Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

Why anyone thought the world needed another Pirates movie I don't know. The third film, for all of its other flaws, at least had every major plot point resolved in a mostly satisfying manner. So why, aside from the money incentive, make another? Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides does little to answer that question, but for a film that immediately gives you so many reasons to hate it, it surprisingly gets a lot of things right, like returning the darker themes of the original and taking the time to build atmosphere.

Perhaps I'm alone in this respect, but Jack Sparrow got old for me really quickly. In the first movie he was great because there was subtlety to his method and his true loyalties were a fun mystery to unravel. But with each installment after that he's become more and more of a cartoon character to the point where it got hard to care whose side he was on. On Stranger tides is no exception, and Sparrow's goofy antics stick out against the movie's darker tone like, well, a Disney character in a film about murderous cutthroats. There's not even a need for metaphor.

Thankfully Geoffrey Rush comes back as Barbosa, a character just as interesting as Depp's Sparrow but undiluted by attempts to milk as much humor out of him as possible. The side cast is once again adequate if not memorable. Ian McShane plays a likably villainous Blackbeard and Penelope Cruz adds some charm to the cast as Blackbeard's daughter Angellica. The love/hate relationship between her and Jack Sparrow is, well, just there. It's the same teasing rivalry/romance subplot you've seen shoehorned into countless movies before but it's at least handled adequately enough to be worth seeing one more time. The only throwaways are the missionary and the mermaid, who have an absolutely useless romantic subplot.

What On Stranger Tides does benefit from, however, is limiting its scope to a specific mission and sticking to it. As the last two movies showed, mixing the slapstick antics of Disney fare with the scope of an epic story just doesn't work because the action only gets louder and more muddled rather than convincingly bigger. And while On Stranger Tides avoids the pitfalls of silly looking CG monsters and absurdly complex action set-pieces, but it does repeat the mistake parts 2 and 3 made of piling up too many plot points at the end. That said, there's still a satisfying finish that makes all the buildup worthwhile.

But if there's any one reason to watch this film, it's once again Hans Zimmer's terrific score. This time it's more moody and atmospheric, with less of the gaudy adventure vibe of previous installments, but it still packs the same sense of excitement that you'd expect from a Zimmer score.

On Stranger Tides could have been a smarter, darker counterpoint to the previous films if the mood weren't killed by too much slapstick and cartoon antics. Or it could have been a fun, lighthearted adventure romp if not bogged down with a slow pace and too much dialogue. Either way you're likely to get you money's worth, but good luck fighting the feeling that you could have had much more.

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Advice on Film Criticism (an ongoing series)

I decided to start this segment both to answer a common question I get and to discuss some of the mistakes that many aspiring (and occasionally professional) critics make. I'll keep this segment going with 5 or so points at a time to keep it at a manageable size.


1. You must love film.

It's an obvious statement but one that's often overlooked. If being a film critic simply meant watching the movies you like (or love to hate) and then giving an opinion, anyone would do it. But to review movies successfully, you have to go far beyond that. You need to a have a true passion for the medium that drives you to learn and understand far more than the average person. This means knowing the traditions that inspire your favorite and least favorite trends, watching countless movies you'll inevitably hate just to gain a bit of perspective on the ones you'll like. But above all, you have to understand what it takes to make a film, and just as importantly, what it takes to ruin one. And this takes dedication that goes well beyond the point when the average viewer would lose interest.

2. Your opinion can be wrong, but not for the reasons you think

As a critic it's not your job to praise the 'right" movies and skewer the "wrong" ones. It's also not your job to convert others to your taste or to uphold a mainstream or contrarian viewpoint. You're not right or wrong for preferring Ed Wood to Stanley Kubrick or vice versa, but you're wrong if you can't justify either stance. Your opinion can be wrong if it's based on incorrect information or fallacious logic or if your scores seem inconsistent or arbitrary to the majority of your readers. Your job, in the simplest terms, is to evaluate a film in a way that's honest and reliable. The former is self-explanatory; the latter, on the other hand, requires practice and understanding and I'll have more to say on that in point three. If you do this right then you can absolutely trash a film while still informing some viewers why they might enjoy it. And that's what will keep people returning to read your reviews even after they rage and fume about how you got any given movie all wrong.

3. Criticize consistently

The quality of any review is half content and half context. While any individual review can win you some fans and gain you credibility, it's the complete body of your work that will give your opinions and observations meaning. Every review you write should be consistent with a larger scheme so that readers can infer what they know about your tastes and apply them to your reviews. However, it's usually the content of criticism that determines critic's merit, and while everyone reviews a little differently, a few core rules are almost always applicable:
- Know the relevant criteria for any movie and give weight accordingly. A review of an action movie should not touch on the same points in the same proportions as a review of a serious drama or a screwball comedy. If you're reviewing 300 there's only so much that readers want to know about the script, but they'll want an in-depth analysis of the action. The converse goes for, say, The Social Network.
- Explain what your scores mean (unless you're convinced it's completely obvious) and be sure that the score never contradicts the content of the review. The reader should be able to guess the score intuitively just by reading your comments on the movie.
- Keep your personal pet peeves personal and don't give them more weight than they deserve. The reason Armond White, for example, is such an unpopular critic despite his extensive knowledge of film  is not simply because he's a contrarian but also because his criteria for good or bad films are so specifically geared to his personal tastes.
- Check to see if your scoring differs among genres and time periods. If they do, make sure those scores reflect your opinion on that genre at that time.


4. Criticize constructively

As almost any critic will tell you, writing an especially brutal review can be fun and provides great catharsis after feeling cheated by a bad film. Unfortunately this tactic has become so common that negativity and grumpiness have become shorthand for criticism so don't take it as a requirement. Note that even Doug Walker (The Nostalgia Critic) who specifically reviews notoriously bad movies knows not to go overboard with his rants and occasionally concedes when a movie exceeds his expectations. That said, don't be too so positive that you get caught up in your own hyperbolic prose or else fans and detractors alike will see you as biased. Your language should be exactly as positive or negative as your estimation of the film. Here are a few tips on how best to avoid that.
- Don't use any word that roughly means good or bad interchangeably. Each one means something slightly different.
- Don't stoop to ad-hominem attacks against actors and filmmakers. A film review is not your place to spread rumors or criticize their appearances or personal lives. There's a place and a context for that, but in a film review it's not only irrelevant but a clear sign of bias.
- Don't be afraid to voice offensive opinions, but never go out of your way to offend, especially not to get a reaction.
- You fans' comments are likely to offer some insight on this. Don't take each one as an imperative, but look at the ones that are made about you most consistently.

5. Don't star-gaze

Since this is a personal pet peeve, I'll follow my own advice and keep this relatively short. Basically, just know that a film review is not a place for Hollywood gossip. While the occasional comment is acceptable, don't spend any significant amount of space on actors' appearances, insider anecdotes, or personal ramblings about any experiences you might have had with the cast and crew. Again, there's a time and place for all of those things, but in a film review they'll only make you look biased and unprofessional.

Priest

Just looking at the trailer for Priest, it's obvious that so many things can go wrong very easily. You have a setting that looks like an Orwellian Blade Runner meets V for Vendetta knockoff ruled by the militant Christianity, specifically the brach of Christianity that believes in cramming every Christian cliche into one dogma. The plot seems pulled straight out of a silver age comic book: neo-priests in the future expertly trained for combat do battle with deadly vampires. Basically think a reverse Daybreakers with a hint of Judge Dredd thrown in. In other words, it's obvious what kind of movie Priest is striving to be: a sleek fusion of high-concept sci-fi and over-the-top action. So the most important question then is whether it delivers on either end.

The answer is a frustrating maybe. The movie begins with some shoddy motion comic style animation set to bland narration about the vampire uprising and the priests who kept it in check. Then we see our two main characters, cowboy archetype and lapsed priest archetype, set out on a mission to rescue a loved one from the vampires. This earns the disdain of the church, which calls out a hunt on lapsed priest archetype for disobeying them. As a general rule, audiences won't sympathize with a character for losing faith if it happens in the first ten minutes and they never see him having it in the first place. On the other hand, it's probably best that a movie like Priest shakes such details aside to get the plot moving.

What ensues is the two protagonists' journey into lawless, vampire-infested wild west themed wastelands. In other words, it's an excuse to have our heroes talk tough and kick ass, and they do both often enough to at least keep things from getting boring. The fight scenes themselves are satisfying. They're fast-paced, full of style and cool visuals, but never so elaborately fancy that they look like video game cutscenes. To its credit, the movie uses darkness well to build a satisfying atmosphere, reminding me of a poor man's Pitch Black. The constant comparisons Priest draws to better movies are probably the best evidence of how much it gets half-right.

The action escalates when another priest tracks down our heroes but soon comes to see things their way. Seriously, for battle-hardened warriors sworn to duty and dogma, these people have the most fickle convictions. But again, at least this movie makes it easy to sweep plot aside. Entering act 3 their mission becomes to square off against the vampire menace that's gathering numbers in preparation for a big attack.

The acting is consistently serviceable, with everyone doing justice to their basic parts. There are a few scenes of genuine drama, but in general, the parts between action scenes are mostly filler. The movie's biggest saving grace in this respect is that action scenes come often enough.

If you're in the market for something not too different form a poor man's Equilibrium, this is the movie for you. It's unapologetically cheesy and derivative but has a strong imagination and manages to get the basics right.

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Thor

Marvel Comics' Thor is a weird amalgam of a fish out of water story, epic fantasy piece, and modern-day superhero myth. It's the sort of premise that seems ridiculously easy to screw up if even one of those components didn't work. Luckily fans can set their worries aside; this is a movie that knows how to have fun with a ridiculous idea, even if it doesn't do anything new or extraordinary.

Thor tells the story of a the titular Norse god, banished from Asgard to our world for his recklessness while his brother Loki schemes to take the throne for himself. On Earth Thor does what every good fish out of water does: he addresses his flaws while learning the value of love and the true meaning of heroism. Chris Hemsworth plays him well enough to make the character likable and offset the inherent goofiness of the plot.

The supporting cast is decent all around. Natalie Portman adds impressive dimension to what would otherwise be a standard love interest and Anthony Hopkins plays a believably wise yet tragic Odin. The other Asgardians look like they all came from the set of a Lord of the Rings knockoff, but when their whole purpose is to kick ass without getting in the way of the plot, it's hard to dislike them. The real highlight, however, is Tom Hiddelston as Loki, who always feels appropriately sly and deadly. After seeing other roles like this done way too flamboyantly before, it's good to see him show just that little bit of eccentricity that every good super-villain needs.

The real star of this movie, though is the action. It's not the best you've seen in recent years, but it comes often and consistently delivers in terms of scope, intensity, and style. My only complaint is that the giant robot looks a little too much like something you'd expect out of Power Rangers. That said, it makes up for its goofiness with sheer deadliness.  The CG is some of the best you'll see in a superhero movie, creating a world that's flashy and epic but still feels real. Director Ken Branagh's style of over-the-top (in a good way) drama serves the movie well.

Thor's interactions with the modern world border on campy at times and come close to killing tension (think a toned down Star Trek 4) but enough good humor comes from them and the writers are smart enough not to draw these scenes out too long. In general the movie has a very nice sense of humor and knows when to laugh at its own ridiculousness.

Fans of Marvel's mythology will be glad to see a cameo from Hawkeye and Nick Fury as well as several references to other Avengers. As a fan myself I'm satisfied to see the Marvel universe coming together piece by piece.

In short, for a movie that doesn't do anything special or extraordinary, Thor does a lot of things right. It features compelling action, likable characters, and just the right amount of genre savvy to make it a success in all respects. If you have any interest in fun, lighthearted superhero movies, there's no reason why this one will disappoint.

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Classic Film Corner: #18 - Grave of the Fireflies

If any of you have ever seen a sports movie, a romantic comedy, or anything that uses the term “uplifting” from a critic’s review in its trailer, then the “pick-me-up scene” should not be a foreign concept in the least. Let me paint the picture for you: a negative turn of events has the main character slouching and sulking in his home, often in his underwear, lamenting how things turned out. Then his sidekick/best friend/token comedy relief comes through the door to check in, berates him for not picking himself up, and then offers a surprising piece of tough-love wisdom that the protagonist is totally caught off guard by. (Because he’s the goofy sidekick and isn’t expected to know how to respond to adversity, it’s so unpredictable!)

All sarcasm aside, it is a staple in many films – and not quite how real life works. We all (hopefully) have those support systems that are behind us, but it takes an inner response first to turn things around or it will usually never happen. However, it never hurts the inner self to be reminded, “You think you have had it rough? Let me tell you a story…” It is rarer for a film to serve that purpose.

ENTRY #18 – GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES

A good way to describe Studio Ghibli is to say that they are Japan’s version of Pixar Studios, except they have been making top-quality animated films for twice as long and are in a country where animation is not considered second-class to live-action films. Most probably know them through their whimsical Asian counterpart to John Lasseter, Hayao Miyazaki (My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service...each of them on the level of The Incredibles, and usually involving a young female protagonist). But Japan often demonstrates an unusual dichotomy with their utilization of young characters in film, using them not only as paradigms of the magical human spirit but also as an example of the cost when that spirit is corrupted in society. Grave of the Fireflies, directed by Isao Takahata, became one of the studio’s earliest major hits by using two infectiously decent children as a narrative means to target the enterprise of war.

Not World War II, not the US, not even the specific bombings at Hiroshima or Nagasaki…just war as a whole. Throughout the film, you never actually see the faces of those attacking the various cities and populations, and you honestly don’t need to. Japan, as has been pointed out by Ebert and other critics, approach war with a different attitude than Americans do. We tend to wave the figurative flag (or obnoxiously literal…thanks, Spiderman 3), while painting those who oppose us in some way as a collective way – distinctive bulls-eye targets for different groups at different ages in history. Usually, one target evolved into another naturally. Rather than saying “Soviets/Communists=enemy” or “Al Qaeda/Muslims=enemy”, Japan simply states that anyone who specifically attacks their people is their enemy, and they don’t see a difference between different enemies or feel a need to lump all people in a group with those who hurt them. To them, it is simply “enemy=enemy”.

I am not saying this is necessarily any better of an attitude, since it doesn’t seem to make savage instincts any more subdued or diminished either way. But looking at news coverage tonight, with American focus largely on Osama Bin Laden’s death and not so much on the bloodshed surrounding the corresponding conflicts, it does seem like that Takahata’s efforts to make war “faceless” and non-specific put more spotlight on the victims surrounding it. Under such a framework, we are introduced to Setsuko and his little sister Seita, two children who are caught in the middle of a region torn apart by air raids and the subsequent struggles to find enough food and shelter to survive the aftermath. Painful loss and helplessness force the pair to try finding help by any means necessary, be it through familial contacts or through any abandoned resources they can find. Although I can attest to how masterfully the story is told, in a way that makes us admire Setsuko’s selfless devotion and fall in love with Seita’s innocent outlook on the horrid life around her, it would be (no pun intended) criminal to spoil the series of events that occur in their struggle to survive. But make no mistake: this film does not hold back any punches, and fireflies are indeed involved. Oh, and unless you have tear ducts of concrete, you WILL cry at some point. The last 15 minutes, in particular, are devastating (as are other scenes if rewatched).

In an odd way, this film reminds me of Cloverfield, in its efforts to shift the default focus of a particular type of story. It was also a film that tried moving the story from what we already knew (namely, the “monster” being combated and those attacking it) and tries to make you wonder how you would react in a similar situation. And like Cloverfield, the pace of the film and setting take on a much more significant role. Takahata and his team of animators take their time in focusing on scenes of waste and disrepair, letting audiences soak in the same sort of magnifying desperation felt by all those already in the film. The use of darkness and light is expertly utilized to try preserving as much dignity to the wastelands portrayed as is humanly possible, while also using their artistic medium to present visions not otherwise possible in live-action settings (I will only say that if a tenth of these scenes were done with actual children, police would be brought on studio sets to investigate).

But in all honesty, as much as I can speak about the technical and atmospheric merits of Grave of the Fireflies, in all honesty, all I can think of right now is my own younger sister right now. She is 10 years old, almost twice as old as Seita, but is easily one of the most emotionally intelligent individuals I know. She has an innate warmth and tact for knowing when to interact with others and in what way, a trait that makes her endearing to just about everyone who’s ever met her. She is also very sensitive, with an empathy that makes her emotional to the point of tears when seeing another suffer. She also is learning how to play the saxophone and is the type who loves playing outdoors in the spring. I guess what I am saying is this: I could empathize with Setsuko’s inner need to protect his sister from the world’s cruelty however he could, but could not imagine how I would show such strength in scenes like the ones in this film. Humanity has a tendency to show great spirit and will in those moments of utter terror and despair, but they should never have to learn that about themselves in the first place.

For that realization alone, this film earns my highest respect for its director and the studio as a whole. It found a way to make me pull myself out of my own struggles, in a way that most “preaching” cinematic endeavors only dream of doing. But I never, ever, ever want to watch this film again.

[OVERALL RATING: 10/10….but for one viewing only]