John Carter is based on a classic novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs, whose highly imaginative adventures served as inspiration for many filmmakers, both past and present. The film tells the story of war-weary, former military captain John Carter, who is inexplicably transported to Mars where he becomes reluctantly embroiled in a conflict of epic proportions amongst the inhabitants of another planet.
John Carter is not nearly as bad a movie as the press would let you believe it is. I wish Taylor Kitsch had more charisma (he was very good on Friday Night Lights) to carry this adaptation of Burroughs story, and I’m fairly bummed that we’ll likely never get to see a sequel. By the end of John Carter, I was genuinely interested in what was going to happen next. Time will tell if the CGI that is rampant throughout the film will hold up, but I doubt the general’s audience will.
Imaginatively explores the hilarity, confusion, and surprises of love through the evolving consciousness of Oliver. Oliver meets the irreverent and unpredictable Anna only months after his father Hal has passed away. This new love floods Oliver with memories of his father who – following 44 years of marriage – came out of the closet at age 75 to live a full, energized, and wonderfully tumultuous gay life.
What a beautiful, moving film. Beginners is an ode to many things– second chances, grand realizations, and finding true love. Sounds awfully cliche, doesn’t it? Director Mike Mills infuses his screenplay with such wonderful little moments that you can’t help but be bottled up by the stories of all that are involved. Beginners is occasionally cute, but not on a false indie film way; rather, the sweetness of discovering or uncovering a crucial part of one’s life is portrayed in a whimsical, if not occasionally frustrating light. I feel as if this film may be unfortunately pigeonholed as a “cancer film” or a a “gay film”, and while those are parts of Beginners, it’d be deceitful to make it that simple. Beginners is a movie worth celebrating because it touches on moments so universal and makes it all feel very truthful at the same time.
Curtis LaForche lives in a small Ohio town with his wife Samantha and six-year-old daughter Hannah, who is deaf. Money is tight, and navigating Hannah’s healthcare and special needs education is a constant struggle. Despite that, Curtis and Samantha are very much in love and their family is a happy one. Then Curtis begins having terrifying dreams about an encroaching, apocalyptic storm.
One’s exposure to depression, be it how it has effected someone they know or themselves, likely will play heavy into their emotional attachment to Take Shelter. The end of days looms heavy over the entire film, with a fairly simple parallel of Curtis’ (Michael Shannon, in my favorite performance of his thus far) crippling fears of life to the apocalypse. Though Take Shelter tackles these big ideas, it does so in a non-bloated fashion, thanks largely in part to the heavy focus on Curtis and his family; moreover, the whole thing feels rather minor despite the large scope.
For what I imagine is a rather small budget film, some of the awful CGI is forgivable. What I could have done without is the excessive amount of dream sequences, as the pattern became successively more easy to figure out, thus causing a loss of intensity that the earlier sequences had. All is forgiven for the crushing sequence in the storm shelter. Though one could argue the crescendo of Curtis losing it came a scene or two prior, Michael Shannon has a vulnerability so raw in the shelter that I can’t remember a finer performed scene in years. (Also, keep an eye on the lighting of that scene, which was really something special.)
Large parts of Take Shelter might not work for some. There were certainly elements I could’ve done without, but between the powerhouse performance given by Michael Shannon (with tremendous support by Jessica Chastain) and the execution of the third act, I’d certainly recommend giving Take Shelter a viewing.
Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A’s and the guy who assembles the team, has an epiphany: all of baseball’s conventional wisdom is wrong. Forced to reinvent his team on a tight budget, Beane will have to outsmart the richer clubs.
As a longtime baseball fan, there are a lot of elements of Moneyball that I enjoyed. For one, the statistical breakdowns of how a victorious season can come about based on a certain combination of players is intriguing (and judging by the Red Sox eventually employing Beane’s methods, possibly factual). I also enjoyed that the film delved into the emotional heart of the game. Yes, at the end of the day it is just a game, but for some, there’s a heavy investment into the sport.
My real issue with Moneyball is just how damn pedestrian the whole affair is. The closest thing to an antagonist is Philip Seymour Hoffman’s portrayal of Art Howe, but even then, the audience may very well side with Howe’s logic and calm demeanor. Hoffman is one of my favorite actors, and it was a pleasure seeing him not chew the scenery even once in a movie. If anything, his low key attitude was almost more frightening than the explosive side of Hoffman’s range. I was also surprised by how good a subdued Jonah Hill can be. There’s a texture to his performance that I didn’t think he was otherwise capable of.
The strangest thing about Moneyball is something I can’t necessarily hold against the filmmakers: being based on a true story, we’re viewing a semi-factual account of events from way back to…ten years ago. Perhaps there’s not enough time between then and now to have the weight of the story sink in (though the A’s winning 20 consecutive games is still remarkable). Maybe in a few years I’ll revisit Moneyball and think higher of it.