When I first heard that Tim Burton was making Alice In Wonderland, my heart did a funny little dance. As both a long-time Alice aficionado and Burton enthusiast, I couldn’t wait to see how Burton’s dark and spindly aesthetic would apply to Lewis Carroll’s beloved work, but I also feared that the end result wouldn’t meet my expectations. Would this be a Disney-backed adventure suitable for children, or an eerie take on the tale, like Jan Svankmajer’s stop motion film? Well, suitable for children it is! And I suppose that makes sense (or, rather, cents?): if you’re going to spend 250 million dollars on a film and then some more on merchandise and you’re Disney, it better be an all ages affair. And it better be CGI and in 3D, because apparently that’s the only way kids today can enjoy movies.
Burton did provide his own unique spin on the original books, often combining aspects of both Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-glass and What Alice Found There, which is what the first Disney Alice film (the animated one) also did (Tweedledum and Tweedledee are from Looking-glass land, for example). Burton further delved into the second, more complex Alice book by merging the Queen of Hearts with the Red Queen, and by introducing the White Queen and the Jabberwock; the nonsense poem about the Jabberwocky only appears in Looking-glass, and Alice certainly doesn’t fight him. Burton’s blending of characters, events, and locations creates a dynamic plot more akin to children’s fantasy films than Carroll’s books, which are loaded with word-trickery, games, riddles, and conversation. In this film, Alice is more of a conventional hero, or rather heroine, and it helps that she is almost twenty years old instead of seven. Thankfully, Burton did include the most vital characters of the books (Mad Hatter, March Hare, Caterpillar, and Cheshire Cat), and also used Carrollian language and direct quotations, such as the Caterpillar’s Whooo are youuu? questions, the phrase “Much of a muchness,” and of course “Curiouser and Curiouser,” among other examples.
Now, what’s a Burton film without his favorite, long-standing actors? Johnny Depp’s performance as the Mad Hatter, complete with shocking orange hair and bulging green eyes, was not a stretch for him, since he’s done a lot of character acting: Willy Wonka, Jack Sparrow, Sweeney Todd, Ed Wood, etc. Still, he managed to give the Hatter more empathy, and played him convincingly as per his role in the adventure. Helena Bonham Carter was perfect as the big-headed, heart-lipped Red Queen, inciting the film’s few genuine laughs. Anne Hathaway was so-so as the foofy White Queen, Crispin Glover was ideal as the Knave of Hearts, and relatively unknown Mia Wasikowska was perfect for the part of Alice, guiding us through what she believes to be a dream.
Aesthetically, the misé-en-scene of the film is at its best when one can draw meaning from it, such as the chessboard landscape during the final battle, where the White chess pieces battle the Red playing cards, and Alice must confront the Jabberwock with her sword (almost becoming the White Knight). As an Alice fan, I did appreciate that Burton provided the game of flamingo croquet, talking flowers, painted roses, frogs of the court, and other small details that make Wonderland its own magical world. One especially poignant moment is when Alice remembers her first time inside of Wonderland and we see her at seven, with arms behind her back, looking up at the Cheshire Cat in a tree, which exactly represents the illustration by John Tenniel in the first book. Another wonderful, and Burton-created, moment is when the Mad Hatter hides Alice in his tea kettle and then snip-snips her a new, teeny-tiny dress for her post-“Drink Me” size.
One has to approach his/her viewing of Alice, however, knowing that they are dealing with the new Tim Burton, not Burton of Edward Scissorhands, Batman, or Beetlejuice, where special effects were mostly props, settings, costumes, and characters constructed by hand. Burton can now rely on modern technology to make his creatures and sceneries come alive, and this causes the world of Wonderland to be both astounding (we can have a “real” disappearing cat and smoking caterpillar without needing people in costumes!; and Alice can grow and shrink more naturally) and also much less fantastical and unpredictable than, say, Oz back in 1939. Watching Alice in Wonderland feels, at times, like watching a video game, only you’re helpless to make choices or discover the world on your own. Rather than draw us inside, the film actually keeps viewers at a distance…but maybe this is because I chose against the 3D version! Sorry film industry, I don’t want to wear your 3D goggles over my glasses.
So, why is a raven like a writing desk? Well, let’s see….because Poe wrote on both? Because they both stand on their legs? Because they ought to be made to shut up? Or because they can produce a few notes, though they are very flat. You decide.
- Amy Dupcak [www.no-alternative.net]
Shutter Island, directed by Martin Scorsese, begins as a horror film but slides through several more genres before landing itself in the psychological thriller category. These changes of pace throughout a film can be detrimental and end in disappointment (as with the 2004 film The Village), but the directional changes in Shutter Island aren’t nearly as dramatic or sudden, thus keeping the audience intrigued instead of letting them down. With a final epiphany similar to that of Johnny Depp’s in Secret Window, you’re probably going to want to watch Shutter Island a second time, without an ignorant perspective, for the sake of filling in the plot holes that you’ll undoubtedly be convinced are everywhere.
Set in 1954, the former WWII soldier and current U.S. Marshall from Boston (Teddy Daniels) is played by Leonardo DiCaprio, whose Boston accent reeks of Matt Damon but otherwise handles the role beautifully. The opening scenes include Teddy Daniels arriving at Shutter Island, a mental institution for the criminally insane, just hours before a hurricane conveniently makes it impossible for anyone to leave the island. Overly cryptic dialogue is exchanged between Daniels and the guards before he is greeted by Dr. Crawley, the chief psychiatrist and founder of the island’s institution, where he is given details regarding the reason why he was sent to the island in the first place; one of the island’s prisoners (“patients,” as Dr. Crawley insists) unexplainably escaped from her room and cannot be found anywhere.
The dramatic portrayal of circumstances that are naturally disturbing and require no dramatization at all, such as insanity, concentration camps, and geographic isolation, can be forgiven and somewhat explained when the film lifts the suspicion from the prisoners and drops it on the island’s authorities.
In addition, the film’s sub-plot focuses on Teddy Daniel’s past, which includes his role in the war as well as his tormenting dead wife, who occasionally appears as an apparition throughout the film (though the actual flashbacks are a bit numerous and redundant). Daniels eventually confides in his partner the reason he accepted this case is so that he can search for the man whom he believes is responsible for his wife’s death. He also articulates a carefully formulated conspiracy theory regarding Dr. Crawley’s intentions and the island’s true purpose, beginning the film’s second phase.
The final explanatory scenes force you into a defensive state, balancing logic with emotional attachment to certain characters, until you’re forced to look at insanity and accept that reality is a subjective state. The final outcome is heartbreakingly tragic, but any form of a happy ending would have tainted the film’s artistic integrity and overall message−and the “surprise” is more than enough to distract you from an otherwise overwhelming sense of pity. Overall, Shutter Island is a very well constructed film, and very much exceeded my expectations as a mainstream movie with regards to storyline and style.
-Lindsay Sturm
It’s difficult to review Crazy Heart without at least name-checking The Wrestler, a surprise hit last year, catapulted to popularity by Mickey Rourke’s cathartic, Oscar-nominated turn as Randy “The Ram” Robinson. In Crazy Heart, Jeff Bridges stars as Bad Blake, a 57-year-old, four-times divorced country singer (“real country,” Blake explains – think Merle Haggard or Waylon Jennings) who finds himself playing bowling alleys, touring in a rusted-out Suburban, and clinging to alcohol and cigarettes like they’re life support. Like The Ram, Bad treats his body like there’s a replacement coming in the mail, becomes rejuvenated by a new love interest (Jean, a 30-something single mother played by Maggie Gyllenhaal), and eventually tries to reconnect with an estranged child. But to dwell on the familiarity of the stories these movies tell would be to ignore what has made them resonate with crowds in the first place: undeniably charismatic performances from their respective casts, and in particular, their leading men.
Because any half-savvy viewer could likely predict the movie’s major plot points from Bad and Jean’s first scene together on (does it shock anyone that Bad’s alcoholism becomes a strain on their relationship?), keeping the story fresh is largely Bridges’ burden, as he barely escapes the screen during the film’s 110-minute run time. And Bridges delivers, turning in a performance that’s equal parts natural charm and unyielding dedication to the character. When Bad makes drunken passes at female fans, you can almost smell the whiskey on his breath. After he buries his head in a toilet, you want to reach out and help him up.
Another strength of Crazy Heart is the soundtrack full of whiskey-soaked tunes that make Bad believable as an influential singer-songwriter. The movie’s producers put together an all-star cast of musicians (including T Bone Burnett and Ryan Bingham) to write the hard luck songs Bad sings along the way, and they overflow with country grit. In particular, “The Weary Kind,” a reflective ballad that Bad writes for his former protégé-turned-superstar, Tommy Sweet (an uncredited Colin Farrell), is a beautiful lamenting mood setter with appropriately bittersweet lyrics about lost love.
There are some clunky plot developments that come off as superficial and inorganic (could the slovenly Bad really seduce Jean after just two meetings? Maybe he really is that charming, or maybe I’m underestimating the power of celebrity). But like Bad, Crazy Heart seems to have enough warm-hearted charm and talent that we forgive it for being a bit cliché, and a bit rough around the edges.
-Adam D’Arpino
Without knowing anything else about the film, Ajami can be considered something spectacular. Palestinian Scandar Copti and Israeli Yaron Shani co-wrote and directed the film, which focuses on the deteriorating Middle East—
Very impressively, the directors manage to completely omit any political biases, depicting the Arabs, Jews and Christians living in Ajami equally as innocent victims and compassionless killers, with both Arabic and Hebrew titles and translations throughout the film. The families are not played by professional actors, but rather by residents of Ajami who have actually experienced many of the violent indignities that Copti and Shani expose, which include murders by religious gangs, children selling drugs, police conspiracies, civilian hate crimes, and the religious degradation of familial traditions.
This isn’t one of those movies where when a shot is fired you accept it, think it’s cool, or feel that any of the characters deserve what they’re about to get. The majority of the action revolves around children and teenagers who, aside from their constant prayers to God, are exactly like American teenagers, making the chaotic and brutal conditions in which they live seem even more unfathomable. The narrative is centered loosely around thirteen-year-old Narsi and his nineteen-year-old brother Omar, who are part of an Arab family that is slowly being annihilated because of something their uncle did on a whim.
Spliced in classic Pulp Fiction form, the film is composed of consecutive action scenes that appear to be unrelated, followed by several more scenes that explain how the first set are related, which requires the “revival” of already deceased characters to act in the jumbled time-frame. Because of this technique, a lot of the seemingly heartless actions later feel almost justified, adding further moral and emotional complexity to the situation.
While observing how the people of Ajami can’t leave their houses without the threat of instantly being shot, you wonder what exactly the foundation of humanity is based on. What does it mean to be human? How does random murder become acceptable to society and to the institution of religion—not just in Israel, but anywhere where such cruelty is integrated into the way of life? But then again, living across the Atlantic, if the film didn’t beg us to, we would bear no right to judge.
-Lindsay Sturm
Oscar nominees were announced this week, and while a few small releases garnered nominations, including Best Picture frontrunner The Hurt Locker, most of the love went to bigger, prettier films, some of which lacked original stories and characters (I’m looking at you, Avatar). As usual, several worthy independent releases went under the Academy’s radar. One such film, British import Fish Tank, a powerful character study set among the rubble and chaos of the harsh London projects, creates a world just as engrossing as anything released by Hollywood over the past year, but is far from pretty.
Fish Tank follows the dysfunctional life of 15-year-old Mia (Katie Jarvis), a volatile high school dropout who spends her days drinking, picking fights with other teenage girls, and exchanging vulgarities with her callous single mother (Kierston Wareing). The “fish tank” is then, perhaps, the cycle of perpetual poverty and isolation Mia finds herself in, where options and ambitions are few.
Mia’s life seems to take a positive turn when her mother’s latest love interest, Connor (Michael Fassbender), a handsome, softhearted security guard, shows genuine interest in being a father figure to her and her sister. He encourages Mia to pursue hip-hop dance, which she constantly practices in private. But their relationship quickly goes from paternal to flirtatious, further complicating her already tense family life.
Viewer be warned: Fish Tank is not a traditional inner-city youth overcoming-the-odds movie. There is no tearful reconciliation between Mia and her mother or big dance competition in which Mia takes first place. Director and writer Andrea Arnold shuns every opportunity to provide easy answers to Mia’s problems, and in doing so creates a film that is sometimes rough around the edges, but always refreshingly honest. Arnold’s shaky handheld camerawork further amplifies the unsteady nature of Mia’s world.
Jarvis, a first time actress who was discovered when a casting agent for Arnold spotted her fighting with her boyfriend, is an absolute standout. She brings proper gritty energy to the role of Mia, who from scene to scene can be a shy, vulnerable teenager, or a ferocious bully who tosses around the C word like its a salutation. Arnold’s script is sparse on dialogue, so Jarvis is often left to communicate with subtle glances rather than with words, which she does with keen precision.
The movie is currently in limited theatrical release, but is also available to select cable subscribers through the Independent Film Channel’s “IFC in Theaters” on demand service. It may be difficult to find, but Fish Tank is a small treasure absolutely worth seeking out.
-Adam D’Arpino
Director Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings, King Kong, The Frighteners) is best known for delivering majestic, groundbreaking imagery. With The Lovely Bones, based on Alice Sebold’s 2002 bestseller about a 14-year-old girl who omnisciently watches over her family after her brutal rape and murder, he takes on perhaps his most emotionally demanding material yet. Unfortunately, Jackson’s obsession with creating pretty CGI pictures and a PG-13 friendly script detract heavily from the storytelling, and turn what could have been a moving portrait of family dynamics in the face of unfathomable tragedy into an indiscriminate mess that never settles on a tone or message.
Saoirse Ronan stars as Susie Salmon, a bookish, good-natured teen, who aspires to be a photographer. Her suburban family leads a Rockwell-esque life (“We're not those people whom bad things happen to for no reason,” she remarks) until she is lured into an underground chamber and killed by her reclusive, childhood-obsessed neighbor, George Harvey (Stanley Tucci). The rest of the film deals with Susie’s time in the “in between,” a land of free-flowing, saturated imagery, where she awaits her entry into heaven, attempts to come to terms with her death, and watches her family struggle to recover.
While there are some stunning acid trip visuals provided in the “in between,” more often than not they exist as opportunities for Jackson to flex his CGI muscles rather than devices designed to give insight into Susie’s psyche. They also contribute to the film’s foremost problem: abrupt shifts between competing moods of sentimentality, suspense, drama, romance and fantasy, very few of which are developed enough to warrant any emotional investment from the audience. Susie and her handsome British classmate seem to fall in dewy-eyed love for no other reason than that they both are fond of Othello and good looking. Brief moments of comic relief occur in awkward isolation and serve no purpose outside of softening the grim subject matter. Particularly out of place is a ludicrous comedic montage, which features Susie’s liquor-swilling Grandma Lynn (Susan Sarandon) bouncing around the house to bubbly ’70s rock while botching household chores.
Despite the film’s haphazard pacing and reliance on CGI, there are still some fine performances that are receiving well-deserved awards season attention. While Mark Wahlberg and Rachel Weisz are pedestrian as Susie’s anguished parents, Ronan, who received an Oscar nod for Atonement a few years back, captures the grim confusion of a teenager gradually coming to terms with the realization that sometimes bad things, even terrible things, do happen to good people. Tucci is also convincing in the unglamorous role of George Harvey. While Harvey is essentially a stock serial killer (right down to the creepy moustache and comb over), Tucci is stellar in the role, which calls for him to be all at once obsessive and evil, yet able to blend in with society through bland chitchat and the occasional chortle.
The film does offer some insightful sentiments about the nature of love, loss, recovery and the power of time to mend wounds. However, they usually come when Susie is narrating directly from Sebold’s text; further evidence that, perhaps, The Lovely Bones is better off left to the page.
-Adam D’Arpino
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