screenwriter Herman Jacob "Mank" Mankiewicz--although it fits him the same--but Fincher's very movie. This film throws its English degree in your face and if you can't handle its rainfall then you shall be doomed to frustration.
In any case, though, frustration arises. Depicting the arduous and chaotic process that is the writing of the script for "Citizen Kane" made Fincher rub off the movie's attitude by slicing "Mank" into various pieces not necessarily in chronological order. It feels pretentious and exaggerated. Herman J. Mankiewicz is no Charles Foster Kane and, respectfully, Gary Oldman is no Orson Welles (although his performance arises to the man's depiction of Kane). This ambitious undertaking is still the movie throwing its smarts around, the only problem is that here it fails.
But everything is not chaos, not even close. The movie's main plot line involves Mank isolated at North Verde Ranch in Victorville, California recovering from a broken leg sustained in a car crash. There, Welles has removed any distractions including Mank's favorite poison, alcohol so that he may create arguably the greatest scrip ever written. Over arguments with his secretary, Rita Alexander to which he dictates the script, we also see clips of his past life, slowly, methodically and surely understanding how he became to be in that position.
Between alcohol and his platonic relationships, Mank rubs shoulders with Hollywood made men of the golden age like Louis B. Mayer, Irving Thalberg and William Randolph Hearst. Fincher is well aware of the moment in Hollywood he is capturing. The movie has a Hitchcockian feel to it, its jazz-inspired style, cabaret-paced bebop speed encapsulates the business model of Hollywood and the importance of literary men to make it work. A particular scene in which the likes of David O. Selznick and Ben Hecht all introduce themselves to the screen a-la Scorsese carries quite the gravitas.
"Mank" contains multitudes, so many in fact that they disrupt the main story of the ramshackle genius that is its title character. Yet by the end, it all comes together. Especially Mank's heartbreaking yet beautiful confession on his obsession with alcohol which also brought him his end: "I seem to become more and more of a rat in a trap of my own construction, a trap that I regularly repair whenever there seems to be danger of some opening that will enable me to escape. I haven't decided yet about making it bomb proof. It would seem to involve a lot of unnecessary labor and expense".
Crip Camp (2020)
Not all heroes wear capes
While executive-produced by the Obamas, to think that the tragedy this documentary unravels--which is the everyday struggle of disabled people--is dramatized out of proportion would be a careless prejudice. This is focused strictly on the facts and the decades that these facts spawn across.
That doesn't mean that Netflix straight up ignores the details of these disabilities. The people depicted are all very candid about their various situations, but instead of finding a shoulder to cry on, they are viewed for what they actually are--heroes, paragons of success. A lot of them go into vivid stories about their sexuality--yes, of course they are sexually active!
The documentary starts with the spark which ignited a landmark movement which forever changed the US Constitution--and the entire world's for that matter--when it comes to Civil Rights for disabled people. Jened was homemade--it had people with no background into caring for the disabled, yet it contained something more powerful. It allowed them to be themselves. They were everywhere. Their own world, their own normality encapsulated by the bigger unsuspecting world. This was the key which gave birth to an idea--that this bubble should pop all over the world, that when given the opportunity to express themselves, disabled people have at least as much to offer to the world as the rest of us, that they are more human than the world ever knows.
From the existential theme at Jened, the documentary then fasts-forward over decades ensuing a historical fight. It boldly depicts leader Judith Heumann as a well-deserving comparison to Martin Luther King Jr. Yet the most iconic moments are contained in the Herculean efforts these people pulled when they spent days partaking in a hunger strike for their rights--a determination that few people--not to mention disabled--have.
The amount of time and list of US presidents this documentary burns through showed mercilessly how slow, inapt and opaque politics can get. Yet the fact that these people saw it through goes to show that not all heroes wear capes... some can't even stand up on their own two feet.
My Octopus Teacher (2020)
Lo and behold
When taking an overview of Netflix's original documentary "My Octopus Teacher" it was difficult not to think of it as nothing more than a glorified daytime TV documentary--albeit one that is filmed in glorious 4K as the streaming service has a habit of cutting no corners when it comes to presentation. I mean, how could I not think of it? It is literally about a marine biologist doing his job.
This marine biologist, though is Craig Foster--founder of The Sea Change Project and discoverer of no less than eight new species of shrimp--one of those named after him. Despite being a documentary, "My Octopus Teacher" is also very focused on its singular subject of marine exploration. All we know is that Foster had gone through a period of crisis in his life without going into details what was it about. It is respectful from Netflix to focus strictly on his healing process. This is where his love for marine exploration is rekindled.
The fascinating thing about Foster and arguably what makes him such an efficient marine biologist is that his main purpose is not scientific but personal. He swims without a scuba tank or a swimsuit so that he is more like an amphibious animal. As corny as he can be alongside the soundtrack, when it's accompanied by some of the most alien-looking underwater photographs anyone has ever captured and the amount of physical effort he succumbs himself to you cannot help but admire.
It is also carried forward by his vivid and candid descriptions: "What's so amazing about this environment is you're in a three-dimensional forest; you could jump off the top, go anywhere you want--you're flying, basically". These are only the first 10 minutes. The pace picks up once Foster meets the ominous octopus. The relationship that develops between himself and this animal unravels in unimaginable ways. It is almost scripted, with him being there for "about 80%" of the female octopus' life. He witnesses her as she goes about her day--sometimes even visiting her during night as octopuses are nocturnal--and even as she was giving birth.
One of the most visceral moments are those in which she is hunted by predators as Foster was trying his best not to intervene with the natural course of nature. As fascinating it is to watch their connection, its greatest achievement is the realization of the physical and emotional depth that is possible when the means is driven by instinct. The philosophy of the octopus is like a parable for Foster's own life and his relationship with his son which is apparently getting better due to his underwater interactions with this creature. Lo and behold.
Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult (1994)
Still naked
David Zucker's closing film in his wacky-races-inspired Naked Gun Trilogy based on his TV show lacks the freshness of the first movie and the elegance of the second, but it still offers the same laughs, gigs and gags.
The movie's attitude is seen in the title. This is "the final insult" as in the final joke of a movie in this trilogy. He doesn't see his movies as art, I bet he doesn't even feel like the series deserve to step in the glamourous, pretentious and potentially artsy world of the cinema. But The Naked Gun did that anyway and it propels its insult to Hollywood's HQ--The Academy Awards. The movie sees Frank Drebin (Leslie Nielsen) coming out of retirement to help Police Squad infiltrate a gang of terrorists planning to detonate a bomb at the aforementioned Awards.
The parody of the Oscars is subtle, safe but really efficient and tries not to miss any opportunity from describing each best actress nominee as "a women's struggles against" something to hyping up a Mother Teresa musical. It's all effective and all in good fun.
Whatever the Zuckers thought "The Naked Gun" should or should not achieve in cinema--if they even had any expectations--I will tell you the series is overall a success. Why? Again, because I laughed. A lot.
The Naked Gun 2½: The Smell of Fear (1991)
Drebin... Frank Drebin
The accidental noir theme of the sequel to a movie which you didn't expect to have one is what gives it a smooth edge. That being said, while David Zucker and his crew of mischievous machinists are again tackling socio-political issues--here being about environmentalism--make no mistake, this movie still doesn't give a squat about social commentary and, like before, spews looney-tunes inspired gags at every chance it's got.
In order to not repeat and plagiarize myself, I will mention the plot, which is the only thing different in this movie--while still being as unimportant as ever--Lieutenant Frank Drebin (Leslie Nielsen) discovers that his ex-girlfriend's new beau is involved in a plot to kidnap a scientist who advocates solar energy. The edge here comes from the presentation. Robert Goulet's own Quentin Hapsburg is an egomaniacal shell, a man who spawns the charm of Alain Delon and the perfect moustache to look the part of a Bond villain--but the looking is where it stops. But in a movie like this, insight feels like it would get in the way of its glorious stupidity.
This is stupidity done with smarts, as it is elevated to an art form here. The dialogue is dumb, characters would often completely forget their chain of thought and get lost in phonetic confusion and just as they got back on track surreal moments based on what could only be pure instinct would unravel sometimes in front of our very eyes, but also in the background--it's worth paying attention otherwise you would miss some great laughs.
If you did, though, don't fret as laughs are a-plenty. Despite spewing a noir theme and spawning more formal attire than usual, really the only thing to say about such raw comedy is whether you laughed or not. Well, yes, I did. A lot.
Control (2007)
Love tore him apart
Ian Curtis had suffered more than any man should. Like most depressives, he was difficult to be understood by those around him. A teenager living in a Manchester suburbia turned post-punk rocker--lead singer/songwriter for the now infamous Joy Division--married at a young age, father to a child and dead by hanging at 23.
Despite "Control" being made by the stunning music video director and photographer Anton Corbijn, and inspired by the memoir "Touching From a Distance" who was written by his widow Debbie--who also found the body--there is a feeling of distance and isolation to the character. Perhaps his way of keeping people aside was his greatest legacy. Alienation and mystery elevated to an art form without him even trying.
Pretty-boy newcomer Sam Riley also portrays him in a very passive way. His performance might seem effortless, but there is a subdued discipline involved. He is economic with words, the entire movie seemingly happening around him almost independently of whatever he was doing--and let's not forget he is the main character. I am tempted to praise Corbijn for this touch but I feel it came natural given Curtis' absentee nature.
But let's just make this clear--his character is not underdeveloped--on the contrary, Corbijn and Riley fully embrace the enigma of a man who, as this movie efficiently showed us--was not that complicated. He married young, like any teenager swooped by adolescent love. So, it was not surprising when he fell for a Belgian journalist who came to interview the band. Annik Honore (Alexandra Maria Lara) is only there to be his mistress. But she doesn't need to be anything more. Curtis had one of those rare qualities you find in people that they can impress simply by being in your presence--an aura of fascination personified again brilliantly in Riley's subdued discipline.
Love tore him apart. He loved both Debbie and Annik. His inability to choose might've been due to his young age yet due to his depressive nature he gave away an illusion of wisdom beyond his years. Don't get me wrong--the man was a genius. Too smart for his own good, yet he pushed life too far and too fast and soon enough life pushed back. In one particular scene, Annik asked him what everyone was wondering: "I don't feel like I know you". She then proceeded to ask him what his favorite movie was to which he responded with "The Sound of Music" to her surprise--not to mine, though. It was so apparent that Curtis did not care for the rock'n'roll life. He was a simple man who loved music so of course that movie would seem appropriate. He hated playing for the people, debauchery bored him and his "epilepsy dance" wasn't as much of a rock statement as it was him embracing the aforementioned condition of which he suffered heavily from in confusion.
In the end, I must confess that Joy Division was a band I respected more than I actually loved. Their first album was good and a great introduction to rock's potential of catharsis and introspection, yet I loved their second one more. In both, though, Curtis manifested pieces of himself through minimalistic lyrics and his tragic suicide only serves to accelerate their and the band's legendary status.
The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! (1988)
Pure comedy
In order to properly criticize David Zucker's "The Naked Gun" you must first understand that picking on the hastily written superficial plot would be missing the point. The plot can be whatever it wants to be. This movie is about sticking as many slapstick set-pieces as humanly possible in every single frame and every single moment. It's live-action Looney Tunes.
But still, what is it about? Well, it's about the incompetent and delusional police Detective Frank Drebin (Leslie Nielsen) who must foil an attempt to assassinate Queen Elizabeth II. Take a time to absorb the last half of that sentence and get used to it. Sudden escalations are this movie's bread and butter. They also add up to making this one of the funniest movies ever made. And it should be, considering how much it defies any notion of continuity or just plain sense! The humor is everywhere--both up front and center represented by Debrin's cartoon-level ridiculous misadventures and in the background hidden as easy to miss Easter eggs. I am sure that on my only viewing of this I've missed some things.
Timing is everything when it comes to comedy, but director David Zucker--who also contributed to the writing--takes his fellow writers Jim Abrams and Jerry Zucker and refurbish their "Police Squad" television series into sustained humor. Every bit of it is as ridiculous as it is funny. Take the scene in which Drebin forgets to apply the hand-brake to his car which then starts running off on its own and literally blows up. Such incompetence would have him kicked off from the force, but here, it's treated like it's not out of the ordinary and the show goes on. The pace is relentless, its supposedly serious noir, only being present because stuff happens to go on at night sometimes and its dialogue punchy, unforgiving with a generous quantity of dry but smart PG-13 humor.
Yet with comedy putting itself on the pedestal of political responsibility, there is a genuine question of social innuendos and commentary. I am delighted to say there is none. While at first I found the way the movie it's bullying the Queen a supposed joke brought on by the opposing political views of the US and its UK buddy with which it has well-known history, the ending took place at a baseball game--a religion in the US, and it was as cruel to it as it was to the Queen itself. This is Zucker making it clear that the movie will harass anything for fun, including numerous terrorist leaders/organizations--pure comedy.
24 Hour Party People (2002)
Mr. Manchester
Tony Wilson was so full of nonsense that he had no idea what a spirituality-mongering blabbermouth he came off as despite the fact that nearly every single person in his circle of friends called him the C-word multiple times. These sort of highbrow college-educated heavyweights casually throwing their weight around are the type of characters Steve Coogan is made to play. He melts into the flow of the fast-talking Manchester legend.
What makes Michael Winterbottom's sorta biopic great is the fact that he's not bothered with the financial how-to and technical tinkering of how the man founded the underground Factory Records label and the infamous Haçienda nightclub. Why should he? The only piece of paper tying the bands to the label is a contract written in Wilson's own blood which says that the bands can do whatever they want anyway! In the business world, this is insanity as Factory Records are now completely swallowed and forgotten by their parent London Records. Winterbottom was aware he was capturing a moment worthy of psychological analysis.
Among the bands who became made at Factory, Joy Division stands out the most. To think both of their only two albums were made in such a volatile environment speaks multitudes about the visions of these people. Some of whom were powered by drugs, but for a few, it was all that mattered. Yet the real fun part here comes from the illuminist ambitions of working class people. But what other class of people would need the luxury of a well-rested spirit rather than the aforementioned? Wilson and his peers know they deserve better and his casual approach to anything really is almost irritating. Take the scene in which he is caught by his wife receiving oral sex from a prostitute only to then having him catching her performing sexual intercourse in his club's bathroom. No biggie. An eye for an eye, I guess.
Wilson might've talked a lot of smack, twisted his tongues referencing and comparing his work to the likes of philosophers and scientists. His BA in English also helped him to skillfully charm prophecies to a generational youth ready to attach themselves to whatever meaning they can find but he was never a crook. His nightclub barely broke even, his bands were under no contracts, even when he was broke he spent tens of thousands of dollars on a new-age-looking office table. You quickly get that these people did not care much for money.
Joy Division, despite being name after a Nazi group, were not fascists, not even close! They just liked the name. "Haven't you heard of postmodernism" Wilson would tell reporters. Still, that did not stop skinheads from attending their concerts much to the band's dislike. This lack of understanding from the outside overly-political world is the sole reason why this type of art remains underground. To explain that everything is pure expression, admittedly, sounds far-fetcher and a cowardly excuse but it really is as simple as that! It is probably the reason why Ian Curtis also gave up on life by tragically hanging himself. For him, the fight was pointless, but for Wilson--he is unbreakable and whoever doesn't get it can just bugger off.
On the Haçienda's closing night, he gracefully invited the attendees to burn it to the ground and take everything they want. Despite his highbrow attitude, he was a man of the people who also mourned Manchester's industrial past. How could he not be? He was the one person in the music industry who infamously didn't make any money.
Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (2020)
With great success comes great responsibility
Aah, how times have changed. Nearly 15 years ago, Sacha Baron Cohen's Khazakh mysogynistic journalist Borat Sagdiyev was raving across the United States roasting every single person and ethnic group he could find. Perhaps he thought a movie like that would not spin in today's world--but if he really wanted it, he definitely could've done it.
The reason is different.
With 2020's significant historical events both natural and political, a character like Borat--who taunts politics and political correctness alike at every turn--hits close to home. So, there is a responsibility for Cohen to shift his character towards more just causes--from "wear mask save live" to realizing that women should actually not live in cages but be equal--shocking!--Borat is a changed man and only for the better even if that mean tossing aside that crude but effective humor that made him a household name.
Borat starts hid misadventure in his home country of Khazakstan--where they speak Bulgarian, Romanian and Hebrew, go figure--and is on a mission to make amends with the US by delivering to those rich, white men the thing they desire the most--a young girl, possibly underage. This is where his daughter, Tutar, comes in. She is simply put feminine Borat--except she lives in a cage which she considers normality. Bulgarian Maria Bakalova, though, is a revelation. Her upstart performance rivals that of Cohen in both bluntness and brutishness. She was, in fact, so self-degrading that at times I felt bad for such a talented actress but that only goes to show what a fine job she was doing.
But, of course, generational issues are not first-world countries specific, so soon enough both her and Borat learn valuable lessons about basic human rights. This is where the movie changes and does something that we would've never expected from a raunchy-comedy artist like Cohen--it tosses the humor aside. The fact that such basic civilized behavior and principles needed to be reminded makes this a sad year. Still, the fact that they come from someone like Borat Sagdiyev makes it even more ironic but also hopeful. It had to be done by him, the opportunity was obvious and the impact has huge potential.
Legend (2015)
Dressed to impress
Director/writer Brian Helgeland's "Legend" is one of the most elegant ways to waste your time, a dashing sprint on the surface of the mob underworld of the 1960s. Not a British "Goodfellas" by any means--if that's what you're asking--although Helgeland has the Scorsesian passion, too bad he lacks the chops to pull it off.
The movie paces itself with default narration starting with words like "It was time for the Krays to enter the secret history of the 1960s" hyping excitement for what, in fact, the movie did not deliver. And by that, I don't mean presentation; having charming Tom Hardy into a double role, playing both Reggie Kray--the calculated, insightful and knowledgeable leader, and Ronnie Kray--his paranoid schizophrenic not so similar twin. But Hardy is not able to deliver more than aesthetic impressionability no matter how many times he raises one eye-brow as Reggie or stares into the abyss like Ronnie mostly due to the script which is not worried with details.
Throughout the movie, we are constantly amazed with The Krays' power. But never once do we see them at work. Reggie's diplomatic skills are wasted on soap operas, and Ronnie's fearful persona, on childish escapades. One scene in a bar, has the twins cornered by a rival mob, but Ronnie's insanity is wasted on comic relief as he is angry that his brawlers brought knives instead of guns. It is a funny scene, nonetheless, and it goes to show just how foolhardily brave Ronnie is--not to mention insane.
One other thing that Scorsese has up his sleeve that many underrate, is not his ability to create strong men--that's easy, but his ability to create even stronger women. Nothing as such is seen in Reggie's first-date-then-wife Frances, who has as bland of a personality as they come--I feel like Helgeland didn't even try here. She was so basic, in fact, that when the shocking surprise came close to the ending, I didn't even care. Stereotypes have a way of generating a catatonic response from the audience and as I looked around the room at the people I was watching the movie with, I got the feeling it worked here.
While "Legend" might not work for more pretentious viewers like me, it is one of those movies that captures an impressionable audience. Despite taking place in a nightmarish world, it is dressed like a dream. Caveat emptor!
Colectiv (2019)
The unraveling
It was November of 2015 when I've heard the news. I was recovering from my failure to commit to university that year. I told my parents I will try again next autumn. That I will return stronger. We were all clinging on hope--until that day when we realized we had more hope than we knew what to do with. We were not burned, or worse, in a Romanian hospital.
Alexander Nanau's documentary must be preserved. Not entirely because of its insight, but as an example of systemic penetration and the unraveling of information, thoughts and methods in dealing with the aftermath of one of my country's most embarrassing and horrific tragedy. Unlike most documentaries, "Collective" does not feature the usual insider talking in front of a fixed camera, guiding us through the timeline. This is because anyone who was involved with that disaster was a possible culprit. Corruption runs deep in Romania, and even though I grew up with an awareness of the evil of the powers that be, the discoveries here still surprised me.
Instead, the movie follows a team of investigative journalists from Romania's Sports Gazette--Razvan Lutac, Mirela Neag and the spearhead, Catalin Tolontan--as they work to unravel the whodunits surrounding this disaster. Nanau's raw filmmaking portrays a reality devout of any uncalled for artistic artifice or a cry for mercy. But paradoxically, reality conveys the most powerful emotions. I am glad that Nanau took a step back and let these people tell their stories and do their work--and a dangerous one at that. To get an idea of how powerful the mob in this country is, know that the director agreed to leave all the footage he recorded at the Gazette newsroom during the filming period in order to protect the journalists and whistleblowers. This movie was a monument to journalism, even before knowing this. But the Sports Gazette?
Of course that was the magazine that took the story in. Who else but sports writers are the men of the people? Sports journalists lack pretentions and have a knack for directness--not to even mention: formality be damned! Everywhere else: television, the authorities--were not to be trusted. Yet what surprisingly was to be trusted, was the government.
After heavy protests, the government was replaced with technocracy. Of course, Nanau did not miss the opportunity to follow the newly elected minister of health right in his back yard as he was consulting on what to do next. This was not your average corrupt politician. He was prepared to fight the good fight, but the amount of cleaning up to be done was simply too much. Nevertheless, it gave me and the entire country much needed hope. Nanau understands that the people and the government must not fight against each other, but must work together. But also that change takes time and patience.
For me, the patience paid its due--I am almost done with university now. As for my country, I am still waiting...
Tonari no Totoro (1988)
Scream to scare the fear away
There is really no true evil in Hayao Miyazaki's "My Neighbor Totoro". This is a movie made out of pure love for the art form. Miyazaki is a parent to these ideas, painting each frame by hand. His is a love understood only by him, deep personal thoughts and appreciations exteriorized in everything we see, hear and feel in this movie.
When two girls, Satsuki and Mei move to the countryside with their father, Tatsuo to be close to their ailing mother, Yasuko which is in the hospital, they pass by a river. The two girls look down on how the water flows and there was a bottle--so detailed--just sitting there. This is just one of many less obvious details that Miyazaki carefully planted in his visual landscape. But he never draws attention upon any of them. Often times, the beauty of Eastern Cinema is in its ability to slow down, to take its time focusing on one frame, and really, asking the viewer to stay awhile and think what he just saw up to a certain point. It is also a moment of respect, reflection, and inner peace.
A particular scene for which I thanked Miyazaki out loud while I was watching this alone, was when the two girls were waiting at a remote bus station for their father to arrive from work in Tokyo. It was already dark, and it was starting to rain. The mystical Totoro and his minions came and waited at the bus station alongside the two girls as well. But not for a moment was it scary. The amount of warmth these characters evoke through their design instead created a moment of serenity and peace. So many times, Western movies tend to excite, shock, instigate in order to function--and often they do it well, don't get me wrong--here, through its modesty, this static scene, in which only the rain was moving evoked an almost guilty feeling of coziness, comfort, peace and safety.
Only when I felt like I owed Miyazaki for the complacent state in which that scene brought me I realized why I love this movie so much. Because it's focus is almost therapeutic--it brought back an inner peace and stability that we didn't even realized we need, no, we deserve in a world whose pace is getting more and more hectic. But "My Neighbor Totoro" takes place in an idealistic world we all aspire to reach. The father is very responsible, present, patient, understanding, an exemplary paragon, and a model which is annoyingly ignored in artistic representations around the world. Only when I saw this movie did I realize how much I miss art whose path to greatness is defined not by complexity, bluntness or moral dilemmas, but by targeting our deepest, most fervent wishes.
Take the ending, for instance, in which an expected tragedy does, actually, not occur and it's quickly disarmed. How often do we long for moments in which we were children and we imagined banal issues as life-altering problems, worrying in our lack of knowledge about the world around us just what on Earth will we do only for our father--a hero--to appear and seamlessly ease our burden. For those of you who've seen the movie, you know what that potential tragedy is.
Remember when our biggest problems in life came and went in half a day? When our imagination crafted an uncounted number of "totoros" for us to sleep on their bellies and not worry about betrayal or distrust? When no matter how big your fear was, yelling and turning the lights on would destroy all the darkness in the world? And when the world was full of opportunity? I hope you do, because Hayao Miyazaki wants to convince you it still is and that your best days are not necessarily behind you.