Bridge to Terabithia

I went and saw this movie on the recommendation of my mom and little brothers. Andrew, my oldest younger brother, told me I ought to bring a tissue with me. I did not heed his warning, though if I had it wouldn't have helped much; what I should have brought was a whole box of tissues, or better yet a towel. Not since E.T. has a movie been this innocent and uncomplicated before all of the sudden breaking into a level of profundity that (seemingly effortlessly) reduces you to the sort of tears you cried as a little child. Crying in movies is nothing to be ashamed of, if they're honest tears, and when a movie moves me to tears I count it first and foremost as a credit to the filmmaker's skill. The story here is, as I alluded to before, very simple. There's a new girl in a small rural town who befriends a farmer boy with four sisters, a financially haunted set of parents, and a boatload of personal insecurities. They create a place in the woods where they can go to escape from the harsh things they experience while growing up. Jess, the boy, wants his father to be proud of him, and he wants to be the fastest runner at school. He wants his little sister to adore him without pestering him out of his mind, and he wants his older sisters to just let him be. he loves to draw and fills papers and notebooks with the wanderings of his imagination. He wants the attention of his music teacher for whom he harbors a secret crush. Most of all he just wants life to make sense, to be filled with wonder and joy when all he can see is the mundane and depressing setting of a home and school painted in many shades of gray. Leslie, the girl, becomes friends with Jess and begins to show him that he can find that wonder and joy in the world, or rather, in their secret magical world of Terabithia which must be entered by way of an old rope swing over a forest gully. They have their adventures, both in the real world and in Terabithia. In the real world they use their cunning and wit to knock the school bully (a girl who forces other kids to pay for bathroom use) down a few pegs, and then help he back up when she finds herself on the receiving end of schoolyard mockery. In their imaginary they fight giants and strange birds and beasts of all kinds, though the movie is surprisingly lenient with the amount of Terabithia we the viewers are allowed to see. I remember at one point in the movie I was thinking to myself that these kids, for all their different trials, didn't really have it all that bad. I mean what kinds of things do kids worry about? They don't have to pay taxes or balance the books, they haven't got all the worries of adult hood that they will someday carry. The thing is that by the end of the movie, we are taken through a number of things young children deal with, things like loss, guilt, grief, and so forth, and we are reminded that these things are just as real, perhaps even more so, for children. But it is not the kind of movie that leaves us stranded in despair, for we also see how children understand and experience grace, forgiveness, love, and the really extraordinary power of friendship. In jest I often refer to movies as a "powerful experience" it's no jest this time, this movie has a powerful message told in a very understated and innocent way so that it pierces straight to our hearts before pretty much mangling them and then delicately assuring us that there is magic in the world that can mend the broken pieces once more.

B+

300

Right, this is a review about which I can be pretty loose since it’s not for the school paper and, therefore, not influenced by the opinions of anyone but me. Not that I don’t trust my editors, they’re grand, but with a movie like “300” my opinions are a little more harsh and perhaps intolerable of whiners and losers who complain against stuff like honor and glory when it gets in the way of living comfortably.
I’m forever giving out top marks to movies and indeed they begin to lose their value when they follow in such quick succession. With “300” it’s hard not to wax eloquent/obsessive because the visuals alone warrant high praise. As it is, this one earns its grade through much more than just its visual presentation. This is one of the most old fashioned movies I’ve seen in a long time and I am frankly shocked that it grossed so highly over the weekend in a country that whines about the far off “immoral” war. The thing is that in “300” the politicians who sit back and take freedom for granted and trash talk the heroes who die for their country; those politicians are the ones we dislike.
Not since Homer’s bold epics have we got such an idea of what it meant for these men to die in battle for honor and eternal glory. “Troy” was a failed attempt to convey that ancient system of thought, and to put “Alexander” even remotely close to a comparison to this landmark epic would be a gross insult. Personally I think this movie gets the idea across because of the stylized look of it all. We can, as if through their eyes, see the glory of the battle that they are fighting.
“300” has a lot in common with the last “Frank Miller” adaptation, that being “Sin City.” Both feature strong manly men, as well as pathetic, weak, and vile males. Both also feature strong women who are willing to fight for themselves. This is not to say they are independent; the men and woman (as men and women ought to) rely on each other because despite what the neo-feminists say, the two genders were created (nobody faint please) in perfect complementation to each other. The men in both “300” and “Sin City” fight to protect the women because they are both gentlemen and warriors. The women in both “300” and “Sin City” fight alongside the men, and give them the strength and courage to keep fighting. Neither gender is weak, but each depends upon the other. It’s a brilliant sort of relationship and because so few movies manage to get it right it is very impressive to behold. “Come home with your shield, or on it” tells Queen Gorgo to her departing Husband. The men aren’t the only ones making sacrifices in war.
I realize that I probably sound like a total chauvinist typing this all; I’m not trying to offend anyone, which is more than I can say for the movie. It seems determined to be un-P.C. For this I absolutely love it. It’s a little thing called “uncompromising vision” that is crucial to stories of this kind. Frank Miller had it when he penned the Sin City and 300 graphic novels. Robert Rodriguez had it when he filmed the picture perfect “Sin City” and Zach Snyder has it now at the helm of “300.”
One difference between the two stories and, coincidentally, relating to gender in each story, is the type of physique on display. In “Sin City” it was the stone cold foxes of Old Town, in other words the prostitutes, who wore little clothing and paraded around as deadly eye candy. In “300,” though there is one rather creepy young girl who throws her self around as an oracle, clothed mostly in white swirls of filmy air, it’s the soldiers off at war who ware little and are put front and center to show off their statuesque builds. It’s not as annoying as you’d originally think. The soldiers play their roles completely straight faced so, even though they look like they stepped out of the latest Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue, as long as they don’t seem to think their outfits are unreasonable, neither do we.
If you didn’t already know, the plot of the movie is based on one of history’s greatest stories, the battle of Thermopylae. The thing was, Xerxes was pretty much set on conquering Greece but King Leonidas of Sparta wouldn’t have that. Even though the oracle of Delphi predicted doom, Leonidas led a scant three hundred Spartans against the vast forces of Xerxes. The Spartans stood their ground at the narrow valley of Thermopylae where the armies of Xerxes were forced into a bottleneck. Even though the men were doomed to die (by the oracle and by blunt facts) they stood their ground to death rather than submit to slavery by a tyrant. I’ve never been so privately thrilled to be of Greek descent as when I was imagining the courage and ferocity of these heroes in battle.
The movie is all about the idea that freedom isn’t free. A simplistic and somewhat cliché idea, to be sure, but it feels new and more moving than ever as King Leonidas, played by “Phantom of the Opera’s” Gerard Butler, and his wife Queen Gorgo, played by a talented Lena Headey, talk with conviction of liberty and duty to one’s nation over duty to one’s self.
At the beginning of “300” the dialogue suggests that this movie has a foot both in the past and in the present. This seems uncomfortable at first, but as the movie goes along we realize that it does indeed have its feet planted in these two places and it means to. By the end, all awkwardness of mixed dialogue has surrendered to the power and sheer nerve of the epic story arc.
It’s a harsh movie, in fact it’s one of the most brutal cinematic experiences I’ve ever seen, ranking up there with “The Passion of the Christ” and “Kill Bill” in unrelenting violence. But, like both of those movies, this isn’t just shock value. It’s a reminder to people who may have forgot that there was in fact a time when such things as bravery and protection of your home and freedom were of the utmost importance. It’s a war story, a stylized history lesson, and a moving love story all wrapped in some of the most striking cinematic visuals you are ever likely to experience.

A

Zodiac

David Fincher is the sort of director whose work is easily recognizable among the plethora of movies constantly streaming in and out of theaters and households of the world. He has a style that, though often mimicked, is never duplicated. His is a flashy vein of filmmaking, though not obnoxious or overdone, for Fincher knows just the right way to use editing and CGI to smoothly move a film along.
While his movies are easy to set apart from those of other filmmakers, they are also easy to set apart from each other. This is why we do not grow bored with his work; he is simultaneously relying on his established methods and trying something new with each film.
“Fight Club” is arguably his most popular film, though it is known more for its leading actors than its director, and is a must see for male teens and beyond as it embodies the ultimate badass mentality that all the “tough guys” pretend to live by. This movie is above all else a social commentary and one of the finest examples of postmodern filmmaking you are likely to find.
“Panic Room” was Fincher’s last film, telling the story of a mother and daughter confined to a small room as thieves attempt to rob their new home. It was a decent though less revered effort than “Fight Club,” most memorable for the dark and thrilling style injection courtesy of Fincher. Before either of those was “The Game,” a Michael Douglas vehicle about a man caught up in a deadly game of life or death.
“Zodiac,” the latest offering from this director, is most similar to the movie that made Fincher a name to remember. “Se7en” tells the story of a murder who kills according to the seven deadly sins. “Zodiac” tells the true story of the bay area serial killer who claimed the lives of numerous victims, sent cryptic letters to newspaper proudly announcing himself as the murderer, and taunted the unsuccessful police efforts to apprehend him.
In both movies the killings are especially disturbing due in large part to Fincher’s refusal to pull his punches while staging the murders and aftermath. As similar as they may first appear, “Zodiac” is not a retread of “Se7en” and it does not feel like every other police vs. murderer movie. We never see more of The Zodiac than the victims, or hear more from him than the people who receive his chilling letters.
In its nearly three hour running time, the film tells a story spanning upwards of ten years. Fincher keeps it moving very quickly with excellent editing, giving us the straight facts without losing focus. The performances of the extensive cast are top notch, especially that of Robert Downey Jr. as Paul Avery, a journalist, and one of the only people “fortunate” enough to receive a personal letter from The Zodiac.
While there are many telltale marks of a David Fincher film, “Zodiac” is more restrained than his previous works and the movie benefits from this greatly. It is stylistic but in a subtle way, the greatest achievement of the director is the suspense and terror he creates even while moving forward weeks and months at a time.
To be perfectly honest The Zodiac killer is, in this writer’s opinion, one of the scariest things to which anyone can give thought. As a younger child I watched an “Unsolved Mysteries” program on television, with some pretentious cousins, and attempting to sound knowledgeable I proclaimed that Jack the Ripper was surely to be the number one unsolved mystery and to my shame he ranked only at number 3. Number two was D.B. Cooper, and the number one honor went to The Zodiac Killer.
This was the first time I had ever heard of this case, and being all of ten years old, I was scared out of my mind. In the eight years since I first heard of this horrific killer I have put to rest my fears that he might, at any random minute, spring out of my closet, from behind my button up shirts, to make me the first victim in his new killing spree.
As the masked figure, in the film that is, approached two young lovers at a secluded lake, seen for the first time in his infamous black mask, all those childhood fears came surging back. I found myself trying to do some sums to decide whether he could still be alive and possibly be the elderly man sitting two rows ahead of me!
In most movies the villain is caught and good prevails, we may be shook up but we know that they cannot possibly still be at large. We are denied that comfort here, for he remains an unsolved mystery.
This all seems very superfluous, but it just goes to show how excellently Fincher has translated this story to screen. He doesn’t need cheep thrills or extensive artistic license; the story is frightening enough as it is.

A-

(I am aware that I am grading everything very highly these days but they are all worthy of these grades, I merely never have time to watch/review bad movies!)

Letters From Iwo Jima

From the very beginning of Clint Eastwood’s “Letters From Iwo Jima” we feel as though we are watching the actual soldiers in World War II as they fight the battle for the small island of Iwo Jima. It could be argued that with all war films this is the sought after effect. Sadly with most films in this genre the audience still has that underlying realization that they are watching a reproduction of events. We’re looking at a painting rather than a photograph.
“Saving Private Ryan” was another film that achieved this sort of connection with the audience. In that case, though, it had much to do with the horrific sequences of war that boldly attempted to show combat exactly as it was.
Clint Eastwood, one of the few living actors who is a bona fide Hollywood legend, takes a daring path with this movie by setting it up in a very simplistic way. It opens with a very short scene set in 2005 and then jumps back to the 1940’s as the Japanese forces prepare for the coming assault on their island of Iwo Jima.
The biggest risk is that the Audience might become detached from the film in the slower first half leading up to the battle. Some might argue that Eastwood’s companion film, “Flags of Our Fathers” could be a more elaborate set up, and this is true. However, for the people seeing “Letters” alone they must be drawn in by virtue of this movie alone.
But as previously stated, from the very beginning the audience feels the film’s authenticity. Does this mean that this seemingly by-the-books war film rises above the staples of the genre while apparently embracing them? Yes, it does.
The simple fact is that Eastwood is a director of such immense talent that he can take even the familiar war drama and create a unique and distinguished movie. He took the hometown crime drama and recreated it with “Mystic River.” And he practically rewrote the book on boxing movies (after five “Rocky” films this had actually been deemed strictly impossible) with the powerful “Million Dollar Baby.”
It is no surprise that “Letters From Iwo Jima,” like “Mystic River” and “Million Dollar Baby,” received a nomination for Best Picture. Though it did not win, it was worthy of the nomination as it is destined to become one of the classic war films for generations to come.
In a very wise directing choice, Eastwood only chooses to portray events off of the island when they are directly telling the background stories of the characters. These stories, as all background stories ought to, help the audience understand the choices made by characters and the reasons they are who they are. There are no scenes depicting the state of affairs in Tokyo or Washington D.C. There are no tear inducing montages of family members waiting hopelessly and helplessly for their loved ones in the battle.
We feel as if we are stuck there on the island with men who understand that they absolutely will be fighting to the death, no questions asked, and suicide before surrender. The Japanese mindset was so different than that of Americans during World War II and this movie understands that but more importantly respects it. The idea of honor and country above all else is never mocked, though it is presented in a way that demands its consideration.
The saddest part of the film comes as a group of Japanese soldiers reads a letter found on the dead body of an American. What they hope might be some sort of reveling battle plans is a letter from a mother back home. She writes of the family dog and life at home, reminds her son to do what is right, and wishes him a safe return home. One of the Japanese soldiers remarks that this man’s letter is the same as the letters he receives from his family back home. This scenario, that looks so sickly cliché when on the page, is presented so effectively it touches the viewer’s heart in a much deeper way than the violence of the battles.
Gray, black and blue are the colors of the film. Because of this, when the screen is ignited by the fiery explosions of grenades, bombs, or flamethrowers, the jarring contrast of colors accentuates the horror of it all.
The acting of everyone involved is commendable, specifically Kazunari Ninomiya as the frightened young baker-turned-soldier, Saigo, who wants only to find his way home to his wife and newborn child.
After so many great films it seems that everyone might grow tired of praising the talent and passion of Clint Eastwood. However, it hasn’t happened yet. Once again he has created a visual poem of such gravitas and poignancy it has the power to penetrate all preconceived notions and set a whole new bar for the genre at hand.

A-