Far-Sky Reviews

Pacific Rim (2013)

Guillermo del Toro returns with a feast for everyone

[10/10 · 13 July 2013]

When monstrous, building-sized creatures (dubbed "kaiju") hell-bent on destruction begin pouring out of an extra-dimensional fissure at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, humanity bands together to build titanic mechas called jaegers, each controlled simultaneously by two pilots whose minds are linked through a neural bond called "The Drift." As the kaiju get stronger and the signs point to an all-out flood of the beasts, the fate of humanity looks bleak, and the surviving jaegers are brought together for one last-ditch attempt at saving the world.

After an agonizingly long five-year wait, filled with some heartbreaking starts and stops (like the almost-weres of 'The Hobbit' and 'At the Mountains of Madness'), Guillermo del Toro has finally returned with his biggest budget and story yet. The Mexican master of fantasy returns to the toybox of his youth, drawing from the kaiju films of old (Godzilla, Gamera, Mothra, and the like) and anime to create the modern-day monster movie we didn't even know we wanted.

I am a genre man through and through, and del Toro's films are filled with both the intelligence of the best of science fiction, fantasy, and horror and a flawlessly-rendered vision unique to him. His innate knowledge of what makes those outlandish stories truly matter to us is the backbone of his work as a writer and director, and his visual style is one that invokes true wonder.

It's that wonder, that childlike glee that makes 'Pacific Rim' work so well, and well it does work. This is a brawny, massive film made by a true artist and auteur at the top of his game, but while the technicals of this film could have been mounted by any number of working directors, the magic of Guillermo del Toro is that he infuses every film with himself. His love of the material, whatever it may be, shines brightly through every frame. It is this complete sincerity that makes his films such a joy to experience, and even when there are 250-foot behemoths slugging it out on the screen, there's not a trace of the disastrous irony so readily supplied by other blockbusters anywhere to be found.

The cast gamely comes to play, with Idris Elba (TV's 'Luther') as Stacker Pentecost (one of my favorite character names of all time) as the stoic leader of the jaeger program, Charlie Hunnam (TV's 'Sons of Anarchy') as former pilot Raleigh Becket, who suffered a tragic loss and has to be convinced to return to jaeger service, and Oscar-nominated Rinko Kinkuchi ('Babel') as Mako Mori, another life touched by the kaiju and ready to serve up some righteous fury. If these sound like tried-and-true archetypes, it's because they are. This is a grand, epic war film on a bigger scale than anything ever attempted before in that genre, and one of the strokes of genius from del Toro and original writer Travis Beacham is that we instantly identify and identify with the characters on screen. There are so many ideas flying around (monsters, mechas, neural bonding, kaiju culture, and many, many more) that the broadly-drawn characters serve as a perfect anchor for the audience, immediately relatable in their inherent humanity.

It seems that the mission statement of this movie was, in a word, "texture." Del Toro delivered a visual feast unlike any other big spectacle films, with his insistence on it not looking like a "glossy car commercial." Instead, every frame is filled with rain, snow, scuffs, smoke, debris, and other visual elements that reflect the weight and dimension of these cyclopean combatants. Unlike the ultra-glossy (and emotionally irrelevant) 'Transformers' films, or virtually any other modern big-budget actioner, this universe feels dirty, grungy, and lived-in, like the original 'Star Wars' trilogy.

In fact, dubbing a film "this generation's 'Star Wars'" has been overused to the point of robbing the phrase of all meaning. But Pacific Rim feels just like that. It invokes those most elusive of emotions in the modern studio film: wonder, awe, and sheer enjoyment. Do you remember the awe you felt the first time you saw a Star Destroyer creep onto the screen? Discovering a brachiosaurus on Isla Nublar? Laying eyes on the verdant fields of Middle Earth? This film has that. No one builds worlds like del Toro, and here he is, the master, inviting you to play in his sandbox with him. Grab your favorite action figure and hop in.

Despicable Me 2 (2013)

Sitcom-y but endearing in the best of ways

[7/10 · 7 July 2013]

Three years ago, Despicable Me launched Illumination Entertainment and announced Universal Studios as a viable player in the animation game (only Disney/Pixar and DreamWorks used to show up to these box-office battles). The film wasn't even the only supervillain animation to hit the theaters that year, but it did one-up its rival Megamind both in critical acclaim and commercial success.

Now, the original film's creative team returns with Despicable Me 2, continuing the adventures of former supervillain-cum-adopted father Gru, his precocious daughters Margo, Edith, and Agnes, and his little, yellow, nonsense-spouting minions. Following closely on the first film's heels (this film gratifyingly puts a premium on continuity), the now-retired Gru is settling into his new paternal role, and while the spikier parts of his personality remain, he's reshaped himself into an adoring father and potential purveyor of jams (and jellies). When an evil plot threatens the globe, however, Gru finds himself pulled back into the supervillain game by the Anti-Villain League, who've recruited him to be the hero, an ersatz spy who knows how the mystery bad guy thinks. One earnest and delightfully overbearing partner introduction later, the pair (Gru and newbie AVL agent Lucy Wilde, played by Kristen Wiig) are undercover as bakers in a strip mall where the bad guy's scheme is likely to go down.

Despite the world being threatened, the stakes feel surprisingly low in the film; the archness of the plot never feels as real or immediate as the character interactions, which are enjoyable all the way through. Here, Gru realizes his loneliness, his neophyte partner realizes her true calling, and his daughters come to grips with new realizations and wishes. The characters take center stage, rarely letting the transparently-raised stakes of the plot machinations get in the way of sitcom-like character arcs such as the eldest daughter dating (and Gru's dogged insistence on undermining it) or little Agnes wanting a new mother. But that's sort of the magic of these films; despite the plot beats being the stuff of basic sitcoms, the setting and characters manage to still make the film a winning combination.

Steve Carell dusts off the strange Eastern European accent he originated for Gru, and manages to be both an amusing character and his own straight man. Miranda Cosgrove, Dana Gaier, and Elsie Fisher embody adorableness as the girls. But it's Wiig who steals the show as Agent Wilde, a professional woman who is also goofy and personable. Wiig and Carell have fantastic chemistry, even with just their voices in play.

The minions, those little yellow blobs in overalls that accompany all of the film's publicity, are back and hilarious as ever, despite their laser-like focus on slapstick and complete lack of intelligible dialogue. The Despicable films seem to be two separate animation genres welded together: the first is a heartfelt, Pixarian meditation on the nature of family, but the second is the part with the minions, which embody the anarchic spirit of the Looney Tunes more successfully than any of their predecessors. It's a strange melange that shouldn't work, but dammit, it does, and the resulting films wound up being both moving and guffaw-inducing.

The other aspect of the Despicable films that bowls me over is the virtual cinematography; truly, alongside the best of Pixar's output (like Wall-E), these are some of the most beautiful animated films ever made. The use of color, depth, and art are stunning, from Gru's Charles Addams-inspired design to the beautiful play of light, shadow, and color. This sequel follows the high standards of the first, and the result is a feast for the eyes.

The bottom line is that like the first film, this one is a trifle, but a very enjoyable one. It's little more than a victory lap for Carell and company, but when there are characters you can enjoy this much, what's wrong with spending another couple of hours with them?

Europa Report (2013)

Strong little indie sci-fi you should see

[8/10 · 29 June 2013]

Europa Report is one of those low-budget sci-fi films that crops up occasionally and starts making the rounds on genre websites (my own first blush with the film was on io9.com) to create a buzz. Since Hollywood has depressingly sworn off any films that aren't megabudget tentpoles with an already-established audience anticipation index (read: sequels, remakes, or pre-existing properties), low-budget genre films are a rarity at best.

In the film, six astronauts embark on a mission of discovery, planning to land on (as one would expect) Europa, one of Jupiter's moons, after recent discoveries showed a possibility of microbial life underneath its icy oceans. What we see is the recorded video from their ship's cameras (yes, it's a found footage film) that tell the story of their ill-fated voyage.

It's a simplistic premise, and director Sebastián Cordero seems to be a bit unsure of himself at the outset. The film refuses to follow a linear narrative; even before the main title appears, we join the crew many months into their trip, and are given the knowledge that there's obviously been an incident onboard already, one that's robbed the journey of one of their intrepid space explorers.

Two things worried me at the outset of the film: one: the much-ballyhooed attention to detail (the filmmakers even brought on NASA to make sure the film was meticulously designed and scientifically accurate) and two: that constantly-shifting timeline of the film. The first point was worrisome because most films that lean so heavily on their technical accuracy forget to be dramatically compelling, and the second (similarly) because an over-reliance on storytelling gimmicks often betrays a weak story.

Happily, neither caused the film to fail: the attention to detail enhanced rather than detracted, and while the unnecessary nonlinearity of the storytelling didn't go away until the end, it did finally calm down enough for the audience to orient themselves. Given that I know now how the story unfolds, I can say that it would have actually been more dramatically compelling for the audience if the film had just told itself in a more straightforward manner, but ultimately it works fine (if weaker than it could have).

The bare-bones plot is aided by some smart writing that refuses to dip into easy characterizations and instead defines its astronauts by their mission, rather than clichéd, singular personality traits. While refreshing to see, it does leave some of the characters as relative cyphers, but strong performances all around (including District 9's Sharlto Copley and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo's Michael Nyqvist) get the film over that slight bump.

What's most gratifying about the film, however, is that it never loses its sense of awe. The film refuses to give in to the cynical pessimism of standard sci-fi fare, and its astronauts recognize the immense importance of their mission, particularly when things start to go south. Cordero keeps the tension ratcheted up, never forgetting how innately tenuous the safety of space travel is. The performances are all good, and Copley in particular is a standout.

But what I appreciated most about the film was its tactile nature, a by-product of its low budget. The difference between models and fully CGI creations is literally tangible. A week or so ago, I watched Disney's 1979 film The Black Hole for the first time, and while the green-screening is terribly shoddy, the film's effects stand miles taller than most of the genre fare produced today, if only by virtue of the fact that being real, they informed the cinematography and performances around them.

Europa Report fits in comfortably beside Duncan Jones' fantastic low-budget Moon, and while not perfect, compares favorably to that modern classic. This class of film can either be a failure (see: Apollo 18) or a classic (the aforementioned Moon); Europa Report isn't flawless, but it's a great entry in the canon of smart, well-made sci-fi.

Zero Dark Thirty (2012)

Terrible dreck with an amazing sequence

[3/10 · 28 June 2013]

It's simultaneously a blessing and a curse that I often wind up seeing films post-theatrical release. Even though I don't intentionally seek out spoilers (OK, I do, but I'm getting better about it), I do still read reviews of films. The best reviews convey two things: 1) what the author thought of the film in question, and 2) enough information to give the reader an informed opinion as to whether or not said reader will enjoy the film, regardless of the author's response.

Those reviews, coupled with the near-unanimous praise the film has received from all quarters caused me to believe that I would fall in love with this film, becoming swept up in its high-tension, immaculately-crafted story of the hunt for, and eventual assassination of, master terrorist Osama bin Laden.

I was so very, very wrong.

It starts well enough: under a black screen, a restrained opening plays audio (I do not know if it was real or dramatized) of phone calls placed on September 11, 2001 as the terrorist attacks that brought down the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were occurring. The film then introduces us to Maya (Jessica Chastain), one of many CIA workers tasked with finding the man responsible for those terrorist attacks. We follow Maya over the next twelve years, seeing small glimpses of her as she grows from determined but unsure interrogator to a woman whose sole reason in life is the location and capture of Osama bin Laden.

The film was in production for a long time, and the ending had to be hastily rewritten to account for the real-life assault on the bin Laden compound, which resulted in his death. What a boon this became for the film (to say nothing of the country as a whole), as the thirty- minute compound assault that serves as the film's final act is a breathtaking, tour-de-force whirlwind, following Seal Team Six into the dark den of the most notorious terrorist in American history and emerging victorious.

Unfortunately, the two hours preceding that astonishing climax is unforgivably dull, lacking almost completely in character development and good writing, and structured with the worst possible way in which to tell this epic and (potentially) fascinating story.

Chastain, one of the best actresses of her generation, vacillates between being utterly terrific (attempting to convince her superiors of her lead, her final scene) and sadly miscast. Chastain is an actress of uncommon grace and beauty, and trying to put her in the role of an embittered federal agent simply doesn't work. The rest of the cast is serviceable, but the script (more on that in a moment) simply gives them nothing to do. At least the SEALs fare slightly better, with Joel Edgerton and Chris Pratt (from TV's 'Parks & Recreation') crafting positive impressions from their slivers of dialogue.

Oh, that script. Written by journalist Mark Boal (Oscar-winning screenwriter of Bigelow's 'The Hurt Locker'), it is a cacophony of crap. The dialogue is inane ("Bin Laden is there. And you're going to kill him for me."), the characters are flat, lifeless, and uninteresting, and most unforgivably, it takes what should have been a massively satisfying story (the hard-won retribution visited upon the monster that killed 3,000 innocent Americans), and trivialized it to nothing than the personal investment of a single person spurred by the death of a couple of coworkers during the twelve-year-long search. I understand that the search for bin Laden was over a decade of boredom and legwork, punctuated only by intermittent threats (most of which felt cooked up specifically for the film, despite those setpieces paling to what I can only imagine the real scenarios must have been like). But Bigelow's insistence on conveying that to the viewers by boring them to tears as well is not an effective recipe for drama.

In a way, it's the inverse of Steven Spielberg's 'Saving Private Ryan'. 'Ryan' is a not a good film (the screenplay is utter dreck), but the skill, inventiveness, and sheer directorial talent on display in that phenomenal opening sequence catapult it to being on the greatest scenes in cinema history. Here, Bigelow stages her own version at the end of her film, and the results are equally gripping and visceral. On the basis of that one scene alone, Bigelow (much like Spielberg) deserved inclusion in the Academy's nominees for Best Director. Outside of that, however, I find the critical acclaim of the film to be completely mystifying. The movie as a whole is rotten to its poorly-written core, a waste of money, and a diminishment of one of the best real-life stories of modern times. If you can, pop in for the last reel, but spend the other two hours watching something better.