Dan Mooney

Up is a movie far stranger, and far more moving, than the one I was expecting. I thought I’d signed up for what really could have been the 20-minute short film version of the same movie, stripped of the extra layer or two of complication. And that would have been effective, and I would have enjoyed it, dewy-eyed and with a newfound appreciation of life and old people and aging, and that would have been it.

See, in this movie, balloon salesman Carl Fredricksen (voiced by Ed Asner) is a widower, refusing to move from the house of his dreams despite the large-scale construction surrounding him. It’s the house where, as a boy, he bonded with a little girl named Ellie, and later where they spent their married lives. When Ellie dies, he becomes more protective of his property, and when it’s encroached upon, he fights back and, one thing leading to another, is eventually forced to leave. But not without his house! He lets fly the balloons and sails to his and Ellie’s dream location in South America.

It goes on from there, in a couple of directions – but if it didn’t, that’d be the short film I described earlier. Right near the beginning, a beautiful, extended wordless montage takes us through his and Ellie’s lives. It sets the stage wonderfully, yet I’d have been satisfied with that dense little love story as is.

That’s the heart of the movie, Carl’s relationship with Ellie. From the extended first passage to other moments threaded through, it’s only superseded (in time, if not in significance) by his grandfatherly rapport with young Russell, a “Wilderness Explorer” (Boy Scout) and stowaway on the house-in-flight. They each make an animal friend in South America, Russell with Kevin (a rare local bird) and Carl with Doug (a dog owned by a SPOILER). Not entirely unlike the Wizard of Oz, Carl-as-Dorothy takes his flying house and proceeds en route with these three pilgrims. But in a twist on that story, the Wizard is off to see them, and that’s where the movie takes its dark, weird turn.

Turns are fine when they don’t make me ask questions that aren’t otherwise addressed or answered in the film itself. Turns out there were a lot of these, questions or things that otherwise stretched my disbelief too far (way beyond moving a house via balloons). And it left an unwelcome taste, though one that didn’t detract from other character arcs in the movie.

How dare this movie make me feel! I was looking for a breezy, optimistic puff-pastry but ended up with, not to continue the metaphor, an arguably well-balanced movie that evens out the sentimentality of the main plot with a weighty, adventurous side that doesn’t let the entire feature-length ordeal get carried away with itself (sigh).

It’s tough, but I can’t not compare this to Wall-E, Pixar’s previous release. I preferred Wall-E because the story seemed more coherent, the protagonist more charming, the antagonist less random, the world more interesting and engrossing. Up is gorgeously rendered, of course – that almost goes without saying, and is no small feat, and like Avatar, goes so far in earning the whole production its rightful praise. The focus on the older gentleman reminds me of Geri’s Game, the Pixar short film from 1997 in which an old man plays chess with… himself (and whose doppleganger – or something – shows up in Toy Story 2 as a toy repairman). And whatever makes that short film’s depiction of an elderly man so appealing, interesting and compelling, works here also. The drawbacks I see are narrative-related. Up is a very, very good movie, and one I recommend, and one I wish I could have enjoyed more than I did.

3.5 stars

It must have been Netflix that suggested this movie for me – could have been my appreciation of No Country For Old Men that did it. However it happened, I was glad to have seen Shotgun Stories, and I’ll tell you about it.

The movie is set in Arkansas, and starts and proceeds with the relaxed pace of the lives of its main characters. We first meet three brothers, grown men, called Son, Kid and Boy. (Son is nicely played by Michael Shannon, who not only looks like a young, angry David Letterman, but was also Fred – the newlywed destined for Wrestlemania – in Groundhog Day). Their father passes away and it’s at his funeral that we meet another set of brothers – ones called by typical first names – who are the father’s children by his second wife. The father became successful only after abandoning his first family. The argument over how to remember the man heightens this ongoing conflict between the families, and sets the rest of the movie on its course.

The comparison to No Country for Old Men is apt, if a little too generous. There’s an impressive efficiency in the dialogue, for example, that’s refreshing in any script but in this case also underlines the nature of these characters and of their feud. No more is said than is necessary to tell their story, but we also see that the resentment has fed on this silence. We get to see it addressed, finally. The movie’s not scary, but its suspense is built in a similar slow, methodical way. Often there’s a disarming quietness in the air. The direction is straightforward, not too flashy, and that could merely be a by-product of its budget – but I also see the insistence and modesty appropriate and effective for the tone and the characters involved.

It’s when the violence escalates that what just might be the symbolic component in it all really made itself known. To me, broadly, this story cuts right to the heart of religious conflict. The comparison works best without being too specific about the players involved, I’ll admit, but: here we have two sets of children from the same father. They dispute the right way to think of him, wanting to have the only word in shaping others’ perspectives of him. One set of children has been raised to hate the other set, before being old enough to decide for themselves. These men are called to the front line of a fight that wasn’t entirely theirs to begin with, but has ultimately become theirs to deal with. And unfortunately, both sides look to violence before first considering that this conflict may be sooner resolved through cooperation and discussion. But even that solution isn’t easily achieved if it’s in these boys’ nature to be more reticent than talkative. The violence picks up quickly, building on the emotions of many years, and soon these newest generations are fighting to exact revenge for even newer transgressions farther removed from the original disagreement. And buried beneath all of this is hopeful idea that it might just take one person with an idea of peace to open the eyes of those too eager to continue fighting.

3 stars

I walked out of the theatre with my friend, long faces, blank looks, scratching our heads. The man who ripped our tickets saw us headed out and asked, “You just saw A Serious Man, didn’t you?”

Yes, we had.

I didn’t know what the hell to make of what I’d just seen. I thought I’d enjoyed it, more than I didn’t. I know I laughed a bunch of times. But I wasn’t sure that I’d enjoyed it, and I wasn’t sure how to judge the movie. I do know I thought and talked about it a lot that night, and the next day. Something must have worked. I also know that the movie’s main character suffers one disappointment after another, of varying levels of severity, again and again until the movie ends. Watching it was pretty pitiful, and it took reflection to understand what else might have been going on.

I first began to wrap my head around this movie when I thought of it as the Coen Brothers’ “Woody Allen movie.” Maybe a blunt comparison, but a helpful one for me. Broadly, the protoganist is familiar: Jewish, professional, bespectacled, and frustrated that despite his intelligence, he can’t figure life out better than he does. The major difference is that the Woody Allen persona approaches life’s absurdities, or defends himself from them, with humor – and that Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is, well, a serious man.

The short preamble (that paves the way for the Tarantinoesque opening credits) offers a morality tale and a quote, both suggesting to approach life simply, to accept things as they are, and that there’s a benefit to this practicality. That view is held by Professor Gopnik, given his restrained reactions to the many major life-altering situations he’s presented with. In the end these stresses do add up, to exactly how much is only implied. He’s affected, but he’s not. He’s stoic and accepting of his fate. Enter my own frustration: Is this a sign of weakness, or of strength? Is he a doormat, or just forthright? Is he to be respected or ridiculed? We see that he’s probably happiest in his dream sequences, when he succumbs to the temptation to do and think things that either his morality or his manners won’t normally let him. It’s easy to see him as passive and ineffectual, and therefore unsympathetic, and painful to watch. That was my first take. But it’s then beneficial to consider the alternative, to admire his persistence, and to focus instead not on the quickness or severity of his reactions, but on his methodology.

And his methodology is: taking the long view, operating at a cool remove, and asking men of authority – and some women – for their advice. Rabbis (each older and wiser than the previous), lawyers, his boss at work, these are some of the people who can help Larry Gopnik when he’s not in a position to help himself. He’s at their mercy, and there’s a measure of strength in that vulnerability and openness. So despite his reluctance to, say, fight back mercilessly at those who threaten him, his curiosity and his faith redeem him to a certain extent. If I didn’t consider these traits, I’d have easily dismissed the guy, and thought much less of his story. But certain things came into focus for me, after the fact, and I was satisfied enough, as Larry seems to be, to puzzle them over without necessarily figuring them out.

3 stars

I saw Avatar last week, and judging by the dollars that continue to pile up, I’m not the only one who didn’t rush out opening weekend.

Maybe I shouldn’t be, but I am surprised it’s done anywhere near as well as it has. Having avoided the trailer, I saw only a few seconds of footage here and there, and what I saw didn’t impress me. Thought it would be another manufactured tentpole hit without much behind it. Thought Cameron’s ego would have swallowed his talent whole leaving nothing but some blue creatures patrolling around.

Wrong! Happily wrong.

I was absolutely impressed by Avatar. Just incredible. The kind of revolutionary moviewatching experience that doesn’t happen often. Jurassic Park was like that, and I saw a lot of that movie in this one. I also saw in it A Bug’s Life (blue creatures going about their lives around a huge tree), The Lion King (the learning montages, general forest revelry) and The Matrix (simultaneous levels of experience, one arguably as real as the other, but not quite). I did see it in 3D, which is the way to see it, but I didn’t see it in IMAX, which is just too much screen for me.

I do agree with the idea I’ve heard that James Cameron should win Best Director honors at the Academy Awards. Even if there are better movies out there, and I think there are, he’s the MVP for his project, having done more to realize more. Nothing against Tarantino, who made a wonderful movie (and killed Hitler), but my vote would go to Cameron.

It’s not all gravy, though. The shortcomings of his movie are obvious and numerous. Great directing, lackluster writing: flat jokes, dull dialogue, bad acting. Even Sigourney Weaver, as Grace in human form, can’t act her way past what’s been written for her. Giovanni Ribisi’s Jeremy Piven impression was adequate, since all he had to do was announce himself as a bad guy, and then tread water. Sam Worthington (ably understudied by Sean Avery) was earnest enough. (In the race between Ribisi’s Parker and Oliver Platt’s Mr. Anheuser from 2012, Platt’s character wins, for having more opportunity to be comic-book crazy. A separate race between Anheuser and the mother’s boyfriend in Rookie of the Year is too close to call.)

I was as pleased as hell to read the interview with James Cameron in Entertainment Weekly a couple of weeks back, when Cameron was up-front with his plain desire to make a movie that a lot of people would pay money to see. He succeeded, but he didn’t sell anyone short, and he didn’t make a movie that appealed to a lowest common denominator. It’s only broad insofar as it’s appealing to just about everyone who likes things that are fantastic and cool-looking. With audiences continuing to splinter and smaller films getting more recognition and praise, finally there’s a movie that brings moviegoers together again, surrending to the spectacle. If ever there were a movie to see in a theatre, this is it.

Oh, you’ve seen it already?

Oh, okay, then let’s continue with the discussion.

One odd question to start, one that kind of bothered me: When Sully finds his banshee – the one he has to tie up, get on the ground, and make his extremely personal connection with – he’s not raping that poor creature, in one way or another?

I must say I enjoyed the fight at the very end, between Jake Sully as a Na’vi and Colonel Quaritch in his robot suit from The Matrix Revolutions, for a couple of reasons. I like that each of the participants is in disguise, hiding behind technology somehow. It levels the playing field by making each rather super-human, but also calls attention to the already well-hammered conflict of the movie between, say, destructive technology and endangered biological life forms. I was also reminded of the fight between King Kong and the T-Rex in the original King Kong, in the forest, the film itself a landmark of visual effects.

I also liked a couple of moments with masks, playing up the title. When Grace dies after the transfusion doesn’t work, her mask is summarily taken off, echoing the shedding of her body by her soul. And, near the end when Neytiri finds Sully in the trailer struggling for air, she’s quick to put his mask on. It’s certainly to help him survive, but I think also because she’s used to seeing him in disguise, in another form. His “nakedness” is alarming. She’s in love with his soul, or whatever makes him who he is, but his human form at that point in their relationships doesn’t seem his natural state. That leads to the final switcheroo, the eyes opening, the percussion building, and… a comically cheesy end credits song. Terrible.

I am glad the parable moved on from being an allegory about the Middle East and oil and indigenous peoples to addressing the larger, worldly issue of, y’know, respecting our planet for the powerful and living creature she is. For a simplistic story on which to hang beautiful, vivid effects, there are worse choices for a moral. Sugar helps the medicine go down, anyway.

3.5 stars

I’d planned to watch this movie the weekend of my 10th high school reunion, in place of actually going to the reunion. I figured that between watching the movie and catching up with classmates on facebook for the last few years, all my vicarious bases would be covered. Well, my reunion came and went the Saturday of Thanksgiving. Saw some of the lead-up discussion online, saw some of the pictures. Didn’t watch the movie again until recently.

I’m sure I didn’t watch it again because the last time I did, I really didn’t enjoy it. I’ve seen it several times, and I find that I’m willing to suspend a little less disbelief each time. I’m getting older, of course, and that the movie deals with that subject isn’t lost on me. Some movies do not age particularly well – I heard Annie Hall dropped into a conversation about this last week – but I don’t think Grosse Pointe Blank falls into that category. I’m the one who hasn’t aged well. But neither has my initial, most flattering perception of the movie.

Looking back, I could see it making sense to my younger self that I would appreciate the movie even more as I get older, perhaps culminating at the very point at which my graduating class would celebrate its own 10th anniversary. But those things that struck me during this most recent viewing were generally negative. Now, of course, when you see a film a number of times, you may pick up more, or at least different, things each time. But I’ve seen other movies more times, and those repeat viewings deepen and enhance the joy I feel about what I’ve seen, unlike with this one here.

Two small personal notes: The song over the opening credits, “I Can See Clearly Now,” by Johnny Nash, is the first song I listened to my senior year of high school after getting into the school I wanted to attend. Though, unlike Martin Blank (John Cusack), I was not about to kill someone when I heard the first news of my reunion.

My biggest complaints with the movie this time around involve the pacing and, well, the premise itself. Regarding the premise – I know it’s a movie, and I know it’s also a black comedy – but I was put off by just how long it takes, and how much it takes, for anyone to realize Martin is what he says he is. He’s got to be covered in blood holding a freshly used murder weapon for Debi (Minnie Driver, who if I didn’t recently see in a trailer for something might have shrunk and turned into Amy Winehouse) to react (run away at the school), then overreact (in the hotel room, when talking would have done), then underreact (when she rides away with Martin cheerfully at the very end, his having saved her life completely having changed her mind about what he’d done).

I found it somewhat disingenuous that a bunch of glib characters and their precious dialogue would be so shocked at such a reveal. I’d think anyone jaded enough, with an ironic enough stance in their humdrum lives, wouldn’t suddenly remember how to be aghast. Maybe I’m jaded myself.

I also thought the last sequence, from looking at the red dossier to picking up Debi’s father, to the shootout at the house, all goes by quickly and abruptly, as if just to get the two main characters together and off toward the sunset in time for the credits to roll.

And – I thought Martin could be spared the humiliation by not insisting he crash Debi’s radio show, instead waiting for her to be done and talking to her then. But, if that happens, that’s just real life and there’s no movie. But also, for a guy who disappeared for a decade, and who makes his living not being noticed, with a symbolic last name, it sort of doesn’t make sense for him to be so blunt and so conspicuous. A grand sweeping gesture but ultimately not even romantic. So, I believed it up to when the character loses his integrity, which I think is a fair point.

I do find interesting just how often Martin says, “You look good.” Just about everyone he meets again receives that compliment. I don’t know what exactly to make of it – several things, I guess. I like that someone who disappeared has such an interest in other people’s appearances. But in the conversation with his teacher, especially, we see he probably hasn’t changed much – just a very nice guy, ready with a compliment, but ready to kill you if someone’s paid him too. There’s the rub, and a nice juxtaposition.

On that note, I can remember why I liked the movie very much to begin with. Martin’s an interesting, watchable character, for sure. The jokes are still there, and many are still funny. That my perception has changed this much might have less to do with the movie than with me, but, that’s part of it.

Two stars – down ~1/4 star each viewing from Three stars, ten years ago.