DC's current cinematic strategy strikes me, to quote Mark Millar, as "a great way of losing 200 million dollars." For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, congratulations on being smarter and more productive than I am. But since I'm pretending you care, here's a quick primer; Over the past 6 years, Marvel Studios (a subsidiary of DC's archenemy), has been setting Hollywood on fire with a loosely-connected series of films, which star a giant and interchangeable cast, and all take place in the same diegetic universe. These movies have made shitloads of money and, with a half-dozen more sequals in the pipeline, look like they'll keep doing that for the forseeable future. The state of Hollywood creativity being what it is, DC has decided to do the exact same thing. Their process began with last year's Man of Steel and is going to continue through the 2016 sequel, which will be introducing most of the Justice League in preparation for a giant interconnected series. If they stay the course, DC is going to lose vast amounts of money before it's even possible to stop. But, fortunately, it still isn't too late.
People underestimate the importance of Iron Man. The 2008 blockbuster is the first of what I'd consider the true MCU films (Edward Norton's Incredible Hulk, released 3 months prior, is technically canon but remarkably different in tone and structure. It's also, for my money, more than slightly underrated.) Iron Man did big, if not gargantuan, business in theatres, but more importantly was greeted with rapturous reviews and cult-classic levels of furvor once it hit DVD. It served the essential function of convincing the audience that comic book films could be both popcorn fun, and genuinely good, thematically rich pieces of cinematic art. The movie isn't actually either of those last two things, but it's one of the slickest, most confident, best-acted summer entertainments Hollywood has ever produced. Audiences loved it, and everyone told their friends. Without that effect, without getting that one movie right, I honestly believe Marvel would've stopped after phase 1. But they did get it very, very right and the rest is history. So, back to DC….
I give DC credit for this; they knew they had to get started the right way. It didn't work. Man of Steel, released last summer to giant expectations and tepid reviews, is an entirely competent movie. Critical discussion, as is standard in these circumstances, has divided between "majestic, gorgeous redefines summer tentpoles etc etc," and "typical comic-book shit." Reality, again as per usual, is somewhere in the middle. Man of Steel is a big, muscular, visually daring film, very well acted and presented on a scale which finally gives us the full scope of Superman's powers onscreen. It's also slow, badly written, ham-fisted in its Messianic depiction of Clark / Supes, and completely, iredeemably self-serious. Easy example; In both Iron Man and Man of Steel, we see the moment when each protagonist learns to fly. In Tony Stark's world, we are given giant, majestic shots of him climbing through the clouds and rocketing over city streets. Tony is laughing through most of the scene, Jarvis is spitting snark, AC/DC blasts in the background, and it's generally a loose, fun, joyful character beat. And then, there's Man of Steel….. Que the stirring orchestral chords, swirling long-shots, sonic-boom crack, and, of course, Messianic arms-outstretched pose in the clouds. Which one sounds like more fun?
That was DC's mistake, and the reason Zach Snyder was the absolute wrong guy to bring this franchise to life (for the record, I like Snyder as a director. I think he could give us a classic, if he ever got to work off a decent script (Related story; David Goyer is the most overrated screenwriter of the past 20 years.)). Snyder's great flaw as a filmmaker is that he brings a certain humorlessness to every piece of material, regardless of genre. All of his movies look fantastic, and he pulls off at least one holyfuckingshithowdidhedothat moment in each of them, but they're not the sorts of film to which an audience wants to return. On Man of Steel, working with a vast budget and a studio mandate to chase four quadrant appeal, he makes what is probably his safest, most dour film yet. Why does Iron Man work as a franchise starter? Because it's all kinds of fun to watch RDJ and his robot butler bitch at each other between scenes of giant robots punching walls and suchlike. What's more, it never stops being fun. Man of Steel is a cool movie with great effects, but there's no re-watchability. You see it once, and once is enough.
Look, I don't doubt that Batman Vs. Superman, or whatever they end up calling it, will be another big, beautiful, boring movie. It's also going to struggle to break even at the box office. Add in marketing costs, the theatre's cut, percentages for Affleck, Snyder, and possibly Cavill and the movie needs to make, what, $900 million before the studio sees a dime of profit? Probably more, realistically. The addition of Batman, as embodied by Ben Affleck and about which much raging internet bullshit has been spewed, is another mistake. Affleck is a good actor in the right role, physically very right for the character, but he's been something of a joke in public perception for nearly a decade. The guy isn't a movie star anymore, but he's both very expensive and high-profile enough to incite hatred. This isn't a good combination. I can somewhat understand the casting, if they've done it with an eye towards securing him as a director for future films, but Christopher Nolan et al should've wooed him as a filmmaker and nothing else.
While we're on the subject of casting…. Gal Gadot is a beautiful woman and a perfect mixture of tough, sexy, and intelligent onscreen to be cast as Wonder Woman. She also shouldn't be in the fucking movie. Instead of overloading the film with characters that the target audience doesn't know well and couldn't care less about, DC needs to focus on creating emotional connections with its property. Origin stories (see Captain America, Thor, etc etc) are effective because we watch the maturation of our heroes from adolescent to adult. The process is identifiable. We recognize in it the same emotional struggle that we ourselves experience daily. If someone, such as an older, grizzled Batman for example, shows up on our screen fully formed, we have no hook into his world. Wonder Woman is, as depicted in the comics, basically a Goddess. Why do we care about her? About any of them? DC needs to answer this question above any other if the franchise has a hope of succeeding.
So, I've just spilled a lot of pixels criticizing. Now to offer my small proposal. Let's go step by step….
1. Remove Wonder Woman from the movie. Save it for Justice League. Work on establishing indellible, beloved characters first, and throwing crap against the wall to see what sticks second.
2. Understand that Superman and Batman are different characters and deserve different approaches. De-Nolan-ize it. Many people see Zack Snyder as a figurehead for Christopher Nolan, who they think is directing these movies from behind the scenes. That's overstating the issue, but there's little denying that MOS shares many stylistic cues with Nolan's Batman trilogy. Thing is, the big Boy Scout is a simpler, more idealistic character. Much of the thematic muddling in MOS comes from trying to apply the "gritty" perspective that everyone seems to assume audiences want to what is a fundamentally uncomplicated, tension-free character. There's no moral ambiguity to Superman, never has been, and that's something DC should embrace.
3. Oh yeah, the tv shows…. I never, ever thought I'd cop to watching a CW television program. But, well, Arrow is really fucking good. Stylish, intelligently plotted, well acted, crisply shot and with the best fight sequences this side of pay cable. On roughly a quarter of the budget, this is everything the excruciating Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to be when it grows up. Stephen Ammell is not very far away from becoming a really, really big movie star. So ask yourself, DC, do you want it to be in someone else's action franchise, or yours? If you want an easy way to build an interconnected world, use the one you've already got. Throw money at the CW (don't worry, you've got way more than they do), and rent the services of Green Arrow and the Flash for 4 months every couple of years. And guess what? You've just cast two vital roles with excellent actors, avoided the confusion and dilution that comes with parallel versions of the same character on big and small screens, and given yourselves tha best marketing campaign money can buy. Your franchise will remain in the public eye because it will be on air all the goddamn time. And, unlike Marvel, your tv show is worth watching. It isn't a dimunition of your brand, but a logical and worthy extension of it. Use that fact. Stop overthinking. Make lots of money. Go home, be happy. You're welcome.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Review: Non-Stop
Do we still have taboos in pop culture? Sex perhaps? A little, but consider that a mainstream film based on the mommy porn that shall remain nameless is set for release on Valentine's Day next year. The hurdle isn't quite cleared, but it's passing beneath our feet as I type. Violence? Stopped being an issue years ago. There's a whole 'nother, very rantish article to be written on the fact that a PG-13 movie can show a guy being riddled with bullets but can't have shirtless woman onscreen, but let's just admit the issue is dead and move on. Terrorism?
Terrorism?
I was 12 years old on September 11, 2001. Sitting in math class on that bright Tuesday morning, when a runner sent by the headmaster burst in and told al of us to report to the assembly hall, right now. This was long before smartphones, so as we filed into the large hall my only indication of what had happened was a circle of adults huddled by the double doors. Some of our teachers were weeping already. I saw a lot of people cry that day. Look, I would never, ever hold myself up as an example of someone traumatized by that horrific day. I was hundreds of miles away, my family and friends all safe. And I'll still never forget it. None of us will.
All of this is, of course, is preamble to a film review. I thought a lot about the perfect opening line. Openings are difficult. You need something catchy and hooky, something tone-setting, something that encapsulates a strong emotion you've experienced regarding the film. What I settled on was this; Fuck you, Jaume Collet-Serra, John Richardson, Chris Roach, Ryan Engle. Fuck your arrogance, your stupidity, your insensitive cash-grabbing bullshit.
My mother told me never to say anything if I couldn't say something nice. So I say this: Non-Stop is a well made film. It looks great and uses its claustrophobic setting with genuine skill. Collet-Serra is a better-than-competent director, and imbues the proceedings with a thrumming tension. Action scenes are crisply choreographed, classically shot and edited. The film features lots of excellent actors doing their damnedest to elevate the material. Ok, got all that? These are good things. I have bestowed compliments. I won't pretend this is an impartial review, because the movie made me so angry I don't think I'm capable of writing one of those, but I present the preceeding opinions in the interests of balance. So, about that script….
I won't say that it's too soon to invoke 9/11 in a Hollywood popcorn entertainment. That would imply a pivot point, some date on which we can start chuckling about the greatest national tragedy most of us living today have ever experienced. No. Just…. No. For most of it's run time this movie is about a federal air marshal, searching for whoever is causing the deaths of various people onboard his plane. The killers are demanding a gigantic ransom. They have planted evidence framing the marshal for these crimes. This is a fine, even ingenious premise, skillfully delivered. And then, it turns out that the killers are ex-military, and they are planning to blow up the plane as a way of forcing the United States to fix what they percieve as a failure of security in the aftermath of 9/11. One of them is planning to go down with the plane, becoming the exact kind of suicide bomber he joined the army to defeat. Yes, I know I'm spoiling the movie. I consider it a public service.
Every day, even now over a decade later, American soldiers risk their lives to defend the safety of a country that was so very, very badly wounded by lunatics hijacking airplanes. To depict two of their number engaged in the same atrocity that spurred many of them to enlist in the first place is to insult their heroism and patriotism. Notice that Collet-Serra and his writers insert a useless subplot regarding an adorable little girl on her first plane trip. Had this plot been used at the beginning of the film to give flavoring to Liam Neeson's character, to show his gentleness and paternal instincts, it would not be worthy of comment. It is not. The film returns to the child over and over; A major, climactic special-effects sequence shows her being rescued as she is about to fall out of the plane (long story). The hijackers are such slimes, the movie tells us, that they will kill the innocent child to prove a point. Again, we're talking about two former soldiers who enlisted as a direct response to 9/11. The movie is an insult to all the uniformed men and women who would quite literally rather die than do any of what is shown in this "entertainment."
I believe that film, as a medium, is capable of grappling with all the issues rattling around Collet-Serra's empty skull. Other, better filmmakers have achieved some measure of success. Paul Greengrass' United 93 is a stunning piece of cinematic art, and elegaic in it's pure, humanist simplicity. I am not demanding that every cop, soldier, and firefighter shown on film is a driven-snow hero. There are lots of assholes in those and every other profession, and I prefer authenticity of artifice. But what we should call for is a certain respect. Respect for their sacrifices, for their struggles with traumatization, for the nobility of their actions. This film has no respect. It is a commercial product, created for the singular purpose of making money. We can all do better.
Terrorism?
I was 12 years old on September 11, 2001. Sitting in math class on that bright Tuesday morning, when a runner sent by the headmaster burst in and told al of us to report to the assembly hall, right now. This was long before smartphones, so as we filed into the large hall my only indication of what had happened was a circle of adults huddled by the double doors. Some of our teachers were weeping already. I saw a lot of people cry that day. Look, I would never, ever hold myself up as an example of someone traumatized by that horrific day. I was hundreds of miles away, my family and friends all safe. And I'll still never forget it. None of us will.
All of this is, of course, is preamble to a film review. I thought a lot about the perfect opening line. Openings are difficult. You need something catchy and hooky, something tone-setting, something that encapsulates a strong emotion you've experienced regarding the film. What I settled on was this; Fuck you, Jaume Collet-Serra, John Richardson, Chris Roach, Ryan Engle. Fuck your arrogance, your stupidity, your insensitive cash-grabbing bullshit.
My mother told me never to say anything if I couldn't say something nice. So I say this: Non-Stop is a well made film. It looks great and uses its claustrophobic setting with genuine skill. Collet-Serra is a better-than-competent director, and imbues the proceedings with a thrumming tension. Action scenes are crisply choreographed, classically shot and edited. The film features lots of excellent actors doing their damnedest to elevate the material. Ok, got all that? These are good things. I have bestowed compliments. I won't pretend this is an impartial review, because the movie made me so angry I don't think I'm capable of writing one of those, but I present the preceeding opinions in the interests of balance. So, about that script….
I won't say that it's too soon to invoke 9/11 in a Hollywood popcorn entertainment. That would imply a pivot point, some date on which we can start chuckling about the greatest national tragedy most of us living today have ever experienced. No. Just…. No. For most of it's run time this movie is about a federal air marshal, searching for whoever is causing the deaths of various people onboard his plane. The killers are demanding a gigantic ransom. They have planted evidence framing the marshal for these crimes. This is a fine, even ingenious premise, skillfully delivered. And then, it turns out that the killers are ex-military, and they are planning to blow up the plane as a way of forcing the United States to fix what they percieve as a failure of security in the aftermath of 9/11. One of them is planning to go down with the plane, becoming the exact kind of suicide bomber he joined the army to defeat. Yes, I know I'm spoiling the movie. I consider it a public service.
Every day, even now over a decade later, American soldiers risk their lives to defend the safety of a country that was so very, very badly wounded by lunatics hijacking airplanes. To depict two of their number engaged in the same atrocity that spurred many of them to enlist in the first place is to insult their heroism and patriotism. Notice that Collet-Serra and his writers insert a useless subplot regarding an adorable little girl on her first plane trip. Had this plot been used at the beginning of the film to give flavoring to Liam Neeson's character, to show his gentleness and paternal instincts, it would not be worthy of comment. It is not. The film returns to the child over and over; A major, climactic special-effects sequence shows her being rescued as she is about to fall out of the plane (long story). The hijackers are such slimes, the movie tells us, that they will kill the innocent child to prove a point. Again, we're talking about two former soldiers who enlisted as a direct response to 9/11. The movie is an insult to all the uniformed men and women who would quite literally rather die than do any of what is shown in this "entertainment."
I believe that film, as a medium, is capable of grappling with all the issues rattling around Collet-Serra's empty skull. Other, better filmmakers have achieved some measure of success. Paul Greengrass' United 93 is a stunning piece of cinematic art, and elegaic in it's pure, humanist simplicity. I am not demanding that every cop, soldier, and firefighter shown on film is a driven-snow hero. There are lots of assholes in those and every other profession, and I prefer authenticity of artifice. But what we should call for is a certain respect. Respect for their sacrifices, for their struggles with traumatization, for the nobility of their actions. This film has no respect. It is a commercial product, created for the singular purpose of making money. We can all do better.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
After It All
It starts with something beautiful. A child, excited by her mother's face, secretly thrilled to be allowed contact with the magic of an Iphone. A father, looking over his daughter's head and into the mother's eyes, both wearing the secret smiles of people who have established something very near telepathy in their relationship. The mother, exotic accent hinting at a backstory we've not yet heard, nervous and proud and wistfull all at once. We watch these three, playful and joyous and vibrant, and we smile. The mother is far away, having traveled to Los Angeles for an audition. Perhaps she will win the part, and perhaps not. But, watching her with her family, we are unconcerned. These are good people. They'll be fine. And so the mother dresses and leaves the hotel and we know she is set to have an exciting day and a good life. Until, of course, it all goes to shit.
Chris Carter, the man behind The After, is an iconic creator of television. Rightly so. The X Files, wildly inconsistent as it was, remains one of the most influential programs in the history of the medium. This show, which is a "television" program in the loosest sense of the word, has a chance to be his best work since Scully and Mulder hung up their guns.
First, Amazon clearly spared no expense in bringing Carter's vision to life. Yes, this is a pilot and pilots are always higher-budgeted than the following episodes. But I can't imagine Carter even signing on without assurances that he'd be free to indulge some of his wilder ambitions. There is a shot involving two helicopters that, while not Michael Bay levels of technically polished, is probably right up with Game of Thrones as a piece of television-cost CGI. Pretty damn good, in other words. The entire production looks great, was clearly shot on location, features a ton of extras, and is generally presented with a pleasant crisp professionalism. Carter has never been one for Fincher-esque visual poetry, but he's become more than adequate as a pure filmmaker. That said, his choice of settings (parking garage anyone?) does allow for some lower-cost bottle scenes, which in turn frees up money for, I dunno, a freaky blue demon or something.
We'll come back to the monster, but first let's talk about design. Does anyone else think that the LA we see here is just a tiny bit off? Not 100 yrs from now, but maybe 20 or 30? Endless glass-and-steel towers knifing through the sky, sleekly minimalist fashion, hypermodern accessories etc. The effect is subtle, but Carter is setting us up. This isn't our world, not quite. We see it subliminally, hear it in the whine of sirens and the growl of…. something. It is a waking nightmare, close enough to believe, far enough that we don't know what's coming. Carter is a master of disorientation. By establishing these thoughts in the audience early on, he is saying one thing; There are no rules. Buckle up.
A show like The After is all atmosphere and action in the early going. Good characters, if we have any, are bonuses. So far, there are no bonuses on this show. Everyone is flat, defined by one or two Twitter-bio character traits. Late in the episode, three Hispanic characters arrive and are such brutal caricatures that it made me actively angry. Long term, the success of this show will be determined by whether we can be made to care about any of our merry band of misfit heroes. Signs are good. Yes, everyone is flat, but the actors range from acceptable to quite good, and they all are written with something resembling recognizable motivations. Nobody does anything egregiously stupid (aside from the most pointless nude-scene in the history of television, but I'll put that down to a ratings grab and move on), which is a refreshing change for this kind of thing. I wish that Carter hadn't gone back to the noble, wrongly accused inmate trope, but the dialogue is good enough and the actor sufficiently intense that it isn't glaring. Best-in-show probably goes to the clown, who I'm sure has a name I should remember, but whatever. Oh, and the demon. He gives good glare.
Wait, there's a goddamn demon? Oh riiiight. Yep, little blue dude who shows up, takes a shotgun blast at close range, hisses, does some weird transformation stuff, then scuttles off. And, of course, cut to black right as he enters the treeline.
Going into this episode, my biggest fear was that it would turn out to be another The Event, ie an expensive, ambitious, completely shitty adventure series with no perspective, personality, or ultimate idea what it wanted to be. I forgot who I was dealing with. Consider the myriad sci-fi event shows that've sprung up over the last decade. The first half of this pilot would fit, comfortably, in any of them. Yes, the execution is superior, but the concepts (urban setting, pretty people, vague shit-hitting-fan something happening) are entirely familiar. Thing is, Chris Carter isn't imitating anyone. They all grew up wanting to be him, to create the new X-Files. He's better than the entire wave of creators behind The Event, Zero Hour, Fringe, Sleepy Hollow, and yes, even Lost, because in a very real way they're all his creative children. I'm not saying that The After is perfect, because judging that from a pilot alone is idiotic. But it is enormously confident, the product of a writer let completely off the leash for the first time in a long time. It's exciting and fresh, ballsy enough to demonstrate in the first fucking episode that yes, there's magic in this world. Buckle up.
Chris Carter, the man behind The After, is an iconic creator of television. Rightly so. The X Files, wildly inconsistent as it was, remains one of the most influential programs in the history of the medium. This show, which is a "television" program in the loosest sense of the word, has a chance to be his best work since Scully and Mulder hung up their guns.
First, Amazon clearly spared no expense in bringing Carter's vision to life. Yes, this is a pilot and pilots are always higher-budgeted than the following episodes. But I can't imagine Carter even signing on without assurances that he'd be free to indulge some of his wilder ambitions. There is a shot involving two helicopters that, while not Michael Bay levels of technically polished, is probably right up with Game of Thrones as a piece of television-cost CGI. Pretty damn good, in other words. The entire production looks great, was clearly shot on location, features a ton of extras, and is generally presented with a pleasant crisp professionalism. Carter has never been one for Fincher-esque visual poetry, but he's become more than adequate as a pure filmmaker. That said, his choice of settings (parking garage anyone?) does allow for some lower-cost bottle scenes, which in turn frees up money for, I dunno, a freaky blue demon or something.
We'll come back to the monster, but first let's talk about design. Does anyone else think that the LA we see here is just a tiny bit off? Not 100 yrs from now, but maybe 20 or 30? Endless glass-and-steel towers knifing through the sky, sleekly minimalist fashion, hypermodern accessories etc. The effect is subtle, but Carter is setting us up. This isn't our world, not quite. We see it subliminally, hear it in the whine of sirens and the growl of…. something. It is a waking nightmare, close enough to believe, far enough that we don't know what's coming. Carter is a master of disorientation. By establishing these thoughts in the audience early on, he is saying one thing; There are no rules. Buckle up.
A show like The After is all atmosphere and action in the early going. Good characters, if we have any, are bonuses. So far, there are no bonuses on this show. Everyone is flat, defined by one or two Twitter-bio character traits. Late in the episode, three Hispanic characters arrive and are such brutal caricatures that it made me actively angry. Long term, the success of this show will be determined by whether we can be made to care about any of our merry band of misfit heroes. Signs are good. Yes, everyone is flat, but the actors range from acceptable to quite good, and they all are written with something resembling recognizable motivations. Nobody does anything egregiously stupid (aside from the most pointless nude-scene in the history of television, but I'll put that down to a ratings grab and move on), which is a refreshing change for this kind of thing. I wish that Carter hadn't gone back to the noble, wrongly accused inmate trope, but the dialogue is good enough and the actor sufficiently intense that it isn't glaring. Best-in-show probably goes to the clown, who I'm sure has a name I should remember, but whatever. Oh, and the demon. He gives good glare.
Wait, there's a goddamn demon? Oh riiiight. Yep, little blue dude who shows up, takes a shotgun blast at close range, hisses, does some weird transformation stuff, then scuttles off. And, of course, cut to black right as he enters the treeline.
Going into this episode, my biggest fear was that it would turn out to be another The Event, ie an expensive, ambitious, completely shitty adventure series with no perspective, personality, or ultimate idea what it wanted to be. I forgot who I was dealing with. Consider the myriad sci-fi event shows that've sprung up over the last decade. The first half of this pilot would fit, comfortably, in any of them. Yes, the execution is superior, but the concepts (urban setting, pretty people, vague shit-hitting-fan something happening) are entirely familiar. Thing is, Chris Carter isn't imitating anyone. They all grew up wanting to be him, to create the new X-Files. He's better than the entire wave of creators behind The Event, Zero Hour, Fringe, Sleepy Hollow, and yes, even Lost, because in a very real way they're all his creative children. I'm not saying that The After is perfect, because judging that from a pilot alone is idiotic. But it is enormously confident, the product of a writer let completely off the leash for the first time in a long time. It's exciting and fresh, ballsy enough to demonstrate in the first fucking episode that yes, there's magic in this world. Buckle up.
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