Selma

Grade: A-

That’s it. Oscars are later today and yesterday I just watched the last of the Oscar nominees for Best Picture. I have reviewed most of them as well, excluding only Birdman and Grand Budapest Hotel, because I saw each of those months ago (in the latter’s case, about a year ago) and long before I started writing reviews. I saved Selma for last.

Selma is another biopic, chronicling Martin Luther King, Jr.’s (David Oyelowo) leadership in organizing the 1965 Selma to Montgomery marches and bringing about federal legislation protecting the right of all citizens to vote. The film is directed by Ava Duvernay.

There is a curious sort of irony in the fact that, because I don’t know as much as I probably should about the American Civil Rights Movement, I think I enjoyed this movie more than I would have otherwise. I mean, I have always had great respect for Dr. King and for the movement as a whole, but as someone who puts great stock in knowing things, I know comparatively little about the various actions or people involved. Naturally, one must go into a historical drama with full understanding that it will take creative liberties, but it is at least a start, and while the film might have misrepresented Dr. King’s relationship with Lyndon Johnson, I suspect it was fairly spot on regarding most of the circumstances around the marches on Montgomery. So I have to immediately give credit to the movie for drawing not just my attention but my interest to the historical details of the Civil Rights Movement.

Strictly looking at Selma as a biopic of Dr. King is actually missing the point of the movie, I think. While the film offers some focus on his personal life and the strain between his work and his family, it doesn’t follow much of an arc in him and it relies somewhat on the audience venerating him already. It would be more correct to say that the film is more about the people than the person. What really speaks to the viewer in this movie is the plight of every black person in Selma, and really everyone in the South, and the film does make their struggles speak. I complained a few reviews ago when I wrote about The Imitation Game that that film didn’t do enough to make me empathize with Turing’s struggle related with his illegal homosexuality. Well, Selma, on the other hand, did an impressive job to pull me into the conflict and help me empathize with those present.

You could try to argue that Selma was low-hanging fruit, that it isn’t difficult to please a crowd when you make a movie about the exploits of one of the most highly-regarded figures of the last century. And you wouldn’t entirely be wrong. But, though I usually criticize cherry-picking of that sort, Selma doesn’t really deserve that criticism for two reasons. First, laying aside the specific subject matter, the film is technically really well-composed. And second, unlike in a certain other biopic I reviewed, Dr. King doesn’t get the god treatment; now and then, the viewer may question his judgment. One particular scene portrayed a complicated juxtaposition of triumph and tragedy, in which horrific brutality against peaceful black protestors was nationally televised, and you can sort of see how some part of King might have been more satisfied by the publicity than saddened by the violence against his allies.

I already mentioned the portrayal of Lyndon Johnson, and I want to touch on this a little more, because I think that this was a weak point of the film. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) comes across in the film as lukewarm at best towards King’s work and civil rights. It almost seems as though he would have preferred that King would just go away and leave him alone, and when he does come around to introduce the Voting Rights Act, it looks more like an appeasement move than one of genuine interest. To the best of my limited knowledge on the subject, Johnson may have hesitated on the legislation for political reasons, but he doesn’t deserve the nearly villainous status he takes in the movie. To his redemption, though, he has a really good conversation near the end of the film with Alabama governor and giant pile of fecal matter George Wallace (Tim Roth) that you won’t want to miss.

In the end, Selma’s primary limitation is simply that it is based on a true story; I am partial to creative fiction, and a story based on fact, like this one, can rarely compete, because characters and occurrences are primarily governed not by what could happen but what did happen. Within its own sphere, however, Selma really stands out as a moving and satisfying film, and it does justice to one of the greatest triumphs of American domestic policy since the birth of the nation.

tl;dr: Selma may tell a story that you already know, but it tells the story well enough that you should see it anyway.

Boyhood

Grade: C

Last year we saw some really great movies and some really overrated ones, but none more unique, in terms of production, than Richard Linklater’s Boyhood. Boyhood follows the childhood and teenage years of an average boy (Ellar Coltrane) growing up from age 6 in 2002 to age 18 in 2014. Unlike most films involving a significant passage of time, Boyhood was shot with the same cast over those twelve years, so that the college freshman we see at the end of the film is the same actor as the six-year-old at the start.

Boyhood is technically a masterpiece much in the same way a tomato is technically a fruit. It is really impressive in some ways. For instance, the twelve year production schedule leads to a level of authenticity unlike anything I’ve seen in a movie before; the actors really are aging and the cultural evolution is natural. On a more conventional note, the overall production never really feels like a scripted film, but like life. In all, the film seems like it should be praised. And yet, just as I would never want tomatoes in my fruit salad, I wouldn’t want to watch Boyhood again.

The most prominent hindrance to this movie is a lack of conflict. If you’ve thought about fiction writing at all, you probably know what a plot diagram is: a graph representation of tension buildup through the course of a story. It usually begins flat and low, and rising action is represented by the graph ramping until the climax, at which point the tension rapidly drops back to a low level again with the falling action and resolution. For the average story, it looks like a mountain. If you had to draw one out for Boyhood, it would look more or less like a gravelly road with a speed bump somewhere in the middle.

I asked myself quite a few times throughout the film why I should keep watching; I figured and hoped some kind of conflict or tension was around the corner. Sometimes, that tension hill would start to rise up, like the water rising for Tantalus to drink, but it would always drop before long, and unsatisfyingly for the most part. Many points of conflict get resolved by jumping ahead a year to see the characters with their minds on other stuff. It’s like an engaged couple waking up one day to find out that somehow they missed the wedding and they’re already married, divorced, and single again.

In short, this movie draaaaaaaags. By hour two, I was trying to spot a final scene, but possible ending after possible ending passed by, until it was downright comical how Linklater managed to keep working more footage in. It was like the end of Peter Jackson’s The Return of the King, but without any of the latter’s loose ends to be tied up. It’s the symptom of having too much to say after the climax is passed, and the closest thing Boyhood has to a narrative climax is less than halfway through.

Of course, I am little more than a dilettante of cinema at the moment; I haven’t seen many of Linklater’s other movies, and from what I have understood the point of his films is frequently not to tell a story so much as to paint a picture. People could argue that Boyhood isn’t supposed to have a strong plot. Perhaps its real purpose is to be a look into the millennial experience of growing up. In fact, if you aren’t a millennial and you want to know what it’s like to grow up as one, this film actually does a great job. Take it from a real bona fide millennial: our outlook on life is usually kinda bleak and directionless, and that’s just how you’ll feel after spending almost three hours watching this directionless movie. And giving credit where credit is due and dropping the sarcasm, the film really does seem to capture the prevalent experience of people coming of age in this age.

One last point of praise before I close: I really enjoyed Patricia Arquette’s performance as the mother. The character was well-written and Arquette plays it out with touching sincerity. I think every scene in the movie that I actually found moving, though there weren’t many, involved her. You could have made a much more compelling movie about her: let’s call it “Motherhood.” Oh wait, never mind.

So the bottom line is that Boyhood is probably worth watching for curiosity’s sake, just to see the results of the whole twelve year production, but be warned that the film may feel like it is twelve years long. And Boyhood is probably worth watching if you are interested in the “capturing the millennial experience” concept. But if you are in it for the plot, like I generally am, don’t bother.

tl;dr: The tagline on billboards for Boyhood is “One family’s life—Everybody’s story.” That’s false advertising, because if you have a story worth telling, Boyhood isn’t your story.

Whiplash

Grade: A+

The Oscars are close, and I’ve already caught quite a few of the best picture nominees. I’ve even reviewed three of them (before today) on this site. I may as well keep it up and run down the whole list, so this week I went to Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash.

Whiplash is the story of talented jazz drummer Andrew Niemann (Miles Teller), who attends a prestigious music school in New York City, and his attempts to satisfy his psychotically demanding band leader Terrence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons, in a stark departure from the days of his straight-from-the-comics J. Jonah Jameson). It premiered at the start of 2014 at the Sundance Film Festival and is the fulfillment of a proof-of-concept short film of the same title, shown at Sundance a year prior.

It’s hard to find a movie as well-made as Whiplash. Every part of it works in harmony: the writing engages; the acting is fantastic; the cinematography continually grabs your attention and the editing holds it; the music is sublime, as it ought to be for a movie about jazz, as long as Simmons’s Fletcher isn’t stopping it with his signature raised fist. The film comes together with the polish and precision of a competition-winning jazz set. In fact, even Fletcher would have a hard time finding a reason to yell derogatory slurs at it.

What Whiplash does best is establish a toxic tension between the teacher and the student. Simmons balances quiet arrogance, pretended affability, and explosive rage in a role that could have easily come across as melodramatic or downright silly if botched. But he does it right and becomes a credibly monstrous figure, one that we learn to dread as much as his students do, and a serious contender for his Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. Teller’s role is quieter, but equally important and surprisingly visceral. As he struggles to reach Fletcher’s standard, it is difficult to watch without feeling the exhaustion, the cramped muscles, the bruises, and the blisters, not to mention the building rage and discouragement.

The actors’ performances are supported by dynamic visuals. The film wastes no time with wide establishment shots in the band room; any shot like that would undermine the nervous atmosphere. Instead we get split second close-ups of music sheets shuffling, spit valves draining, instruments tuning, and general bustle in a mesmerizing rhythm that highlights the excitement of the room’s occupants better than any acting on their part could. Musical performances are similarly presented.

Speaking of which, as in all the best movies about musicians, the musical performances are compelling on their own. But Whiplash doesn’t just make good music with them; the music opens an interesting avenue of character development, as Teller and Simmons communicate without words on top of the jazz. And of course, the film wouldn’t be complete without a great drum solo, and you won’t be disappointed there.

What is most outstanding about this film is the plot, but very little comes to mind that I can say without spoiling it. Suffice it to say that Whiplash has its surprises and is gripping throughout, but really seals the deal on an unforgettable third act and resolution.

If this movie had a weak point, it would be in the portrayal of Niemann’s life outside of the school. Relationships with family and a love interest are a little underdeveloped, like perhaps Chazelle tossed them in on a late edit for contrast and never took the time to flesh them out like the rest of the story. It’s a minor misstep that is easily forgiven in a movie this good, though, as long as you aren’t a psychotic perfectionist.

While I haven’t seen all the major acclaimed movies of 2014 yet, I can say with some confidence that Whiplash is and will remain my favorite. It’s deep enough that you’ll need to watch it more than once to take it all in, but it’s thrilling enough that you’ll want to.

tl;dr: For any teacher that wants to make students cry, Whiplash is a great instructional video; for the rest of us, it is a magnificent warning to check our ambition.

The Imitation Game

Grade: C+

After I did the review of The Theory of Everything I had a lot of people telling me I had to watch The Imitation Game and compare the two. Well, I watched it, but I’m not going to spend this whole review on comparisons. The Imitation Game deserves its own analysis. If either of my readers wants comparisons, comment below and I’ll be happy to respond.

The Imitation Game, another of last year’s releases, stars Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing, the mathematician and pioneer of computer science. The film mostly follows his work on cracking the Nazi Enigma machine in World War II. The movie is directed by Morten Tyldum.

The Imitation Game is an enjoyable movie, but it is never an outstanding one. I remember being engaged and interested throughout, but I don’t think at any point through the film I ever felt moved or invested. In some movies I wouldn’t even consider this an issue, but The Imitation Game is trying so hard for the latter effect throughout that its failure is noteworthy.

There are three principle issues that undermine this film’s attempt at garnering emotional investment. The first is in the presentation of Turing himself. The adult Turing (I say adult because there is a concurrently running story of him as a child at a boarding school) is an almost completely static character. From his initial arrival at Bletchley Park, the wartime location of the British military code-breaking organization, to his departure therefrom, the only change we see in Turing is that he is a little bit (and only a little bit) friendlier to his colleagues. Other characters shift and grow to become more amenable to Turing’s circumstances, but he himself comes across as being so right that any change to his character could only make him more wrong. Maybe that’s the way Turing really was, but it doesn’t make for an identifiable character. The main intriguing thing about Turing is an air of mystery, and an air of mystery doesn’t do a thing to place a viewer in his shoes.

The second issue that stands out to me is an oversight that could have potentially resolved the first issue as well. For those who know the history of Turing’s life, you may be surprised to find how little this film actually discusses or portrays homosexuality. It is in its way fitting; the illegality of homosexual acts in England during the life of Turing of necessity led to any such acts being kept well out of the public eye. It isn’t surprising that whatever Turing did was hidden, but it is so well hidden in the film that if you aren’t watching carefully and you don’t know the history already, you won’t realize anything is out of the old British ordinary until they say it outright, and from then on it is still only treated by words. The most tragic part of Turing’s life was all connected to the issue of homosexuality and the rampantly unjust laws against it, and the film just doesn’t give that tragedy proper screen time or treatment to elicit an emotional response. I’ll acknowledge that I have never had to be a victim of harassment or persecution due to my sexual orientation; perhaps the message hits home better with people who can identify directly. So in the end my claim is that The Imitation Game didn’t really create empathy with Turing’s persecution for those who haven’t already experienced anything like it.

The final issue endemic to The Imitation Game is more simply stated: Hollywoodization. Everything about this film is so dramatic and simplified that it just feels fake. Much of the dialogue sounds good onscreen, but sounds nothing like anything you’d hear in real life. The film is full of lazy tropes, things like when all Turing has to do to avoid dismissal from a job interview is to say the word “Enigma,” and the big eureka moment (slight spoiler incoming!) in which Turing solves all of the group’s code-breaking problems based on something he hears at a bar. The plot development and characterization frequently feel like they would be more at home in a blockbuster spy or heist movie, not in a faithful biopic. Maybe it makes exposition easier, but lazy writing makes for unrealistic scenes that remove the viewer from any possible level of immersion. Special mention goes to the scene in Turing’s childhood math class, in which a teacher gets halfway through a verbal proof that the square root of 2 is irrational, takes the time to scoff at Turing for accepting a passed note from his friend, and never actually finishes the proof (which would only have taken a couple of sentences more) before dismissing the class. Believe me when I tell you that any real math teacher would have finished that thought or at the very least addressed the fact that he didn’t finish that thought. Sure, things like this makes the writing easier, but they alienate the viewers (or at least, the nitpicky pedantic viewers like me).

Benedict Cumberbatch’s performance in the lead role has been widely praised, but I hesitate to consider it great. It is, I’ll admit, one of the most interesting parts of the movie, but Cumberbatch’s Turing is basically his Sherlock Holmes with a stutter and functional tear ducts. A somewhat endearing character, perhaps, but the whole concept of borderline autistic genius nerd is a little overplayed these days and I’m growing weary of it. I also strongly suspect that the real Turing was more socially functional than that.

Practically everything I’ve said in this review has been negative. I’ll admit to being very harsh. In fact, many of the details I cited as problematic make the film work really well as a piece of entertainment; they become positive qualities. But they are precisely what prevent viewer immersion, and what prevent The Imitation Game from being the emotional powerhouse that it obviously tries to be.

tl;dr: If you want a witty and exciting dramatization, look no further than The Imitation Game; if you want something moving and heartfelt, move on.