Insurgent Review

Roughly a month ago I finally caught up with last years new hit young adult dystopian thriller Divergent, and my review can be summed up mostly by my final sentence:

"Divergent is a lukewarm bowl of bland but passable punch, and Theo James is the turd floating in it."

Despite this, I expressed some optimism for the franchise going forward because perhaps the first film was merely serving as a decent but completely forgettable way to kick start something exciting and interesting. Perhaps the talents of Shailene Woodley would be given far more room to shine because in order for these types of stories to work, the material needs a star (Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss, for example). Perhaps the character Four, played lifelessly by Theo James, would get hit by a train during the first half of the film.

Addressing these in order: no, no, and close call but no again.

I would be lying if I said Insurgent was a complete failure. Thanks to some really wonderfully realized set pieces and intense action sequences, it delivers the occasional thrill but unfortunately those moments are few and far between, and in a strange way they almost do a disservice to the material. 

What I mean is, in Divergent very little occurred to actually get me enthused, so the entire experience played like one giant blob of mediocre and my expectations for more never rose above a simmer. Insurgent utilizes some fantastic visual effects and decently filmed action and because of this I perked up a bit, thinking maybe, just maybe it was about to go in some compelling directions and get me intrigued for the next entry in the franchise. Not only does it not deliver in this regard, the small amount of good makes the bad stick out like a sore thumb.

Bad acting from some, especially the previously mentioned Theo James. Seriously, I am buying zero of what this dude is selling. The emotions of his character might resonate more if it were played by a tuna fish sandwich. I look into this handsome fellow's eyes and search for any sign of a soul but I come up empty.

Bad casting of the very talented Miles Teller in a role that doesn't utilize any of it, and I swear I have seen Naomi Watts be really good in stuff in the past. Just last year she fit in with the brilliant ensemble of Birdman just fine, a film that went on to win Best Picture, but in Insurgent it felt like she was reading off of a really poorly written cue card. She read lines as if the director was yelling cut when she actually showed some emotion, and then he would inform her of his demands to deliver these words as if she had died a week ago.

Insurgent actually has a few scenes in it that I would describe as being "cool", which is something I couldn't say about Divergent. Despite this, I am giving the second film of the trilogy (or is the last film split into two? Who the hell can keep track of these things anymore?) a lower grade than the first, because outside of those moments of cool is a pile of terribly paced, meandering nonsense.

2/5 

Whiplash Review

Oh, winter in Chicago. What a bitch you can be. Temperatures hovering below zero, wind chills plummeting to levels that have me searching for a tauntaun to slice open. I always think I will get used to it, that since I deal with it each year my skin will suddenly get thick and I will walk out one morning and laugh in the face of Mother Nature, gusts that previously would have had me seeking shelter whistling by like a whisper.

Yesterday morning I stepped outside, but I did not laugh. I felt those gusts. The only whispers to be heard were the curse words that slipped awkwardly between my chattering teeth. Oh, winter in Chicago. What a bitch you can be.

Tonight I embraced the warmth that was offered to me, a comfortable seat to relax in, a cold drink in my hand as the world outside these walls was being blasted by snow. Live in the now, worry about the weather later. I would wake up tomorrow morning and be forced to face those conditions, but in this moment I could push that to the back of my mind. Some fresh cinema was available to me, the acclaimed breakthrough feature by Damien Chazelle titled Whiplash. The perfect distraction before I faced reality hours from now. The blustery conditions, the ice cold car, the long day of work spent day dreaming of the comfort I feel now.

             

When the film ended, I told myself it was time to get some sleep. Soft blankets, a perfectly fluffy pillow, and hours of silent bliss were literally feet away from me, the obvious choice to cap off a splendid evening, right? Wrong. I threw on my coat, headed outside and shoveled the entire driveway. The temperature that seemed so daunting felt crisp and refreshing on my skin. Hours earlier I had done everything I could think of to avoid the outside world, and now I cherished it. I didn't laugh at it, I didn't taunt it, I admired it. I felt alive in it.

What the hell am I rambling about? What does this have to do with Whiplash? 

Everything.

If I was feeling the fatigue of a Monday, I was wide awake as the electric final few minutes of film wrapped up. The wonderfully frenetic editing that perfectly suited the tone of Whiplash kept me on my toes throughout. The confident, assured direction by a man I had never even heard of dazzled my senses, my eyes darting from side to side, my ears absorbing every word, the hair on my arm standing up like the energy from the screen was somehow seeping out into the air around me. Early on during this movie, I knew I was hooked, with the terrifying performance of J.K. Simmons and the measured and nuanced turn by Miles Teller serving as the icing atop the beautifully crafted cake. By the final act, I had to remind myself to breathe as I was exhilarated by the rhythm and the urge to root for a young man who refuses to give up on his dream regardless of obstacles. I was honestly nervous, as if the outcome of this fictional story would somehow make or break my day.

I had planned to go right to sleep once the credits rolled, but how is that possible? After an ending like that?

With a smile on my face, I stepped outside. Oh, winter in Chicago. What a beauty you can be.




5/5