The 89th Academy Awards

 

     I wasn't nearly as up to date on all the buzz as I have been in years past, but it didn't stop me from wanting to tune in for the passion, fashion, glamour, and occasional yawn of the Academy Awards. At the time of the Oscars, the only major contender I'd seen was Hacksaw Ridge, but with full intention to check out Hidden Figures, La La Land, and maybe Manchester by the Sea. The night rolled along with awards going to the shocked and excited, the humble and nervous. Yes, there is one moment that stands above the rest and will be all anyone is talking about for a while, but let's not forget how many other memorable things happened that night. 

     The night begins with the red carpet coverage, where everyone is sized up on national television for their fashion taste, and let me just say that Michael Strahan and Dwayne Johnson can rock a velvet jacket. Halle Berry arrives with her hair channeling Tina Turner, and Salma Hayek channeling a madame of the old West. Michelle Williams and Charlize Theron compete for most exposed sternum, losing to Janelle Monae, who sports a dress with a sheer top that may or may not have been inspired by Halle Berry when she took home her own gold. Meanwhile, Dakota Johnson finally appears onscreen in something her grandmother wouldn't be ashamed of. The closest Jessica Biel ever comes to an Oscar is by accompanying her husband Justin Timberlake and dressing like a gold statuette herself. Timberlake photobombs Emma Stone while she interviews in a stunning 1920's-inspired tiered gown, while Viola Davis can be seen a mile away in an amazing fire-engine red dress, complimented by her swept-off pixie cut. In a rare show of inclusion, the Academy demonstrates its commitment to unity by inviting Mel Gibson-- a man who is loved only slightly more than President Trump.

     And then the fun begins where the Academy picks from the artsy, controversial, political, or mediocre pieces that critics love but audiences don't. Replacing the traditional opening number performed by the host, Justin Timberlake kicks things off by singing and dancing his way in to the auditorium with his Best Original Song nominee "Can't Stop the Feeling". The electrifying performance showcases Timberlake's talent, gets the whole place dancing, and leaves everyone asking "was that song from a movie?" The song is from Trolls, but don't expect anyone to really know that in this crowd.

     Jimmy Kimmel breaks the ice of wondering who will be the first to take shots at President Trump, and lays the groundwork for a night of POTUS roasting with some back-handed compliments to "Hollywood's most overrated actress" Meryl Streep. And of course with Matt Damon seated in the second row, Kimmel reignites their famous feud with an insincere apology to Damon for the years of grief caused by Damon's selfishness and difficult attitude.

     A few surprises ensue from the results, not the least of which is when Zootopia takes home Best Animated Feature over fan favorites Moana and Kubo and the Two Strings. Suicide Squad takes home an Oscar for Makeup over Star Trek Beyond and something called A Man Called Ove. Whether or not Suicide Squad deserved it is less important to me than the fact that the members didn't vote against it just to avoid putting their name anywhere near one of the year's worst-reviewed movies. Pleasantly, Colleen Atwood takes home an Oscar (category Costume Design) for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that no one (including herself) was expecting. The always-delightful Dwayne Johnson introduces Lin Manuel-Miranda, who prologues an excellent musical performance by sixteen year old Auli'i Cravalho for Moana. Although Cravalho's song didn't win, she gets points for holding her own when the rest of the evening's musical performers included John Legend, Sting, Sara Bareilles, and Justin Timberlake. And one of the background performers accidentally hit her in the head with their fan prop, but she kept right on singing like a true professional.
 
     Mahershala Ali leads the first-time Oscar recipients with his win for Best Actor in a Supporting Role in Moonlight. Viola Davis gives a powerful acceptance speech when she receives her long overdue Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for Fences, which also makes her a member of the "Triple Crown Club" for now having won an Emmy, a Tony, and an Oscar. The Academy awards Casey Affleck Best Actor in a Leading Role, upsetting Twitter, which is quick to bring up sexual harassment claims from 2010 and point out that Brie Larsen looks unhappy. Fan favorite Emma Stone wins Best Actress in a Leading Role for Academy favorite La La Land.

     Elsewhere, Kimmel keeps the night interesting when he ushers a group of unsuspecting selfie stick-holding tourists into the auditorium. Most of the actors get into it, enthusiastically giving hugs and handshakes to the baffled crowd, while others seem to regret sitting on the front row. The real stars of this moment however, are the tourists, who hop from one celebrity to the next with disbelief. Despite being on national television, every one of them persist with using their phones to capture this moment through their tiny screens instead of lifting their eyes to the glamour that is right in front of them.


    The evening's awards roll onwards, with occasional snacks being parachuted into the audience. The POTUS barbs predictably continue, but it's the Damon roast that reaches a peak. First, Kimmel gives a mock-inspirational commentary on We Bought a Zoo. A moment later, Matt Damon is introduced as "Guest" when he walks onstage with Ben Affleck. A good-humored Damon surges forward, even as the band plays the cue music to wrap it up, every time he says anything. Before the night is over, Kimmel notes that they're coming up on his favorite part of the evening, where Matt Damon loses an Oscar (having no nominations this year). A sweet song from Sara Bareilles pays tribute to the members of the Academy who died this past year, accidentally including someone who hasn't kicked the bucket yet.

     Then, the moment that would define the 89th Academy Awards: the Best Picture announcement. As veteran actors Faye Dunaway and Warren Beatty take the stage and review the nominees for the year, I was feeling torn. Though I had called La La Land, I leaned over to my husband and said "You know, Moonlight could be the dark horse this year", which turned into an interesting prophecy on my part. Having had moderate success at calling the winners to this point, I called the winners for Best Picture in the same order that the Academy did. First, La La Land, which seemed like the obvious and predictable choice. Then there was that awkward confusion you could observe onstage as people in headsets rushed in amongst the group of winners behind the speech-makers. A few shocked faces could be seen behind those at the mic who were still thanking their parakeets. Then you saw it: producer Jordan Horowitz, who had been holding his Oscar statue near his heart, dropped his arm into a limp swing, leaving Oscar dangling at his fingertips. Horowitz and Beatty both made a move towards the mic, with Horowitz being the one to announce that there had been a mistake, and Moonlight was the actual winner.

     Suddenly all the air in the room was sucked out as disbelief swept the audience.

  
     Horowitz snapped the slip away from Beatty, holding it up as proof that Moonlight was indeed the winner of the night. There could not have been more apologies in the next few minutes as the cast and crew of La La Land made their way off the stage to make way for Moonlight. Horowitz, recovering from his shock, graciously handed his Oscar to Jeremy Kleiner with a big embrace, and then vanished off-stage (no doubt to console the rest of La La Land backstage) to allow Moonlight their moment in the spotlight; a moment overflowing with conflicting emotions as the gracious crew of the true winning movie held statues that only seconds before had been in the hands of another crew celebrating their supposed win.

     The Best Picture moment is being called the biggest mistake in Oscar history. In previous years, the fact that this was a very low-rated ceremony with low viewership would have been a comfort to the Academy after such a snafu, but thanks to social media, no one hasn't heard about this by now. Whispers have even indicated that it may have been a planned mishap to generate more chatter and scandal, but that seems like an overly harsh thing to do to the nominees. The moment came, the moment went, and will surely be talked about for years to come.

     This may have been a low-rated year, but I don't remember the last time I was enjoying the ceremony enough to watch it all the way to the end. Kimmel brought his personality to the evening, with all of his late night TV-type features in tow. From the unsuspecting tourists to the parachuting snacks to the mean tweets, Kimmel owned the moment, embracing his own style along with it. The night may have recognized great actors and other talent, but it was Kimmel who was tasked with being the main entertainer for the evening, and entertain, he did. And looking back, he did this without relying on the cheap vulgarity that has permeated and coarsened entertainment today.
 Good show old boy!

The Secret Life of Pets

     The fact that I'm writing this now reveals that this was definitely a Redbox movie, not a big screen endeavor. The Secret Life of Pets is the kind of movie that (at least when you don't have kids, which I don't) you grab for the sheer reason of being entertained without having to be mentally engaged. Kid-aimed movies tend to excel at this, so after a long and brain-taxing week in the nuthouse (otherwise known as an office), The Secret Life of Pets made its way into my hands.

      The Secret Life of Pets takes Toy Story, and replaces the toys with animals. The new dog messes up the perfect relationship that the long-residing pet has with his owner, and an adventure ensues with both of them trying to get back to their loving owner before she gets home from work. That pretty  much sums it up. As such, it's not as original or quite as enjoyable as Toy Story, but it has its moments.

     As anyone would expect, the story plays significantly on the sentimentality of the pet-owner relationship. The writers capitalize on normal pet behaviors, with the pets narrating their own thoughts for the audience in a way that all pet-owners can identify with. Furthermore, the animals all remain true to their real-life natures. The cat cares, but does so in a most indifferent way. The dogs are easily distracted and notoriously single-minded. The owners are oblivious as to what their pets are actually trying to communicate. In this way, the writing has a cleverness about it that is worth a chuckle here and there.

     Outside of these real-life connections, The Secret Life of Pets is exceptionally simple, and a bit of a mishmash of purposeless characters that rely too heavily on their celebrity voices rather than witty dialogue. For example, Snowball the homicidal bunny, is voiced by Kevin Hart. Snowball has some genuinely humorous moments fueled by amusing dialogue, but the humor of the character mostly seems to rest on the fact that Kevin Hart is behind it, not necessarily what he's saying or doing. The same is true of Pops, a decrepit old Beagle voiced by Dana Carvey. The character seems to have been written for no other reason than to include Carvey, which doesn't actually bring that much to the story. But, I shouldn't be too harsh on movies of this kind using characters as plot devices, because the target audience is unlikely to be too picky about it.

     The Secret Life of Pets is cute, and certainly has a few sweet moments that pet owners will find endearing. It stays fairly light (perhaps a little too much at times-- a sequence involving singing sausages comes to mind), making it a decent choice for a quiet Friday night after a draining week in the psych ward.

2016: A Year of Movies in Review

     So in lieu of the fact that I don't always have the time or inspiration to write full reviews, I'm going to take inspiration from Dave Barry and do a year in review, but with movies-- at least the ones I saw this year. Since I can't remember when I saw these films, I'll go by order of theatrical release dates. So without further adieu, I give you:

2016: A Year of Movies in Review

January. A month synonymous with resolutions and new beginnings. Sadly, not for the movie industry, which continues to revel in an excess of sequels, such as...

 Kung Fu Panda 3. The original concept behind Kung Fu Panda was a classic underdog story featuring the chubby and unlikely hero who rises to fulfill his destiny. Kung Fu Panda 3 leaves those inspired beginnings behind to pursue an excuse to incorporate baby pandas, and wedge in undertones about family, fatherhood, and identity. While these features lend some tender moments, it's all lost in between the odd spirituality and overused jokes. A solid one-timer.






Outside of the theater however, Netflix proved itself to be an able producer of decent entertainment, not just a distributor, when it presented...


The Siege of Jadotville. If you've never heard of Jadotville, or that there was a siege there, you're not
alone. This historical drama set in 1961 delivers a gripping tale of a little-known Irish battalion holding out against a siege of 3,000 Congolese troops led by French and Belgian mercenaries. With solid performances throughout, this intense bit of war-like drama delivers a straightforward but compelling tale of courage and resourcefulness against insurmountable odds and despicable politics. By no means the best war-like movie you'll ever see, but worth the watching all the same.




February might have produced some critical darlings and audience favorites, but I didn't bother with most of them. One of the few contributions I did make time for was another Netflix contribution, namely...

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: Sword of Destiny. Unlike its predecessor, Sword of Destiny is filmed in English, and while I don't mind subtitles, I'm thankful this wasn't dubbed. Seeing Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon isn't particularly essential to understanding Sword of Destiny, and I'm still on the fence as to whether or not Sword of Destiny detracts anything from its predecessor. To its credit, it does not answer how Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon ended, but picks up much later, only lightly referencing the events of the previous movie. Michelle Yeoh returns as the veteran swordswoman, and another character "returns", played by seasoned martial arts star Donnie Yen. All in all Sword of Destiny is entertaining and engaging, but carries a different tone than its predecessor. It's lighter, less haunting, and more hopeful altogether.

When March rolled around, the first of the supposed blockbusters came with it, bringing in...

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. It seems that audiences were divided on this one, but I've got one word for it: ugh. We see Bruce's parents murdered for the millionth time onscreen. Sequences of surreality are not differentiated from reality, which brings several of the artsier moments into the realm of absurdity; for example, Bruce ascending on the updraft of swirling bats. Characters such as Lois Lane and Diana Prince are not so much characters as plot devices. Lex Luthor is so maddeningly over the top that even as an unhinged maniac, he more resembles a bad Joker imitation from a YouTube star. The entire movie is weighed down in its own seriousness, trying with every line of self-conscious dialogue to be moody film noir, but is instead flat and lifeless. Every time Clark appears as Superman, he strides in a dramatic broad-shouldered hero walk, with his cape flurrying behind him in slow motion. EVERY time.

At least March gave us some comic levity with....

Zootopia. Animation has never been a stranger to aiming its humor at the parents sitting alongside the oblivious children who are just there to see the "cute bunny", but Zootopia goes a step further, taking inspiration from movies like L.A. Confidential and The Godfather. As such, Zootopia gets dark at times, but bounces back on its plucky animated haunches and delivers a fun sort of light entertainment, provided you can overlook what at times feels like a wandering agenda.






The closer we got to the summer, the closer we got to the movies everyone really wanted to see. Meanwhile, we had April, which brought us...

The Jungle Book. I actually did a full review on this one, which you can read here. But the short of it is, this was a fun movie that was faithful to the classic animated version, while bringing something new to the table. The life-like CGI made the animal characters more connectable than would have been possible with actual animals, but also maintains an element of realism that keeps this adventure moving.





And with the month of May comes the summer season. Summer season means franchise time and big movies! And launching the season is...

Captain America: Civil War. My only excuse for not fully reviewing this one in its own post is that I didn't see it until a little later. Civil War is basically everything that Avengers: Age of Ultron  wanted to be with its inner-team conflicts, government interference, good intentions with poor outcomes, etc. Winter Soldier ranks among the highest of Marvel movies, and Civil War is a worthy follow-up in almost every way. Although it is a part of the Captain America franchise, Civil War is every bit an ensemble movie, adequately exploring the motives and intentions of each character without going into heavy exposition. Civil War does such a good job of exploring each side of the conflict, that it's a little hard as the viewer to take a firm side; it's easy to see why the team is divided over their new paths. The strengths of the movie echo what Winter Soldier did right, which was in focusing more on the plot and character development, and using big action sequences with tasteful restraint.


X-Men: Apocalypse. Well, after X-Men: Days of Future Past, the X-men franchise seems unleashed to do whatever it wants, which has its pros and cons. Apocalypse presents the single most stirring piece of Magneto's past that we've ever seen, and Michael Fassbender proves again that he is capable of bringing an intensity and range to the character that makes Magneto more sympathetic than ever before. Elsewhere, previously introduced characters like Xavier, Hank, and Mystique return (with an obligatory Logan cameo), but mostly just carry star power to usher in the new young ones. Speaking of the young ones, it's somewhat enjoyable to see the early years of Cyclops, Jean, and Storm, but ultimately it all feels like a big CGI-fest of "look what we can do!" Apocalypse as a villain is more preposterous than frightening, serving as another vehicle for CGI showmanship. Not bad, not great.


Continuing the trend of big sequels, June brought the highly anticipated...

Finding Dory. A Finding Nemo sequel has seemed fairly inevitable for over ten years now, so Pixar really ought to be commended for not using the Nemo hype to immediately throw us a half-baked fish story. A full review of Finding Dory is available here, but the jist of it is that Finding Dory isn't a bad sequel, but it does feel a little recycled in many ways. I'm not sure how that could have really been avoided though. As I said in my full review, Finding Dory is a worthy follow-up to Finding Nemo, being effervescent and full of heart, but also putting a few nicks on that heart. Oh Pixar, how you love to play with our hearts.


For me, one of the best movies of the summer came in July, because it brought me...

Star Trek Beyond. Naturally I have a much more in-depth review, but suffice to say that Beyond is "perhaps not the highest point in the trilogy, nor for sci-fi in general, but it's still a heck of a lot of fun" (quoting myself because I can). The revived Star Trek movies abound in witty banter and comical scenarios, allowing the freedom to reinvent the iconic characters while also paying them homage. Even the self-serious Spock is liberated enough to not treat his every word as holy, and ultimately we get a movie that's well-scripted and fun in its sci-fi peril, but thoughtful in its execution and storytelling.

Jason Bourne also featured in July, but I personally think it's time for Mr. Bourne to retire. He's found his identity, proved his supremacy, cast his ultimatum, and now it feels like the brand is on life-support. The intrigue and mystery have worn off, and unfortunately neither the franchise nor Jason himself have the charisma and variety to continue in the manner of, say, Mission Impossible. Another chase through a European city isn't even fan service anymore-- it's just old. Revelations in this most recent installment are predictable, and other plot twists are repetitive. Jason Bourne's end lands us right back where it began-- with Jason hiding in shadows and unable to trust anyone. Time to say goodbye.



August brought me nothing from the theater, Netflix, or Redbox. The month was a dud for entertainment, and September wasn't much better. October produced only...

Inferno. There's some sort of unwritten rule in Hollywood that everything must happen in trios, and so it happens with Inferno. Whether Inferno is prequel or sequel to The DaVinci Code I don't know, but it is, like the underrated Angels & Demons, a continuation of the strange adventures of Dr. Robert Langdon. Tom Hanks has never been an action hero, which is just as well because Robert Langdon was never meant to be Indiana Jones, despite his entanglement with religious relics and conspiracies. Inferno self-consciously ticks boxes as it goes, repetitively incorporating features of the previous two movies, while still trying to be progressive in its plot. Ultimately it ends up a decent enough bit of intrigue, but once you understand the stakes, there's very little question as to whether or not Langdon will succeed so much as a question of how.

Going into the Fall movie season, November was the bearer of my personal favorites of the year, starting with...

Hacksaw Ridge. I had planned to write a full review of this charming and inspiring war movie, but had a difficult time getting the ball rolling on it. War movies are probably the hardest to critique because there is a vast well of emotion that surrounds each story, whether portrayed in some unique way or with gritty passion. In many ways, Hacksaw Ridge echoes one of director Mel Gibson's earlier masterpieces, Braveheart. While the story centers securely on war and the brutality of it, the individual is firmly established through both sweet and harrowing moments. Desmond T. Doss, the hero of Hacksaw Ridge, is in every way the unlikeliest of heroes except in his determined resolve to serve as far as his convictions will allow. But as a conscientious objector, his convictions prohibit him from killing another person. Predictably, his firmness on this issue will garner persecution from fellow soldiers and superior officers, but he finds a way in the heat of battle to serve his country and his fellow men while never swaying on this resolve. Andrew Garfield as Doss shines as a lovable country boy turned war-hero, while Hugo Weaving's portrayal of Doss's father will be one of the most underrated supporting roles of the year. While Doss isn't the strapping image of a heroic war figure, he's an inspiring figure all the same, and it's both heart-pounding and gut-wrenching to see him pulling barely-alive men to the edge of the cliff, only to breathe "Lord, give me one more" when each man safely reaches the bottom.

Doctor Strange. When promos for Doctor Strange began hitting, I was moderately interested. I didn't know much about the story or the character's impact on the Marvel universe, but I like Marvel, and I like Benedict Cumberbatch, so it seemed like it would be a safe bet that I'd enjoy this movie. Enjoy might be a mild understatement, and I now struggle with where to place Doctor Strange in Marvel's top five best movies. With snappy dialogue, kaleidoscopic visuals, and solid casting, Doctor Strange is a glorious origin story that sets a high bar for its own future in all the best ways.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. At one point in the history of blogging, I wondered if I should rename my blog and do only pieces on Harry Potter. With that kind of history of fandom, it's probably not surprising that Fantastic Beasts should be my most anticipated movie of the year. It's a return to the world of Harry Potter, long before Harry Potter, in a different era and different country. The results were absolutely mesmerizing, bringing the audience back to the magical world we've missed so much, but also showing us a whole new one with an entirely new kind of hero. Who is Newt? No one quite as important as the Boy Who Lived or He Who Must Not Be Named, but a delightful everyman tangled up in grand adventures.


The year wrapped up in December with one of the biggest brand names in cinema,

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. As a fairly big fan of Star Wars, I went into Rogue One with high expectations. Rogue One was far from terrible, but missed several opportunities for character development or emotional engagement. The lack of character development turned Rogue One into a forced plot vehicle that felt more like a checklist than a flowing storyline, with all its features serving the already-known endgame.







Until I began working on this particular post, it hadn't necessarily occurred to me whether or not 2016 was a good year in movies, but looking at this list, I'd say it had some more than decent contributions, with November being my favorite month. My 2016 list is made up of mostly sequels and franchise pieces, and 2017 will probably be similar, with a few outliers. While I'm highly anticipating the continuation of various installments in the Marvel Cinematic Universe as well as Star Wars Episode VIII, I also harbor hopes that some franchises will finally end in 2017. If the year brings forth nothing else that is good and enjoyable, I will at least be spared from having to sit through another Transformers or Pirates of the Caribbean trailer, should these movies fail in the way that I maliciously hope for. But, I've got an entire year before I can look back on the whole and see how we did in 2017. In the meantime, I bid adieu to 2016, with special gratitude for the high points in entertainment this year.

An open letter to the Galactic Empire

Dear Supreme Leaders, Grand Moffs, and Sith Lords,

First, I believe congratulations are in order for having built and then revived a powerful and formidable Empire. Your ambition and vision are truly incontestable and to be revered.

The purpose of this letter is to suggest that perhaps it is time to adopt a new strategy, as your repeated attempts at building super-weapons invariably seem to backfire. The destruction of six planets total is certainly an accomplishment, but the Rebels have a way of blowing up your super-weapons, yet you stubbornly rebuild, believing that the next one will be stronger. Unfortunately, all three have met the same tragic end. 

Before I continue, I would like to point out how unbelievably impressive it is that these three aforementioned super-weapons (Death Star, Second Death Star, Star Killer) were constructed in total secrecy. Such an incredible development boasting the finest advances in architecture, technology, and military prowess seems that it would attract attention in several galaxies. And with the amount of manpower needed to materialize such a thing, it is truly remarkable that the hundreds of designers and builders needed were able to carry out this feat in total confidentiality. I make no assumptions on where they all are now, though rumors exist of previously offered retirement packages on the planet Alderaan.

Perhaps this is presumptuous of me, but it seems that the greatest success the Empire has had in subduing the planets was in the early years where coercion, deception, and shrewdness strategically placed some of your greatest minds in highly influential positions. For example, the manipulation of the Imperial Senate to elect to power the late Palpatine was truly ingenious, and it seems that your regime enjoyed years of blind following before sparks of rebellion began. A return to these more diplomatic and subversive means of conquest might be to your advantage as you start up your new regime. It's not that fear and military might don't produce results, but it seems that you faced no opposition until these tactics became your main ones.

I would also like to point out that the Empire, vast and varied as it is, seems to have a few moles. The Rebels and Resistance do have a way of attaining your plans against your will (or sometimes in line with your will), but we have yet to know of an Imperial spy within the Rebellion or Resistance.

 Your tireless efforts to dominate are impressive, and you truly are the definitive examples of "If at first you don't succeed, try and try again."

Please don't blow up my planet.

Sincerely,
A concerned, loyal, and in no way questioning citizen of a galaxy far, far away.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

     Before Luke Skywalker's fateful entanglement with the Rebel Alliance, a rebellion was raging in the universe. Before Han Solo abandoned his shady ways to join a greater purpose, there were already many heroes for the cause against the Empire. Rogue One seeks to tell the story of those hitherto unnamed and unsung heroes of the rebellion, and to show what war is like for those who aren't Chosen Ones mysteriously bound by the Force to some great destiny.

     Rogue One is more of a war movie than Star Wars has ever presented before. There are no Jedi or fascinating lightsaber battles, no shocking familial connections, and not much fancy space travel. This is the non-glamorous side of the rebellion, where the work is hard and the sacrifices are real. This corner of the galaxy isn't sparkling clean or filled with quirky characters; it's grim, dusty, plodding, and hard. The story of Rogue One is almost Shakespearean, nay, GREEK in its determined interlacing of tragedy, hardship, fate, and eventual victory at noble cost. The full poetry of the piece crescendos in the final ten minutes, sliding Rogue One right up to the minute of A New Hope with what might be Darth Vader's finest moment in any Star Wars movie.


     To Rogue One's credit, the story here is a moderate diversion from the Jedi, the Sith, the Force, and how they play a part in the political terrain of the galaxy. Yes, it still pertains to the destruction of a superweapon, but goes deeper by demonstrating what manner of intrigue and battles ensued in order for Princess Leia to hold the information critical to the destruction of said superweapon. The final battle sequence alone plays out the War in Star Wars, evoking the Pacific battles of WWII as the heroes ambush the guards, storm the beaches, and take up handheld firearms against machines of war. Every shot fired against the courageous troop diminishes their hopes of survival, but never their determination to complete the mission.

     And now, take a deep breath. This is about to get exhaustive.

     Unfortunately, those sacrifices are less than keenly felt, due to a tragic lack of character development, and an overuse of cliche. The dialogue tries to drop hints about each person's background to ignite a connection to the audience, but there isn't quite enough mystery to fuel interest, and not enough exposition to generate any sort of potency. Rather than a band of bonded misfits or a small uncelebrated military unit, we get a lump of disconnected characters who decide (rather abruptly) to unite for a common purpose and die together. This might have worked had there been any development of bonding or friendship between the characters, but there isn't the slightest spark of chemistry among them. This ensemble as a whole lacks the charisma of The Dirty Dozen, the Magnificent Seven, or even The Goonies. After all Disney's and director Gareth Edwards' promises of this being a darker installment, a "Saving Private Ryan" for Star Wars, I went in with the expectation that Rogue One would be a heart-breaker. Surely we would be subject to the emotional battering of watching that small but determined troop see their brothers in arms fall one by one. Yet the only loss that seemed moderately emotional was that of a droid. I liked that droid.

     Jyn Erso tries ever so hard to be a tough and independent renegade, but comes off not so much hardened as just wound up. Most of the time Jyn is onscreen she's holding her breath or spitting out her lines in a manner that was clearly intended to be feisty, but comes off constipated and unnecessarily high-strung. She exudes anger, but not even in an interesting "tortured past" or "rebel without a cause" kind of way, though there are hints to both of those archetypes; more like a caged wolverine baring its teeth at everything that comes near it, until...she doesn't. Her journey from lone wolf to self-sacrificing happens so quickly, it's almost dizzying. Unlike other women that Star Wars has proudly toted, there isn't much about Jyn that's likable or sympathetic, but she'll be proudly toted all the same as some sort of feminist icon. Jyn is the quintessential female protagonist that you'd find on your average network TV show: no-nonsense, important father, better fighter than any man, shady past, endless skills, friendless, and so on and so forth. All of these things can add up to an interesting and engaging character, but here they add up to a stoicism that just doesn't offer more than what's on the surface.


     Speaking of the important father, Galen Erso is Exhibit A of criminally underused talent and a largely missed story opportunity. Actor Mads Mikkelson as Galen has better screen presence than anyone else here, yet is barely used in a story that is largely about his work. Galen had the most potential for complexity of anyone; he reluctantly agreed to design the Death Star for the express purpose of working a flaw into the design, knowing full well that he would likely never see his family again. His work drives the plot of not only Rogue One, but also the climax of A New Hope. I could have used a little more on this conflicted and misunderstood character, since he's one of the few  straddling the line between Empire and Rebellion, and could have offered a truly unique perspective to the story.

      Decidedly not redeeming the underdeveloped characters is Cassian, a diluted Han Solo type so limited in his emotional processing that his entire purpose and being is transformed by one "who's with me?" speech. He lacks any defining characteristics in that he's not suave, gruff, funny, or interesting; just clean-shaven, soft-spoken, and of course, shady past. Cassian isn't very soldierly, but he's also not a strong enough personality to be convincing as an intrepid risk-taking spy for the Rebellion. He's got all the right makings of a really nice sidekick, or even the kind of character written to meet his demise in some overly contrived way so as to inspire his comrades to action. Yet here, Cassian is pushed center stage like the high school understudy who isn't ready to have his moment in the spotlight while the real actor is backstage throwing up.

     What is Star Wars without a great villain? Even the woeful Episode 1- The Phantom Menace featured the memorable (and underutilized) Darth Maul, whose fight scene remains the high point of the movie. Rogue One could have used a Darth Maul or someone like him. I'm not even saying that the villain had to be a Sith Lord, just someone formidable. Rogue One's villain is Director Krennic, the military director in charge of the construction of the Death Star. At first it seems like Krennic might be a daunting Imperial with commanding presence and tactical cunning. Nope. He's a middle-manager without realizing it, whose plans and orders can be overturned with a word from his superiors. And when he gets really upset, his lisp comes out. Krennic is unfortunately sub-par, especially when he shares a scene with Darth Vader, or the distracting digitized Grand Moff Tarkin (played with great gravitas by the now adult child-star of the Polar Express).

 
     Yes, Grand Moff Tarkin makes a return, as I always hoped he would. And I jest about the child star of the Polar Express, but if you've seen Rogue One, you know what I mean. I will admit that my hopes of seeing him return centered around recasting rather than resurrection, which is what is done here. It's undeniable why Tarkin's presence was essential to the story. The New York Times explains "If he’s not in the movie, we’re going to have to explain why he’s not in the movie. This is kind of his thing" in a quote by Kiri Hart, a Lucasfilm story development executive and Rogue One co-producer. That's a defendable reason-- in A New Hope there's a definite impression that the Death Star is Tarkin's opus, so it would be awkward to not feature him at all. And while I can certainly applaud the ambition behind digitally resurrecting him, he still looks painfully out of place among flesh and blood actors. If the moviemakers could have conceived a reason to keep the character in shadows, or even feature him via hologram only, it would have solved the issue. 

     After these characters, the rest of the individuals who make up the Rogue One team are more memorable for their features rather than their names (in part because they don't use each others' names much, and so are easily forgotten). Blind Asian guy. Blind Asian guy's friend in Ghostbusters suit. That pilot. Droid. In an unintentionally comical attempt at giving the characters those features that make them identifiable, it treads right on the border of those stereotypes which seem to plague the criticisms of so many movies. Remembering that the idea of the Force is itself based on Eastern mysticism, it's a little overt that the only spiritual person here should be Asian, and that both of the Asian characters are guardians of an ancient temple. Captain Cassian, portrayed by a Latino actor, is introduced in a crowded marketplace trading in shady business under its hanging baskets and smoking fryers. It's not that I personally have a problem with this; I really don't. But if every big movie is going to be scrutinized and raked for racial stereotypes, and its quality measured by the spectrum of its ethnic representations, I feel honor-bound to follow suit and point out in similarly hypersensitive manner that Rogue One isn't perfect in waving its banner of multiculturalism over the good guys.


     While it can't really be argued that the Star Wars movies were in need of some diversity before The Force Awakens, Rogue One tries too hard to make up for it all at once. The result is overkill wherein the good guys are diverse and the bad guys are white-washed. Once again, I'm not criticizing the inclusion of diversity at all-- I thoroughly enjoyed how The Force Awakens demonstrated that there exist a variety of people on both sides of the conflict-- it's that Rogue One totes it with such brazen exhibitionism that it really just becomes "psuedo-political prattle", even mercenary. Without stronger character development or backstory, the diverse array of characters feel like a tactic to woo foreign audiences with promises of ethnic representation, rather than giving solidly written heroes who just happen to represent ethnic groups.

     Getting back to the movie itself, amidst what would have otherwise been a strong story, Rogue One makes some strange choices seemingly designed to shoehorn in showpieces. Example, Saw Gerrera. Here is a character who is mentioned several times throughout the movie, but features only briefly. His entire purpose is unclear other than to be a moped-style exposition vehicle for Jyn's past. Otherwise, he operates as an unhinged zealot, paranoid and barely able to talk without the aid of his oxygen. When he's able to speak, he seems determined to utter the most t-shirt worthy line, no matter how ill-advised the timing may be. Shortly after Jyn declares in no uncertain terms that she is perfectly happy to bury her head in the sand and pretend the Empire doesn't exist, Saw wheezes "Save the rebellion...save the dream..." before being ceremoniously crushed by his falling hideout.

     On the note of unclear purpose, Saw has this monster which can apparently sense truth or deception in its victims. So when Bodhi the defector pilot shows up at Saw's hideout and actually tells the truth, Saw gives him over to this monster thing to be unnaturally interrogated, and warns him that he will probably lose his mind once the blubbery monster is done probing it. Bodhi is mildly traumatized for about a minute before he's fine again.The whole sequence is superfluous, seemingly constructed for the sole purpose of showcasing the obligatory alien monster.

     The Hollywood Reporter film critic Todd McCarthy has been blasted for noting that the film needs "a strong and vigorous male lead to balance more equally with Jyn...". I think I would have been happy for a strong and vigorous character of either gender of any species. To be fair, it's not that every single entity featuring onscreen is boring, it just goes back to under-developed use of what might have been engaging characters. For example, one of the more memorable persons of Rogue One will be Chirrut Imwe (aforementioned as Blind Asian guy), who is Exhibit B of underused talent. He at least has a degree of humor and personality, not to mention martial arts skills. But that's all we get. Every flesh and blood person including Chirrut is out-shined by the droid K-2SO, who has more personality and wit than the rest of the cast put together. And he's one of the only bright spots in an otherwise joyless pocket of the galaxy.

     Alright, time to address the one person who needs no introduction: Darth Vader. It would have seemed strange to have a movie that features sometime between The Revenge of the Sith and A New Hope and not have Vader connected to it somehow. Vader has two scenes here, one being so glorious that it very nearly redeemed everything the rest of the movie did wrong, the other being a little more debatable. One of the things audiences were promised was Darth Vader in his prime. Somehow, Rogue One managed to deliver and disappoint. As previously mentioned, one of Vader's scenes is spectacular, and really does demonstrate why he was such a feared warrior for the Empire. He enters the scene like the title monster of a horror movie, and proceeds to plow through his foes with a chilling mixture of intensity and ease. This is where Rogue One delivers, and delivers well. It disappoints in not having more Darth Vader, though it's understandable why, since his iconic status does drain the thunder from any other villain onscreen. This is the Darth Vader of episodes IV-VI. In what is probably a complete accident, he manages to bridge the movies when his other scene shows him to be the Vader/Anakin of episodes I-III, with bad lines and a labored pun.

     To indicate that Rogue One is a bad movie would fairly unjust. It's not bad, but nor is it great. It's the kind of sci-fi movie that rides its brand name for recognition, and works well enough as a world-building companion piece to the saga, but wouldn't stand on its own. For me, it ranks above the forlorn prequels, but below everything else. It has the right story at its heart, and does an excellent job of fitting Rogue One comfortably into the Star Wars universe in terms of style. Also to its credit, is the restraint with which the originals are referenced. Callbacks to episodes IV-VI are few, and not overly self-conscious in their occurrences, being sure to honor rather than undermine the movies that the story precedes. Characters that have been encountered in other movies are used with defined purpose, such as Tarkin, Vader, Mon Mothma, and Bail Organa (Leia's adopted father). The latter is used especially cleverly, as he serves as a sort of bridge character for episodes I-III and episodes IV-VI. 

     Rogue One was born from the opening crawl of A New Hope, which reads:

It is a period of civil war.
Rebel spaceships, striking
from a hidden base, have won
their first victory against
the evil Galactic Empire.

During the battle, Rebel
spies managed to steal secret
plans to the Empire's
ultimate weapon, the DEATH
STAR, an armored space
station with enough power
to destroy an entire planet.

And now, we know the story behind those few sentences. Given the box office success of Rogue One, I expect the spin-off Band of Bothans to feature soon so as to tell the story behind the line "Many Bothans died to bring us this information" (Mon Mothma in Return of the Jedi, referring to the intel that the Emperor himself is overseeing the final stages of the construction of the second Death Star). Rogue One tested the waters for Star Wars spin-offs, and although the results were polarizing, the fact that enough people liked it ensures infinite possibilities for future spin-offs.

      

Rogue One has polarized critics and audiences alike, with some praising its bold and dark approach while others are less impressed by the shallow characters and forced storytelling. Though I recognize that there will be hostile disagreement with my position, just as there was when I praised The Force Awakens, for me, The New York Times critic A.O. Scott sums it up best:

"All the pieces are there, in other words, like Lego figures in a box. The problem is that the filmmakers haven’t really bothered to think of anything very interesting to do with them. A couple of 9-year-olds on a screen-free rainy afternoon would come up with better adventures, and probably also better dialogue. Plots and subplots are handled with clumsy expediency, and themes that might connect this movie with the larger Lucasfilm mythos aren’t allowed to develop...It doesn’t so much preach to the choir as propagandize to the captives, telling us that we’re free spirits and partners on the journey. The only force at work here is the force of habit" (http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/13/movies/star-wars-rogue-one-review.html?referrer=google_kp).

Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them

     These aren't the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts. This isn't Diagon Alley, bursting with marvelous sights and children pressing their noses against the shop windows to get a look at the newest broom. This is smog-ridden Prohibition-era New York City, where seedy underground speakeasies deal in contraband far more precious than bottles of booze. In this barely pre-Depression NYC, segregation marks the laws governing the lives of magical folks. Not traditional segregation, but strict and unyielding laws regarding No-Maj's, otherwise known as Muggles (or, non-magic folk). An unspoken fear rules over the lives of magical and non-magical folks alike as strange and unexplained accidents populate the headlines. Politics on both sides of things are in a state of unrest. A small but highly vocal movement of puritanical extremists calling for a second Salem to purge the land of witchcraft and wizardry certainly don't help the general uneasiness. And in this grey industrial metropolis, magical creatures are strictly banned; most inconvenient for magizoologist Newt Scamander, who has just entered NYC carrying an ark of magical creatures in his charmed briefcase.

     Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them operates as an excellent world-building installment to the Potterverse, taking the audience to new locations and time periods than were previously shown in Harry Potter. The magical world is indeed a world-- not just pockets in Europe. And true to the design of our non-magical world, things are different depending on where you are. New York City's magic world is an entirely different culture, setting, and tone than what we've seen in London through the years of Harry Potter. As far as we're shown, NYC doesn't have a Diagon Alley equivalent where witches and wizards can move freely and use magic indiscreetly. NYC has its own Ministry of Magic, known as MACUSA (Magical Congress of the United States of America), with its own set of unique protective charms and illusions, but otherwise magical communities are fragmented, meeting in secret jazzy nightclubs and behind closed doors all over NYC.

     Fantastic Beasts was marketed as a story wherein Newt's briefcase of magical animals is accidentally opened, unleashing all manner of untamed magical creatures to wreak havoc upon an unsuspecting NYC, ala Pandora's Box. Naturally this would require an adventure of recapturing the plethora of escaped animals before too much damage is done. In reality, Fantastic Beasts is made up of several overlapping plots, some of which seem entirely disconnected until later in the story. For example, quite a business is made of how the criminal Grindelwald escaped capture by MACUSA's aurors (think elite government-employed bounty-hunters) and how this has concerned the magical community. This really doesn't seem like it could have any bearing on Newt and his magical briefcase, and for the most part, doesn't until much later in the story. For most of the story, Newt is scampering around snatching up his comical animal subjects against a looming backdrop of darker situations unfolding.

      The antagonists of the story are mostly disconnected from Newt, and are more antagonistic to their setting than they are towards the story's hero. Early on in the movie, we're introduced to a soapbox activist archetype named Mary Lou Barebone -- a rigid extremist who is on a mission to raise awareness of the presence of witches and wizards in NYC, and incite a "Second Salem" to rid the land of the poison of magic. Her pamphlet crusades and curbside speeches are not especially effective, but then there's also her perverse mercy mission of taking in orphans and domestically abusing the potential for magic out of them. It's not entirely clear how she came to know about magic at all, but her limited and skewed knowledge makes her a fanatical conspiracy theorist, referring to "secret societies dating back centuries," and blaming magic for all that's wrong with the country.

     The only other obvious antagonist to the story that can be identified without spoilers is the government and its employees. MACUSA is scrambling to maintain the fragile secrecy of the magical world, and enacts inflexible social codes without exception to ensure the security of the community. And since Newt is smuggling illegal creatures into the country, he's bound to have a few run-ins with the law. True to form, even within the strict and unyielding righteous government, secrets and deceptions abound.

      The heart of Rowling's Potterverse work has always been how her heroes are actually fairly ordinary people, at least in their own world. Newt Scamander is a freckly, mumbling, gangling sort of fellow, and not particularly witty or charming; simply dedicated to his work. Tina Goldstein is a plain type of utilitarian working woman, simply attired, demoted at MACUSA to a job below her skills and ambitions. Jacob Kowalski is clumsy, plump, and non-magical. Queenie can't do better than a basic secretarial job, despite her skills at legilimency (mind-reading). Magic might be awe-inspiring if you're a No-Maj, but for the magical folks, their lives have just as much tendency towards the ordinary and mundane as the rest of us who fondly imagine ourselves in their world. This parallel to reality is what has always made the characters of the Potterverse relatable, despite their living in a world that seems so fantastic.

     If you take a good look at Newt Scamander, he doesn't seem like the type to get kicked out of Hogwarts. He seems like the type who would never disrupt class, talk back, or say anything rude to anyone. We know that Dumbledore vouches for Newt, which might be a hint that either his expulsion was an injustice (just like Hagrid later on in the timeline), or that despite deserving expulsion, Dumbledore believes in the purpose that Newt feels called to. Whatever the actual reason, Dumbledore's support of Newt speaks volumes. It's in little tidbits such as these that we build our perception of who Newt is. Dumbledore likes him. He's a magizoologist. He was friends at school with a member of the LeStrange family. If you watched the Harry Potter movies, you may remember Harry's awkward friend Neville Longbottom: that's the type of hero Newt is. He's in just about every way, a likable unlikely hero.

    Newt may be inelegant, but there is more to him than meets the eye; there would have to be in order to catch and control the kinds of creatures he has in his case. When you consider the myriad of beasts and dangers some of them represent, you come to realize that Newt has his own brand of courage, and he is confident in it. Though the scene of Newt performing a mating dance to lure an erumpent (a rhino-like creature with a combustible horn) back into its cage is overwhelmingly comical, it also demonstrates Newt's fearlessness within his area of expertise. Newt strikes you as exactly the sort of person who deals with animals because he understands and connects with them much easier than he does with people. In turn, his creatures seem to understand him better than society does.

     Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them stylishly manages to feel familiar yet new, as is appropriate for a story that precedes Harry Potter by several decades. To the film's credit, references to the later Harry Potter story are restrained, using only a few small mentions of Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and the LeStrange family, but otherwise steering clear of setting itself up as a direct prequel. While this is the same universe that Harry Potter will one day operate in, the stories are only loosely related, which is refreshing. In Newt's time, Lord Voldemort has not yet come to be, therefore the major events that set up and drive Harry Potter haven't happened, and likely won't involve Newt at all when they do. There are a few hints that Newt's story will have some further overlap to Dumbledore's history, but otherwise Newt is free to go and have his adventures with his fantastic beasts, unshackled by convenient and unnecessary presence at major historical events. To force this would be turning Newt Scamander into Forrest Gump, and tragically limiting his character and potential. 

     Turning Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them into a film franchise was a bit of a gamble, but seems to have paid off. Considering that the only written source material that we've ever had on this subject was the textbook that Harry toted around, the filmmakers have been given the rare (and undoubtedly liberating) opportunity to produce a story that can't be judged by its book. Fans of Harry Potter know very little about Newt Scamander, except that he wrote an authoritative textbook on magical creatures. Very little is known about the author of the textbook, or what manner of calamities he endured to research the world's magical fauna, so the fans are free to enjoy the movies without comparing them to previously published material, and the filmmakers need not fear too severe a backlash from the fans.

     As previously mentioned, Newt Scamander isn't really what you'd consider a poster boy hero.  But then again, neither was Harry Potter. Newt is a proactive character in the sense that he's not just a victim of circumstance, but he still doesn't seem to have the makings of an iconic hero. Yet despite his ordinariness, Newt is on track to be a well-loved protagonist. He's likable in his awkwardness, passionate in his obscure pursuits, and loyal to those he calls friends (even if those friends be non-human). As a movie, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is an excellent world-building piece, as well as a fun story on its own. The creatures are delightful, the music is enjoyable, and the overall return to the magical world is engaging. If the subsequent movies can maintain this level of originality and quality, the next few years will be quite magical indeed.

Finding Dory

     Genie, Olaf, Mushu, Edna, Sebastian. These are just a few of the memorable scene-stealing side characters that have brought stories to life. The charm of the quirky side characters is that it allows our protagonist to focus on their purpose, while the supporting character can be caught up in all manner of mischief and humor, inevitably making them more interesting and lovable than the character they exist to accompany.

     Dory is just such a one. Over a decade ago, the adorably forgetful blue fish's chance encounter with Marlin the clownfish and ensuing adventure made Dory one of the most beloved animated characters of all time. The brilliance of Ellen DeGeneres' voice acting of the supporting character completely stole the show, and Dory has been one of the most recognizable faces of Pixar ever since.

     Dory's incurable short-term memory loss made it inevitable that she would eventually lose Marlin and Nemo, but Finding Dory is not as much about the father-son combo seeking her out as you might think. Finding Dory is as much about Dory finding herself as it is about her being found. While the script is fairly predictable, Dory's journey to discover her identity and home delivered unexpected emotional punch, but sandwiched it between enough comic levity and preposterous peril to keep it from getting weighed down in lengthy sentimentality or heavy-handed pathos. Moments tugged on particular heartstrings, but not in Up style devastation.

     Finding Dory very much feels like a reverse of Finding Nemo. Where Nemo featured a father looking for a son while the son tried to escape the confines of a fish tank, Dory features the child seeking her parents within the confines of a much much larger fish tank-- a conservatory be exact, not unlike Sea World, but with a repeated purpose to rehabilitate and release the animals back into the ocean (a distinction made necessary by Blackfish no doubt). Nemo received help from another fish desperate to return to the ocean, while Dory receives help from an octopus desperate to stay away from the ocean, far preferring his life of captivity.

     Finding Dory is an altogether worthy follow-up to the classic Finding Nemo, being effervescent and full of heart, but also putting a few nicks on that heart. But with Pixar, that's really to be expected by now. Although it doesn't strike me as being on par with its predecessor, nor being quite as memorable on its own, it does well as a sequel.