finnegan’s film blog

My expectations were high, but the aptly titled Dark Knight didn’t disappoint.

Without a doubt the darkest and most complex Batman film to date, The Dark Knight teeters somewhere between the action, suspense and horror genres. It’s the sort of big budget “popcorn” action film I could imagine Alfred Hitchcock enjoying. And like all really good films, it has multiple layers: mental, political, metaphysical and emotional.

Where the overriding theme of Batman Begins was fear, the themes that emerge in The Dark Knight seem to be terror, hope and anarchy. Batman knocks the criminal underworld out of balance, and gets an equal and opposite reaction. At times over the top — some of the chase sequences were unnecessarily long and confusing — the majority of the film remains rooted in a dark reality (insofar as comic book films can be realistic). Compared to Batman Begins, Director Christopher Nolan pulls back even further from the pulpy worlds of Tim Burton’s Batman films, and Frank Miller’s Sin City, and paints a picture of a very believable and corrupt Gotham.

I couldn’t help but associate the character of Harvey Dent, Gotham’s District Attorney, with Barack Obama; a public figure that the masses look up to and invest their hope in. And that’s a big part of what the Batman stories have always been about: symbols. Symbols of hope, symbols of fear. Nolan and the talented cast communicate these symbols very effectively. There were moments where I was scared of the Joker in the same sense I was scared of Anton Sugur, the cold-blooded killer from No Country For Old Men. I didn’t feel safe sitting in my seat. Heath Ledger’s portrayal as the charismatic anarchist clown is truly terrifying.

One comment I overheard on the way out of the theater was that the movie was too long. I found this comment odd, because I’ve always thought the Batman films are (or should be) like good roller coasters, with plenty of nail-biting twists and turns. I find it so disappointing when the ride is so much shorter than the time you spent standing in line. So, I say, “bring on the long, twisty roller coaster and give me my money’s worth.”

And The Dark Knight does just that.

I intend to see this film at least once more before it leaves theaters.

Best CG animated film since Toy Story.

The brilliance of WALL-E is that it works on so many different levels. There’s something for every age group and gender — truly a family film. The CG (computer graphics) lends itself perfectly to animating robots. And, like the great silent films of the 1920s, you don’t have to understand English to know what’s going on. But more importantly, it’s a parable that works without getting too preachy. Between the cute jokes and visual spectacles, we get the gist: the human race has become a bunch of lazy over-consumers. The post-apocalyptic vision of the future that serves as the backdrop for WALL-E’s antics falls right in line with Al Gore’s prophesies.

For the computer geek, there’s also a pretty amusing Mac/PC element peppered throughout the film. Although WALL-E makes a Mac boot-up sound every time he gathers enough solar rays to recharge his battery, WALL-E is clearly the PC. The lovable workhorse is practically falling apart, but frequently finds spare parts to repair himself with. On the other hand, Eve, the sleek-looking white robot with all her fancy widgets, is unmistakably a Macintosh. If she were ever to break down, only someone at a genius bar would be able to help.

WALL-E is a must-see for any socially conscious person — parent, child, grandparent or single — but not necessarily a must-see in the theater.

In a word; brilliant.

In a few more words; Once is a diamond in the rough.

It’s equal parts movie and music, effectively blurring the lines between the two. I didn’t know whether I was watching a romantic fiction, a documentary, or a music video. Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. I don’t remember feeling this way about a film since Almost Famous. It’s refreshingly unpolished, uplifting, sentimental, and bittersweet (though ultimately more sweet than bitter).

It’s a perfect slice of life. Watch it. Listen to it. Experience it.

Last week, I watched Syriana for the fourth or fifth time. I first saw it in the theater in December, 2005. Here’s what I wrote about it then:

It’s not quite as good as Traffic (which is easily in my top 20) but I feel that it’s one of those rare films that doesn’t insult the viewer’s intelligence. There are no bathroom break scenes in Syriana. You actually have to pay attention to every minute of the story. Comparisons to Traffic — Stephen Gaghan’s other epic, directed by Stephen Soderbergh — are unavoidable: characters trying to make a difference in a power struggle that is infinitely bigger than they are, family tragedies, class struggles, etc. But I would argue that the power struggle over oil is more important and relevant than the “war on drugs.” It affects more people, and has a greater sense of urgency.

One complaint nay-saying critics have made about Syriana is that the scope is too large, and there are too many characters. But the subject is large. I don’t know how else one would tell this story. He couldn’t have made this film with just one main character. Although, I suppose one could argue that the oil industry is the main character in this movie, in which case the movie is about one character. There are just so many aspects to cover, and I feel that director Stephen Gaghan did a wonderful job tying everything together without making it too chiche. The feeling I got while watching Syriana was one of hopelessness. The moral of the story seems to be: When people interfere with the money machine, they are eliminated.

My opinion of the film hasn’t changed much since the first time I saw it. Between then and now, I’ve read Craig Unger’s book, House of Bush, House of Saud, and it makes a lot more sense today than it did in 2005.

I highly recommend Syriana to anyone interested in learning more about U.S. - Middle East relations. But I would advise anyone watching the film to approach it they way you would a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. It’s not an feel-good popcorn movie.

Interesting side note: the real-life Bob Baer, the former CIA operative who inspired George’s Clooney’s character, has been featured in a number of documentary films in recent years.

Every once in a while you come across a gem among the massive pile of mediocre on-screen stories. Not since ET has there been a family movie this genuine and heartfelt. Danny Boyle, director of the heroin addition epic Trainspotting and zombie flick 28 Days Later has traded in hard violence and hallucination sequences for honest, down-to-earth characters and childlike imagination.

The fantastical world of Millions is seen through the eyes of Damian (Alex Etel), a young boy who recently lost his mother. When he relocates with his father and older brother to a new neighborhood, he escapes into a cardboard fortress where he talks to his heroes–the Catholic saints and martyrs. From Saint John to Saint Francis of Assisi, Damian converses with the heavenly hosts, asking them if they have seen his mother. When a bag of money falls from the sky, he and his brother do their best to keep it a secret, but Damien wants to emulate his role models and give the money away to the poor.

The casting for this film was flawless. Alex Etel was perfect. I don’t know that I have ever seen a family movie that promotes charity and good will, while at the same time avoiding the cheesy pitfalls that those morals are often associated with in films (e.g. Hallmark movies of the week). As a testament to how different Millions is compared to other so-called childrens films, there’s actually a “product” placement for a real-life charity (wateraid.org) that eventually weaves its way into the story.

With a Burton/Elfman-like soundtrack and an ending that falls more closely in line with the Beatitudes than the conventions of Hollywood, Millions is a wonderful family film. The characters are sincere and the story is beautiful.

This documentary follows a group of Amish teenagers in Indiana during their rumspringa–that rite-of-passage thorugh the no-man’s land between childhood and married life in the Amish church community. these kids, living the high life in the “English” world (rock and roll, alcohol, fornication, drugs, etc) must decide whether to be baptized and pledge to live the Amish life, or join modern America and be excommunicated from their friends and family forever.

This raw documentary is shot cinéma-vérité: it has no narrator, and relies almost solely on footage of the Amish teens going about their day. Faron, the primary subject of the film is just as scared, confused, horny, and insecure as any American teen, but the additional weight of the decision he has to make is more than any teen should have to handle. The fact that these kids are having to choose between their heritage and “the American dream” is something none of them take lightly. When you think about how crucial tradition and family are in Amish life, the thought of abandoning that must be utterly terrifying, even if they decide to stay within the Amish faith. There would still be that nagging doubt: what if my parents were right?

The idea of rumspringa might seem absurd to some, but I think it fits the Anabaptist concept of waiting until a person can make a conscious, responsible decision to become a Christian, and it does have a biblical basis. It gives every individual their own opportunity to become a prodigal son. It’s certainly not something Amish teens have to do. it’s a choice, just like the choice to be baptized. I also see the way the church and community are willing to forgive and forget the sins of rumspringa mirrors the prodigal son’s father’s reaction to his son’s return.

I don’t know how one could see this as a “smear piece” on the Amish church, or faith in general. When Faron explains the Amish book of martyrs, he has an obvious reverence for the unbreakable faith of his ancestors. In fact, none of the teens in this film–regardless of their decision–turned away from their faith in heaven, hell, marriage, or God.

Kudos to Lucy Walker and the other filmmakers involved in the making of Devil’s Playground. The more I think about this movie, the more I want to see it again–the mark of a truly excellent film.