Reviews

Dracula has been done more times than pretty much any other story, and it's difficult to create something new in that kind of environment. Nevertheless, this incarnation, if done well, could be an incredibly compelling series, even if only to fanatics of the original. The titular character is made substantially more complex, both with a historical back-story (ala Bram Stoker's Dracula) and the incorporation of a Count of Monte Cristo-like persona into the vampire myth.

The novel Dracula was already a polyphonous one (being told through letters of various people), and by taking select bits of the original dialogue and mixing them into a more wide-scale (but interesting) context, each character is given a chance to be shown and developed in an organic way.

It's stylish, fairly atmospheric, and the dialogue is both era-appropriate and mostly lacking in clichés. Overall, it was nice to see show creators who seemed to genuinely want to do something creative rather than just going through the motions (such as in "Agents of Shield."). Who knows if Dracula will pan out well, but it's definitely worth seeing if it does.

I had not seen anything by the director of Jacob's Ladder before, but I became interested through the IMDb reference page that said it was a major source of inspiration for the Silent Hill video game series, and the inspiration is clear enough to see. Misty/smokey halls, decrepit buildings, disturbingly deformed humans/demons, and the general tone that makes you doubt the narrator's sanity. But what was captured by the SH games much more than the SH movie is psychological aspect, the idea that our thoughts affect our environment more than the other way around. Jacob's Ladder also has a surprisingly happy ending for such a grim movie, but brings to mind the famous line by John Milton: "Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light." It's also telling that the working title of this movie was "Dante's Inferno."

What is a person's individual worth? How much of others do we incorporate into ourselves? Is significance indivisible from uniqueness? These are some of the questions explored in Black Swan, which presents the industry of ballet in a whole new light (or lack thereof), and brings into view the question of personal identity, especially in regard to the actor's relation to their role in any performance art.

The overarching plot is simplistic, centering on a ballet company's production of Swan Lake, but quickly hones in on the preparations of the newest lead, Nina Sayers, who goes from being another anonymous dancer to being the star of the show through her hitherto unrecognized talent. With the danger of spoiling too much, it's easier to explain the plot of Swan Lake, in which the two primary characters are the pure, virtuous White Swan and her evil doppelganger, the titular Black Swan, both played, out of necessity, by the same ballerina. Despite having the lead role, the presence of a kind (if unpolished) dancer named Lily threatens the previously virtuous/recessive Nina's first chance to shine through her more accurate portrayal of the Black Swan. Because of this, and her own perfectionist personality, Nina is forced to find the darker part of herself so that she may become the character completely.

For those who believe this is another tedious Cinderella story "chick flick," your ideas could not be farther from the truth, as the singularity of the film completely prohibits the application of the word "another." The filmmakers weave together atmospheric music, camera techniques, claustrophobic sets, and special effects to build up an omnipresent sense of anxiety that is impossible to dissipate. An ominous, often monotonous score combined with a constantly mobile camera sets the viewer into an uneasy baselessness, flawlessly putting them into the shoes of the anxiety-ridden protagonist, and making it nearly impossible to sever that which is real from that which is not. On one level a cautionary tale about the dangers of self-imposed pressure, Black Swan lives up to its categorization as a "thriller," the visual shocks making it anything but predictable.

A thought provoking drama with a near total absence of relief from tension, Black Swan is a film that is, though brilliantly executed, most un-enjoyable to watch, partially because of the frightening visual effects and partially because of psychological implications. While it's a common enough (however thoroughly avoided) thought that someday we will die and eventually be forgotten by the world, a reminder of our own replaceability is never so blatantly presented before us as it is before Nina in the film. Aronofsky's Black Swan shows that there's still a future in the movie industry, and that while perfection is often equated with purity, its true meaning could include the concept of completeness, equal ratios in a single phenomenon between both the White, and the Black.

White People, Blue People and a Green World Worth Fighting For

Many of you have probably seen or at least heard about James Cameron's new movie, Avatar, a stunning sci-fi adventure that breaks more boundaries in film-making than anything since the original Matrix. With a virtually no-name cast and both Titanic and Terminator 2 (two of Cameron's past blockbusters/classics) to live up to, Avatar had some big shoes to fill. Fortunately, it's a pretty big movie, nominated for nine Golden Globes including Best Picture-Drama, and is, most importantly, something of a chimera in terms of its ability to encompass and combine several genres.

The most prominent feature of the film are its visuals, which are comprised of colorful computer animation so good that what's real and what's simulated are indistinguishable from one another, meriting the film's four year and over $250 million production. It follows the story of a young paraplegic ex-marine (played by Sam Worthington; Terminator Salvation) who is given a second chance at success through his genetic makeup which is identical to his recently deceased twin brother; a famous scientist scheduled to study and befriend the natives of the newly discovered planet, Pandora. Through a technology called "Avatar," the marine has his conscience temporarily transferred (think The Matrix with fewer wires) to a genetically corresponding (blue) body based on the physical structure of the native Pandorans, called Na'vi. In this way Jake Sully (the marine) learns about their culture by experiencing it first hand. Sounds harmless enough, but the snag is that the aliens are located above a huge deposit of incredibly valuable mineral, prompting some members of the invading Earthlings to act in a less than diplomatic way. After spending more than six months with the blue people and becoming incorporated into their relatively peaceful culture, it doesn't take a genius to figure out which side Jake is on.

The main complaint about the movie is its story, which is considered weak by some, failing to match up to the visual aspect of it. It's true that the story is cliché, somewhat sparse, and almost juvenile, but what some fail to consider is that that might add to the movie watching experience, rather than detract from it. The simplistic story, in my opinion, may have been done unintentionally, but even if that's the case, it fit with the kind of tale they're trying to tell. Rather than using a realistic (logically, of course, as realism can't legitimately be used to describe people co-inhabiting an alien planet), gritty plot line which is so common in today's films (i.e. Dark Knight), Avatar takes a more pathotic approach, appealing to the emotions instead of the mind. As a stylistic and somewhat expressionist work that uses basic human feelings to make an impact, the film deals with elemental themes like greed, power, belonging, and love. In this way, it's made like an epic of times past, with a large, over the top experience that everyone can understand, and hopefully enjoy.

Some have compared the planet of Pandora to a veritable Eden, a symbol of simplicity which mankind has long since lost, and which is reflected both in message and storytelling style of the film as a whole. The aliens, in contrast to most sci-fi movies, are completely devoid of machinery, living completely ecologically by a religion reminiscent of animism, where all living things in nature are infinitely connected with one another. At points like these, Avatar seems more like something out of the 1960's than a work coming out just three weeks ago, but it's certainly refreshing after the dark, generally pessimistic movies which dominate today's market. In an attempt to explain symbolism without sounding too much like an over-enthusiastic English teacher, Avatar is most likely an allegory for the European invasion and subversion of North American culture. However, it could also be applied to any invasion of foreign powers to a primitive population, which is the kind of thing that has (unfortunately) happened countless times in the past.

Basely put, it was a pretty damn good movie, which "(ex.) will probably be nominated for several academy awards but will most likely miss out on best picture because the academy will focus too much on story," said Tom Oliva, English teacher/Film Club supervisor at Hen Hud. "ex. Still, it will spark a new trend in movies that will make filmmakers focus more on giving the audience the 'bang for their buck' than on the little things, like plot, the defining characteristic that makes it a piece of art." While the messages it was sending was far from subtle, it was important, urging humans (probably the U.S., depicted as a gray, technologically sophisticated, and regressively animalistic people) to cease its greed-driven, militaristic imperialism and addiction to technology. As our tech becomes more advanced, we lose our "souls," what it is that makes us human deteriorating proportionally to our growth in machine complexity. In any case, I believe Avatar to be a fantastic, Oscar meriting film, more than worth the (pricey) cost of a movie, 3-D, or IMAX ticket, and think it will, as it promised, change the way movies are made forever.

I want to start off by saying that as an action movie, this was just "okay," but as a Sherlock Holmes movie it was the worst thing ever made. However, to enjoy it to its fullest you must pretend that it has nothing whatsoever to do with the character created by Arthur Conan Doyle. The visual aspect of the movie was excellent, stylized to make London look as bleak and godless as fit with the mood of the film. There were several cool images like opened handcuffs sliding out of smoke that a captured Holmes is supposed to be in. The bad guy is sinister and enigmatic, but not particularly "attractive" or charismatic. The foreshadowing by Holmes that he uses to beat people up is clever but overused in several meaningless action sequences. But the main problem was something subliminal. Similar to the repellent nature of the colors in films like "Alexander," Sherlock Holmes has a color scheme that makes one drowsy. Plus, the story's not that interesting. You can watch it, but there's not much there.

A Different Breed of Hero

Although casual moviegoers were probably looking forward to seeing Zach Snyder's new graphic novel adaptation for about a month or so, devotees of Alan Moore's original masterpiece have been eager to see it for far longer than that. The recent work of cinema known as Watchmen has drawn people (admittedly mostly males) from all groups of society, probably in part because of the skill with which Snyder forged his last epic, 300. What some of them don't know is that Moore is also the author behind a handful of other great movies, including V for Vendetta and From Hell. But many of the people who spent the cost of a theater ticket may have been surprised and possibly disappointed, as Watchmen is far from being a standard "superhero" movie.

The film takes place in an alternate 1980's America, where Richard Nixon is elected for a third term, and vigilantes in costumes protect citizens from the criminal element. The story, told primarily through flashbacks, revolves around several of these "heroes," including the socially-inept Night Owl, the psychotic yet surprisingly winning Rorschach (played brilliantly by Jackie Earle Haley), and the luminescent, omnipotent, and nearly omniscient Dr. Manhattan (portrayed by Billy Crudup). The action is set off by a fight scene in which an aged, but still quite powerful member of the Watchmen called The Comedian is thrown out of his twentieth floor apartment window by an unidentified attacker. Rorschach, a film noir-style hard-boiled detective, spends the rest of the film investigating the crime and searching for what he believes to be a "mask killer" who is out to murder former heroes.

Unlike the more recognizable heroes of Marvel and DC, none of the Watchmen, as the team is called, seem particularly heroic in any portion of the film. Rorschach maims and kills multiple people, and the Comedian is revealed to have been both a murderer and rapist. The brilliant thing about Moore's work in the book as well as the film is that it's almost a dark satire about what kind of person would want to dress up in a costume and "beat up the bad guys." The viewers who "don't get it" are too used to the standard superhero formula: a normal person suddenly gains new powers and uses them responsibly to fight for truth, justice, and other unrealistic American ideals such as those. Watchmen, however, intentionally goes against that stereotype. Instead of flawless protectors of the peace, you get a group of crazy people in long underwear who commit many of the crimes that the public expects them to thwart. It may sound somewhat disingenuous, but the truth is that "heroes" are defined by what they do, not what abilities they have, as best illustrated in the character of Night Owl. Daniel Dreiberg (Nite Owl's secret identity) is irritatingly timid and romantically inept, but when he dons his mask, he becomes, at least in his mind, something more than a man, and is capable of committing great deeds for both society and his girlfriend. His companions are realistic as well, because for every shy guy who has to wear a mask to be a hero, there would be at least two or three psychopaths under similar guises. Then there's Dr. Manhattan, a true superhero who can manipulate all matter in the universe. But unlike Superman, a champion whose most prevalent weakness (other than Kryptonite of course) is that he cares about humankind, Dr. Manhattan has little interest in our race and its everyday problems. This lack of sympathy is not particularly surprising in someone with the powers of a god. Manhattan is so aloof from the rest of humanity that he doesn't even feel the need to wear clothes (if you don't want to see Billy Crudup's obviously computer-enhanced physique, close your eyes).

Alan Moore derived the title from the Latin phrase Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?—translation: Who watches the watchmen? The expression questions who should have the highest authority, a theme explored in this film, as you observe those who should be humanity's protectors and what they would really do with the powers they possess. So who watches the watchmen? According to the first few weeks of ticket sales, apparently 500 million Americans. Overall, the movie was very interesting, both in the way it nit together real historical events and fictional comic book heroics, and through the intelligence it carries through most of the film, including the new climax. Still, Moore makes you question the superhero genre, forcing you rethink how well the whole "masked vigilantes" thing would work for society, and leaves you pondering a deep philosophical conundrum about whether the ends justify the means. But even for (or maybe especially for) fans of the book, it would have to be considered "ok" rather than "good." Visually it was somewhere between 300 and Sin City, but its tone, which flits between subtle contemplation and ultra-violence, may remind you more of V for Vendetta. Unfortunately, there wasn't a really strong sense of who each of the characters were, due primarily to the absence of several essential scenes from the graphic novel, including a final conversation between Dr. Manhattan and another important hero named Ozymandias that brings some closure to story. Still, if you're interested in comics, their movie adaptations, and American culture, I certainly recommend Watchmen in the theaters. If not, save your money and watch it on TV (just not with a parent or younger sibling).