Review: Guardians of the Galaxy

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It’s a rare and wonderful opportunity to be able to walk into a theater with almost no knowledge or expectations about the movie you’re seeing. To be fair, Guardians of the Galaxy, Marvel’s latest superhero franchise starter, has been getting a ton of buzz, but I wasn’t quite sold, and, despite Marvel’s always-aggressive marketing campaign, I still had no idea what the movie was about. Guardians is not exactly a AAA comic book franchise, and there’s no characters to immediately identify with as in other Marvel projects like The Avengers.

As it turns out, that’s a very good thing, because, in a summer movie world inundated with sequels and reboots, it helps Guardians to feel even more original and refreshing. It’s the most visually stunning and consistently surprising movie to come out of the Marvel comics canon yet, not to mention the funniest.

Even in its opening credits sequence, Guardians displays its commitment toditching the superhero genre’s trend toward sober introspection when our main hero, earthling outlaw Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) who also goes by the moniker Starlord, puts on his trusty pair of headphones and rocks out to his retro cassette deck as it blasts “Come and Get Your Love.” Turns out he’s on the remote planet Morag for more than an uninhibited dance session; he’s eyeing a powerful and mysterious orb that plenty of folks in the galaxy would be willing to pay big bucks for. But lots of other creatures are looking for the orb as well, and some of them are after much more than a payday.

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Guardians gives a fresh blast of originality to the Marvel comics universe.

It isn’t long before Quill finds himself in trouble with the law after a public brawl with a seedy cast of characters, including the green-skinned assassin Gamora (Zoe Saldana) and the bounty hunting duo of anthropomorphic raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper) and tree-like humanoid Groot (Vin Diesel). Turns out they all have their reasons for wanting the orb.

The gang, constantly at each other’s throats, ends up in prison, where they meet strongman Drax (Dave Bautista) and agree to break free, deliver the orb and split the profits. But they soon find that they may have a motivation beyond money for keeping the orb safe.

Ronan, a menacing member of the alien Kree race, knows the orbs world-destroying potential, and he’ll stop at nothing to get it.

One of the great joys of Guardians is its effervescent, irreverent energy. Although the movie’s main conflict still has dramatic weight, it never takes itself too seriously as it shoots out ‘70s pop tunes and a consistent barrage of sly pop culture references. In tone, it more closely resembles the original Star Wars—if every character was a permutation of the cynical Han Solo—than any of Marvel’s previous efforts. The members of this ragtag, uncouth group of unlikely allies flips the bird, constantly threaten one another with death and behave in a manner generally unbefitting a world-saving hero. And that is oh-so-satisfying.

In a breezy two hours, director James Gunn and cowriter Nicole Perlman accomplish the rare feat of introducing a new cast of initially unlikable characters, making them likable and giving them something important to do. The Avengers had the advantage of whole movies of buildup, which makes Guardians’ feat even more impressive. On top of that, every major character gets a chance to shine, showcasing both the strong writing and the pitch-perfect acting that give the film so much of its bite. Saldana gets to kick tons of ass as Gamora, capping off a string of impressive sci-fi roles in the likes of Star Trek and Avatar. Wrestler Bautista gets to show his acting chops in a surprisingly nuanced performance as Drax, who is seeking revenge on Ronan for slaughtering his family. But Cooper and Diesel steal the show in vocal performances that will have the audience buzzing. Cooper channels his best Robert Downey Jr. as the titular fast-talking, foul-mouthed raccoon. It seems like he and Tony Stark would get along swimmingly (hint, Avengers crossover, hint, hint). Diesel gets an amazing amount of mileage from just three words (“I am Groot”), showing the strange creature’s tender side as well as his occasional uber-satisfying Hulk-style freak-out.

The film is also the first superhero movie in some time that I believe has a truly distinct visual style. From the most recent Captain America to Man of Steel, the genre has struggled to find a colorful visual palette befitting its source material. Guardians’ world is bustling and alive, with entire worlds and races of creatures bursting with color and personality. It recalls everything from Star Wars to The Fifth Element to Blade Runner. In both its mind-blowing special effects and its imaginative art direction, it’s easily the most visually impressive movie of the summer, if not the year.

Unfortunately, Guardians continues Marvel’s negative trajectory of bland villains. Lee Pace is awesome, and he hams it up as best he can as the maniacal Ronan. But he’s no Loki. He wants to become all-powerful and destroy the planet Xandar because…he’s evil, I think? I don’t think comic villains always need complex motivations or an emotional backstory, but they do at least need personality, and Ronan sadly doesn’t pass the test.

More than anything, however, I think Guardians of the Galaxy succeeds in being relatable. The Guardians are what we might call “sinners under one roof,” aggressively flawed, sometimes even nasty creatures who put aside their difference for the greater good. The Avengers touched on this, but how fallible is Captain America, really? Here, every hero is despicable in some shape or form. Yet, they’re able to bring out their redeeming qualities for the benefit of the universe. They’re not refined heroes in any sense of the word, but they get the job done just the same. And we have a hell of a time watching them. As Billy Joel sang, “I’d rather laugh with the sinners and cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun.”

The prophetic imagination of Foster the People

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“For beauty I will gladly feed my life into the mouths of rainbows, their technicolor teeth cutting prisms and smiling benevolently on the pallid hue of the working class hero.”-From the Supermodel album cover

Rock music is no stranger to songwriters who double as modern-day prophets. From Bob Dylan to the Beatles, Led Zeppelin to Jimi Hendrix, Marvin Gaye, U2, Pearl Jam and Mumford & Sons, one could argue that many truly memorable modern songwriters have a bit of the gift of prophecy indwelling within them.

The latest and, for my money, most refreshing addition to that tradition comes from an unexpected source. The alternative rock band Foster the People already put themselves on the map with their first album “Torches,” spearheaded by the effervescent, catchy and deceptively dark single “Pumped up Kicks.” But it’s their second album, Supermodel, released in March, that truly catches the prophetic imagination in unique and sometimes startling ways. If it appeared that Foster was headed toward instant super-stardom, their sophomore effort will likely perplex or even anger some fans of their earlier work; and that’s just one reasons why Supermodel is one of the most complex, challenging and, yes, prophetic works of art to emerge from contemporary rock music in quite a long time.

In discussing the prophetic tradition, it’s important to define what we mean by “prophetic.” In the history of humanity, prophecy goes back a long way. Nostradamus made prophecy chic in the 15th century, but the most famous examples of prophecy stem from the biblical Old Testament prophets, in particular Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel.

Prophetic voices may differ on the source of their inspiration, but one thing they all share is a dissatisfaction with their surrounding culture. Often, this leads to a warning, an exhortation that if we do not change the course we have set for ourselves (and, in the biblical example, turn ourselves toward God), calamity in some form will ensue. “As I live, declares the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from his way and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways, for why will you die, o house of Israel?” (Ezekiel 33:11).

In that same vein, modern prophetic songwriters write lyrics that dream of a better world, that convey a dissatisfaction with the way things are and perhaps even dream of ways we can make things better.

The thrilling thing about Foster is that their prophetic voice is often filtered through the explicit language of old-school biblical prophecy. Their vision is uncompromising, sometimes even impenetrable upon first listen. Such an approach can be off-putting but, much like the prophets of the Old Testament, their message is profound and well worth exerting a bit of intellectual effort for.

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That effort is put into overdrive on Supermodel’s first track, “Are You What You Want to Be?” which finds the band experimenting with Afro-Cuban inspired chants and drum beats. Any illusion that the band is gunning for another easy-listening, radio-friendly hit is shattered by lead singer Mark Foster’s staggered lyric. “The right words in the hands of dissidents with the fire/Will rip apart the marrow from the bone of the liars/Well I’m afraid of saying too much and ending a martyr/But even more so I’m afraid to face God and say I was a coward, yeah.” The song speaks of waiting for “revolution,” which, in the spirit of prophecy, is a very anti-establishment thing to say.

But what exactly is Foster rebelling against? Foster gives us an idea in a revealing interview with the L.A. Times.

“For me, a lot of the record is about Western culture, consumerism and the ugly side of capitalism,” Foster says. “I don’t want to hit you over the head with it, but those are the major topics. One thing I find really interesting is our worship of celebrity or politicians. We love to put people on pedestals. Look at reality shows. These people become giant stars. I find that fascinating. ‘Supermodel,’ for me, represents the age we are living in.”

Foster’s revolution may be cloaked in violent language, but their desire appears to be to increase understanding, creating a quiet revolution by rejecting the vanity inherent in the cult of celebrity and instead focusing on the “biggest question,” and it all starts with deciding “Are you what you want to be?”

The band’s philosophical inquiry grows more explicit in perhaps the album’s high point: “Ask Yourself.” The song suggests that we can’t do our part in making the world a better place if we resign ourselves to simply dream big; being who we want to be takes something more. “And you say that dreamers always get what they desire/But I’ve found the more I want the less I’ve got/Is this the life you’ve been waiting for/Or are you hoping that you’ll be where you want with a little more?” The subject of the song “Never needed the proof/Just followed the rules,” but found that “I’m always falling behind/Just floating the lines.”

But human endeavors to improve ourselves can only take us so far, if “Coming of Age” is any indication. In the prophetic tradition, Foster says that we cannot find true peace within ourselves because we are, in so many words, wicked. In biblical prophecy, this condition is more directly referred to as “sin,” a concept songwriters have been utterly fascinated with ever since the first guitar chord was struck. If anything, it’s a bitter answer to the last song’s charge that hard work alone leads to improvement. “You know I’ve tried to live without regrets/I’m always moving forward and not looking back/But I tend to leave a trail of dead while I’m moving ahead.” Lyrics like this are a rejection of philosophies like Buddhism, which say that we can reach salvation (or at least inner peace) by searching within ourselves. Our default state is failure after failure after failure; and such seemingly fruitless striving can take its toll.

The eerie “Never Mind” serves as the band’s rejection of moral relativism, or the idea that an absolute “Truth” is unobtainable and therefore not worth pursuing. “You have your truth and I have mine,” as the mantra goes. Foster expresses his confusion over this muddled philosophical view. “Yeah it’s hard to know the truth/In this post-modernist view/Where absolutes are seen as relics/And laughed out of the room/And I’m scared to say your name.” The band is concerned about a culture where they fear to even mention God’s name due to the fact that they may offend someone whose “truth” doesn’t cop to the idea of a deity.

In the album’s trippiest track, the seemingly drug-induced fever dream “Pseudologia Fantastica,” the band goes further in calling out post-modernist thought as “Another weekend massacre of opinion” before calling to memory some of the most powerful and challenging words Jesus Christ ever spoke. “Don’t be afraid of the knife/Sometimes you have to cut the limb to survive.” In Matthew chapter 18, Jesus was referring metaphorically to cutting off anything in our lives that may cause us to sin; Foster seem to be referencing a more philosophical rejection of anything or anyone that sacrifices a desire for ultimate truth on the altar of opinion.

images“A Beginner’s Guide to Destroying the Moon” offers the band’s most challenging lyrics, as well as the deepest philosophical subtexts. It’s here where their use of direct biblical language is most obvious. Foster goes directly after those phony people who do things for show and talk about nothing but trivial matters. I’m coming for you giants and your liars and your chariots of fire/You charmers with your anecdotes have started to show your true colors.” The language gets even more old-school. “We’ve been crying for a leader to speak like the old prophets/ The blood of the forgotten wasn’t spilled without a purpose, or was it?” It seems to me that Foster is clamoring for more prophetic voices to speak the truths that no one else wants to hear. Looking at the history of prophetic music, it doesn’t seem like there’s a lack of people with wisdom to impart, but, rather, a lack of reception from the people who need to not only hear their messages, but be transformed by them.

The album’s last two songs drive its message home powerfully. “The Truth” reaffirms the idea that there is a Truth (singular) even while “floating within your walls of opinion.” The song goes on: “There is a Truth, there is a light if you’d follow me there/I’ve been searching for the directions and/I’m convinced the world doesn’t know what it needs/There is a hope for the hopeless/I can promise you that.” The band again takes the emphasis off of our own actions to “discover” what life means, and rejects the idea that the object of our searching is forever out of reach. “The truth stands in the end/While you’re deciding what to do.”

The soft, pleasant acoustic album closer “Fire Escape” is actually the album’s most bitterly ironic song. It’s an outraged cry to the band’s hometown of L.A., a place of “pimps and prostitutes” who “wave you down at stopping signs.” Foster sings, “Los Angeles, I’ve been waiting for you/To pick yourself up and change.” The song repeats the refrain: “Save yourself, save yourself, yourself.” Of course, the city can’t save itself from its wickedness, just as we can’t save ourselves from ours. When the troubles of this world turn on the heat, we think we can jump out of the fire escape unsinged, but the rest of the album has shown that attempting to save ourselves is a fruitless exercise that leads to pain and defeat. So, the biggest question the album leaves us with is, if we can’t save ourselves, who can?

Supermodel is already an underrated album critically, mostly because it does not feature a catchy radio-friendly counterpart to “Pumped up Kicks.” That’s a great song, and Torches is a great album, but Supermodel takes the listener to places I never thought they could go. Not every song is immediately catchy, but every song is, in its own way, essential to the band’s inspiring contribution to the imagination of the prophetic voice.

In a philosophical slap in the face to most popular music, Foster the People says things are not okay, we are not okay, and our post-modern culture’s search for ultimate meaning is so grounded in the individual self (just think of all the popular songs that seem to find ultimate meaning in romantic love) that it has lost nearly all of its value. Mark Foster contemplated this as the band’s popularity grew. He told the L.A. Times, “I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with no kitchen. I lived paycheck to paycheck. Then suddenly my life changed. We had people helping us. We had money. We could see the world. I traveled and saw how other people lived, and it left me brokenhearted.”

“I felt guilty for how my life had changed.”

Our culture places a high priority on finding a truth, but belittles the idea of the Truth, with a capital T. What is that bigger Truth, and what is our part to play in it? I believe that bigger Truth rests in God himself, and I have a sneaking suspicion Foster does as well. Nevertheless, a culture that refuses to even ask that question is living blindfolded, stumbling around in the dark and headed for self-destruction. And, if we find out someday that Mark Foster was correct, and we chose to ignore his pleas, at least he can be comforted by the fact that no one ever listened to Ezekiel, either.

 

X-Men: Days of Future Past Review: Fun with portals!

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Ten years ago, it would have been difficult to imagine a movie like X-Men: Days of Future Past ever getting made. Early genre efforts in the post Spider-Man millennial boom, including the successful X-Men 2, were just beginning to scratch the surface of what the comic-based superhero movie could do. It wasn’t until 2012’s wildly successful Avengers movie that filmmakers really began to show how much could be accomplished within the confines of a summer superhero blockbuster. That movie piggybacked off of multiple origin stories in an attempt to tie together what Marvel Comics likes to call its “cinematic universe.”

What director Bryan Singer is doing with the X-Men franchise is even more ambitious. After six previous installments, including two Wolverine spin-offs, the franchise has reached a similar zenith of universe-building. Singer, who helped kick off the superhero craze with 2000’s original X-Men, has teamed up with screenwriter Simong Kinberg to make, for better or worse, the most “comic book” movie ever made. It’s also far and away the finest X-Men film to date.

Days of Future Past, based off of a highly praised and successful run in the comics, brings together the original X-Men cast with the younger generation of First Class. In the year 2023, mutants are on the run from unstoppable killing machines called Sentinels, and the few remaining mutants, including familiar faces such as Magneto and Professor Xavier, make a last-ditch effort to send Wolverine (whose self-healing abilities allow him to make the trip successfully) back in time to 1973 to ensure that the Sentinels are never created in the first place. This involves reuniting the young (and feuding) Xavier and Magneto to help stop the rogue, shape-shifting mutant Mystique from assassinating a mutant-hating research scientist and thus setting off a vicious and bloody mutant/human war.

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Days of Future Past is the best X-Men movie to date.

In story structure, Days of Future Past is indeed the most “comic book” movie ever made. When time travel is used as a plot device, it opens up a world of possibilities, and Singer has taken such possibilities to their ultimate extreme. In the comic world, characters may die and be reborn multiple times, and lengthy, alternate histories can be wiped away with one sci-fi twist.

This is the world the X-Men movie universe now resides in. Don’t expect an easy sit—this is ambitious, heady stuff, two hours filled with talk of teleporting consciousness and time ripples. It’s the most challenging entry in the genre since The Dark Knight Rises—it is, in more ways than one, the thinking man’s Avengers.

Thankfully, the movie also works as straight-up blockbuster summer entertainment. With all of the plot threads being juggled, it’s amazing how well-paced, engaging and, most importantly, relatable the story and characters are. A large part of that is as much do to the small details as it is to the impressive action set pieces. All the humorous in-jokes, asides and references will have longtime series fans rolling. The period details are also spot-on; the costumes, the music, even the retro, non-digital Times Square standing in stark contrast to the neon nightmare in The Amazing Spider-Man 2. The production design rivals the best we’ve seen in the genre.

The acting is as brilliant as ever. Hugh Jackman turns in yet another pitch-perfect performance as Wolverine, who once again acts as the outsider to this strange world. He’s both funny and fierce; we thankfully get plenty of humorous Wolverine moments, something largely missing from the characters’ spin-off movies. James McAvoy has also really come into his own as the young Xavier, displaying a more ambiguous, dark devil’s advocate to Patrick Stewart’s bland do-gooder. Michael Fassbender and Jennifer Lawrence, two of the finest working actors, add depth to their characters’ actions and motivations (and get some bad-ass action scenes to boot).

Your enjoyment of the movie will largely depend on what kind of X-Men movie you’re expecting. As a sequel to First Class, it’s brilliant and harrowing. As a sequel to the original X-Men trilogy, it’s really a non-event. We get brief moments with returning characters like Storm, Iceman and Kitty Pride, but the film devotes the vast majority of its running time to the events of 1973, with the events of 2023 acting as a framing device. In other words, if you’re expecting any answers or character development from the original cast outside of Wolverine, prepare to leave empty-handed. After all, if Wolvie is successful, these future versions of the characters may very well no longer exist.

This leads to a series of unanswered questions that may alienate longtime series fans. How, exactly, is Xavier alive in 2023? How did Magneto get his powers back after getting the cure in X-Men 3? These and other major questions are not even addressed, possibly because Singer wants to distance himself from that third film, which he did not direct, and many saw as a big disappointment. He can certainly make those kinds of decisions, but all the previous X-Men films still exist, and refusing to even acknowledge some of their major events will frustrate some viewers.

This dichotomy between old and new also extends to the film’s new characters. Those introduced in the future timeline, such as Bishop (who can absorb energy) and Blink (who has some awesome action scenes involving her ability to create portals) are hardly even introduced beyond some visually impressive displays of their powers. New characters introduced circa 1973 fare much better. Even Peters gives a brilliant turn as Quicksilver, the mutant version of The Flash. The less I say about his character, the better, but he gets the best comedic lines, and he even manages to play a scene involving a very intense prison break for laughs, in what is sure to go down as the single greatest scene in the entire X-Men saga. Peter Dinklage continues his hot streak as antagonist Bolivar Trask, and he does wonders with an underwritten role.

But, what makes Days of Future Past so damn good—if you can look past some admittedly steep plot holes—is just how fresh and bold much of it feels. The cheesy one-liners of Singer’s earlier X-Men films have been replaced with unrelenting emotional intensity. It’s not exactly revolutionary, but in embracing a truly “comic book” story structure, it opens itself up to interpretations, alternate theories and even criticism that most by-the-numbers superhero movies would never subject themselves to. It willfully flaunts the continuity of its previously established universe, it contains no consistent villain or even hero and it occupies a world of moral greys, even as many of its characters speak in blacks and whites. The ending feels a bit too happy and convenient, but I hear from comic fans that it’s true to the original story, and opens up the universe in some intriguing directions.

More than that, it’s just plain fun; reaching Avengers level heights with its crowd-pleasing spectacle. But there remains much to ponder beneath the big-budget glitz. The film’s revelations (or lack thereof) will either leave you enthralled or frustrated. But they will not leave you bored.

 

Godzilla review: Shifting weight in the right direction

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In my mind, the criteria for a good Godzilla movie is this: do the necessary human characters and plot get in the way of Godzilla smashing and burning stuff, or does it mostly stay out of the way? If the last serious American effort at adapting the iconic Japanese monster, Roland Emmerich’s 1998 bomb, is any indication, finding that balance is even harder than it looks.

The new Godzilla film, a franchise reboot of sorts, seems to be in a much better position, at least on paper. Whether it succeeds as a good Godzilla movie depends on your idea of what constitutes Godzilla in the first place.

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Some fans will love the newest reboot of the classic monster franchise; others may cry foul.

No one has ever really attempted to make a Godzilla movie with compelling human drama or reaching some kind of rich meaning behind the destruction, but that’s exactly where this film positions itself. With the Legendary production label backing it up, it’s very much a “gritty” interpretation, in the vein of Man of Steel or The Dark Knight. If the idea of a gritty Godzilla movie sounds ridiculous, that’s because it probably is. But it’s also what makes this incarnation worth a second look.

The surprisingly heavy plot concerns a Japan-based nuclear plant supervisor (Brian Cranston) who is obsessively investigating the seismic activity that killed his wife when it caused a powerful power plant to collapse. He believes the government is hiding something big, and has soon pulled in his Navy engineer son, Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), along with a pair of research scientists (Ken Watanabe and Sally Hawkins). Soon enough, they find a giant chrysalis containing a MUTO (massive unidentified terrestrial organism); and there would be no monster movie if the darn thing didn’t hatch and start wreaking havoc. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), there is an ancient beast that has been awakened, hell bent on destroying the MUTO itself.

The human elements of the film start off surprisingly emotionally resonant thanks to standout performances from Brian Cranston, as well as a sensitive performance from the underrated Elizabeth Olsen as Ford’s wife, Elle.

But other elements bring it down. The vast majority of the dialogue is either complex scientific jargon or painfully obvious foreshadowing. A character actually says “It’s not the end of the world” before all the smashing begins. Cute. I didn’t ask for Christopher Nolan-esque ponderings on man and nature in my monster movie, but I’m sure we’ll get them anyway.

The globetrotting nature of the plot doesn’t help, either. The film jumps around from location to location so frequently it’s easy to lose track of what you’re supposed to be focusing on. The jarring editing, especially when cutting to different characters, adds to the frustration.

It’s a slow burn getting to the giant lizard in action, but it’s definitely worth the wait. Godzilla’s new design is beyond awesome, and the creatures he goes to bat against are impressive in both scope and design. The quality of an incarnation of Godzilla and its monsters should be directly proportionate to how many “wows” the audience utters whenever it’s on screen. I emitted several. This is some of the most visually impressive destruction and creature design I’ve seen in years.

Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t feel the need to show that much of it. Every time we think we’re going to get a really good Godzilla fight, the movie cuts away to the increasingly boring humans trying to figure stuff out (we need to stop a nuclear bomb and multiple rampaging terrors? Why don’t we follow them around on a giant, slow moving ship?). There is a lot of devastation (including a particularly awesome leveling of Las Vegas), but we often get to see only the aftermath. While last summer’s Pacific Rim got 4 or so fully visualized giant monster showdowns, we maybe get 2 here. At least they’re shot well and convey an appropriate sense of weight; these are, after all, the equivalent of rampaging skyscrapers knocking each other around. If the action’s slow pace throws off modern audiences, that’s only because the blockbuster’s overindulgence in shaky cam and fast cutting has desensitized us to the allure of good, solid, classic combat. Whether the last 20 minutes of Godzilla truly strutting his stuff is a suitable payoff for the hour and a half of build-up is up to you. For me, it was.

I think a great Godzilla movie might get made someday, and I think this Godzilla is a giant clawed footstep in the right direction. The balance between wanton destruction and telling a compelling (and, more importantly, coherent) narrative may need some major work, but the big guy himself can’t help but garner a giant, childlike grin every time he’s on screen. And, coming from someone who has never even given Godzilla a glance, that is impressive. Some fans may be fundamentally opposed to a serious take on Godzilla, but if, like me, you never could get past the inherent cheese factor of most previous incarnations, this might be the monster movie for you.

Confessions of a Christian film critic: A response

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“I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness.” John 12:46

As a Christian who aspires to write about movies for a wide audience, Jesus’ words in John hold special resonance for me. Like humanity’s endless struggle between good and evil, the movies offer a powerful interplay between light and dark. In a movie theater, we may sit in darkness for a time, but the light of the projector lifts us up out of the darkness. This interplay of light and shadow is especially powerful for the Christian who desires to write about film.

Thus, Washington Post film critic Ann Hornaday’s essay “Confessions of a Christian Film Critic” comes to me as something of a revelation. It’s a candid, honest, and reflective account of what it means to be a follower of Christ and a lover of movies, and the challenges of writing for a secular audience.

But, as the great religion writer Terry Mattingly, a mentor and former professor of mine, points out, this is the confession of a liberal Christian film critic, specifically, an Episcopalian. Mattingly asks what the same essay would look like if it were written by a conservative religious believer. As someone who hails from the non-denominational evangelical tradition, I thought I would attempt to answer that question. Join me as I explore a response by, of course, asking more questions (Jesus did a lot of that), looking to areas in which I agree with Ms. Hornaday as well as points of contention.

HONESTY IS SUCH A LONELY WORD 

I believe that God can speak through both secular and religious filmmakers to deliver messages of great power and truth. I also believe that God’s presence can be completely absent from a movie; film can be used for great evil as well as great good. Hornaday certainly believes this too, but, as a respected journalist, she is careful to never let her biases alienate her readers.

She describes “the journalistic habit of not allowing my personal biases to surface, thereby inappropriately using my work as a religious platform and alienating those readers who don’t share my faith or have no faith at all. Those individuals have every right to read a movie review or essay without feeling sermonized, excluded or disrespected.”

The most important aspect of a critic’s work is honesty. And I believe there are times where a Christian critic must speak out against something he/she finds reprehensible or antithetical to God, even if it might end up excluding some readers. That would involve letting at least some personal biases come to light. A recent example is Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street (which Hornaday was not a fan of either). Although not one of Scorsese’s best, the movie is well made. But, the film’s glamorous depiction of sex and drug use gave me a headache. Christians are often called to turn away from the things of this world, and I certainly was turned away by this movie. Maybe I would have enjoyed it more if I was not a believer, but I am; how can I ignore a “personal bias” when it changes my entire perception of a film’s quality? Of course, this doesn’t explain my undying love for films like Pulp Fiction and A Clockwork Orange. I admit my religious protestations are not always consistent. But honest critics may find it difficult to separate their religious worldview from how they felt about a film; and that’s exactly as it should be.

A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE 

I greatly admire Hornaday’s increasingly strong—and very Christian— stance against senseless violence:

“As a student of film history, I know that violence is a long-standing, even essential element of cinematic grammar and audience catharsis; as a Christian, I find it increasingly difficult to accept portrayals of brutality that are glib, meaningless, played for laughs or cynically nihilistic.”

That list of movies would be pretty darn long. Hornaday feels drawn to a higher standard in calling out senseless violence. The late great Roger Ebert, who viewed film through his culturally Catholic lens, did the same, ripping apart positively reviewed blood fests like Kick-Ass and The Raid. But can a Christian still enjoy the impeccable craft of a Tarantino film? Can we detach ourselves from their voyeuristic bloodletting? I imagine Hornaday (and certainly Roger Ebert) might be more accepting of an equally brutal Coen Brothers film like No Country for Old Men (although fellow Post critic Stephen Hunter was not a fan). Do we puritanically judge movies by their level of violence, or whether that violence serves some sort of artistic statement that we find palatable? What about sexual content?

I’m not sure I have an answer, because film is such a subjective experience. A film we might never expect to move us might leave us in tears, and we may take offense over a movie we expected to love. Again, there’s no rhyme or reason to how we may respond to violence in one context, but not in another.

FOR YOU ALWAYS HAVE THE POOR 

But how do we respond to movies that reflect the concerns of this world through a godly lens? Hornaday writes:

“I’m constantly on the lookout for films that lift up our capacities for connection and mutual understanding — not as sentimental, schoolmarmish morality plays, but as an artist’s genuine healing response to a broken and confused world. Anything that seeks to honor or nourish or at least acknowledge our fumbling, feeble, quietly heroic attempts to help get each other through the heartbreak and suffering of life will always earn at least a nod of gratitude from me.”

This gets a big “amen” from me. There are some great secular films out there that Christians will likely be especially drawn to, as they provide a unique perspective in confronting human brokenness. They might even spur religious viewers toward missionary work or other ways of serving and reaching the world’s poor. Films like Blood Diamond or The Year of Living Dangerously are rich experiences for any viewer, but may hold special power for those who identify with Christ’s tremendous passion for the poor.  The former devolves into typically showy Hollywood displays of violence, but the latter has a great deal to say about the topic. Take character Billy Kwan’s reflection on how to respond to suffering: “What then must we do? We must give with love to whoever God has placed in our path.” It is in responding to films like these that Christians can add their unique, necessary voices.

Hornaday’s liberal Christian tradition leads her toward a more hands-off approach when it comes to mixing her faith and her criticism. After all, she wouldn’t want to offend anyone. But it should be noted that the cross of Christ is sometimes very offensive, and it will clash with mainstream culture as often as it will mesh. Abhorring senseless violence or glorification of sinful behavior, while also admiring art that calls us to a higher purpose, should be a goal of every good critic. But it should hold special consideration for the Christian critic. Hornaday gets all that right. But her goal of masking that consideration in “language having to do with humanism, transcendence and cosmic mystery” strikes me as a bit false. A critic should not only describe how he/she feels about a work of art, but why. If Hornaday’s faith is the impetus behind her opinions, she should say so. Such a response transcends “objectivity” and reaches higher to the critic’s main goal: honesty. Honesty from a Christian critic can help lift us out of the darkness, not unlike bathing in the light of the silver screen.

Read about my take on more specifically Christian Hollywood fare. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Captain America: The Winter Soldier review: The Marvel machine hums

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Captain America is probably the only superhero that would have his own museum exhibit. In an early scene in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rodgers (Chris Evans) goes to the Smithsonian to look at his own display, detailing the history of the Captain, from his WWII era bravery to the bold part he played in the Avenger’s defense of Manhattan during an alien invasion. It’s a credit to the film and the universe it creates that we fully believe that the Captain would have his own museum exhibit. He’s not some flying, mutated monstrosity or eccentric mechanized billionaire. He’s a flesh-and-blood hero that just happens to have super-strength.

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The Winter Soldier is a thoughtful and engaging addition to the Marvel canon.

The first Captain America movie did a fantastic job of setting up the Captain and his place in the Marvel universe. He was the patriotic one (obviously), the one who stood up for his traditional values and his clear-cut concept of right and wrong no matter the circumstances. That’s easy enough when you’re fighting Nazis.

But in the Winter Soldier, the Captain is more of a hero for our time. He questions what it means to be a hero, and feels lost in a modern world 80 years ahead of his time. It’s here we find the Captain, working with returning SHIELD teammates Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) to protect the organization from outward attack. But new forces threaten to compromise the organization from within, and the Captain soon has to contend with the shadowy agent Alexander Pierce (Robert Redford) as well as the mysterious Winter Soldier, who seems hell bent on putting the Captain down for good.

The movie’s action is, dare I say it, marvelous. The Captain’s shield bounces off of baddies’ skulls with the ease of your favorite childhood bouncy ball. The directing team of Joe and Anthony Russo give the film’s many intense fight scenes a sense of weight and drama that help to render realistic something as ridiculous as a ricocheting trash can lid. One thing missing from recent Marvel fare has been good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat, and The Winter Soldier has it in spades. But that doesn’t mean the level of destruction has gone down. In particular, a car chase involving Nick Fury is easily one of the coolest and most exciting in recent memory.

If The First Avenger played out like a techno-tinged patriotic war movie, The Winter Soldier plays out like a ‘70s spy espionage thriller. The Captain moves quickly from one revelation to the next (and boy are there some doozies) in his attempt to unravel the mystery of the Winter Soldier. It’s at times unrelentingly intense.

The movie also stands out from the comic book crowd in its tackling of the real-world, modern day themes of security and military protection in the digital age of widespread surveillance. From the NSA to Facebook and cell phone companies, these are timely American fears, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find a superhero movie tackle them with such gravitas. It adds a welcome shade of moral grey to the Marvel cinematic universe.

But, before this review gets to dire, the best thing about The Winter Soldier is that it’s incredibly fun. Johansson and Jackson have never been better, and their characters get some of the film’s best scenes and lines. Evans has truly embodied his role as the iconic American hero. Redford has a ton of fun with a meaty villain role, and newcomer Sam Wilson (aka the Falcon) is a welcome addition to the team. It’s also a very important movie in the Marvel cinematic universe, jam-packed with several bombshells that will deeply shake up the future of all the comic juggernaut’s Avengers-based franchises.

Comic movies with this much going on tend to collapse under their own ambition (Iron Man 2, anyone?), but The Winter Soldier can march on with little care for building up to an Avengers movie. In fact, there are times where it doesn’t feel much like a Marvel movie at all. That’s a very good thing. The meta-references to the Marvel universe that the filmmakers were surely obligated to include are somewhat distracting and drag the film’s pace down a bit, but they’re rare and not especially obvious for those not looking for them.

The “Marvel Machine” has been accused of sometimes churning out bare-minimum efforts to satisfy its desire to expand its universe in order to make even more movies (and more money). That complaint may be justified, but this supercharged sequel is prime evidence that Marvel still trades in thoughtful, timely and engaging blockbusters. You’ll want to see it again the second it’s over.

Noah and the (un)welcome return of the biblical epic

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Note, some spoilers for Noah follow.

Movies like Noah are a good part of why this site exists. It appears to be the rare case where Hollywood has created a satisfying story of true faith in God that also stands as a good movie a secular audience can enjoy without feeling like they’re being preached to. That’s a lot of pressure for any movie to live up to.

Of course, Noah doesn’t reach those lofty expectations. And, while it reveals some disconnect between Hollywood and largely religious-minded America, it shows signs that things are headed in the right direction.

Noah is, by many accounts, a good movie, and, while it certainly wasn’t made by a Christian man, it was made by a Jewish director who has a deep, abiding respect for the stories he grew up with. He was drawn not to the Sunday-school-sermon version of the story of Noah’s Ark, but rather God and humanity’s continued grappling with original sin.

“When (Noah’s Ark) is taught to kids, it’s about the good man and his family,” director Darren Aronofsky said in an Atlantic interview. “They don’t talk about the duality of original sin.”

Aronofsky has shown the ensnaring power of original sin in graphic, excessive detail in bleak films such as Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler. He explored a dual nature of sorts in Black Swan.

Concern from faith-based audiences stems from several sources, primarily being its accuracy to the original text. Of course, the original story is rather lacking in detail, so details additional details had to be included to make the film into a true epic.

Some of these decisions work better than others. A particular head scratcher is the inclusion of the “Watchers,” fallen angels that now walk the earth as giant stone monsters. They help Noah build the Ark (so of course it takes much less than 100 years). They move the tale more into the realm of science-fiction, rather than historical biblical account. Which, in Aronofsky’s words, was exactly the point.

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The flawed epic Noah lays the groundwork for future successful mainstream Bible-based movies.

“I think it’s more interesting when you look at not just the biblical but the mythical that you get away from the arguments about history and accuracy and literalism,” he said. “That’s a much weaker argument, and it’s a mistake.”

That will certainly sound blasphemous to many Christians and Jews that take the early Old Testament account as literal truth. But Aronofsky is definitely on to something here. He goes on to say that the Bible is historically sound and reliable after the Flood narrative and the story of Babel. But the early creation account is by its very nature mythical, because it is so deliberately lacking in detail. Aronofsky is pulling us away from arguments about literalism over something we have never seen, and instead inviting us to appreciate the way God is sharing his story with us. That’s why arguments about a literal 6-day creation, according to the Genesis account, are rather silly.

In Noah’s most arresting sequence, Noah describes the creation of the universe in the language of the Bible, while we see what appears to be theistic evolution, showing how God might have guided the earth through evolutionary processes. Whether you fashion yourself a creationist, evolutionist, believer or non-believer, Aronofsky is showing that it is God’s story, not always the sometimes non-existent details, that matter to us. However he brought it about, we can still stand in awe at the majesty of God’s creation.

EXAMINING THE BIBLICAL EPIC

Views this complex, this simultaneously faithful and radical, have been a long-time coming in both Hollywood and the evangelical filmmaking community. God and the movies go way back, to the birth of the “biblical epic,” movies that told biblical stories using ground-breaking effects and popular Hollywood actors.

The most famous of these is probably “The Ten Commandments,” starring Charlton Heston. Made by the legendary Cecil B. DeMille, the film remains a powerful visual experience, despite its dated special effects. But DeMille’s films revealed the problem with Hollywood’s interpretation of the Bible: they were distinctly lacking in the soul department. Perhaps even more than the parting of the Red Sea, we remember the Jewish people writhing half-naked in front of the golden calf. DeMille was a provocateur, emphasizing the tawdry and voyeuristic over any serious examination of God’s redemption.

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Old Hollywood biblical epics were often more concerned with ticket sales than saying anything significant about God.

Other biblical epics weren’t really biblical epics at all. Take the Oscar-winning Ben Hur. It’s subtitled A Tale of the Christ, but it’s only peripherally about Jesus. Ben Hur (Heston, again) crosses paths with Christ throughout the movie, but the story calls too much attention to it. Later in the movie, Ben Hur declines hearing the Sermon on the Mount because he must participate in an epic chariot race. This “oh, and by the way, Jesus/God” attitude permeated much of old Hollywood’s attempts at telling scriptural stories.

The industry’s interest in these tales waned considerably after Ben Hur. Disasters like Esther and the King and King David did nothing to entertain the masses or inspire the faithful. It seemed the biblical epic had run its course in the cinematic universe.

A PASSIONATE GAME-CHANGER

Of course, this was all before Mel Gibson’s compassionate masterwork The Passion of the Christ. The 2004 film, following the final hours of Jesus Christ’s life before his crucifixion and subsequent resurrection, was the rare Christ-centered film that everyone, Christian or no,  absolutely had to see, if just once. Critics were turned off by Gibson’s relentlessly graphic portrayal of Christ’s suffering, but that was the point. Audiences turned out to the tune of $370 million, a stunning figure for what is easily one of the more violent movies ever made.

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The Passion was a rare example of how The Bible and commercially successful cinema could work in harmony.

From a Christian perspective, one has to ask whether a film like Passion’s message is diluted by its R-rated brutality. That’s a valid question. But the movie was a game-changing faith-based film for several reasons. It was a rare example of a faithful believer pouring his heart and soul into a passion project, independent of big-budget studio financing. It also showed that people were hungry for faithful biblical content, even if it wasn’t “entertaining” the way traditional biblical epics were (the image of someone eating a bucket of popcorn while watching the torture of their messiah is one that still fills me with a strange mix of fear and laughter).

There were a few attempts to cash in on the biblical epic after Passion’s success, but they mostly ended up like The Nativity Story, making little impact at the box office or in the hearts of moviegoers. Since then, spiritually minded films seem to have drifted off in two directions. The first is the increasingly popular “faith-based” films, usually created by evangelical Christian filmmakers. Popular examples include Fireproof and the recently released God’s Not Dead.

As a Christian, I don’t want to write off these movies entirely. Their messages of hope and trust in God even in our modern consumerist society are ones that people need to hear. But, as a fan of quality filmmaking, it’s hard not to try and avoid them. The major problem with these types of films is that they build stories around messages; most screenwriters know that great movies are only made when the opposite is true. Great messages are drawn out of great stories and characters. Heavy-handed dialogue, stiff acting and “clean, family friendly” entertainment may do some good in affirming the faithful, but often come off as culturally clueless and boring to non-believers. There are some exceptions; Blue Like Jazz, the adaptation of Donald Miller’s bestselling book (based on his real-life experience attending Reed College, touted as the most godless university in America), struck the right balance between conveying a Christian message and providing an interesting character and story. And yet, evangelical filmmakers seem to think that Christianity is all about sentiment and easy uplift.

Compare this to Hollywood’s attempts at faithful filmmaking, which took a note from Passion by skewing dark and gritty. These movies faced the opposite problem: their often profane content turned off faith-based audiences, and their religious themes kept secular audiences from embracing them fully.

I’ve written before about Hollywood’s God renaissance, and the transcendent work of Terrence Malick, but a good example here is The Book of Eli. Thanks to its post-apocalyptic setting and star Denzel Washington, the movie made almost $100 million domestically. It’s a powerful account of a man who walks by faith, not sight, and a great illustration that the Bible can be used as a weapon, as much for evil as for good. But Eli kills many enemies, and there are decapitations as well as frequent profanities throughout the movie. This leaves the film a little in the lurch; too much bible talk for an action movie, too much profane content for faith-based audiences.

NOAH AND THE FUTURE OF FAITH BASED ENTERTAINMENT

Which brings us back to Noah. It has been touted as a return to the traditional biblical epic. It is epic, but it’s far from traditional. It’s one of the strangest, riskiest movies to be given a wide release in recent years. To say it’s a faithful rendition of the biblical account is both true and false. In addition to the Watchers, there’s the inclusion of a consistent villain (Ray Winstone’s Tubal Cain) that takes things a bit too far, and the film does itself a disservice by letting us see so little of the actual animals (they all fall into a deep sleep as soon as they step onto the Ark).

The characterization of Noah (played sensitively by Russell Crowe) will also be controversial to many. Noah hears about God’s command to build a boat in a (terrifying) dream sequence, but he never audibly hears God’s voice. This leads Noah to make some decisions that are contrary to what we know God would have him do. He’s a modern-day hero in that he is psychologically tortured, thinking he knows what God would have him do but unsure because he can’t hear directly from God.

This is somewhat problematic, but I think it also fits well into our modern culture’s fears and anxieties about following God on faith. Noah is a troubled hero for a troubled age, but he is still a man of intense faith, committed to carrying out God’s will no matter the personal cost.

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Exodus, starring Christian Bale, will be the next Biblical story to get the Hollywood treatment.

We get no indication in the Bible that Noah is disturbed or tortured by the fact that the rest of the world is being killed for their wickedness. In the film, it troubles him and his family greatly, and Noah questions whether he is any more worthy to continue living than anyone else. His question: can mankind truly be redeemed? It’s a question that, appropriately, can’t be answered until the arrival of Christ, but Noah plays his part in God’s grand tale despite his questions and doubts along the way. He’s not a saint, but a living, breathing, and very flawed follower of God.

The return of the biblical epic will continue in December with Ridley Scott’s Exodus, starring Christian Bale as Moses. I’m fascinated to see what Scott does with more Old Testament material. Noah is not exactly a great movie, and its deviations from the Bible can occasionally be distracting. I don’t think Aronofsky has any pretensions of truly satisfying a faith-based audience, and it seems a bit too artsy for mainstream audiences. But, despite its pitfalls, it lays the groundwork for what biblically based mainstream movies can do for both religious audiences and nonreligious viewers that simply want to experience a good story.

The film accurately depicts the power of our sin, and how desperately we have always needed God to pull us out of our depravity. It also shows the power that true faith can have, and the fruits of following God regardless of our present circumstances. The fact that it does this in the context of a mainstream action film is not only surprising, it’s somewhat of a revelation. It also had a $44 million opening weekend, so that has to count for something.

Cal Thomas, writing for World, put it best.

“After decades in which Hollywood mostly ignored or stereotyped faith, Christians should be happy they have gotten the film industry’s attention. Successful films like The Passion of the Christ, The Bible and Son of God prove that such stories ‘sell.’ Instead of nitpicking over Noah, the Christian community should not only be cheering, but buying tickets to encourage more such movies. Hollywood may not always get it right, but that’s not the point. They are getting something and that sure beats not getting anything.”

Thomas also wrote that watching Noah might inspire conversation around the life-changing book that inspired it. In my mind, a movie that sends us running back to the Good Book for any reason should be applauded.

Academy Awards: The good, the bad, the ugly

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This year’s Academy Awards ceremony was a strange beast. Equal parts funny, annoying and brilliant, it defined both the great and the not-so-hot of live television. As Oscar telecasts go, it was quite good.

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Ellen DeGeneres was a major highlight of this year’s sometimes stuffy, sometimes spontaneous ceremony.

What worked in this year’s ceremony? For better or worse, host Ellen DeGeneres was a big reason why the show worked. Several bits should go down as some of the best in history, including the pizza delivery and the selfie seen around the world. Ellen was relaxed and jovial, working the audience and having some great fun with the stars. She’s a pro at making hilarious moments out of painfully awkward situations (as opposed to being just painfully awkward, like another recent hosting duo I could name). I thought Seth McFarlane was an edgy breath of fresh air, but Ellen is perfectly delicious Oscar comfort food. As Cinema Blend put it, she was “the Oscar host we needed AND the one we deserved.

It was also a banner year for Oscar winners and their speeches. Jared Leto thanked his mother, Matthew McConaughey thanked God AND his mother (and his drunken angel father—seriously, that was weird), and the stunning Lupita Nyong’o paid tribute to the dreamer in all of us. They were three of my all-time favorite Oscar speeches.

I also thought it was a good year for the actual awards. Almost every winner was deserving, though some categories were so stacked that it was impossible for people not to be disappointed. Gravity took home a whopping seven awards, sweeping the technical categories and garnering a win for director Alfonso Cuaron (the first Latin American to win that award; though it’s crazy to think Pedro Almodovar has never gotten one). But, in a neck-and-neck Oscar race, the top prize went to the richly deserving 12 Years a Slave, which has got to be the best movie to win that award since…let’s just say it’s been a long time.

The not-so-good? What about this year’s Oscar “theme?” It was supposed to be a salute to movie “heroes,” but the presentation was so disjointed, it ended up feeling like no more than a padded, unnecessary afterthought. And, speaking of padding, this ceremony was long; it clocked in around 3 ½ hours. It seems ABC doesn’t mind going over running time; there were surprisingly few infamous musical “playoffs” for overlong speeches, even one’s like Jared Leto’s that went on for minutes. But, other than those “heroes” sections, the show really didn’t seem to drag. Even the “In Memoriam” segment was streamlined (causing some criticism), and the Best Picture centerpiece presentations were clustered in groups of three. And the musical numbers from this year’s Best Original Song candidates were particularly good.

The night’s biggest downer was its predictability. The major awards went to the intended suspects, and there were really no left-field wins (although some surprises in the documentary and animated short races shook things up). Remember the crazy insanity that was the Golden Globes? I mean, those speeches were bonkers (Jacqueline Bisset, anyone?) At the Oscars, everyone seemed cordial and no one seemed drunk. That made the ceremony feel classy and a little dull.

“Safe” is probably a better word. The Academy was concerned over the backlash from last year’s show; so they decided to do what was expected of them. And it worked really well (those ratings don’t lie) and not much more. That’s fine with me. It’s hard to complain about this year’s Academy show; it was classy, breezy fun. More importantly, there were some potentially historic Oscar moments to round out the package.

I leave you with pizza. Hope you’re hungry!

Oscar Watch: 12 Years a Slave

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In this series, I look at the major Oscar nominated films and their chances of taking home gold. It is more an analysis of the Awards than it is the film’s quality, though some commentary on that is also included. Enjoy! 

 The term “instant classic,” is one that should almost never be used in the world of film. After all, doesn’t the very definition of “classic” imply that something must stand the test of time? Nonetheless, it’s fun to forecast the future and see whether any particular Oscar-winning meet that standard. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King is probably a classic. Chicago? Not so much.

If one movie will be remembered as a great film in 20 years from this year’s race, my vote goes to 12 Years a Slave (along with documentary The Act of Killing, but that’s for another post). It is difficult to imagine a film about American slavery that feels less like a history lesson, but more like actual lived experience. I’m not sure how director Steve McQueen and company did it, but the results are to be celebrated.

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12 Years a Slave will very likely take home Oscar’s top prize.

There’s been a strange backlash against the film in the movie going community; people say it’s flawed and overrated. No movie is perfect, but I can’t find any glaring flaws in the movie the way some have. It has some boring stretches and needed better editing? So did Citizen Kane.

People also say that 12 Years is the kind of movie that should win Best Picture, which is somehow different from the movie that deserves it. I think the argument is that the film’s subject matter trumps any arguments about its quality. As an Academy voter told Entertainment Weekly, “It was by far not my favorite picture, but choosing 12 Years validates the idea that the film should exist.” Wait…what?

The movie should win Best Picture not because it’s a movie about slavery, but because it is the movie about slavery. It’s also the best movie of the year. Why does it need to be anything else?

12 Years seems to be in a dead heat with Gravity, but, as I’ve said before, the populist choice always loses to the prestige picture. I think 12 Years will squeak by with the night’s big prize.

Of course, the film is nominated for 8 other Oscars, and should take home several of them. Not the least is Lupita Nyong’o’s stunning supporting performance as tortured slave Patsy.She gave a performance every bit as brutally physically and emotionally wrenching as Sandra Bullock did in Gravity; under the banner of “supporting,” she really carried a good chunk of the movie.

I’ve said so much about Chiwetel Ejiofor’s lead performance as Solomon Northrup, all I can really add is that he should win, but won’t. That Oscar has Matthew McConaughey’s name on it.

Same goes for Michael Fassbender’s searing supporting performance as the cruel slave owner Edwin Epps. He’s richly deserving, but will lose to Jared Leto, which some say is because of the fact that Leto played a transgender woman, rather than the performance itself. It’s a stacked category, and I loved Leto, but Fassbender’s is my favorite performance of the bunch.

12 Years will likely lose the directing and editing prizes to Gravity, making it one of those strange years when the Best Picture winner does not actually win that many awards. The costume and production design are good but not good enough.

The only seeming certainty in 12 Years’ crystal ball is the award for adapted screenplay. As rottentomatoes points out, Best Picture winners also win the Best Screenplay award. Of course, given that Gravity’s screenplay isn’t even nominated, even that is not a sure thing this year. Nonetheless, John Ridley’s script tells a harrowing life story without preaching or speechifying, and is in every way a triumphant adaptation of Northup’s own letters.

Despite its fate on Oscar Sunday, I truly believe 12 Years will stand the test of time as a masterpiece. Then again, I think the same thing about Lincoln, and that only won two awards despite 12 nominations during the 2013 show.

Oscar Watch: American Hustle

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American Hustle seems to be in an odd position in this year’s Oscar race. While it has been seen as a dark horse candidate for some big awards (including Best Picture), passions for the movie seem to have cooled a bit.

It is, by all accounts, a very good movie. It was one of my favorites of 2013, and a much better “fun” awards contender than Wolf of Wall Street. David O. Russell doing a Scorsese-an crime caper that actually outdid Scorsese himself is something we all wanted to see. And O. Russell pulled it off flawlessly.

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American Hustle, nominated for 10 Oscars, will pick up a few, but go home empty-handed in most major categories.

But it’s far from perfect, and I’m not even sure it’s as good as the director’s brilliant romantic comedy Silver Linings Playbook. But Hustle has too many strong elements to be ignored. And, nominated for 10 Oscars, the Academy sure seems to have taken a shine to it.

Just look at the actors in the film. You’ve got Christian Bale (Best Actor), Amy Adams (Best Actress), Jennifer Lawrence (Best Supporting Actress) and Bradley Cooper (Best Supporting Actor). How often is a film nominated in all four acting categories? The last time it happened, appropriately, was last year’s Silver Linings Playbook. But before that, it was Warren Beatty’s Reds in 1981.

All the actors here are brilliant, but they’re up against some tough competition. The general consensus is that Christian Bale is out, and Lawrence is up against frontrunner Lupita Nyong’o, but some Academy voters have expressed that they are voting for both. There is no contest for Amy Adams; she will lose to Cate Blanchett, and the consideration for Bradley Cooper seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

That leaves room for Hustle to sweep up in its other categories, though I believe it will lose out to Gravity in most of those, that film will take home the largest number of total statues. Michael Wilkinson’s costume design seems like a given; the film is a glorious gallery of sequins, plunging necklines and standout toupees. The costumes add significantly to the film’s unique character.

O.Russell’s editing team did a brilliant job with Playbook, and Hustle is even more breathtakingly cut than that. But its tough to imagine it beating out Gravity; the way that film ties its cutting directly into its thematic episodes is too impressive to ignore.

Hustle’s other big enemy is actually The Great Gatsby. There’s no way Catherine Martin’s lavish production design, which made an okay movie significantly better, is losing even to a movie as snazzy as Hustle.

I’d love to see David O. Russell win a Best Director award someday, but this is not his year. That award easily goes to Alfonso Cuaron. I’m really rooting for O. Russell and Eric Warren Singer’s original screenplay, which was funny and twisty and all-around brilliant. But Spike Jonze’s Her is the very definition of “original;” funny, insightful, and very, very quirky. That seems to be the frontrunner here.

Hustle was a dark horse Best Picture contender, but that seems less likely now. It’s seems a distant third to Gravity and 12 Years a Slave. Could a lavishly nominated period piece go home empty-handed on Sunday? It certainly has happened before. But I’m willing to be this infectious crime caper will pick up at least a few Oscars.