Showing posts with label Ian McKellen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ian McKellen. Show all posts

Friday, August 3, 2012

Film Friday: X-Men: First Class (2011)

I’ve generally enjoyed the X-Men films. The third wasn’t nearly as good as the first two, but was still quite watchable. The first was rather good and I thought the second was even better. When I heard they were making X-Men: First Class about the origin of the X-Men in the 1960s, I was fairly enthusiastic. Now I’ve seen it. Meh. It’s ok. It’s also obnoxiously political.

** spoiler alert **

Directed by Matthew Vaughn and written by Bryan Singer, X-Men: First Class is a prequel to the other X-Men films. This film takes place in the 1960s when Charles Xavier (Professor X) and Erik Lensherr (Magneto) are in their twenties and just starting out. The whole film is set against the backdrop of the Cuban missile crisis, as villain Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon) tries to get the Russians and the Americans to blow each other up because he believes the radiation resulting from a nuclear war would kill humanity while allowing mutants to thrive.
As films go, this one is entertaining enough to watch if you’re looking to blow a couple hours, but don’t expect to be impressed or to remember anything about it. Ultimately, this film proves little more than a series of scenes where the mutants show off their powers and then blow things up. There are several of the inevitable training scenes all these films require and a plethora of ironic moments where future bad guys start as good guys and then change sides. If you’re in love with these characters, those scenes may make you happy, but if you’re not in love with them, then these scenes are at best weak and feel pointless. Don’t expect much from the acting either. McAvoy is so sedate you often think he’s asleep. Michael Fassbender couldn’t control his accent and has no gravitas. January Jones and Rose Byrne were awful. Kevin Bacon was ok, only he didn’t really have much to do despite being the villain. In fact, the only truly charismatic character (and the film’s best moment) came when they went to recruit Wolverine (Hugh Jackman). His strong screen presence really contrasted sharply with the weakness of the others.

In any event, two things struck me about this film. First, the film does a very poor job of recreating the 1960s. Secondly, this film is incredibly heavy-handed with its pro-gay message.

Setting a film in the past can pay huge dividends when done right. Humans are interested in the past and want to see how we lived during certain eras. Thus, a film set in the past can give audiences the dual experience of seeing a good film and feeling like they’ve gotten a window into the past. Moreover, Hollywood has the benefit of not needing to be entirely historically accurate. Thus, it can create stylized versions of the past which are essentially the fantasy worlds that are so popular in science fiction, only these come with the stamp of being “real.”

X-Men: First Class tries the stylized approach, but it never really works. For one thing, despite the setting, everything is simply too modern. For example, the dialog has a modern feel. Indeed, the film kept using words and phrases that struck me as distinctly modern. The costuming didn’t feel genuine. And much of what they presented never felt realistic. For example, Sebastian Shaw is a mix of Hugh Hefner and Bruce Wayne, and the CIA had more of the feel of In Like Flint than any real government agency. The Pentagon also came across more like a knock-off of Dr. Strangelove than anything we know to be true. Ultimately, this film didn’t feel like it was set in the 1960s, it felt like it took pieces out of 1960s films, stylized them, and placed them in the present.
The actors didn’t help this either. It was nearly impossible to see James McAvoy as a young Patrick Stewart because he seemed to mistake depression for wisdom. Michael Fassbender was even harder to see as Magneto because he looks nothing like a young Ian McKellen and the entire second half of the film he kept slipping into an out-of-place Irish accent. The other actors didn’t help either as none of them acted at all according to the social norms of the 1960s.

The most annoying part of the film was actually the politics. I don’t personally care about gay issues one way or the other, and it doesn’t bother me if a film wants to include a pro-gay message. Whatever. But I am bothered by a lack of subtlety, and this thing wasn’t subtle. In scene after scene, the characters used gay slogans (e.g. “mutant and proud”) or made direct references to things gays consider discriminatory. For example, one character says, “you didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell.” Then they have a couple minute love-in where each of the characters tells this character how great he is and how he shouldn’t have to hide. This is obnoxious. It’s ham-fisted and obvious. Think of it this way. Flip the ideology around and imagine that every scene contained a character telling you, “You know, Jesus offers us salvation” or some similar slogan. How long would it take before this really got on your nerves? It’s the same thing here. If you are aware of the slogans and symbols the gay movement has used, you will see them used blatantly and repeatedly in this film.
Here’s the thing. If you’re going to inject a political message into a non-political film, then it needs to be subtle. It needs to make your point without huge flashing lights that scream at the audience, “MESSAGE COMING IN. . . MESSAGE”. When your characters spend their time repeating slogans that didn’t exist for another forty years and then each scene ends up an After School Special, where the characters hug and pledge solidarity to the cause, you’ve gone too far. And since this film offered little else by way of plot, this really stuck out.

So all in all, I can’t recommend this film either way. I enjoyed it enough that I didn’t regret watching it, but I won’t watch it again because it offers nothing that could interest me a second time. It’s competently done in all the technicals, but flat in the story and very weak in the writing. It’s annoying at time and just dull at others, but it’s also got just enough interest to it to keep me from turning it off. Make of that what you will.

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Friday, June 3, 2011

Film Friday: The Lord of the Rings (2001, 2002, 2003)

The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a top-notch fantasy action/ adventure and I absolutely and unequivocally recommend it. I own each film and have seen them many times. So if you love these films, let's stop there, mehl-on (that’s Elvish for “friend”). But if you want to see what’s wrong with these lifeless, shallow films and why they never came anywhere near their potential, then read on.

** spoiler alert **

Let me start by saying my criticism IS NOT that the films aren’t identical to the books. The Lord of the Rings trilogy are my favorite books, but I understand that books need changes to become effective films. My criticism IS that Peter Jackson made too many of the wrong kinds of changes, and thereby turned a nuanced, meaningful story with characters we care about deeply into an emotionless plot-driven film that's hard to care about.

Characters Lost: The first clue that something was going wrong with the characters occurred even before the film was released. One of the actresses gave an interview in which she repeated the marketing line that they were staying 100% faithful to the book, except where they absolutely had to make changes -- which is, of course, a lie. She then ominously said they had to change the characters because “the book doesn’t really have a lot of characterization.” This was a sign Jackson didn't understand the books and was about to strip the characters of their character to "Hollywood" them up. Consider these:
Frodo: In the book, Frodo resists leaving the shire. He’s not mentally or emotionally strong and he’s certainly not ready for an adventure, nor is he particularly mature. This makes his journey all the more impressive, as he must grow into the role thrust upon him. This is also why his decision to leave the group after Gandalf’s death is such a strong moment. He realizes he is endangering his friends and he chooses to leave them to save them. This is THE moment Frodo finally accepts his responsibilities, but we’re not sure he’s up the task.

Jackson tosses this away and turns Frodo into the modern fake-reluctant hero. While Frodo professes not to want to the responsibility, he is shown to be mature, competent and ready for the challenge, and he volunteers easily. Thus, there is no moment where Frodo grows up. There is never any doubt he would continue the journey with the ring after Rivendell. There is almost no motive for him leaving the group after Gandalf’s death, except that Boromir made him think his friends were becoming dangerous to him. Even the Nazgûl chasing him don’t seem all that dangerous because the film leads us to believe that he’s a competent adventurer ready to meet the challenge.

These are dramatic changes that rob the character of growth, the story of uncertainty, and the scenes of emotion. One of the key points in the book is that the least likely people can play vital roles in saving mankind. This is lost in the film because Frodo is set apart from the very beginning as a special character who is up to the task and only needs to be shown the direction to march. This cheapens his victories and lessens the drama of his choices.

Gimli/Legolas: Friendship Devalued: What Jackson does to Gimli is an atrocity. Book Gimli is a headstrong, excellent warrior who butts heads with the other companions. Moreover, as a Dwarf, Gimli dislikes and distrusts Elves, because of conflicts between the two races that go way back. This matters because it establishes the relationship between Gimli and Legolas, and sets up the group dynamic. Indeed, the ring companions don’t trust each other. They all have different motives and ancient grievances and this makes it hard for them to work together. But as they prove themselves to each other, they slowly earn each others’ trust and respect. Nothing shows this change more than the growing friendship between Gimli and Legolas, the most unlikely friendship in the group -- they don’t actually become friends in the book until Gimli greets Galadriel kindly, something he doesn't do in the film. Jackson throws this away and makes Gimli into pure comic relief. He also makes Gimli and Legolas into almost-instant friends.



Spot the dwarf. (click to enlarge)



This has several nasty consequences. First, it sucks out the very characterization Jackson claims is missing in the books because it denies Legolas and Gimli the chance to grow. Secondly, it eliminates an important dynamic within the group -- the need to come together. Third, it trivializes what they are doing. The world is facing its end as Sauron's rise is at hand. These people are fighting for their lives and the lives of all the other members of their various races. But Jackson’s decision to turn Gimli into comic relief turns this whole thing into a joke. Indeed, Jackson even has them engage in a counting game throughout the battle scenes, which makes their actions seem like a light-hearted videogame rather than the murderous struggle against desperate odds that it is.

Gandalf: When Gandalf dies in the book, it’s a shocking, weepy moment. In the film, not so much. Why? Because Jackson fails to connect us to his character. One reason is that his importance to the group isn’t obvious in the film because the group are already friends. Thus, nothing will change after his death. In fact, the group doesn’t even stop to mourn except that Boromir thinks the Hobbits need a break. The message: Gandalf is just an expendable member of the group. By comparison, in the book, Gandalf holds the group together and there's a real chance the group will fall apart after his death.

Also, the film never addresses what Gandalf means to the others personally. For all his skill, Aragorn is a lost soul. He literally roams the wilderness afraid to face his responsibilities, i.e. returning to Gondor and claiming the throne. Gandalf is the conscience trying to get him to face his responsibilities. Frodo has been manipulated into this quest by Gandalf with the assurance that Gandalf would always protect him. When he dies, Frodo must fend for himself and his will comes close to breaking. None of this makes it into the film. Aragorn is presented as a single-minded, determined hero, and his issue with reclaiming the throne is given short shrift in one quick scene with Liv Tyler. Frodo is the volunteer who is ready to take on the world. Because Gandalf’s importance to these people is lost, his death has little personal meaning. His death is no longer the death of a friend, a mentor, and the guiding hand that held them all together, he's just another member of the group. . . and one you don't even see that often.

Since he now means so little, his death means little to us. Since his death means so little, his resurrection means just as little. In fact, his resurrection isn’t even a resurrection in the film, it’s more of a reappearance. In the book, it’s clear Gandalf died and was reborn as Gandalf the White. In the film, he just sort of shows up again. Thus, the significance of his self-less act is cheapened, i.e. he goes from sacrificing himself for the group to just getting into a very hard fight.
CGI Stupidity: This is one of the most visually beautiful films of all time. They found incredible natural scenery in New Zealand, used fantastic costumes, and had stellar effects. Things like the city of Minas Tirith were flawless and amazing. But like children who can’t help themselves, they had to abuse the CGI:
Significance Diluted: Part of what makes the humans in LOTR The Book so heroic are the dire odds they face. The fact they stand their ground against these odds demonstrates their courage. Moreover, because of the small number of defenders, each death is tragic and costly. The film throws that away because Hollywood can’t stop itself from filling every millimeter of screen. Instead of the 2,000 defenders in Helms Deep mentioned in the book (including Jackson's gay hairdresser Elves) compared to Saruman’s 10,000 Orcs, or the 9,000 defenders at Gondor against Sauron’s 250,000 Orcs, the film creates a battle of millions on each side. Suddenly, the importance of any particular defender disappears. In other words, gone is an army of precious individuals and in its place the audience gets two giant CGI blobs slamming into each other. How can you feel any sense of loss for that? Not to mention, this makes some of the dialog pretty silly, like when King Théoden says, “so few came.” Really? There's no room for more on the field!

Not to mention this kills the realism. No battle in history, not Waterloo, Verdun or anything in World War II had anywhere near the number of troops shown on the field. This is probably more people than were alive in all of Medieval Europe. Thus, by trying too hard, they not only reduce the significance of each defender, but they create a battle that just doesn’t look real.

Moreover, even beyond the numbers, the CGI is downright stupid. Why does the movie begin with a line of Elves all the way to the horizon doing what appears to be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader linekick in perfect formation? Why is everyone wearing identical uniforms? And why are all the humans’ uniforms freshly laundered and their armor undented and shiny? Why are Orcs, an undisciplined army of thugs, standing in perfect Napoleonic squares? Why? Because everyone in Hollywood apparently suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder combined with a uniform fetish. This is stupid and it sucks the realism right out of these battle scenes. Can I overlook it? Sure, just like I could overlook a cartoon rabbit defecating in the background of each scene, but that doesn’t excuse its inclusion in the film.

Realism Denied: Finally, even in up-close battles, the CGI people still go too far. Legolas in particular is subject to this. As he’s fighting the Orc Warg (wolf) riders in Rohan, he looks more like Rubberband Man than anything solid as he slides around the wolves and jumps from one to another to kill them off. Why are the war elephants at Pelennor Field 50 feet tall? It doesn’t make any sense or add anything. . . except that it lets the CGI people have Legolas swing from elephant to elephant like digital Tarzan, which they no doubt thought would be cool -- but just looks bizarrely unrealistic. These things detract from the realism the film otherwise works so hard to achieve. It’s literally like adding Roger Rabbit to Saving Private Ryan. And why include a fake-looking, comic-y “cave troll” in Moria in the middle of one of the most serious battles in the book? Because they couldn't stop themselves.
So let me finish with this point: my complaint is not that the movie is not the book (though I am offended they kept proclaiming they followed the book). My complaint is that the characters are lifeless and the story lacks any sort of emotion because every decision Jackson made reduced our emotional investment in the characters, reduced the reality of the film, and reduced the stakes for which they were fighting.

These things may not have interfered with your enjoyment, but you’ve got to admit that if Jackson had kept with what I say, this would have been a much stronger film.

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