Prisoners Review

Keller Dover is a family man, a husband and a father of two and there isn't a thing in this world he wouldn't do for those he loves. Keller Dover is a god fearing man, devout in his faith to a lord that watches over him and his. Keller Dover also lacks trust in humanity on a grand scale, as he is always prepared for the possibility of a doomsday scenario. The end of the world. It sounds like such a blanket and simplistic concept, the end of the world, as in the planet and/or the people that occupy it would cease to exist, but I also think the world can end on a much more intimate level. It depends entirely on how you define the word "world".

Keller Dover had canned goods and gas masks ready to protect his family, but what he failed to account for was the possibility that his daughter could disappear one day while playing outside. Just like that, she has vanished, a tiny and helpless little girl, kidnapped by someone capable of harming a child. No matter how much he loves her, that alone won't bring her back home. No matter how strongly he believes in a deity, prayers seem like empty words when the god you trusted allowed her to be taken away in the first place. Keller Dover may have prepared for the end of the world, but when his existence is collapsing around him, when his own world is ending, Keller Dover isn't prepared in the least.  

If you haven't made the acquaintance of the film Prisoners, a masterful and chilling work by director Denis Villeneuve, please do so as soon as possible. It isn't a joyous experience, as it covers both child abduction and the darkness that fills the heart of a parent when they must determine how far is too far to look for answers to bring them back, but if you are simply a fan of exquisitely crafted and constantly compelling thrillers, Prisoners is near the top of the list.  

In his pursuit of evil, Keller Dover finds it in himself and thus a fascinating ethical question is raised to the viewer: if it were you, would you do the same? It's easy to say no instantly and believe you are better than that. It's easy to simply say things like "I would let the justice system do their jobs.", but heaven forbid you find yourself in that scenario, a child taken from you and a possible suspect in your grasp, lord only knows what you or I would be capable of.

I look myself in the mirror and ask, what would I do if I were in the shoes of Keller Dover?

Honestly? I think I may do the same damn thing.

5/5

Decades of Cinema - 10 Best of 2010 - Present

Previous decades lists are: 1920's, 1930's,1940's, 1950's, 1960's, 1970's, 1980's, 1990's and 2000's.

Here are my ten favorite films released between 2010 and today.

10. Inside Llewyn Davis 

The Coen brothers have been making amazing films for over 30 years, and their most recent example of this was the underappreciated 2013 gem Inside Llewyn Davis. Yet another movie by them that balances the laugh out loud comedy with a shocking amount of nuance, leaving bits and pieces to dig up with each revisit. 

9. Inception

The movie that single-handedly brought me back out to the cinema again after a multi-year hiatus following the birth of my daughter. One look at the trailer for Inception and I knew it would demand a giant screen, and boy did it. An incredible achievement from Christopher Nolan that is just as fascinating no matter how many times you see it unfold. 

8. Life of Pi

I don't have religion in my life, but every so often I feel like I find God in a film. Life of Pi is one of those experiences (with another one at the top of this list). This is a profoundly beautiful picture.

7. Cloud Atlas

Incredibly epic yet at times painfully intimate. Ambitious almost to a fault, but I forgive it. Cloud Atlas is a superb adaptation of a book that seemed impossible to translate coherently to film, yet it was done. I was blown away the first time I saw this film, and with each subsequent viewing my admiration grows.

6. Take Shelter

Director Jeff Nichols handles the subject of mental illness with grace and class and a stunning level of maturity considering it was only his second feature film. Michael Shannon wasn't even nominated for an Oscar for his lead performance, yet he not only should have been, he should have won the damn award. Take Shelter is brilliant and has one of the great endings in recent memory. 

5. Drive

I am a married heterosexual man, but I am not afraid to use the word sexy to describe Ryan Gosling in Drive. Seriously, Nicolas Winding Refn crafted a masterpiece here that is so damn, for lack of a better word, cool I can barely wrap my mind around it. From beginning to end I am intoxicated by the neon glow, the incredible score and the subtle but perfect performances. Drive is the type of movie that makes me wish I could create one of my own.

4. Boyhood

I never thought a film could capture the authenticity of life in such a way, but Boyhood is moving in its simplicity. It isn't a film about milestones, it is the story of those other days that mean so much but seem to slip through the cracks as time goes by. The underlying message is one that I found very powerful as I watch my own daughter grow up so fast: time is relentless.

3. Gravity

Sure, on the surface it's a film about a woman trying to survive a catastrophe in space, but what is really on display is so, so much more. Gravity is a heartbreaking but life affirming metaphor for grief and just how challenging to overcome it, and to say I was moved by the journey of Dr. Ryan Stone is an understatement.  

2. The Social Network

As a super fan of David Fincher, I don't say these words lightly: The Social Network is his masterpiece. The origin story of Facebook and its rise to internet domination doesn't sound appealing on paper, but it touches on familiar themes of loyalty and betrayal and it does so perfectly. The Oscar winning screenplay from Aaron Sorkin, the Oscar winning score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, and the unfortunately not but should have been Oscar winning direction from Fincher, all of it added together is essential cinema.

1. The Tree of Life

The Tree of Life is not only my favorite recently released film, it is my favorite of all time, period. It is profound poetry in motion, a movie that literally taught me to embrace and appreciate the miracle of existence. 

So that's it, the end of my Decades of Cinema lists. I would love to hear some feedback on my picks from all of the decades, find out which ones you love, which ones you loathe and everything in between.

Only God Forgives Review

Why do we always need someone to root for?

One of the common complaints I have read regarding the brilliant Nicolas Winding Refn film Only God Forgives is that it lacks relatable, likable characters, which is such a strange thing to perceive as a flaw. What we are witnessing is an abstract, surreal world richly bathed in neon colors and unsettling imagery. It is nightmarish, a fever dream glimpse at the criminal underworld of Bangkok. It is meant to baffle, to anger, to linger in your mind long after you are done watching. Only God Forgives isn't a film that strives to fit in any traditional, Hollywood mold, one that demands a protagonist with a heartbreaking back story that charms his way into our souls. This is a story involving revenge but not one that asks us to stand up and cheer if the vengeance is eventually realized. 

Only God Forgives doesn't have a hero. Why does it need one?

If you are watching a film like this with the intention of falling in love with the characters as a way of connecting on an emotional level, you are watching it wrong. Refn doesn't give a shit how we feel, nor should he, at least not right away. His vision is profound not because of what we see or feel on the surface but rather because of the layers we need to peel back after multiple viewings to fully appreciate just how dense the narrative is. I don't blame anyone for believing that Only God Forgives "isn't about anything" after their first viewing, it is completely understandable to feel cold about a work seemingly so distant from anything close to a beating heart, but watch it again before you admonish it for being soulless or empty. Over the course of 90 minutes, our eyes will have drowned in the color red and our minds will be racing to search for meaning. Don't give up so quickly. Trust me, it's there.

The initial unflinching wave of critical backlash towards Only God Forgives was disheartening, but not because of the general concept of them not liking the film. Any one person is completely entitled to their opinion. No, the fact that we instantly turn to a aggregate score on a website as the end all, be all to judge a films success rather than decide for ourselves is unfortunate, especially for a movie that demands patience and an open mind to be appreciated. We live in such a small, cynical world where four minutes after the final frame has left the screen an onslaught of angry tweets have already swayed public opinion to head down a negative path. It's as if we as a cinema enthused society have decided having to actually work a little in a theater is a bad thing. Perhaps instead of instantly writing off art and being in a hurry to move on, we should take a second to let the craft of an auteur sink a little deeper into our subconscious. 

Perhaps we should stop always searching for heroes, for the "good guy" to come swooping in at the last second to save the innocent. Perhaps not every story deserves to end in a parade of joy as we celebrate the righteousness of the human spirit. Perhaps sometimes the best we should expect from a person is that they are able to recognize how they have sinned and accept their punishment for such transgressions. When Julian (Ryan Gosling) stares at his hands in Only God Forgives, it isn't the dull, meaningless moment that so many have made it out to be. Refn is showing us the culprits, the tools utilized by a man with a past that haunts him.

Julian is no hero, and we don't need to like him. Only a god could ever forgive.

5/5

Thor Review

Some films grab you early on with a killer first act that instantly promises something special. Thor doesn't.

Some films don't kick it into high gear until the final act, with a stunning conclusion that elevates the entire work to a new level. Something I like to refer to as The Phantom Menace effect, you walk out of the theater buzzing about the end and you forget entirely that almost everything before it wasn't very impressive. Thor isn't one of those films.

My biggest problem with Thor, a fun slice of cinema that I like but certainly do not love, is that the middle portion of the movie is by far its strongest section. The way we first meet these characters is lackluster at best and the way we say goodbye to them is a major disappointment. In the end I couldn't shake a feeling of being entertained but let down, reflecting on the many scenes that were done so right and yet the complete vision just didn't rise up to expectations.

Once the material allows the performance to make us give a shit, we do because the characters start to get fleshed out and what we see is endearing. Forget throwing hammers and running down Asgardian Mario Kart Rainbow Road, give me more scenes in which the aesthetically pleasing couple of humans known as Chris Hemsworth and Natalie Portman are sitting next to a fire and start to connect on a deeper level. These are the type of sequences that are needed in a work of absurdity like a super hero comic book film, the moments in which the characters feel like real human beings and not just actors in ridiculous costumes. Unfortunately they are few and far between in Thor, giving way to more silly humor that isn't very funny and action sequences that don't exactly get my pulse racing.

Thor is a solid entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, not even remotely close to their best achievement but also a whole lot better than its worst. Entertained? Certainly, but it feels like it could have been so much more. 

3/5

Winter Light Review

I have mentioned in previous reviews for films that delved into religious themes that such things aren't of importance to my life, yet I find them fascinating when explored in cinema. I rarely will choose to enter a place of worship during my own free time, yet when one is the setting of a movie I am often times in awe of the imagery and envious of the power that comes with a strong belief in a God. During the first act of Ingmar Bergman's Winter Light, we see a handful of people in attendance of a church service and I was instantly sucked into their world, as if I was sitting in a nearby pew. The thing is, I can't recall what was actually said during this sequence. I'm not even sure if I absorbed the words while I was screening the film, but it didn't matter. I couldn't take my eyes off of the faces of the people listening to the sermon, as their reactions to the message, whether a subtle feeling of regret lingering behind their expressions or a not so subtle pain flooding rapidly to the surface, were far more captivating and cinematic than the message itself.

While the narrative of Winter Light obviously revolves around religion, I actually found that the story centers far more on the nature of humanity, the people that occupy our living world rather than the higher spiritual realm they strive to understand for comfort. Tomas (Gunnar Bjornstrand) is the Pastor of the church, a position that has him literally standing in front of and above the congregation as he delivers the message of a lord, a savior, and yet rarely throughout the film does he actually speak. When he does, his words aren't powerful or meaningful or influential, quite the opposite actually. No matter what Tomas says, it doesn't bring comfort to others nor himself.

Jonas (Max Von Sydow) is a troubled soul, a man who has reached a breaking point in life, haunted by the idea of a literal nuclear holocaust. He and his wife reach out to Tomas for help, for words of guidance and comfort that could perhaps alleviate his fears and bring a sense of normalcy back to their lives, but how could a Pastor who feels no connection to God himself, a man who believes he has failed with his chosen path through life, assist in straightening out the soul of another?

Winter Light is one of those pictures that I find is impossible to pick up on every nuance or peel back every thematic layer with only one viewing. For example, there is a particular scene that I keep playing back in my mind since I finished the film early this morning in which Tomas and a man named Algot (Allan Edwall) are having a discussion about the suffering of Christ and the fact that Algot believes the emphasis being on the physical pain Jesus felt is misguided. Algot points to the fact that after being betrayed, Christ cried out to a father, a God that had suddenly become silent at a time when he needed him most. While not literally comparable in importance, is this perhaps also the case for Tomas as well? Throughout the film it is made evident that he is under the weather, clearly experience physical discomfort, and the focus on his suffering resolves around the loss of his wife years earlier.

Perhaps the real reason Tomas suffers, the real source of his deeper pain, is that beneath the surface he is crying out for a god that is silent. I have no knowledge of what Bergman himself believed in or whether or not religion played a role in his life, but Winter Light feels like a deeply personal work, a narrative that came from both the heart as well as an endlessly creative mind.

Perhaps Ingmar Bergman was in search of a silent god.



4.5/5

Life of Pi Review

"He said you had a story that would make me believe in God."

I have no idea whether a God exists. I have no evidence to either prove or disprove the possibility of a benevolent force whose guiding hand plays a role in the events of humanity, and I am a man who needs that evidence in order to truly believe. I never mean to disrespect either side of the aisle, as anyone is entitled to find comfort in their faith in a higher power or disregard faith entirely as a fallacy, but I simply cannot head down either path without proof.

When I say things like evidence or proof, I don't even necessarily mean indisputable mathematics or scientific fact that practically reveals either a God or a absence of one in front of my very eyes. I don't have such things to hammer out the absolute existence of love, but I know it is real because I can feel it in every fiber of my being. If someone asks me what love is, how would I verbally describe it? I'm not sure I could to be honest, but no one can tell me it doesn't exist because I know the way I feel when I come home every day and see my wife and daughter. I know that I love them because they made me realize that the delicacy of my own life, the importance of my own safety are no longer what keeps me up at night. I know that I love them because I would step out in front of traffic right now if it guaranteed they would be okay.

Is it similar to believe in and to love a God? I would assume so, but I just do not feel it. At least I normally do not feel it, but every so often a moment in reality or a piece of art captures my attention in a way that fills me with a warmth that is indescribable, like perhaps existence is bigger than you and I, perhaps the meaning of our lives extends beyond what our minds are able to understand. I know it sounds silly or hyperbolic, but I sometimes find this warmth in really special and uniquely beautiful works of cinema. The film Life of Pi by Ang Lee is one of those films.

The story of Pi and his journey across the Pacific Ocean, just a 16 year old boy on a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker, is one I connected to very quickly and on a deep level the first time I saw this film, and nothing has changed as I viewed it for roughly the third or fourth time today. The storytelling is profound on multiple levels, as I feel true heartbreak for the loss Pi goes through. I feel true joy for the small victories he experiences along the way. The two main characters, one a human being and the other an animal, share a level of chemistry on screen that most films are unable to establish between two people both speaking dialogue. What Ang Lee achieved here is truly remarkable, as a story is promised that would make me believe in God, and at least during the two hour journey this film takes me on, I do.

When the film ends, you can either choose to believe the rather unbelievable story told by Pi throughout or you may prefer to side with logic and reason and the more grounded and realistic version of events.

I may not always feel the existence of a God, but I believe in Pi.




5/5