Crimson Peak Review

I have been looking forward to Crimson Peak for quite some time. The very notion of Guillermo del Toro crafting his own original old school Gothic haunted house horror film had me absolutely giddy, and even just the first batch of still promotional images released made me melt at the delicious visuals. Tom Hiddleston, Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain. This was guaranteed to be special cinema.

Turns out it was a shaky, kinda sorta, I guess so guarantee. 

Those delicious visuals? Scrumptious. Sumptuous. Remarkable. Crimson Peak is an absolutely sublime experience for the rods and cones, with award worthy production and costume design filling every frame. If I were merely critiquing the movie for style points, it would be a surefire masterpiece.

The problem is the story. It's not that it is poorly written or performed, it's just that it felt familiar and stale, like a film I had seen numerous times before only rehashed in 2015 with a spectacular aesthetic to modernize it.

The picture takes place in 1887 and revolves around a young lady named Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska), who as a child is visited by the ghost of her mother who delivers a strange and ominous warning: "Beware of Crimson Peak." A number of years later Edith meets a man named Thomas (Tom Hiddleston) who has come to the United States from England in search of investors for a new clay-mining invention he has designed, and he has his eye on the money of Edith's father, Carter Cushing. Problem is, Carter isn't interested in investing, and things become even more heated when he finds out Thomas has become romantically involved with his daughter. 

Safe to say the timing is interesting, then, when a short time later Carter Cushing is found dead. Without her father in the way anymore, Edith and Thomas marry and return to his home in England, a creepy yet beautiful mansion that also goes by the name of, you guessed it, Crimson Peak. There they live with his cold and off-putting sister Lucille (Jessica Chastain), but it becomes clear to Edith that the three of them aren't alone inside those walls.

A part of me wonders if I am being too harsh on del Toro due to my predetermined expectations on this being an original film, and the key word there is original. For months I had assumed I would be lost in wonder not only because of the technical craftsmanship but also on a narrative level, and frankly the actual events taking place on the screen did little to conjure up excitement. Still though, had this been an older film I would be lavishing it with praise over the atmosphere and the lighting and the set designs and the performances and I probably wouldn't have given the familiarity concerns of the story a second glance. I sat watching Crimson Peak unfold and I couldn't help but think of del Toro's masterpiece Pan's Labyrinth, a film that while inspired by Victor Erice's The Spirit of the Beehive still managed to ooze a unique and awe inspiring vibe from the first frame to the last. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, and perhaps I unfairly held Crimson Peak to that lofty standard.

Still, I feel the way I feel and no matter how much I try to talk myself out of it, my gut isn't budging on this one. Crimson Peak is part masterpiece and part underwhelming, a film that I will gladly revisit just to be able to live inside the mansion again, see the gorgeous snow falling from the ceiling one more time. I'm simultaneously thrilled and disappointed, as strange as that sounds. 

My gut is also telling me this is a definite candidate to be enormously more enjoyable with a revisit. Sometimes all you need is to refocus expectations and understand what a director was going for all along and see the work through a different lens, perhaps dig a little deeper for some of that thematic richness I just know is hiding in there somewhere, underneath Crimson Peak.

3.5/5

Amy Review

The flash bulbs. Paparazzi right there to document her, even at her most vulnerable times. People are so often envious of the rich and the famous, and perhaps I can get on board with the wealth but not the fame. I'm not interested and honestly, I don't think I could handle it. I thrive because of my privacy. I embrace every quiet moment I can find. I can't imagine the flash bulbs. 

Somehow even now, despite everything we know, despite all of the knowledge and information available at our fingertips at a moments notice, we as a society still make light of mental illness and drug addiction. When it is someone we know and care about, it's a heartbreaking problem. When it is somebody famous, it's a punchline. When her whole world was crashing down around her and those closest to her recognized that she was giving up, that she had an appetite for destruction despite knowing the consequences, she was a punchline. I'm not laughing though. It hurts. 

Amy.

It would be easy for me to judge. I rarely drink a drop of alcohol and I sure as hell never do drugs. I love my life though. I thrive because of my privacy. I embrace the silence. I can't imagine the flash bulbs. I couldn't do it. I don't understand how people do it. I choose not to judge because who am I to? Am I better than her or anyone else walking in her shoes because the demons I battle aren't quite as loud or damaging? Is my life more valuable? Would you shed a tear for me during my downward spiral, or would I just be a punchline? I never want to be a punchline. 

Fuck.

A lot of documentary filmmaking feels monotonous, even when the subject matters are strikingly different. Faces staring back at you telling a story from their point of view, over and over and over and over. Just interviews with the occasional cut away shot, the static camera begging for a fascinating topic just to hold our interest. Even when it does, even when captivating, many docs fail to stand out among a sea of innovative cinema. A temporary journey that ends when the frames do. They rarely linger beyond that point. 

Amy is different. It's an extraordinary film that I finished watching but it has not ended. I can't shake it. Directed by Asif Kapadia, this is a work that almost feels prophetic or even fictional because it is carried not by giant faces painting pictures with words but by the actual art instead. So much footage of Amy Winehouse living her life, a backstage pass into her troubled but all too true world and it is touching, haunting, and powerful stuff. When a friend or family member grabs the paint brush they do so merely to enhance the already gorgeous portrait we have in front of us. Delivered in voice-over while we constantly see Amy, at times beautiful and full of life and at other times wasting away, fighting a losing battle against herself and her pain, this is a film that is pieced together spectacularly. I have watched so many documentaries over the years but nothing has ever felt like Amy. The tears that welled up during the final, devastating images stand alone. 

Truly one of the most brilliant pictures of 2015, I was going to sleep on this one but I couldn't. I literally couldn't. When I closed my eyes I kept thinking about how a human life can go so off the rails when they were so talented, had so much to give. One day her voice could fill a room and the heart of a listener, so soulful and unique. The next day she is carried out of her home in a bag, never to be heard from again. 

Amy wasn't perfect. Far from it. She was human though. She was a person who loved and was loved in return. At her darkest hour, the flash bulbs were still there, surrounding her, consuming her. While her mother and father and friends and lovers and colleagues and fans wept, she was a punchline. It hurts.

Amy.

Fuck.

5/5

The Loft Review

Imagine The Hangover and the second season of True Detective became intimate together. I'm not entirely sure how anyone would be able to picture a feature film and an HBO series fuck, as it is obviously impossible, but go with it for a second and hear me out. You have the brotastic buddies all hanging out in some nice place banging chicks, only instead of a humorous tone it takes on a brooding, cold and unlikable vibe that makes me want to cut myself and listen to Papa Roach albums on repeat. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Loft. 

Starring Dredd, Prison Break, Cyclops, Cam from Modern Family and Matthias Schoenaerts, The Loft tells the story of a group of shameful men who are totes buddies and share a loft together in order to bring women who aren't their wives there so they can engage in secretive intercourse. The dialogue is awful, the chemistry between the characters is non-existent, the storytelling is messy and I never once gave a shit about what did or did not happen, who did or did not do it and why. It's just this glossy turd of a film that tries to be sexy and mysterious and provocative and edgy, but simply writing Latin in blood next to a naked dead women isn't enough to pull me in. The rest of the picture has to actually be, you know...good.

The screenplay really did a fantastic job of handling female characters too. Really empowering and interesting women all over the screen. What exactly did the casting call say? Must be willing to play vapid, meaningless creatures that are in the frame merely to follow strange men back to their weird group sex loft and spread their legs for their pleasure? Can't wait to show a film like The Loft to my daughter, show her that the world is her oyster. Inspiring.

I absolutely love dark and ominous murder mystery stories. They get my blood flowing in ways that might be deemed unsettling to many. Despite this, I was about as flaccid and unmoved while watching The Loft then I have been in quite some time during any movie. By the time they got to the big "shocking" reveal I was numb to what was going on and I will be totally honest, I was barely paying attention.

1/5

Mistress America Review

Roughly a third of the way through the film Mistress America, I paused it, got up and used the restroom. Actually scratch that, it's important I am completely accurate here: I got up, got a fresh drink from the fridge, placed it on the end table and then went and used the restroom. My beverage was out of my line of sight for probably a full minute.

I bring this up because it is entirely possible Noah Baumbach snuck into my home during this one minute with some Ethan Hunt maneuvers and put something in my cup. Some sort of potion that made everything with his recent film suddenly click, the magic of the picture suddenly washing over me when just a few minutes earlier I felt a tad cold to the experience. 

Early on Mistress America felt strangely artificial, the dialogue and the delivery a bit phony for my liking. Trying too hard to be funny and only hitting about half the time. It isn't as if I wasn't familiar with the man and his style, as just a couple years earlier I completely bought what he was selling with Frances Ha. This time it just felt...weird.

Until it didn't. After that short aforementioned break, the soda wasn't the only thing that tasted really fucking good.

The film tells the story of a college freshman named Tracy (Lola Kirke), a girl who envisioned a far more exciting life when she first went off to school. Her mom is getting married and suggests that perhaps Tracy should seek out her soon-to-be-stepsister Brooke (Greta Gerwig) and hopefully spark a friendship. Brooke is everything Tracy needs at this moment. She lives in Times Square, she is energetic, she is full of life and always looking for the thrill of an adventure. It's intoxicating for Tracy and they form a deep bond quickly. 

When I used the words artificial and phony before, I was mainly referring to the character of Brooke played by Gerwig. The thing is, I still feel that way now but I have spun it from a negative to a positive. Brooke seems to constantly be in a whirlwind, almost suffering from a form of ADD that derives from hope and optimism and the belief that all of her dreams will come true, most specifically the one in which she opens her own restaurant. Initially Brooke seems to have it all together, but it becomes clear that all of her plans, her vision for her life is unraveling before our eyes and yet she keeps delivering the humorous quips and maintains that joyful smile on her face, but if you look closely the artifice behind it feels authentic. 

This is when I really started to fall in love with the performance by Gerwig. While it is a heavily comedic role, what really got me was the layers she portrayed the character with as the film went along. Sure, Brooke is a bit phony, but ironically because of this she becomes real and honest and believable. When Mistress America started I thought "No one is really like this.". As the story unfolded, I stopped looking at her as a fictional character. Brooke is really like this, and she hides pain with all the flash and fun.

The screenplay from Gerwig and Baumbach, who have formed both a collaborative working and romantic relationship, is truly top notch and does a brilliant job of keeping its themes subtle. I recently wrote a review of the new film We Are Your Friends and I took issue with how predictable and familiar the coming of age tropes played out in that one, and I was begging for a similar story that someone could craft in a way that felt wholly original and actually give me something to chew on. Mistress America is that film. I wasn't on board early, but by the time the brilliantly paced 84 minutes flew by I wanted more. I still want more. I want to watch it again. 

I will watch it again, and hopefully soon. When I do it will be with open eyes and without bathroom breaks. I will observe that first act of the picture and try to figure out what felt so wrong early on, because in the end it all felt so right. 

4.5/5

We Are Your Friends Review

The beats are all there, and no, I'm not referring to the music. This is a typical coming of age story, not one in the vein of a film like Boyhood where we are watching a transition due to age but rather one of maturity and opening ones eyes to what matters in this world. Cole Carter (Zac Efron) is 23 years old and spends his time hanging with friends and taking any gig he can, hoping his music will get noticed. He just needs that one hot track that will intoxicate the ears of every person in the area, that one song that will put him on the map. 

Everyone dreams of a door to success opening in an almost miraculous way, and that happens with Cole when he runs into James Reed (Wes Bentley), a DJ who has already found his fame and is willing to take a young man with promise under his wing. Cole finally has his chance to leave his mark on the music industry, until predictably things get complicated thanks to a beautiful girl. 

Sophie (Emily Ratajkowski) was standing in the club one night and Cole spotted her from across the room. He couldn't look away. Gorgeous. Unfortunately she is also dating his new mentor. He falls in love but by doing so he risks the new opportunity he lucked into thanks to a friendship. 

We Are Your Friends is reasonably entertaining and oozes a palpable energy that makes it impossible to lose interest, but frankly it's painfully predictable and familiar, tripping over every trope you could imagine along the way to the conclusion we all knew was coming. We know it won't always be smooth with his friends. It isn't. We know James will find out about Cole and Sophie. He does. We know how the love story will end and we know whether or not he will eventually write that one sexy track. It's been done before and to death, albeit sometimes featuring slightly less aesthetically pleasing characters.

The film is directed by Max Joseph, making his fictional feature length debut here, and it wouldn't be fair of me to shit all over the story without also giving the movie credit for packing a stylish visual punch. While the arc of the characters and their emotional plights and slight to say the least, I have no doubts that if Joseph were relegated to solely the directors chair and given a strong screenplay to work with, I bet it could result in a hell of a film. Unfortunately with the box office failings of this picture, something tells me his gig as the co-host of the television series Catfish will be his focal point for some time going forward.

If you enjoy watching beautiful people framed by a director who knows how to film them, We Are Your Friends is more than good enough to be a pleasing 90 minute experience. I would sum up my overall thoughts on this one with yeah...I kinda liked it. Just don't go in looking for anything fresh or challenging, because we have all been down this road before and it's not all that exciting. 

3/5

Let the Right One In Review

"I'm twelve. But I've been twelve for a long time."

The whole world is afraid of getting old. I won't lie, I am too. Even at only thirty-one, I find myself envious of those younger than myself. 

I don't envy twelve though. Fuck twelve.

Twelve year old me discovered what it meant to wake up in a hospital bed, confused and scared, hours after suffering a massive seizure. My condition only reared its ugly head at night. Twelve years old and scared to fall asleep. 

Twelve year old me gained weight. Just another reason to get picked on at school. I tried my best to hide my tears, releasing them during private, quiet moments. I was too young and thus too ignorant to have any perspective, to recognize that my problems, as serious as they might have been, paled in comparison to what so many others dealt with on a daily basis. Twelve year old me didn't worry about anyone else. Twelve year old me was constantly looking in the mirror, and he didn't like what stared back at him.

Oskar is twelve. He is bullied but never fights back. Neither did I. Eli is twelve as well, although she has been for over 200 years. Unbeknownst to Oskar, Eli is a vampire. Forever twelve. Fuck twelve.

Eli is odd, sure, but she is pretty and kind to Oskar. A boy accustomed to isolation suddenly forms a bond with a girl his age. Oskar falls in love. She encourages him to stand up for himself. He does. It feels fucking good, and this is demonstrated with a brilliant upward camera angle of Oskar after his moment of triumph, a weak and timid boy suddenly on top of the world. 

Oskar eventually discovers Eli's dark and literally bloody secret, but he is in love. He is empowered. He is twelve. 

Let the Right One In is a Swedish film that is so gorgeously crafted and brilliant that no matter how many words I put down right now, they won't do it justice. Directed exquisitely by Tomas Alfredson, I had this picture pegged incorrectly prior to pressing play as I expected it to merely be a gore fest vampire movie as all I knew about it was the genre label of "horror", and yet what I actually experienced was a totally unique and bizarre coming of age story about the bond of true friendship and love. I am left thrilled with how deeply I connected to this film. I never could have anticipated it, which actually made the experience all the more special. 

What else can I gush about? Oh, how about the photography of Hoyte Van Hoytema, a dark and cold aesthetic that somehow manages to feel warm thanks to the unlikeliest of love stories. The performances from these young actors, Kare Hedebrant as Oskar and Lina Leandersson as Eli, are absolutely on point and they share a chemistry that shines so brightly. When they are together in front of a snow covered backdrop, it's about as beautiful a frame as you can find anywhere. 

Just when I thought Let the Right One In couldn't get any better or more wonderfully realized, one of the final scenes that takes place at a swimming pool happened and I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to bathe in that moment forever. I will be replaying it over and over and over again in my mind. 

I don't envy twelve. I don't miss twelve. Fuck twelve.

I bet life would have been a lot easier, though, if I would have had an Eli by my side back then.

5/5

Straight Outta Compton Review

"Yo, Dre."

"What up?"

"I got something to say."

2015. The year of the resurgence of biopics. Despite the award acclaim they received a year ago, I wasn't buying what they were selling. Others fell in love with their stories. I was bored.

First it was Love & Mercy, the story of Brian Wilson from The Beach Boys. That film worked so well because it didn't abide by the typical tropes that get this sub-genre in trouble. That film told its story from a unique perspective, looking at two separate crucial moments at very different times in his life. I was praising the absence of the traditional passage of time, point A to point Z predictable method of illustrating a life. 

Now it's Straight Outta Compton, chronicling the birth of the group N.W.A and documenting the lives of its members. Why does this film work where as other biopic style cinema makes me want to take a nap?

Because it's god damn electric dynamite, that's why.

F. Gary Gray crafts a story that many are already familiar with in a way that feels fresh and exciting and alive, with a mood that pulses from the music and the performances and the nuance found in the relationships. There is a beautiful rhythm to the flow of this film, but it isn't all evenly paced which actually works to its benefit. There are plenty of moments that take their time and allow us to breathe and realize that we are focusing on real people with real and sometimes mundane issues, which makes the frenetic power of the concert sequences and the palpable tension between the police and the massively popular group loudly declaring their anger and frustration towards them feel like a blast of energy rather than the status quo.

Sure, the story omits some pretty big details from the true story of the rise of N.W.A. and I am sure many will be turned off by Straight Outta Compton not painting with a perfectly honest brush, but to be blunt, I just don't care. I don't. At a different time in my life I may have found a reason to express frustrations at a true story not being completely bathed in facts, but I have come to accept that liberties have been and will continue to be taken with these type of works. Just give me the most authentic possible vision that results in the best film, plain and simple. If including every detail meant the pacing would have been off even just a slight bit or the characters plight would have lost even the smallest bit of power, then I'm thrilled with the choices that were made.

If you didn't think Straight Outta Compton would appeal to you because you didn't care for their music or just don't really care about the people involved, I may not be able to convince you to check it out. I understand, it happens. For me though, it all comes down to the screenplay and the filmmaking, not the subjects being focused on. I didn't think a film about Mark Zuckerberg and the birth of Facebook would be interesting, yet The Social Network is one of my favorite films of all time because of Sorkin's words, Reznor and Ross's score and Fincher's taut, incredible direction. I thought the stories of Alan Turing and Stephen Hawking would grab me and never let me go and yet I felt sleepy and disinterested through most of The Imitation Game and a fair amount of The Theory of Everything. 

Straight Outta Compton did grab me and it still hasn't let me go. A hell of a film.

4.5/5