Phoenix Film Festival Recap: The indie spirit is alive and well

Posted on April 17, 2016 by Kyle

One of my favorite things about film festivals is that you never quite know what you’re going to get. The modern cinematic experience has largely been soured by early reviews and spoiler-filled trailers, but attending the Phoenix Film Festival is like stepping back into a time when all it took to sell you on a movie was a title and a two-sentence summary. While larger festivals like Sundance have in some ways become too commercialized, such wonder (and sometimes horror) in the face of mystery is still very much present here.

I didn’t expect to be so sobered (and educated) by Since: The Bombing of Pan Am Flight 103, a hair-raising documentary about a tragic plane bombing that haunted a generation. I didn’t expect to be so moved by The Man Who Knew Infinity, an impeccably acted biopic about Indian math whiz Srinivasa Ramanujan. I didn’t expect to have my mind so thoroughly twisted in knots by the sci-fi time travel wonder Displacement, or laugh so hard at The Meddler, a film that on paper seemed to be a more serious drama.

The tagline for the Phoenix Film Festival is “find your new favorite movie,” and, while that may be a bit dramatic, I appreciate and understand the spirit of such a phrase. You really can find anything at a place like this, even your new most hated movie. Both sides of the coin seemed to be present during screenings of Night of Something Strange, a schlocky horror film so disgusting it had even the staunchest gore hounds running for the exits (and the true-blue sickos singing its praises).

I, along with many others, certainly found some of my new favorite short films here. The best piece of advice I could give to a first-time festival-goer is see some short films. Sci-fi shorts, horror shorts, animated, live-action and documentary are all on display, and they’re some of the most creative (and sometimes downright bizarre) stuff you’ll ever see. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a theater audience laugh as hard as we did during the Spanish-language short “A King’s Betrayal,” which is narrated by a piñata horse as he makes his journey from store selection to ultimate grim purpose. It’s a similar concept to the upcoming Seth Roger-led animated film Sausage Party, which will have a hard time matching this.

The Phoenix Film Festival is a great example of what makes festivals so much fun and so special.

The shorts programs also best illustrate my other favorite aspect of film festivals: the community. One of the highlights of the festival was getting to chat with director Peter Brambl about his awesome short film “The Mountain King.” It’s an impeccably crafted and loving homage to 70’s crime thrillers, telling an epic and generation-spanning story of loss and redemption in the span of 10 minutes. We discussed our shared love for this style of cinema and I told him how I’d love to see the short made into a feature, since there’s clearly enough material to do so. He agreed, and said it was likely going to happen.

I love getting in line for a movie and asking others, “what have you seen?” I sat next to a woman in a screening who had written her reactions to the films she had seen in her programs. She was a sci-fi fan and spent several minutes talking about what had stuck with her during the festival. I worked as a volunteer in theater operations, which gave me a lot of downtime in-between screenings. Talking to other volunteers about movies for hours was a rare opportunity for me to discuss one of my favorite subjects at length without getting disapproving glances or feeling like I’ve overstayed my welcome. I met friends who were always eager to discuss further.

That’s ultimately what makes festivals like the Phoenix Film Festival so rare, and so special. That shared passion, the ability to watch 4, 5, 6 movies in a row and still be excited about it, is infectious. That breathless anticipation during the opening credits, and either the slow build of satisfaction or the mounting dread of disappointment are something the audience shares together. We all go on the same journey, though we experience it in different ways.

I suppose the same can be said for life. In this microcosm of existence known as a film festival, the question is often the same: “what have you seen?” But in the answer lies the endless possibility of lifetimes.

Midnight Special review

Posted on April 4, 2016 by Kyle

Writer-Director Jeff Nichols has made a career out telling riveting tales about lonely outsiders who don’t seem to fit in. Films like Mud and Take Shelter have also been populated with spectacular performances and a healthy dose of realism. With Midnight Special, Nichols has taken his favorite themes and styles into the science-fiction genre. The results are uniformly spectacular.

The film’s story is drenched in mystery and intrigue, so it’s a hard one to convey without giving away what makes it unique. It opens on Alton (Jaeden Lieberher), an 8-year-old who is…very odd, to say the least. He wears thick goggles and large, obtrusive headphones. A newscast informs us that he has been kidnapped from his “home,” a Texas cult compound known as The Ranch. What’s odd about this kidnapping is that he has been taken by his father, Roy (a typically excellent Michael Shannon) and Roy’s childhood friend, Lucas (Joel Edgerton). They’re locked in a hotel room, the windows covered by cardboard. Although Roy is Alton’s father, the boy has been under the legal guardianship of the Ranch’s charismatic leader, Calvin Meyer (Sam Shepard) for the past few years. It appears that the acolytes of The Ranch, including Roy, have been worshipping Alton as some kind of prophet. Because Alton isn’t just a little different. He recites strings of numbers. He speaks in languages he doesn’t know, and some that don’t even exist. He picks up cryptic satellite frequencies. It’s been said that he causes fevered visions in those he comes into contact with, visions that cause people to drop their lives and follow him. To where, exactly? His followers believe that Alton is the only one who can save them from an impending apocalypse.

The U.S. government, as is often the case, is interested in Alton for different reasons. They’ve heard Meyer’s sermons, and believe Alton may be receiving and reciting classified government data. So the FBI sends in a specialist from the NSA (Adam Driver), who believes he can decode the messages Alton is receiving and figure out their true purpose. Meanwhile, Alton’s powers are becoming increasingly unstable, and his mother (Kirsten Dunst) fears his health is weakening to the point where he may die before his preordained (and very mysterious) date with destiny.

Jeff Nichols’ sci-fi thriller is filled with intense scenes, memorable performances and potent themes.

The plot is decidedly kooky, as sci-fi plots often are, but this one is especially so. The film teases information and revelations out at such a slow pace (and sometimes not at all), that we never quite feel comfortable in its universe. This is, of course, very deliberate, but what prevents the film from going off the rails is the realism Nichols brings to the proceedings. From its tone to its storytelling and performances, Midnight Special’s odd events feel like they could be taking place in the real world. With so many sci-fi films focused on elaborate special effects and artificial chrome skylines, the grittiness that exudes through every pore of the film is a welcome change.

The world “gritty” has lost much of its meaning in our modern film vocabulary, but Midnight Special is gritty in the old-fashioned sense. It’s not deliberately “dark” or “edgy” in order to appeal to the disillusioned youths. “Gritty,” for me, means that we see the hardships the characters endure, the struggles they face. They may become literally caked in mud, or they may reveal their deep hurts in more subtle ways. Even “gritty” movies can be filled with air-brushed actors, heroes who never seem to bruise or bleed despite wall-to-wall action. This film is interested in none of that. Like Nichols’ previous work, it’s more interested in sneaking up on you, immersing you in an anything-but-ephemeral time and space.

The other aspect that really sells the film is the performances. Michael Shannon, Nichols’ go-to actor, has never been better. Despite the machinations of the complex plot, Roy remains a very committed father wanting what is best for his son, and that sort of primal instinct to put family above all else is something most of us can relate to. The same goes for Dunst, who has been experiencing sort of a career renaissance. Along with her amazing work on Fargo, she continues to master the balance between subtle, heartbreaking desperation and strong, deep-seated resolve. Edgerton and Driver deliver fine work as well, but of course a film like this lives or dies on a child performance. Thankfully, Lieberher is more than up to the task. He nails Alton’s mix of odd and endearing. He very much drives the film’s events (and is in many ways, quite dangerous), but we also never forget that he is just a kid, and he is often as afraid of himself as other are in awe of him. The 12-year-old actor has gotten an enviable amount of work in just a few years, and his performance here proves he will continue to be highly in demand.

The aspect of Midnight Special that most makes it, well…special, however is its ultimate optimism. I’ve tired of sci-fi dystopia and aliens hell-bent on our destruction, and I imagine many filmgoers have as well. The film’s central mystery is intriguing, but the journey itself is engaging primarily because the emotions driving it are simple. The bonds of family are stronger than almost any other we can form in this world, and they’re sturdy enough to weather any storm. We all desire a place where we can fit in, where we can truly call home. The film’s climax reflects these themes in ways that are both surprising and effective.

Midnight Special is a slow burn, and its esoteric plot may prove too cryptic for some viewers. But, for this sci-fi geek, this beguiling mix of E.T. and Dark City is a mystery that features potent performances and themes well worth diving into.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice review

Posted on March 27, 2016 by Kyle

Batman v Superman, Warner Bros. attempt to set up an extended DC Comics universe to rival Marvel’s movie empire, suffers from a curious form of blockbuster malady. It tries to give us too much in some areas and not enough in others, expecting that the extravagances and the restraints will balance each other out to create a satisfying flick. But that’s not how movies work, and I feel like there’s enough talented people backing this project to know that. Still, the result is a movie that feels like it will end up pleasing no one.

The this-is-all-too-much side of the equation comes mostly in the form of the story. Penned by David S. Goyer and Chris Terrio, the plot begins intriguingly, with an excellent opening focused on the destruction caused by Superman (Henry Cavill) during the climactic battle in Man of Steel. It turns out that Bruce Wayne aka Batman (Ben Affleck) was in Metropolis when the chaos was raining down on the city, and a building filled with his employees was destroyed. Wayne sees Superman as a powerful and destructive force that answers to no man, and vows to destroy him.

Meanwhile, Superman’s alter-ego, Clark Kent, sees reports of the increasingly brutal vigilante justice being metered out by Batman in neighboring Gotham City. He sees Batman as the true threat to justice. But humanity, reeling from the fact that a god is walking among them, is much more concerned with Superman. A senator (Holly Hunter) has begun holding hearings about Superman in an attempt to hold him accountable for the destruction he has caused. And in the middle of it all is the wily Lex Luthor (played with unambiguous glee by Jesse Eisenberg), who sees the bad blood brewing between the two superpowers and immediately begins concocting a plan to exploit it in the hopes that the two will take each other out for good.

The first hour or so is mostly engaging, with a clear, compelling conflict and character motivations. The film raises some provocative questions about the nature of justice and the relationship between god and man. Even as the film goes on, the plot doesn’t get any more overstuffed than your average comic-based film. But the structure of the story is immensely problematic. It’s hard to remember a big-budget tent pole flick this lazily constructed. Some scenes seem to be dropped haphazardly in random sequence. We jump back and forth between characters, sometimes mid-conversation, which disrupts any sort of flow the movie is trying to maintain. Odd dream sequences frequently take us out of the story, and some character decisions later in the film seem rushed and poorly developed. At 2.5 hours, this bad boy could have used some major cutting.

If Batman v Superman is the future of the comic-based blockbuster, it looks to be a dark, dull and dreary one.

Director Zack Snyder, who also helmed Man of Steel, has never met a metaphor he couldn’t bludgeon to death, and so we get lots more painfully obvious religious symbolism surrounding Superman. We also get tons of ridiculous dialogue from Luthor which sounds like it was written just to make the trailer sound EPIC (bludgeoned even further by Eisenberg, who seems like a really wrong choice for the character). Add in bombastic sound effects and an overbearing Hans Zimmer score (who disappoints after his excellent work on Man of Steel) and you have a senses-draining headache on your hands.

The filmmakers attempt to rein in some of this grandiosity by exercising restraint in key areas. Unfortunately, these areas are important, and so the film’s glimpses of excellence aren’t given the depth or care they deserve. Fans were concerned when Ben Affleck was cast as Bruce Wayne, but I love his portrayal as an older, wearied Bruce pondering his legacy. As a man with little left to lose, it’s easy to understand why he would put himself in so much danger to take down what he sees as a menace, even if said menace is an unstoppable god. He has some nice scenes with his perennial butler Alfred (played here by the always-welcome Jeremy Irons). I wish Bruce, and especially Aflred, had gotten more screen time, because once Wayne dons the bat suit, things go south. This version of Batman is reckless and seemingly has no issue shooting at bad guys and blowing up their cars. For a guy attempting to rein in an all-powerful alien’s destructive habits, he sure doesn’t seem to care much about his own collateral damage. He even gets to help smash some buildings that (for all we know), may still have people inside during the film’s climactic fight (we do get a throwaway line from a newscaster claiming that downtown is “deserted” after working hours, but how could he know that for sure?).

We are also introduced to Diana Prince aka Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), who I suspect will be the favorite character in the film for many. Since we’ve never had an adequate big-screen version of this iconic character, I enjoyed every second of her all-too-brief appearances. She totally kicks ass.

But characters like Wonder Woman reveal the film’s biggest deficiency: it’s that darn subtitle. No one here is masking that the film is one grand set-up for the upcoming Justice League movie. As a result, Batman v Superman is the very definition of a placeholder (albeit a very expensive one). About halfway through, I resigned myself to the fact that the film would be dispensing with character development almost entirely. The vast majority of plot developments and character motivations exist to get a person from one place to another so that they can do a thing that will set off another thing. Stuff happens, things explode and bad guys are defeated. We gain precious few insights into why characters are the way they are, or how the events of this film changed them. They’re all pawns in a very long chess game (returning characters such as Lois Lane and Perry White may as well not be in the film at all).

It’s a darn shame, because this story had great potential. But the sum total is a gorgeous looking, expensive production almost entirely bereft of meaning, one that raises provocative questions it doesn’t feel equipped to explore. Batman v Superman reminds me of those dark days in the mid-00’s when most superhero movies were overly gritty, mostly terrible and no fun at all. Let’s hope the sub-genre’s future isn’t content to turn more cool ideas into dull slogs like this one.

What Han Solo taught me about Easter

Posted on March 25, 2016 by Kyle

One of my favorite scenes in the latest Star Wars film, The Force Awakens, is the one where new characters Finn and Daisy first come across the infamous space rogue Han Solo and his longtime Wookie companion Chewbacca. When asked about the ancient myth of the Jedi and the force that surrounds the universe, Han replies, “It’s true. All of it.”

What gives this line so much meaning is that this wasn’t always Han’s conclusion. In the first Star Wars film, A New Hope, Han is outright dismissive of the Force, telling Luke Skywalker, “Kid, I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, and I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe that there’s one all-powerful Force controlling everything. ‘Cause no mystical energy field controls my destiny. It’s all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense.”

We, of course, know Han Solo is wrong, but the pleasure of his journey, so expertly capitalized upon in The Force Awakens, is seeing him accept this realization for himself. There are things he doesn’t understand about the universe, things he can’t even see. And Han, ever the pragmatist, denies they exist because he hasn’t seen the evidence for himself.

But his admission 30 years later changes all of that. He is now telling fellow doubters that the things he once refused to believe in are true. All of them.

I’ve thought quite a bit about Han’s realization during Holy Week. I think we often treat the resurrection of Christ in the same way Han initially treated the force. A man rising from the dead? How can such a thing be true?

We live in a pragmatic, logical society, and this is in many ways a good thing. We are naturally skeptical until we have reason to believe otherwise. We value science and evidence-based convictions, much as Han did when he told Luke, “Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid.”

But our faith in science only takes us so far, before it becomes just that, faith. We can become so obsessed with what we can observe, what we in fact can witness with our own eyes, that any other way of experiencing the world is dismissed out of hand. We somehow think that science will solve all of our problems, that it will save us from ourselves, despite the fact that the study of science is done by human hands. We need only to look at the atom bomb and two world wars to convince us that our salvation is not found in science alone.

Two famous skeptics, C.S. Lewis and Lee Strobel, were a lot like young Han. They were so obsessed with evidence that they set out to disprove Christianity and the existence of God entirely. They didn’t do a very good job. Both became staunch Christian apologists, and they did so primarily by examining the evidence they were so hoping would lead to a different conclusion. If all things are created by God, then science, like everything else, points back to the majesty of the creator.

As Strobel has written, “Christianity is a very historical religion. It makes specific claims that are open to testing.” He also said, “I think it’s very healthy to use journalistic and legal techniques to investigate the evidence for and against Christianity and other faith systems.”

Doing so is not only healthy, but essential. One of the things I love about the Gospel accounts of the life of Christ is that they strike me as very journalistic. Four men, approaching the same story from four different angles, astonishingly came to the same conclusions. Luke, a doctor by profession, was particularly interested in providing an orderly and accurate account of what transpired during Jesus’ three years of ministry, along with his eventual death and resurrection.

Luke tells Theophilus, to whom his gospel account is addressed, that he intended “to write an orderly account…that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught” (Luke 1:3-4).

The story of Easter is not some far-away fairy tale, but a story rooted in many of the things our society holds dear. Archaeology, science, history…it all points to the risen Christ.

“Points” is the operative word here. None of these things, on their own or combined, irrefutably prove that Christ was raised from the dead three days after he was crucified and buried. There is, of course, a strong element of faith to, well…faith. Christianity is both intellectual and experiential. Han Solo could have seen evidence of the force and still not believed, because doing so would require a change of perspective in his life. It would require him to reorder his priorities, to abandon some of the things that had previously brought him joy. His life would never be the same.

We can assert the veracity of the story of Christ’s resurrection all day, but if we don’t allow it to penetrate our hearts, to reorder our lives in response, that we haven’t really been listening. Some people may never feel like they will be able to take that step of faith to surrender their lives in this way. But the Easter story reminds us that it is, indeed, just a step. Tomorrow there will be another. And the day after, another. Before we know it, Christ has changed us from the inside out.

As Easter approaches, I think of Han Solo’s confession, informed by both rational study and the realization that there are some things about the universe that will never fit neatly into his compartmentalized mind. “It’s true…all of it.” As I look upon the resurrected Christ, I repeat these words with awe, wonder and the realization that it changes everything.

That Dragon, Cancer and the art of surrender

Posted on March 17, 2016 by Kyle

I can’t get baby Joel to stop crying. He doesn’t want his juice box. He doesn’t want me to hold him. As his wails grow louder and more pained, I seem to be out of options. I resign to telling my son that I can’t make him feel better, words no father ever wants to say.

It seems odd for a video game to give you a goal you can’t achieve, but that’s just one of the things that makes That Dragon, Cancer special. The game is a haunting, painful and yet beautiful interactive poem, created by Ryan and Amy Green, along with developer Josh Larson, to tell the story of their young child’s real-life battle with—and eventual loss to—cancer at the age of five.

“Interactive poem” is a better term for the title than video game. There aren’t any traditional goals, and the ones given to you seem awfully mundane. Feed the ducks at the pond. Examine pictures in a hallway. Push baby Joel on a swing. The game seems more concerned with guiding you through the events being depicted rather than letting you having any say in how these events play out. Which is, of course, the point.

That Dragon, Cancer is a devastating interactive story of a family’s real-life encounter with cancer.

Gaming is often goal-oriented, asking us to solve problems and achieve things to make ourselves feel accomplished. We usually expect a reward in return. That Dragon, Cancer is part of a recent trend of “empathy games” that take a different route. More often autobiographical in nature, the goal of empathy games is to put the gamer in someone else’s shoes; perhaps a real person facing real emotions, or at least a reasonable facsimile of one. No bullet sponges or high speed chases here. In the ongoing conversation of games as art, the idea that games can allow us to connect with others in the way a great novel or film can has been a difficult hurdle for the medium to overcome. And yet, I never thought I would emphasize with the identity struggles of a lesbian teenager until I played Gone Home. And The Stanley Parable messed with my conceptions of free will and storytelling as much as One Hundred Years of Solitude.

That Dragon, Cancer is simpler than those games, and yet infinitely richer in its emotional impact. By giving us an impossible task (save Joel from dying) and asking us to control it, the Greens reveal to us the futility of human endeavor, especially when it comes to trying to make sense of unexpected tragedy. One of the game’s more creative examples of this is when the player is tasked with guiding a flying Joel through a minefield of cancer cells. Joel is held up by balloons, and once those balloons pop, he will fall. As the cancer cells continue to multiply and navigating the field becomes harder, I realize that I’m not supposed to win. Eventually, I have to surrender to the makers of the game and fail at this particular task in order to proceed.

Surrender is a big theme in the game, specifically, to God. Not that doing so was easy for the Greens. Throughout the game, the player reads letters the husband and wife wrote to one another. Amy always appears cheerful, resting in the hope that God will hear her prayers and heal Joel.

“I pray I find God’s wisdom in the midst of chaos,” she says. “My doubt is insignificant compared to God’s faithfulness.”

Ryan tries to remain hopeful, but is often jealous of Amy’s cheery outlook on their son’s increasingly grim situation.

“My wife is expecting a surprise party from the Lord…I envy her,” he says.

Ryan and Amy’s prayers seem to have got them through this tough season, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t do their part. They moved with their two other sons to California from Colorado just to try an alternative treatment for Joel. They (and by extension, the player) spent many sleepless nights in the hospital. They tried just about everything they could, but in the scene where the doctors come to announce that there isn’t anything else they can do, the game shifts. We’re no longer battling the cancer; we’re battling the voices of fear, doubt and pain that emerge in Ryan and Amy’s heads. We’re asked to resign ourselves to the fact that prayer is the only thing we have left to do.

The game’s Steam reviews are overwhelmingly positive, but most of the negative reviews complain about its blatant religious overtones. Those opinions are valid, but they miss the point. The Greens’ personal experience is not universally relatable, nor should it be. Their strong Christian faith is no less a part of their story than Joel himself. To diminish its importance in order to appeal to a wider audience would be disingenuous.

But the Greens’ Christian faith isn’t something they just conjured up to make them feel better about their baby’s death. It’s an all-encompassing hope that protrudes into every area of their life. Prayer doesn’t always have to bring tangible results to have value. Faith doesn’t always bring the healing we desire it to. God isn’t a personal genie we conjure up when we need things from him, but God is there in the midst of our pain, and he fights for us and with us.

“Grace is…kind of like help,” Amy narrates as the player fights the fire-breathing dragon of cancer as an avatar of Joel decked in armor. “We know that God fights for Joel, even when he can’t fight for himself.” It is then that grace appears as a majestic golden eagle, lifting up Joel after he is felled by a fireball.

That faith-filled hope is driven home in the game’s ending, where I am tasked with lighting candles in church to pray for Joel’s healing. Each candle is tied to a specific prayer, and as I attempt to light all the candles at once, a symphony of prayers rise, united in their diversity. Of course, we already know those prayers weren’t answered, at least in the way we would have liked them to be, but for Christians the good news is that even this is not the end of the story. Death never has the final say, and neither does cancer. Without giving anything more away, I even get to see Joel one more time before the credits roll.

Yes, That Dragon, Cancer is an unapologetically Christian examination of death and tragedy. It’s also probably the first Christian video game that can be considered great art. From its beautiful soundtrack to its creative use of shifting perspective and haunting stylized visuals, the game is an artistic masterwork. It’s the closest we’ll get to an interactive The Death of Ivan Ilyich. Perhaps, most importantly, it’s a potent reminder that the world needs good Christian art. Stories like the ones the Greens have shared are valuable stories that need to be told—stories of God’s grace and provision through life’s up and (especially) downs. We don’t want to play or watch a religious tract or a Sunday school sermon. Just give us a story, and tell it well. And while you’re at it, give us a few tissues.

That Dragon, Cancer is on sale on Steam through March 21. You can purchase it here.

Oscars: Why Mad Max: Fury Road should win Best Picture (and why it won’t)

Posted on February 22, 2016 by Kyle

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is facing a bit of an identity crisis these days. Many people see the membership organization that votes upon who takes home Oscar trophies as out-of-touch and lacking in diversity, as evidenced by the recent #oscarssowhite campaign that was all over social media. This led to a recent decision by Academy President Cheryl Boone Isaacs to announce that the Academy would be dramatically overhauling its membership to include more (younger) persons of color.

But the Academy’s lack of diversity extends far beyond race. It also shows itself in the movies that often take home the top prize. The term “Oscar bait” has been used for years to describe the bland, safe, “important” movies (often biopics) that the Academy seems to go nuts over, usually to the detriment of a more worthy Best Picture nominee. Recent examples include the inexplicable victory of Crash over Brokeback Mountain, or The King’s Speech instead of The Social Network.

Then there’s the issue that the winner each year is often a movie few people have seen. The Academy attempted to address this popularity issue in 2009 when it allowed up to 10 movies to be considered in the running for the top prize (up from the previous cutoff at 5). The goal, people seemed to think, was for excellent, overlooked genre fair like The Dark Knight to at least be considered for the major award. Then, people could tune in to see their favorite popular movie lose, but at least with the knowledge that it wasn’t relegated entirely to the technical categories.

This hope proved short-lived. The obvious recent example of why this system has already broken down is The Avengers. Marvel’s smash comic-based hit could have easily snagged the 10^th spot for consideration in the 2012 ceremony. And yet, nine films ended up nominated. Why bother with 10 spots if you’re not going to fill them with the very movies that they were created for?

With this troubled history comes the electrifying tale of Mad Max: Fury Road. George Miller’s ferocious action masterpiece reinvigorated a franchise we didn’t even know we still wanted, and did it with incredible technical panache. The Academy took notice: Fury Road has a total of 10 nominations, blasting its way out of the technical categories to consideration for awards like Best picture, directing and editing.

Mad Max: Fury Road is richly deserving of Best Picture status, but is probably still a bit too wild for the Academy.

It’s great that, like everyone else, the Academy has taken notice of the finest action film of this decade. But, while Mad Max has many reasons to take home the top prize, I’m still not convinced it will. Here are three reasons why it should, followed by three reasons why it won’t.

It’s a prestige picture

Fury Road is known first and foremost as a balls-to-the-wall action epic, and it fits that bill nicely. But it’s also the rare action film that was a smash hit with both audiences and critics. It has won numerous best-of-year awards from critics groups, and the consensus is pretty overwhelming. This catapults the film far beyond ever your typically excellent action fare. For both its pedigree and popularity, the Academy would be wise to award it the top prize.

It would be historic

The Academy seems to take its sweet time catching up with history. In 87 years, a straight-up action film has never taken home the top prize (historical epics like Braveheart, war films or genre mashups like The French Connection are the closest we’ve gotten). No science-fiction film has won. Fantasy films got their due when Return of the King won in 2003, but little has been heard from them since. Audiences tend to speak with their wallets, and money talks. Many of the highest grossing movies of all-time are action films. Now, popularity does not always equal quality (a statement that describes the career of Michael Bay perfectly), but that clearly does not apply in this case.

The Academy is getting weird

Fury Road is an undeniably bizarre film. Legendary Aussie auteur George Miller brought his trademark eye for original designs and odd humor (hello, Mr. Doof) to the table, proving that you can make a movie everyone loves without actually caring about what they think. Fury Road is the ultimate middle-finger to the market-researched summer blockbuster. It was made by a passionate group of people committed to a unique vision. How often do $100 million-plus action movies follow that description? In many ways, it seems like the textbook definition of what might turn the Academy off.

But that all changed last year, when the Academy awarded Best Picture to Birdman. That insane, inspired masterwork proved that, perhaps, the Academy was ready to embrace the weird. That same year, beloved indie auteurs like Wes Anderson and Richard Linklater shared space with more traditional Oscar fare like The Theory of Everything and The Imitation Game. What better way to continue that embrace of diverse voices than to award a gonzo action picture?

And now, why it still won’t win:

It’s an action movie

Yep. Despite the Academy’s embrace of less traditional fare in more recent years, Fury Road is still an action movie. I fear the genre has too much stigma attached to it—it’s generally seen as not “important” enough. The Academy doesn’t often like to award movies without clear “messages.” While Fury Road has a rich and meaningful subtext beneath its non-stop violence, that’s still probably too subtle for the Academy at this point. Will they ever award Best Picture to an action movie? Yes, but I fear it might still be a while.

It’s not the only action movie on the playground

You might have heard of a little flick called The Revenant. Alejandro Inarritu’s grueling survival tale swept the Golden Globes and seems to have some strong momentum going into the Oscars. Admittedly, Fury Road does as well. But The Revenant has the advantage of a prestige director (Inarritu took home the directing trophy last year) and cinematographer (Emmanuel Lubezki, gunning for his third straight prize). It’s certainly a non-stop action movie, but it doesn’t advertise itself as such in the same way as Fury Road. It’s artsy, and it very much attempts to say something meaningful. This means the Academy will love it, and it might feel like it can fulfill their obligation to finally award an action movie by giving the gold to The Revenant instead.

It’s not actually the Best Picture

I’m ready and willing to admit that Fury Road is not actually the Best Picture in the running. That would be Spotlight or Room, two films I would be overjoyed to see win. This is less of a complaint and more of a reality check. Perhaps the Academy will award a talky, witty film like The Big Short, also a genre buster for being a comedy. Or perhaps The Martian, a film that, much like Fury Road, expertly balanced the line between critical darling and commercial smash.

Rarely has the Best Picture race felt so wide-open. This is a good thing. The field of contenders is quite strong, which speaks well to the strengths of Fury Road but also probably hurts its chances. Still, I’ll be cheering on Miller and company. Cinema this bold, exhilarating and uncompromising deserves to be celebrated.

Hail Caesar! The Coen brothers’ sensational spiritual fable

Posted on February 8, 2016 by Kyle

The opening shot of Joel and Ethan Coen’s new comedy Hail, Caesar! is a close-up of Christ on the cross. We then get an establishing shot of a Catholic Church, where overworked movie studio “fixer” Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) has come to take confession. He tells the priest it has been 24 hours since his last confession, before admitting he has lied to his wife about quitting smoking (he’s had three cigarettes in the last day). The scene ends quietly, without the expected punchline.

This scene is one of many in Hail, Caesar! that highlight the fixation the Coen Brothers have on religious faith in many of their films. For a directing duo whose work is so diverse they have their own subgenres (goofy Coen comedy, dark Coen comedy, Coen drama, etc), this seems to be one of the major constants throughout their body of work. Hail, Caesar! is a funny movie, one that occasionally plays religion for laughs, but even the jokes here are probing for something much deeper than we typically see in so-called “religious” fare. Behind the laughs, we find once again that the Coens take religious faith quite seriously—and that, I must say, is pretty damn refreshing.

Hail Caesar! is set during the golden age of the Hollywood studio system, where movies were seen as morally degrading work and stars had to maintain a squeaky-clean image in order to be successful. Mannix is a man attempting to live a life of depth while forced to care very much about the artificial image of the stars under his care. Some of these stars include aquatic icon DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johansson), fading western star Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich) and vacuous pretty boy Baird Whitlock (George Clooney). Each star is facing an image crisis, of course. Moran is expecting a child out of wedlock, a fact which would destroy her career. Doyle (in an uproarious scene) is forced to star in a British costume drama directed by the demanding Laurence Laurentz (Ralph Finnes) for which he is spectacularly unqualified. And Baird is, well…missing. Kidnapped, in fact, by a mysterious organization known only as “The Future,” right in the middle of starring in the lavish period drama Hail Caesar: A Tale of the Christ (an obvious reference to Ben Hur).

As Mannix deals with these series of PR crises, he considers an offer from Lockheed to move to more “important” work. But even through the chaos, Mannix shows a clear commitment to authenticity. This is driven home in the film’s best scene, where he gathers religious scholars to discuss the accuracy of the portrayal of Christ in the upcoming epic. What starts as an interesting conversation develops into an extended theological back-and-forth on the nature of Christ’s divinity. It’s an extraordinary scene, funny and biting and profound, which makes it quintessentially Coen.

Hail Caesar! is the latest example of the Coen brothers’ keen eye for sensitive portrayals of religious faith.

This spiritual profundity is mixed with a nostalgic eye for the Hollywood classics, which the Coens clearly have great respect for. Musicals, costume dramas and westerns are gently mocked through the course of the film. But the central genre on trial here is the biblical epic, and the timing couldn’t be better. In an era where seemingly every producer is foaming at the mouth to make the next great biblical epic (whether on TV or in theaters), the Coens are reminding us of the frequently vacuous nature of “message” movies, particularly religious ones. Hail Caesar! (the film within the film) is meant to pander to the most base, feel-good, whitewashed version of Christianity (much like the original Ben Hur, in fact). The contrast between such artificial faith and Eddie’s staunch Catholicism is stark, but Eddie is still committed to making it the best representation possible.

The nature of celebrity, religion, consumerism, communism (yes, they take plenty of shots at political philosophy too)–these are heavy themes, and the Coens have often tackled them in a somber way. Here, they take a different route, for which I am quite grateful. The film is, after all, simply a pure delight to watch. The rich period details are given extraordinary pop thanks to Roger Deakins’ always-great cinematography. The performances are all-around phenomenal. And the nostalgic tone is emphasized by joyous moments such as a wonderful old-fashioned musical number (starring the immensely talented Channing Tatum). In the sub-genre of “goofy” Coen comedies, this is thankfully more O Brother, Where Art Thou? than Burn After Reading.

But the film’s silly plot is ultimately pretty inconsequential. Always simmering beneath the fun is the Coens’ most overt and accomplished religious fable besides A Serious Man. That very funny but much more somber film explored Jewish themes through a modern-day examination of the Old Testament book of Job. Despite its change in style, Hail Caesar! seems to be the Christian response. Both films feature a man at a crossroads in his life, dedicated to his family and his faith even while the rest of the world seems to be crashing in around him. And both are potent allegories for living a life of authenticity in a world obsessed with artifice.

Religion is important to society and deserves to be respected and admired—today. How often do we hear that message from Hollywood? If faith is not outright mocked, it is given the quaint treatment, its importance relegated to a period in time (as in period pieces, wink, wink) but having little relevance to the modern world. The Coens are part of a select few working filmmakers who have deliberately pushed back against that more popular notion. Through the guise of a period piece, they are pointing the finger at their own industry, and maybe even themselves. The fact that said piece is one of the most purely enjoyable movies in ages is simply a welcome bonus.

The Top 10 Films of 2015

Posted on January 10, 2016 by Kyle

I saw a lot of movies in 2015, and yet I can’t ever seem to get around to all the ones I want. This is a good problem to have. It means that there is too much good stuff to see it all, or at least too much intriguing stuff. When I look back on this year at the movies, I see perseverance in the face of overwhelming obstacles. Sometimes this perseverance results in healing and reconciliation, sometimes it’s simply grim endurance. But I’m grateful for all the movies I saw this year that reminded me of the indomitable resiliency of the human spirit. I was surprised, after I finished this list, to notice that most of the films below fit that theme perfectly. Here are the movies that inspired me, encouraged me, entertained me or allowed me to identify with the struggle of others through this crazy thing called life. Great art, and great entertainment, should connect us, and I felt that connection in some way through these films. Enjoy!

10 (tie). The Martian

The Martian is that rare gem of a science-fiction film that is just as concerned with the science as it is the fiction. It also stands out for being a crowd-pleasing blockbuster that doesn’t skimp on filmmaking craft. Ridley Scott’s riveting adaptation of Andy Weir’s book is the director’s best film in at least a decade. This is thanks in large part to Drew Goddard’s surprisingly witty screenplay and a stellar cast, headed by Matt Damon, who gives one of his best performances in a role that requires him to be alone on Mars for most of the film’s running time. It’s a thrilling, funny celebration of science and human ingenuity, and makes me hope we’ve left the somber, self-serious Ridley Scott of the past decade far behind. This guy is way more fun.

10 (tie). The Revenant

And now for something completely different. I couldn’t choose between these one-man survival stories, so I picked both. Alejandro G. Inarritu’s follow-up to the extraordinary Birdman, The Revenant is a brutal and grim endurance test, and probably not for everyone. But as far as endurance tests go, it’s hard not to marvel at the impeccable craftsmanship seeping from every pore of this film. This is one of the best films I’ve ever seen on a technical level. Emmanuel Lubezki’s cinematography is some of the finest ever put to screen, and he easily deserves his third consecutive Oscar for his work here. Speaking of men who deserve awards: Leonardo DiCaprio is long overdue. His largely wordless performance here as legendary frontiersman Hugh Glass is one of the most physically demanding, immersive roles I’ve seen. From its already classic bear attack sequence to its unexpected message of redemption, it’s the kind of film that deserves viewing on the largest screen possible. By the end of it, you’ll feel you’ve endured the film along with Glass, if just barely.

9. Creed

If you had told me earlier this year that a seventh Rocky film would wind up being one of the year’s best, I would have bet against it. Thankfully, I’m not a betting man, because Creed is by far the best thing associated with the franchise since the Oscar-winning original. Ryan Coogler, who wowed audiences with his debut film Fruitvale Station, has crafted a gritty, emotional boxing picture that manages to avoid most of the clichés associated with the subgenre. Michael B. Jordan continues to show us why he’s one of the best young actors working today. But the heart of the film is still Rocky, who is given a bittersweet layer of emotional depth thanks to a startlingly intimate performance from Sylvester Stallone. His ever-deepening relationship with Jordan’s Adonis Creed helps to raise this film far beyond your traditional sports movie. After this impressive display, I’d be happy to see another Rocky film from the same team, though I think this one ends on a perfect note.

8. Love & Mercy

My love of the musical genius Brian Wilson may color my opinion a bit here, but, for my money, Love & Mercy is the best biopic in years, because it’s not really a biopic. Director Bill Pohland and writers Oren Moverman and Michael Lerner wisely decided instead to focus on two periods of the Beach Boys front man’s life: his prolific Pet Sounds days and his later battles with schizophrenia while under custody of the corrupt Dr. Eugene Landy (an always brilliant Paul Giamatti). This is a gorgeous film, one that brilliantly delves into Wilson’s troubled but talented mind via creative visual flourishes, grounded performances and, of course, one of the greatest soundtracks ever put on film. I’m also happy to see the underrated actors Paul Dano (playing the young Brian Wilson) and Elizabeth Banks (playing Wilson’s love and eventual wife, Melinda) getting such strong work. I think they’re two of the most talented actors of their generation. John Cusack, playing the older Wilson, doesn’t exactly look the part but channels the musician’s spirit perfectly. This is a must-see for music fans and Beach Boys fans in particular, but everyone can enjoy the impeccable craftsmanship of this utterly engaging film.

7. The Big Short

What a shame it would have been for The Big Short to wind up as a dour, somber period piece about the worst financial crisis since The Great Depression. Thankfully, Adam McKay, who has made a career directing goofy Will Ferrell comedies like Anchorman, brings his sharp comedic skills to the table, instead crafting a funny, outrageous comedy about the financial wizards who bet against the housing market and made out big when the bubble burst in 2008, sending the global economy into a spiral. Based upon the book by Michael Lewis, the film readily acknowledges the complexity of its subject matter, but compromises by explaining its financial jargon in layman’s terms. This results in scenes such as Margo Robbie describing subprime mortgages while taking a bubble bath. These hilarious cutaways establish a refreshingly irreverent tone, but the film never surrenders its sense of outrage toward the banks and others who made out big while screwing 6 million people out of the American dream. Factor in a stellar ensemble cast that includes Brad Pitt, Christian Bale, Steve Carell and Ryan Gosling and you have a whip-smart marvel that will have you laughing at its absurdity one minute and roaring in outrage the next. Relevant, topical and, dare I say, important filmmaking is rarely this entertaining.

6. Sicario

Denis Villeneuve’s dark, brutal examination of the U.S.-Mexico border drug wars is riveting filmmaking all the way around. The film follows FBI agent Kate (an Oscar-worthy Emily Blunt), who witnesses a litany of horrors as she faces a faceless enemy that can’t seem to be defeated. As her agency enlists the assistance of shadowy hitman Alejandro (a chilling Benicio del Toro), she begins to consider the lengths she may have to resort to in order to stop the violence, and her previous black and white lines begin to gray. Like Villeneuve’s previous efforts Prisoners and Enemy, this is a profoundly moral work, not just in its sympathetic portrayal of its subject matter but also in its implications about the human condition in the face of tremendous violence and oppression. These implications hit home in the film’s cynical, unflinching and absolutely perfect ending. It’s a film that sticks with you long after the credits roll.

5. The Look of Silence

Joshua Oppenheimer’s companion film to his documentary The Act of Killing is somehow even more emotional and riveting than its predecessor. While Killing took a grander, more epic approach in following some of the men behind the Indonesian death squads which are said to have killed more than 500,000 people (suspected of “communism”) from 1965-66, The Look of Silence hits harder by following the effects of the violence on one family and the ramifications for their small community. An Indonesian optometrist, whose brother was killed during the massacre, confronts many of the men directly involved in the murders under the guise of an at-home eye checkup. Small chitchat quickly gives way to direct questions about the men’s participation in the atrocities. The man comes to realize that many of his neighbors and even some family members participated in the killings and, worse, feel pride for their actions.

The film reveals many horrors almost too shocking to print. One of the most gut-wrenching is when one of the men assigned as a general during the massacre describes the taste of human blood (“both salty and sweet”), which he drank from each of his victims. The superstition was that declining to drink their blood would result in the victim’s ghost haunting you. Thankfully, the film manages some much-needed levity in the relationship between the optometrist and his blind, aging father. The fact that the filmmakers could wring genuine humor out of such grim material is a testament to their talent. The fact that the optometrist, as well as much of the film crew, had to remain anonymous speaks to the importance of this film. The men who got away with murdering hundreds of thousands of people are still respected (and wealthy) leaders in their communities. Such an egregious miscarriage of justice should raise the hackles of just about everyone, and The Look of Silence reminds us what great documentary filmmaking can do to stir our collective conscience toward justice and compassion.

4. Mad Max: Fury Road

This is the film on pretty much every “best of” list this year, and I am more than happy to join the chorus. Fury Road is the finest action film this decade so far. The fourth film in the long-dormant Mad Max franchise was well worth the wait. Aussie auteur George Miller broke all the rules in getting this seemingly impossible film to the screen. He emphasized the physicality of the vehicles that populate this barren desert wasteland, rather than relying on C.G. creations. He made the male protagonist, after whom the film is named, a sideshow act to the true main character, a woman (Charlize Theron’s ferocious Furiosa). Not only that, he made this woman a liberator of female sex slaves, a large metaphorical middle finger to not only the male-dominated culture within the film, but the macho action genre as a whole, which often treats women as little more than sex objects (looking at you, 007). Every inch of that effort made it to the screen. Along with this year’s great Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation, here is a film that makes stunt work look dangerous again, because it actually is dangerous. I’m surprised labor laws weren’t broken. From its bold feminist interpretation of the genre to its all-time great stunt work, practical effects and gorgeous cinematography, Fury Road is an action film for the ages, and a new measuring stick for quality blockbuster entertainment. It will be years before another action film approaches its greatness.

3. Inside Out

Anyone who thinks animation giant Pixar isn’t on its A-game anymore need look no further than Inside Out to prove them spectacularly wrong. This is as good a film as Pixar has ever made. From its ingenious concept to its creative characters and spectacular visuals, it’s a bona-fide masterpiece. The concept of personified emotions existing inside of someone’s head is not new, but never has a story about emotions been so, well, emotional. Rare and special is the film that allows the audience to feel everything. It’s funny, sad and utterly thrilling, but what makes it an instant classic is the message that sadness is not only good for you, but necessary. This is a coming-of-age story for the ages, one that children will love but adults will love even more. Pixar may not knock every film out of the park (this year’s troubled The Good Dinosaur is evidence enough of that), but Inside Out is pretty much perfection.

2. Room

What an utterly captivating, thrilling and emotional ride this is. No film this year did a better job at getting into the minds of its characters. Room tells the timely tale of a woman (brilliantly played by Brie Larson in a startlingly stripped down performance) and her son Jack, who live in captivity inside of a shed, under the watchful eye of Old Nick, who is essentially keeping Ma as a sex slave. The first half is dark stuff, as we experience life inside the room, which Jack has never been outside of. After a daring escape, the second half deals with Ma coping with the emotional and psychological effects of spending 8 years in room, and Jack experiencing the world for the first time.

Room is an achingly intimate experience, one that could have easily overwhelmed with either its grittiness or its sentimental uplift. Thankfully, the film balances those two sides perfectly. This is thanks in large part to the performances. Larson is great as always, but the young Jacob Tremblay as Jack is among the best child performances I’ve seen. Since the film is in large part told through his eyes, he has to carry the weight of the movie’s emotional heft, and he passes that test with flying colors. Phenomenal supporting performances come from the likes of William H. Macy, Joan Allen and Sean Bridgers. Beyond its superb craftsmanship, Room is a film about the unbreakable bond between mother and son, as well as the value of human life: as a child of, essentially, rape, Jack could have easily been cast aside or aborted, but Ma loves him unconditionally. These are important messages in a culture that seems to have de-valued children. Thankfully, a movie as great as this one has come along to remind us of these sadly fading truths.

1. Spotlight

In considering the best film of 2015, I can’t deny my emotions. No film in recent memory has left me as devastated and completely shaken as Spotlight, which means it’s doing its job well. Tom McCarthy’s arresting dramatization of the Boston Globe investigative team that blew the lid on the city’s decade-long abuse of children by Catholic priests is simultaneously sickening, maddening and, in its own way, inspiring. The clash of two of American society’s oldest and most esteemed institutions is given the sensitive, realistic portrayal it deserves. This film deserves mention alongside the greatest movies about the news media like All the President’s Men, Network and Broadcast News. I love the movie’s focus on process; investigative journalism is hard, thankless work, and there are so many times the team could have given up. But their passion for their jobs and sense of moral outrage carried them through, and the revelations of the Boston scandal soon gave way to sex abuse cover-ups around the world.

The realism of the film is bolstered by sensational performances from an enviable ensemble cast. Michael Keaton, Rachel McAdams, Liev Schreiber and Mark Ruffalo are among the film’s stellar players, and they help to enliven the film, which is pretty much nothing but conversations and could have easily run out of steam. But the moral outrage that permeates the film won’t allow it to be anything less than completely arresting. As traditional newsrooms are facing cuts around the world, investigative news is one of the first things to go. It’s expensive and grueling work. Spotlight is an important reminder of what all that effort is for. We deemphasize and ignore investigative news at our own peril. If Room reminds us to hug our moms, Spotlight reminds us to hug a journalist. They’re doing important work, the kind that makes a grown man like me sob on-and-off for hours after watching a film about their exploits. This one sticks in your gut like a particularly bitter but utterly necessary pill. Only by bringing the darkness into the light can we find healing, reconciliation and maybe even forgiveness. I’m grateful to Spotlight for so expertly personifying Martin Luther King Jr.’s quote: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.”

Runner-ups include: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, The End of the Tour, Bridge of Spies, The Hateful Eight, Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation, The Walk, Beasts of No Nation and ’71. Like I said, lots of good stuff this year.

Blind spots: Carol, Anomalisa, 45 Years, Brooklyn, Amy and The Assassin, among others.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens review

Posted on December 19, 2015 by Kyle

The first thing I want to say about Star Wars: The Force Awakens is that it is a very good movie. More than that, it is a very good Star Wars movie. These two things may not necessarily always go together. J.J. Abrams is clearly a talented filmmaker, but what makes this film a particularly triumphant return for the venerable sci-fi franchise is that the talent he has assembled both in front of and behind the camera have a true love and passion for the Star Wars universe. That’s not something you can fake.

The balancing act the film pulls between calling back to the series’ past and setting up its future is nothing short of remarkable. Films like this are supposed to be messy: new characters and conflicts have to be introduced while old ones have to be given their due beyond glorified cameos. But Abrams and company make it seem effortless.

Part of the reason for that is the very wise decision to recruit original franchise screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan. The screenplay he has crafted along with Abrams and co-writer Michael Arndt is surprisingly witty and fast-paced, eschewing the more methodical pacing of the original trilogy and the almost suffocating self-seriousness of the prequels.

The story, set about 30 years after Return of the Jedi, starts by telling us that Luke Skywalker has gone missing. In the shadow of the Empire a new sinister organization called The First Order has risen up to take its place. Their goal is to eliminate Luke, who is said to be the last remaining Jedi. Under the watchful eye of Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), hotheaded Sith-in-training Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) scours the galaxy for a map that is said to lead to Luke’s whereabouts.

The Resistance is also looking for Luke, in hopes of saving him. Their best fighter pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) is sent along with his trusty droid BB-8 to find the map and bring it to the Resistance before the First Order gets its hands on it. Along the way, he runs into a fleeing Stormtrooper with a conscience (John Boyega’s Finn) and Rey, a scavenger searching for a better life. The ragtag group soon runs into the legendary Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and his wookie pal Chewbacca. Together they determine to complete the map and rescue Luke in hopes of training a new generation of Jedi to take down the First Order.

The production design of The Force Awakens can’t be praised enough. Star Wars has always had a certain feel to it, and this movie gets it all right. From costumes to the subtle use of CGI and highly touted use of practical effects, there were times I felt like I was stepping back into the original trilogy. A scene set inside a cantina illustrates this perfectly. It’s filled with all manner of alien lowlifes, and a band that recalls the cantina band from A New Hope. I felt like I had gone back through time, in the best way possible. But the film is not content to remain in the past. While it calls back frequently to its predecessors, nothing is ever quite the same. Thirty years have passed, after all, and everything from light sabers to spaceships to blasters and droids has changed in subtle yet obvious ways. The slick chrome of the First Order is contrasted with the harsh desert landscape of the planet Jakku, highlighting the tremendous variety on display. Everything about the visuals is a home-run.

The Force Awakens is a thrilling labor of love, one with a deep respect for both the past and the future of the Star Wars saga.

A movie can feel like Star Wars and still strike out if it doesn’t contain characters we care about. Thankfully, all of the new additions are good ones. The journey of Finn from terrified soldier to (slightly more) confident warrior is an engaging one, as is Rey’s discovery of some truths about her destiny and place in the grand conflict. Poe is given less development, but he fits in well as a confident and assured leader of the Resistance. BB-8 is a marvelous creation, more visually interesting and even emotionally engaging than R2-D2, which is something I never thought I would say. But the most intriguing new character is Kylo Ren. Although he worships the legendary Sith Lord Darth Vader, Kylo is a much more hotheaded and inexperienced Sith. This makes him initially less calculating but also much more unpredictable (his main general, played by a great Domhnall Gleeson, even pushes him around a bit). He reminds me more of Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, but his character is much more conflicted, and his path to the dark side is less abrupt and ultimately more believable.

Of course, a major joy of the film is seeing the old characters we know and love. Han Solo gets the most screen time and development, which is a wise choice. He and Chewbacca add a great deal of fun to the proceedings, and it’s awesome to see them bickering in the same way they always have. We get appearances from all the other major players, but it’s best not to dive in too deep for fear of spoilers. Safe to say, these original characters are given a great tribute here; nothing betrays them, and they’re actually given more depth than I would have expected.

The story could still use a bit of polish, however. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell whether looming questions are plot holes or are simply being saved for answering in the next episode. I’m hoping it’s the latter, but the fact that it’s hard to tell the difference comes off as a little bit lazy. But the movie easily passed the franchise “mid-quel” test of being both a satisfying self-contained story and making the audience unbearably excited for the next installment.

And that’s what ultimately makes The Force Awakens such a satisfying experience. For a movie that has so much on its shoulders, it never forgets to tell an entertaining and emotional story of its own. It never feels like it simply exists to set up future movies. This, along with its expert pacing, its willingness to celebrate the past without becoming mired in it and its brilliant use of characters both new and old make it a must-see experience for both casual and die-hard fans of the franchise. Consider my expectations shattered.

The quiet revolution of A Charlie Brown Christmas

Posted on December 10, 2015 by Kyle

On December 9, 1965, nearly half the population of the United States tuned in to watch the premiere of the first Peanuts special A Charlie Brown Christmas. Christmas, and in particular holiday specials, would never look the same. Rightly looked upon as a holiday classic, the animated special is even more of a marvel due to the fact that it very nearly never happened.

What is now the second-longest holiday special following the Rankin-Bass production of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, the special was originally commissioned by Coca-Cola. Peanuts creator Charles Schulz, director Bill Melendez and producer Lee Mendelson mapped out the feature in a handful of hours, and were put on a tight five-month deadline to have the animated short ready in time for Christmas. Musician Vince Guaraldi had already written his famous “Linus and Lucy” piano piece, but he was also commissioned to write the rest of the music for the special. Opening song “Christmastime is Here” was recorded just four days before the premiere.

The sponsors were not impressed. “They thought having jazz music on a Christmas show didn’t make much sense,” Mendelson recalled in a recent USA Today article about the making of the special. “They didn’t like the (voice) actors being kids, and they just didn’t like the show in general. They said: ‘You made a nice try. We’ll put it on the air, obviously, but it just doesn’t work.’ ”

Viewers disagreed. The show was a ratings smash, pulling in 15 million viewers. Last year, 6 million people across the country still tuned in to participate in what has become an annual holiday tradition. There are many things that make the show a true classic: it’s laid-back pace, its typically strong cast of characters, its childlike sense of innocence as well as its themes exploring the true value of Christmas in the wake of corporate consumerism.

A Charlie Brown Christmas is considered a classic for many reasons, but its greatest legacy is the purity, simplicity and strength with which it conveys its message.

Nowhere is this charm more evident than in the always riveting moment where, responding to Charlie Brown’s question about the true meaning of Christmas, Linus gets up on stage and starts reciting from the Gospel of Luke. Everyone was worried this scene would scare off sponsors, but not Schulz.

“He said, ‘If we’re going to do a Christmas special, we’ve really got to do it the right way and talk about what Christmas is all about,’ ” Mendelson tells USA Today. “Bill and I looked at each other, and I said, ‘There’s never been any animation that I know of from the Bible. It’s kind of risky.’ Then Schulz said, ‘Well, if we don’t do it, who will?’ ”

The rest of the crew was wise to trust Schulz. This scene is the heart of the special; without it, the message would not have the same impact. Christopher Shea, who was 7 when he voiced Linus for the special (all of the child characters were voiced by actual children), noted this when he discussed the legacy of that scene in A Charlie Brown Christmas: The Making of a Tradition.

“At the time, being just 7, I didn’t realize the depth and perception of what I was reading, even though our family did have deep religious values. From a very early age I remember our whole family listening to the Messiah every year as a holiday tradition. But as I grew older I came to appreciate the true meaning of Christmas as it was told on the TV show. It’s definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience I will always treasure.”

If reading from the Bible on national television was controversial 50 years ago, how much more so would it seem to be today? And yet, households around the country will tune in each year to hear its message, even if they celebrate the season for reasons that have nothing to do with baby Jesus in a manger.

I think that’s probably because this scene so brilliantly goes against two major social streams of the last 50 years. One is consumerism; certainly an issue in 1965, it’s even more prevalent today. With the advent of commercials and targeted advertising, we schedule our lives around the “shopping season,” with Black Fridays (and Thursdays), cyber Mondays and the mad rush to spend before the year is over. In comparison to that, Linus’ one-minute consolidation of the Christmas story is positively quaint. In that way, it is also a great relief. If this is what Christmas is about, it sounds a lot less stressful than all the other stuff I’ve been running around doing.

The speech also seems to fly in the face of the last 50 years of Christian history. The church has a lot of mud caked on its shoes for choosing to bed with politicians, rising with the “moral majority” of the 1980s and continuing today with presidential candidates like Ted Cruz proposing some sort of terrifying theocracy where Christianity functions more like big brother, regulating everything we say and do. Theologically, we find ourselves mired in legalism once again. It’s icky stuff, but Linus comes to remind us all that Christmas is a time where we can get back to the fundamentals of why Jesus came and what it looked like when he did.

It’s the clearest, most pure distillation of the Christmas message I can imagine hearing. No political agenda, no asking for money, no attempts to shame viewers or scare them into religion. “You’re sick of consumerism? Let me tell you a story. This is what Christmas is all about.” We westerners have managed to muck up the clear and concise gospel message almost beyond recognition, but Linus is not guilty of this. He’s just sharing a pretty awesome story.

And what a witness! Linus doesn’t say “this is what Christmas means to me,” or, “this is how I celebrate during this time of year.” He, and by extension Schulz, is making a stand to say “this is what Christmas is all about,” what everything else we love about this time of year stems from. It’s a bold stance, especially today, but it’s one of the reasons the scene still holds so much power. This may be the only time any part of the gospel message is heard in a household all year. And the secular and spiritual alike welcome it with open arms.

The great television critic Matt Zoller Seitz summed up what truly makes this special, well, special, even to modern audiences, in an article he wrote for the Newark Star Ledger upon the show’s 30^th anniversary in 1995.

“Television today favors fast, frequent, exaggerated bursts of action and confrontation. In comparison, A Charlie Brown Christmas is almost unnervingly reflective, dependent on words, emotions and small grace notes rather than speed, glitz and noise.”

A Charlie Brown Christmas finds beauty in simplicity. Ice skating upon a lake. A sad looking tree that needs a little love. A baby boy, born in a manger, who would one day be the savior of the world. Christmas is a stressful time of year for many, and the special doesn’t shy away from that. Charlie is frustrated with the holiday too (“My dog has gone commercial! I can’t stand it!”), which is why the ultimate message is so inspiring. We change along with Charlie, slowly moving away from cynicism to appreciation for home and heart, friends and family and the God who came down as a man to bring us all together. It’s hard to hate the holidays after being exposed to it.

After an initial staff screening of the special, animator Ed Levitt saw what Coca-Cola didn’t. He stood up and declared, “A Charlie Brown Christmas will run for 100 years!”

We should all be so lucky.

Entertainment Hunter

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