RIP Leslie Nielsen

1926-2010

I'm sure I speak for a number of people from my generation when I say that Leslie Nielsen is one of the cornerstones of modern comedy. From Airplane! to The Naked Gun trilogy to my childhood guilty pleasure Surf Ninjas, Leslie Nielsen was a shinning example of deadpan comedy. No one could do it as well as he could, and even when he was slumming in films that were beneath him, he would still bring his A-game to each role. It's truly sad to hear he has passed away today at age 84, but he leaves behind an indelible legacy. The roles he created, specifically Lt. Frank Drebin and Dr. Rumack, have become icons of cinema, and he will surely be delighting people with those and his many other roles long after he is gone.

The King's Speech

The King's Speech is like a film from a different era. So often when you hear that kind of statement, it's referring to that ineffable time when they made good movies, the likes of which we don't see anymore. This isn't one of those cases. No, The King's Speech harkens back to the 90's, when Miramax could get away with making the blandest movies imaginable and reap Oscar glory because of it. Shakespeare in Love, Chocolat, The Cider House Rules, and others of their ilk were all big Oscar players in their time, but none left any kind of lasting impression after their day in the sun. In the 2000's, the Oscars started to turn away from this kind of middle of the road mentality, instead favoring singular visions of bleakness and honesty. No one seems to have informed the brothers Weinstein of this fact, as they still pump out bland period piece films in the hopes of winning more awards. Based on critical reception, they may have finally stumbled onto something with The King's Speech, and for the life of me I don't understand why.

Colin Firth plays King George VI, a man who never expected to be King of England, but found himself thrust into the position after his brother failed to reconcile his personal life with his duties as King. King George has the problem of not being able to speak without stuttering uncontrollably. To the film's credit, Colin Firth does a great job with this part. The film is always trying to manipulate us with scenes of him stuttering as people look on in embarrassment, but Firth digs a little deeper, giving us glimpses of him as more than just a man who stutters. There is anger, resentment, and a deep shyness underneath his stuttering that is far more interesting than his need to speak in public. Assisting him in his quest to speak is Geoffrey Rush as Lionel Logue. Rush is usually a really great actor, but he can have occasion to go over the top when not properly directed, and such is the case here. He is the period piece equivalent of the manic pixie girl found in so may romantic comedies - the one who is able to dig deep inside the hero and bring out the best in him simply by being different from everyone else around them. While the character of King George has facets thanks to Firth, there seems to be no real dimensions to Lionel. We see him try to audition for a part in a play, and fail by virtue of his age, but otherwise he has no dichotomy. He is so self assured that he fails to ever be engaging on a human level.

The film is beautifully made, and if movies simply had to look good this would be one of the year's best films. The art direction in particular is exceptionally well crafted. The office Lionel inhabits looks like something Wes Anderson might have done were he to make a British period piece. And the shot compositions are distinctive enough that one could very easily make a recognisable King's Speech spoof, were someone strange enough to want to do such a thing. King George is almost always framed in the bottom left corner of the screen, with much of the rest of the frame just filled with dead space. It's a strange, yet interesting way to film the story. One of the first things you learn as a DP is to frame your action in the center, so by moving the action to the corner it gets you into the mind of King George, how he hates to be the center of attention, shying away from it. And of course, the costumes are exquisite, as one would expect from a story about a King in the 1930's. But does any of that make you want to see this movie? Probably not, unless you are a big fan of art design.

Perhaps what stuck me most about how utterly unnecessary this movie was, is how it sets this man's struggle against the backdrop of World War II. It is this period of time, if in no other, that the story of a man's speech impediment would seem frivolous by comparison to what is really going on in the world. Millions of people were being persecuted, incarcerated, and executed. The entire world nearly fell apart because of the whims of a power hungry mad man with a vendetta. Some of the most interesting, heartbreaking, unexpected things to happen in the last century happened at this exact moment in time. So while I appreciate that England needed to have a leader they felt they could trust a this dark hour, overcoming a stutter - no matter how severe - is simply not that engaging or important in the grand scheme of things here. And the worst part is that this story, told in a better context of the world around it, might actually have been really interesting. Juxtaposing the speechless George with the master orator Hitler could have been a unique way of examining George, but instead we get a throw away line about how Hitler sure speaks with conviction.

A film like The King's Speech really confuses me by its existence, even more so by its embrace by audiences. No one involved with this picture took any real risks, nothing is extraordinary, and I never got the sense that this was a story that had to be told. Like I said, it exists solely because those involved want to win Oscars. And they might very well pull it off. But a part of me thinks that the Academy has moved on at this point, that they wouldn't need to take a step backwards and embrace the kind of film that made them the butt of a number of jokes for so long. If you want something challenging and thought provoking, this isn't your film. If you want something that can be easily consumed and forgotten, check out The King's Speech.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I

I realized I haven't reviewed a Harry Potter movie since 2005's Goblet of Fire (still my favorite entry in the series), and that's probably because they are a hard bunch to discuss. What can I really say about Deathly Hallows (Part I) that's all that different from the past six movies? Sure, the various directors have had differing takes on the world of Hogwarts, but since David Yates adopted the franchise, it has all felt a bit too bland for me. He doesn't seem to have any particular vision for these movies, so his entries feel especially interchangeable. His films, more than any others, have each been little more than a buildup to the next in the franchise, which makes it hard to enjoy the film at hand. That goes doubly so here, with a film whose sole purpose appears to be as a setup for the conclusion to the series. While this creates a number of narrative and pacing issues for the audience, it does allow, finally, for some actual character development in these later films.

I haven't read a single Potter novel, nor do I expect I ever will. I come to this franchise purely as a curious spectator who wants to see what the fuss is about. So I suspect that I am missing out on a great deal of character development found in the last few novels that is largely being exorcised in favor of plot movement and set pieces. By splitting the final novel into two movies, however, it allows this film to slow down a bit and reexamine the central three characters. For the first time in the series, Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint are allowed to take center stage without the support of a bevy of well known actors. Sure, most of the ever growing cadre of acting legends are here, but usually only in cameos. The three leads mostly do a good job anchoring the film. They still have their weak points, but they've come such a long way over the last decade. Grint, in particular, really does a fine job of conveying all the conflicting emotions going on within his character. And it was nice to see Harry actually wrestle with his parents' deaths again, something that seems like it should have played a bigger part in his psychology in past films. Watson has the most difficult character of the three to play, the uptight know-it-all, and as always it's a bit difficult to suss out the acting from the writing. Still, the three work well enough together at this point that you will likely forgive any missteps on their parts.

The film does have serious issues with a consistent pace. It will spend twenty minutes on an undercover heist, then follow that with twenty minutes of the kids hiding in the woods doing nothing particularly interesting, just talking and morosely dancing. This format is repeated a couple times; action beat followed by dead weight, making it hard to become all that engaged in what should be the most rousing entry in the series. This is it, the end of the story. Surely it should be a tad more exciting, dangerous, and conclusive. But, as always with Yates, Deathly Hallows is more about setting up the next film than it is about telling the story at hand. I will forgive the movie its ending, which I am in the minority of feeling was a decent way to end the movie on a cliffhanger. Others have claimed it is an abrupt ending, but to me it felt like an appropriate culmination of the preceding two and a half hours.

The action, as always, is great. Indeed, it is some of the best of the series. The aforementioned heist scene, in which our three heroes disguise themselves as adults to break into the Ministry of Magic, is probably the stand out. But what also struck me was how unrelentingly dark and violent this series has become. When Harry Potter began it was lighthearted and glossy, but ten years down the line it has become something I don't think I would take a kid to see. There is one scene in which Harry finds a room covered in blood, flies swirling over a decomposed body. I applaud the filmmakers for following their convictions that the audience needs to grow up with Harry, but it still comes as a shock to see where this series has ended up thematically.

Like I said, there's not a lot to be said for Deathly Hallows. It's a good movie that fails to reach the levels of originality of parts 3 and 4, but still perhaps better than the previous Yates films. If you've made it this far into the series, there's no reason to give up here. I suspect and hope that the final film will be among the better in the series, as Yates will finally have to focus on the film at hand, and not spend the two hours he has left setting up yet another sequel.

Monsters

Monsters is the kind of movie tailor made for a cult audience, the sort of film you'll kick yourself for not seeing sooner. While it will never attain the same level of awareness of District 9, its audience will only continue to grow as years go by. It's one of those deep cut sci-fi films you pull out to impress your less movie-literate friends. Endlessly inventive and visually arresting, it is all the more impressive for what it is able to accomplish with its minuscule budget and limited production crew. With scenes of pure suspense and unexpected beauty, Monsters is Spielberg on a micro budget.

Monsters follows a photographer named Andrew (Scoot McNairy) as he tries to transport his boss's daughter Sam (Whitney Able) out of Mexico and back home to America. Easy enough, if it weren't for all those 100 foot aliens that crash landed in Northern Mexico six years ago. Together, Andrew and Sam make their way North through the "Infected Zone," hoping they'll make it back to America in one piece. Director Gareth Edwards has an extensive background in visual effects, and he puts it to great use here. The titular monsters, like giant land locked octopuses, are a sight to behold. Edwards, knowing his budgetary limits, keeps the creatures hidden for much of the film. For some audience members, this might be frustrating, but for those with patience, it makes the film all the more rewarding in the end. People never complain that the aliens in Close Encounters don't show up until the end, and to show the aliens here would severely undermine what Edwards ultimately reveals about the aliens in the film. There's something to be said about a subtle monster movie.

While the monsters are seen sparingly through the film, their presence still looms over everything else. There is constant tension that something lethal could happen at any moment, and the visual style of the film reflects a world in which giant aliens have taken over. Shot entirely on location in Mexico, the film takes advantage of hurricane devastated locations to impress upon the audience what kind of world the characters now exist in. And the performances are all informed by their shared history of six years of alien infestation. Some characters use the aliens as a way to make money from desperate travelers, others see the aliens as something almost religious. Just because the monsters are elusive doesn't mean they aren't the dominant force in this movie.

The two central performances work well in an understated way. Scoot McNairy plays Andrew as a man worn down by the world. He recognizes the inherent absurdity of his job, noting that he will make more money if he photographs a child killed by a monster than if he photographs a child smiling. Whitney Able takes what could have been a spoiled heiress character and infuses her with a basic humanity that makes Sam a fun character to be around. And the two (who are a real life couple) have a strong chemistry that helps carry the movie during scenes where the two are simply trekking across Mexican wilderness. It is a true testament to these performances that as the end approached I was sincerely bothered by the idea that there was a very good chance that neither character would survive the film. I simply enjoyed being in the presence of these two people for an hour and a half, which isn't something a lot of films can pull off.

A film like Monsters isn't going to work for people looking for the next Cloverfield. It's about characters, it's about a very detailed setting, and it's ultimately about the idea that what we think we know about something isn't always true. The film ends on an ambiguous and strangely stunning moment that ranks as one of my favorite scenes in a movie this year. What that scene, and indeed the whole film, says about the way people look at the world around them is interesting and moving. At its heart, Monsters is a movie about the beauty of relationships, in more ways than you might expect.