“Ink”

Quote of the movie:

Jacob: “He’s convinced himself he’s God, we’re just reminding him he’s not. It takes humility to remember who we are.”

What a refreshingly beautiful film. This has been in my Netflix queue for months, and I just noticed that it will be taken off as of February 16, so I decided that I had better watch it before I lost the opportunity.

Like I’ve said in reviews before, I like coming to a film without a lot of prior knowledge or bias. Watching a movie with a clean slate allows for a more meaningful experience, in my opinion. And this film gives an incredible experience.

Jamin Winans – director, writer, editor, and composer — creates a touching film about a father and his daughter. He creates an parallel plane of existence, where Storytellers deliver beautiful dreams to those asleep, and where Incubi send shadows to plague sleepers with awful nightmares. And in the midst of this conflict between good and evil, another being stands in the middle, swaying back and forth between the two: Ink (Troy Garner). Ink steals Emma’s (Quinn Hunchar) soul in order to deliver it to the Incubi. The Storytellers work to bring back Emma’s soul and to disillusion her father, John (Chris Kelly), in order to bring the two together.

The film does not have a linear structure to its presentation. The movie starts off with a frustrated man — which is later identified as John — driving in his car and getting into a car accident. The scene changes to a flashback with his man and his daughter, Emma. The car accident isn’t explained or understood in its context until much later in the film, in my favorite scene.

Even though this film did not have a large budget, the camera work in “Ink” is just beautiful. There is a prominent use of light and darkness, referring to the real world and the alternate plane of being as well as good and evil in general. The Storytellers manifest through bright flashes of light, which are just spectacular when set against the darkness of the night, and their home is bathed in a glorious golden light. The Storytellers’ light is sharply contrasted by the Incubi’s darkness. The shadows that they unleash to torment sleepers are an incredibly dark black — even darker than the night. Even the Incubi themselves are dark figures, let alone for the disturbing screens over their faces, which emit an unnatural and sickly light.

There are so many interesting details that Jamin Winans creates in his universe. When Storyteller Allel (Jennifer Batter and Ink fight in Emma’s room, they slam against her furniture, which smashes and then immediately fixes it self. They are of another world, and they battle in ours, but our world remains unaffected. It’s such an interesting detail that is so elegant to watch. This scene presents fantastic choreography of fighting spirits and an almost magical sense of self-purity from the objects in the room. A Storyteller knocks over a lamp, and it floats back up onto a table. It gives a serene quality in the midst of the violence.

Another detail segues into my favorite scene in the film. Jacob, the pathfinder (Jeremy Make), who has infuriated Allel during their entire time working together, finally reveals what he actually can do. He’s blind and sports two black X’s over his eyes. He can’t see the world, but he can hear the beat of the world. Reciting “One..two..three..four” over and over, the soundtrack joins in with Jacob to create a soundscape of music and action. A series of events begins, starting from a boy giving a merchant a dollar bill, which then gets blown a way in the wind. Each little even causes another reaction, and those scenes are juxtaposed with shots of Jacob chanting in time with the music, even conducting, acting as the maestro responsible for the chain of events that leads to the car accident that started off the film. The collaboration between these perfectly shot scenes with the invigorating and driving music is pure gold. This scene is art, and I loved every moment of it.

This movie is beautiful. I wish more movies were made in this way, with less of a focus in action and convention, and more importance on beauty and meaning. This film captures the viewer from the very beginning, pushing him to unravel the mysteries of the plot, until it unwinds into a touching and satisfying ending. Winans’ soundtrack is a work of art in itself. The music creates the perfect mood for this film, a subdued yet ethereal quality, that I cannot get over. Please watch this film.

“Hugo”

“Hugo” i s a magical film with a very big heart. It focuses on the story of a young, orphaned boy who maintains the clocks at a Paris train station — and through his story, the film unravels the mystery of the bitter toy shop owner in the train station, as well as exploring the lives of some of the train station’s regulars.

The aesthetics of the film are just magical. Howard Shore provides a beautiful score to accompany the lovely images on the screen. The film, though, is made for 3D, and I must say that I feel it takes away more than it enhances. I will recognize that there were some lovely scenes made possible by the 3D effects, but I feel that those same effects distracted too much from the story. The film’s is such a lovely story, that it doesn’t deserve to have focus taken from it and redirected to awkward effects for a 3D experience.

The title character, Hugo (Asa Butterfield), is a lonely boy, living alone in the bowels of a train station. Through flashbacks, one learns that his father passed away and he was passed on to his alcoholic uncle, who maintains the clocks at a Paris train station. So ends Hugo’s childhood, as he’s thrust into a working life, especially after his uncle disappears, leaving him in charge of the clocks. He is a sad boy, with no company but that of the broken automaton he is desperately trying to fix. Asa is a promising young actor. His body language is very nuanced, but there are brief moments of mediocrity scattered through out the film. Though, at many instances he reminded me of a young Elijah Wood — especially with those large, expressive eyes of his.

Speaking of his eyes, they were an important feature in the film. Many scenes would start with the camera focused on those big eyes of his, and then moving on to whatever it was that Hugo was looking at. I posit that showing those enthusiastic eyes of his is a way of showing the audience the wonderment of youth, even in his seemingly unhappy life, as he looks upon the machines that run the train station with excitement.

As nice of a character as Hugo is, I found myself wishing the movie had been called “Papa George” or “George”. I found the character of George Méliès (Ben Kingsley) to be incredibly interesting and engaging. The movie is a just over two hours and I started feeling a bit weary after much of Hugo’s story, but once the film focused on Papa George and his life, I was entirely engaged. I found his story to be completely fascinating and very sad (I couldn’t help but to think of the older filmmaker in the movie “The Holiday”). After doing a bit of brief reading about the film and the book that “Hugo” is based on, “The Invention of Hugo Cabret” by Brian Selznick, I was ecstatic to find out that George Méliès is an actual historical figure — and even more ecstatic to learn that he is mostly accurately depicted in the film! This makes that whole story even more affecting to me. I feel like “Hugo” is in part an homage from director Martin Scorsese to early filmmakers, particularly Méliès, that have paved the way for contemporaries like him. The way that Scorsese depicted George’s story was very exciting and nostalgic. At the end of George’s tale, I found myself tearing up from the story I had just experienced. It is storytelling at its best — and what better way to express a filmmaker’s life and works than through film?

I believe that this film — a family film — has more than just joy and delight to bring to children. I think Scorsese aims at inspiring children, and adults alike, to embrace films in such a way that Méliès did when he made his movies: “If you ever wonder where your dreams come from, look around: this is where they’re made.” What else could be so magical? It’s such a refreshing way to look at film. In essence, that is exactly why I love films so much. For that, this movie is an absolute gem.

“Midnight in Paris”

I must say, this movie was nothing like what I expected. What I expected was more of a romantic comedy, for some reason, but knowing Woody Allen, I should have known better. This movie was way better than what I was expecting, which was a nice surprise.

I found the opening of the movie to be quite remarkable. This is an example of how powerful music is to a film. If you take out the music in the opening collage of images, you get just that, a collage of images of Paris. But when the music is added, a mood is added, an atmosphere is created. The music is old-timey; the vibrancy of the saxophones and the harmonies take us to an earlier time in Paris. Conduct a little experiment — if you ever watch this movie on DVD or On Demand, mute the sound and play some other kind of music. You’ll see how completely different those images can feel with a different accompaniment. I was very taken with this opening. The music reflects our protagonist, Gil (Owen Wilson), who is physically in a modern Paris, but he longs to inhabit an earlier time in Paris. The images of the opening depict Paris in the afternoon. Then it begins to rain, and all the bustling seen in the earlier images are gone. The rain stops and people come back outside and return to their errands. Gil always expresses how he believes Paris is most beautiful in the rain. This opening shows Paris in the sun and Paris in the rain. Maybe it supports Gil’s belief in that Paris in the rain is a quiet respite from the hustle and bustle of a great city.

Woody Allen takes us to many beautiful places in the world, and his shots are just incredible. The scenes in this film capture Paris with such bright and vivid colors. The vibrancy in the shots makes particular sense when considering the many writers and painters discussed in the film; this Paris has to reflect Gil’s romantic view of the city — and of life.

The film is primarily a story about an unsuitable couple. Gil and Inez (Rachel McAdams) travel to Paris along with her parents, who are go on business. They run into an old friend of Inez, Paul (Michael Sheen), who is an irritatingly “pedantic gentleman”. Throughout the many ventures in the city, Inez is clearly fascinated with Paul, and she treats Gil — her fiancé — as if he’s a particularly burdensome puppy. Gil looks at Inez with desire and affection, but she looks at him with annoyance and habit. Content with letting Inez have fun, Gil attempts to walk home after a wine-tasting and gets lost. At the stroke of midnight, an old car appears and whisks Gil away, where he meets F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom Hiddleston) and his wife, Zelda (Alison Pill), Ernest Hemingway (Corey Stoll), and other notable writers and artists from the past. He begins to go out every night, getting in to the old car at midnight and mingling with the great minds of the past.

His nightly adventures in 1920′s Paris are a manifestation of his development and maturation. Although a Hollywood writer by trade, he longs to write a novel, but Inez does not completely support him. As a result, he’s taken to a world where his literary heroes support and encourage his writing. And he meets a woman, Adriana (Marion Cotillard), who finds him interesting and charming. His nightly walks through the city are an enlightenment of who he is as a person and of what he wants in life. While that is very beneficial for his writing, it’s making him admit to himself that his upcoming wedding is a bad idea. They say opposites attract but not in this case. I find myself identifying with Gil’s character when it comes to finding love, because I know I want to find someone who shares particular views which I feel are most important. For Gil, those views include literature, art, and Paris in the rain. Inez is not that, but, fortunately for Gil, he finds someone who is.

This movie is an unusual and entertaining film, with the intellectual banter that you expect from Woody Allen. Owen Wilson does a fine job in a less comedic role, standing his ground among many other stars. This beautifully shot film is one about self-exploration and understanding one’s identity. I enjoyed this movie very much.

“Drive”

Gah, I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything. I can’t let that happen again.

A went to see this movie with a friend who had already seen it, and all he really told me about the film was that it was very good yet very violent. I’m glad I had that little warning going into the movie.

“Drive” is a beautifully shot movie. Various shots throughout the film make sure to capture a mirror — whether it’s a side-view mirror on a car or a mirror in the home — in the frame to exploit the power of its reflection. I felt that in many ways, the person you see in the reflection is a more pure and more real version than their actual selves. There are various shots where The Driver (Ryan Gosling) is in his car and the mirror will catch his eyes, and his eyes show an intensity and an intent that defines his character. His is a character that is more internal than external, and it’s glimpses into his eyes that show you a hint of the man inside.

The movie uses shadows in a very particular way, especially towards The Driver. Light and dark, with their usual good and bad connotations, respectively, are reversed in this film. Throughout the movie, The Driver will be traveling in his car or interacting with another person, and he will be shrouded in darkness. At first it seems like he might be an inherently dark character because of this, but he’s actually covered in shadow in his good times. There are scenes where he’s interacting with Irene (Carey Mulligan) or her son, Benicio (Kaden Leos) and his face is hidden in darkness — but he’s smiling or expressing a, seemingly, rare happy emotion. Alternatively, in a jarring scene that changes the tone of the entire film, his face will be bathed in light but the mood is entirely tense. This scene takes place in a diner and some previous client recognizes The Driver and starts speaking with him. The Driver interrupts him and, in a surprisingly vicious tone, threatens the man. Darkness is a good place for the Driver, perhaps a place of comfort.

On a related note, most of the movie places The Driver in either darkness or light, but after a critical moment in the film, a third element is introduced. After the robbery with Standard (Oscar Isaac) and Blanche (Christina Hendricks) goes south, The Driver saves himself from the hit men that came for him and Blanche by killing them. He’s drenched in blood, as the camera focuses on his still face for several moments. It’s after this moment, the moment he’s killed another man, where he’s forever tainted by that action. Every shot of The Driver after that moment shows the mark of murder, either by the blood on the jacket he always wears or by the red of a stoplight shining on his face. Even though he’s not inherently a killer, that blemish of the kill is and forever will be there — and the film subtly conveys it through the wardrobe and cinematography.

I had a favorite scene in the movie, which might have been the most sensual and most violent part of the film. Irene and The Driver get on an elevator after he tries to tell her about what had really happened with Standard. They share the elevator with an unknown and shady man. The Driver notices the gun in the man’s coat jacket. In a quick gesture, The Driver shields Irene behind him and shares an beautiful and passionate kiss with her. The elevator car even seems to lengthen, giving them their own private space to share this intimate moment. The music in this particular scene is exciting yet mellow in nature, providing the exact ambience for change and revelation. The Driver, a generally introverted man, finally explicitly expresses his feelings for Irene in a beautiful moment. Then, suddenly, the music fades and the elevator car shrinks back to normal perspective and the two men fight, ending with a gruesome kill by The Driver. He quickly changed from one passionate expression to another — from kissing Irene so desperately to killing so mercilessly, leaving Irene to back out and stare in horror, confusion, and love.

This scene also contains another interesting shot found throughout the film — the long stationary shot of a character’s face. Irene backs out of the elevator and just stares at The Driver. She must be thinking so many thoughts at that moment, and the camera fixates on her face for a pretty long time. As a viewer, my eyes were fixed on her, wondering what she would do, studying her face for any sign of what she’s thinking, and curious to see if she would say anything — but before anything happens, the elevator door closes. These long stationary shots it on a person’s face for just enough time to create the suspense of what will happen next and hardly resolving any tension created from the shot. Another example comes towards the end of the movie. The Driver and Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks) have attacked each other in the parking lot, and we see The Driver sitting in his car. His eyes are open and the camera is fixed on his face for several moments, creating the suspense that he might fall over dead, that he might drive away in a rage, or that he might send a message through body language. He blinks, which I initially thought was him suddenly closing his eyes in death, but then calmly drives away. These long stationary shots are simple yet very affective. They create inward suspense and confusion through prolonged inactivity.

This film is incredible. It’s a very moving film with such a fantastic performance by Ryan Gosling. He evokes very subtle changes in expression in an overly stoic character, making his extroverted outbursts the more profound.

“Biutiful”

I like jumping into a movie without much previous knowledge. I feel like those are the most effective movie-going experiences. You’re not influenced by any preconceived notions or expecting anything. It’s like going into a movie with an intellectually and emotionally clean slate, ready to be imprinted.

This movie is an incredibly moving film. It tells the story of Uxbal (Javier Bardem), a father of two children, struggling to raise his children while working in the underground of Barcelona,  dealing with the bipolar and oftentimes destructive mother of his children, and trying to hide his recently diagnosed terminal cancer.

One of my favorite parts of this film was the book-ended opening and closing. It starts with a man and child whispering, talking about a diamond ring. Then it cuts to a scene in a snowy forest, where a man converses with a younger man — seemingly familiar to him. At the beginning of the film, these two scenes are vague. Who are these people? And where are they? Then the movie plays out, every now and then playing off of the clues left in the opening. Once the film finishes, and the first scene is revisited, its meaning is incredibly profound. What started out as just a mere conversation between a man and a child is actually an intimate conversation between a dying father and his daughter. Book-ending the movie with these scenes makes the ending that much more impactful — to an already intense film.

My other favorite scene is another scene between Uxbal and his daughter, Ana (Hanaa Bouchaib). Being the older child, Ana is more insightful to the things her father does, and she confronts him after he has another painful urination. She demands to know what’s wrong. At that point, speaking isn’t even required. He gives her a poignant look, and she rushes up to him and hugs him. It’s the strongest hug you would ever see a child give. The magic in this scene is all in the body language. It’s in this moment when my friend and I started crying — this scene is pure gold.

What I feel is most important from this movie is Uxbal’s sense of fatherhood. With his circumstances, he can’t give them the meals that they want, but he knows how to give his children what they need. He gives them the basics, but he also gives them comfort and protection — and most importantly, he tries really hard to leave their innocence untarnished for as long as possible. He doesn’t tell his children about his illness, because he doesn’t want them to worry or to feel any anxiety or sadness. His actions as a father make his character noble, in a very difficult and unlikeable world.

“X-Men: First Class”

Quote of the movie:

“Mutant and proud!”

I was kind of cautious when I heard of this new X-men reboot. The idea definitely had a lot of potential, but it possibly could have fallen very short. Overall, I was incredibly pleased with this movie!

The movie chronicles the lives of Charles Xavier/Professor X (James McAvoy) and Eric Lehnsherr/Magneto (Michael Fassbender). Both are young boys who have a gift, but they discovered and developed them in very different ways. Charles, with the subtle gift of telepathy, grew up in a secure household, very open to learning and understanding his ability. Eric, at a German concentration camp during WWII, discovers his ability trying to save his parents, and it’s only by the murder of his mother when he can begin to understand how to tap into his power. From the very get-go, Charles has a safe and peaceful association with his ability — and mutants in general. Eric, on the other hand, associates his gift with anger and pain — and with the concept of power.

To further establish Charles’ open-mindedness, he catches “his mother” in his kitchen once. She looks and sounds like his mother, but she doesn’t act anything like her. Attempting to steal some food, Raven/Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) transforms from Charles’ mother to her real self: a scaly blue creature with red hair. Charles invites her to his home, promising her companionship and food. While this movie primarily focuses on Charles and Eric, Raven is a very important third character. Charles doesn’t mind her appearance, but he encourages her to hide her real self from society. It’s this society conformity that Raven struggles with throughout the entire movie. She wants to be “beautiful”, but human society would never accept her as such. She takes on a beautiful guise, but that’s not *really* her. It’s not until Eric works together with Charles and Raven where she finally feels some acceptance from another person; he encourages her to be her true self.

The movie’s structure, for the first half or so, was alternating scenes between the two main characters, Charles and Eric. Then, once Charles and Eric join forces, the structure becomes more plot-based, moving forward in a more forward motion.

My assessment is purely based on the movies — I don’t have a background in X-Men comics, so I can’t say whether or not this movie provides an accurate portrayal of X-Men lore — but I really enjoyed the backstory in this movie. From my vague memory of X-Men cartoons, I knew that Professor X and the X-Men constantly battled against Magneto and his group of mutants. I’m sure it had been implied that they were friends at some point, and I really enjoyed seeing their friendship in this movie. Charles, through his gift of telepathy, can truly understand the experiences and feelings of anybody he reads, which makes his guidance and concern extremely sincere. He really wants to find the best inside of everyone.

I love character development and backstory, so I was very moved at the end of the movie. Eric has a fervent hatred towards Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon), who was the man who shot his mother after he failed to move the coin when ordered. While working with Charles, he internally always wanted to get revenge against Shaw. When the moment finally comes, he shuts out Charles, who would convince him to act otherwise. He murders Shaw and he exhibits his true feelings about mutants and humans — mutants are the better beings and humans must be destroyed, or else they will destroy the mutants. Charles doesn’t feel that way. He truly believes that there can be coexistence. Charles and Eric fight and Eric accidentally deflects a bullet into Charles’ spine, causing his paralysis. Eric truly cares for him, but, realizing their differences, he leaves. Before he leaves, he calls for the other mutants to join him. Raven joins him. She also cares for Charles — they have a brother/sister relationship — but he understands that she needs to follow Eric. It’s very moving because I had no idea any of these relationships happened before the Professor X/Magneto divide occurred. What also makes it even more sad is that Raven was such a sweet and bubbly girl; she wasn’t portrayed that way in the other movies. This movie makes me want to read more about the X-Men universe, whether it be comics or articles. I want to know more about these characters, because this really is a very complicated and affective set of relationships.

I know I haven’t focused on the other characters, but, personally, I only cared about Charles, Eric, and Raven. I was very pleased with the actors cast, and I was never bored during the entire movie. This movie opens the door for more movies, and I think this movie was a quality movie, so hopefully that will encourage the studio to create more.

Ally McBeal

I know it’s a little late to be watching and blogging about Ally McBeal, which ran on Fox from 1997-2002, but I had heard so many references to Ally McBeal over the years and my parents watched it when it was on, so when I noticed it streaming on Netflix, I knew it was time to watch it.

Confession: This show is nothing like I expected it to be. Knowing that it was a show about a female lawyer, I expected something pretty conventional, showing a female lawyer at work, the different cases she tried, and then the relationships/friendships she builds/has in her life. Well, in those generic terms, that *is* what Ally McBeal is about, but I didn’t expect Ally (and the rest of the firm) to be so…eccentric.

That being said, I still enjoyed the show. I watched all five seasons, and I even teared up at the very end, when Ally delivers her last, but ever poignant, line: “This is gonna be good. Why else would I be crying?” Though, reflecting on the entire series, I have to wonder what it says about me that I was feeling for and relating to Ally’s character.

Ally McBeal (Calista Flockhart) is an intelligent and beautiful woman. She graduated from Harvard Law school and was employed in a Boston law firm. The show sets her up as a very strong female character, especially when a professor sexually harasses her and she fights back hard. But as the show went on, she had many mental instabilities (mostly in the form of dillusions), and she let emotions take hold of her. Her character, while still strong in many ways (mostly in the fact that she was an aggressive and defensive character), became a very different and uninspiring woman. I believe that the thing that kept many interested in watching the show was her views on relationships, that she wanted to find “the one”, and who doesn’t want to find “the one”? I know I’m trying to find “the one”, and I was with her every step of the way, when she pushed away good guys and kept getting with not-so-great guys. But I struggled for so long, wondering what exactly the writers of this show were trying to say with Ally. Yea, she’s a professional woman, successful, but she’s not really a great role model. It seems like Ally is only complete/successful/whole if she has a man. She never gets one, and she spends 5 years being pretty unhappy. She then gets a daughter, and she suggests that it’s maybe having a daughter that she’s been yearning for instead of a man, but she still keeps looking for a man desperately.

Though, after a while, I had to accept that the show wasn’t trying to be too serious. With John Cage’s (Peter MacNicol) courtroom antics, Ling Woo‘s (Lucy Liu) shameless bluntness, and Elaine Vassal‘s (Jane Krakowski) inventions, this show creates an atmosphere of the unreal, suggesting that it doesn’t really have profound messages to convey.

I found it very interesting how musical this show is. I would even go so far as to call Ally McBeal the 90′s version of Glee. Look at all the broadway and musical stars that they were able to get on to the show and sing: Jane Krakowski, James Marsden, Taye Diggs, Jesse L. Martin, Elton John, Sting, Barry White, Barry Manilow, and so many more. Music and sounds were a huge part of this show. Songs would play in the background that was directly related to the plot or the characters involved. There were many sound effects used to illustrate thoughts that weren’t said aloud. In that aspect, the show excelled. They were able to convey many ideas without having to say them, just through sound.

While I had many qualms with the underlying messages of the show, I did enjoy the characters very much. They were very unique and likeable. Richard Fish (Greg Germann), a senior partner, idolizes women, craves wattles, and offers up some very disturbing yet insightful Fishisms throughout the show. John Cage is the firm’s secret weapon, using a wide array of unconventional courtroom antics to win his cases. Like Ally, he also has some dillusions, as well as some other insecurities, and he becomes her best friend at the firm (I had hoped that they would have gotten together).

Elaine Vassal is strikingly similar to Jane’s more recent role on 30 Rock. She serves to be comic relief most of the time, but there are some moments that show her as an actual person — which is a treat to watch. Billy Thomas (Gil Bellows) is Ally’s childhood sweetheart. When I started the show, I thought it was obvious that the two would get together in the end, but Billy’s character was only intended for the first season. At first, I loved him; he was a sweet and sensitive man, but I hated what they turned him into — a misogynist pig. I’m very glad that Georgia Thomas (Courtney Thorne-Smith) was able to stand up for herself and reject him when he entered the realm of unreasonable.

Ling Woo is a very feisty woman. Like Elaine, she is mostly an unreal person, but there are rare moments when she is a real person. One moment in particular is when she speaks to a jury about love. She speaks in a very soft Chinese, saying that they don’t understand what she’s saying, but just by the way she speaks, they’ll understand her emotion, and it’s truly beautiful. Nell Porter (Portia di Rossi) is gorgeous! I really liked her character at first. She was a part of the gang and dating John Cage. It was nice to see her smile and look happy. After she tried to steal clients and start her own law firm, she became a bitter and unpleasant woman, which was a disappointment.

All in all, I enjoyed the show, and I became very involved with the characters. Again, I’m not ecstatic about its message, but I enjoyed getting to know this group of people. I now know what it’s all about!

 

“Hanna”

Quotes of the Movie:
Hanna: “I just missed your heart…”

I’ve just returned home from watching an incredibly intense, yet visually beautiful, film. Hanna is definitely a thriller, with an unpredictable story and some alluring characters.

The film opens up on a still, white tundra. A young girl, camouflaged well in the forest’s trees, hunts a deer. She instinctively shoots an arrow at the deer, causing it to run for its life; she chases it until it collapses. She walks up to the fallen deer, gun in hand, and whispers, “I just missed your heart…” and shoots the deer in the head — cutting directly to a bright red and white titles screen for the movie.

This, and many other qualities throughout the film, gave Hanna a Kill-Bill-Tarantino feel, to me, at least. The loud gunshot at the camera, followed by the abrupt cut to a blood-red title screen screamed Tarantino to me. Hanna, though, wasn’t as absurd as Kill Bill was (and I use absurd the the best of connotations); Hanna‘s story was pretty focused and serious, without underlying sarcasm and satire.

Saoirse Ronan (Hanna) gives an elegant and stunning performance. Throughout the movie, she reminded me of a young Uma Thurman, with all the raw determination and drive of The Bride. She has pale skin and pale hair, making her blue eyes even more striking. Many shots of her were so beautifully crafted, from her blue eyes popping out from her camouflage in a sea of snow, to her very unique features popping out among the different ethnicities (Moroccan, Spanish) that she interacts with. At the young age of 16, she already is providing very mature work, with strikingly intense facial expressions — as if she had experienced some hardships, living her entire childhood surviving the snowy forest. I truly enjoyed watching her perform in this film.

As mentioned before, much of the cinematography was beautifully crafted. A particularly effective scene was one with Hanna and Sophie (Jessica Barden). Hanna has stowed away on Sophie’s family’s trailer, and she is secretly sleeping in Sophie’s tent. They are covered in the sheets, facing each other, talking about their friendship. Hanna has never had a friend before, and she is intrigued by this new kind of interaction. The camera cuts back and forth between shots of Hanna and shots of Sophie while they talk. The shots, though, are zoomed in on various parts of their face, as if the camera were showing the audience what the other person could see. Since the two girls are very close to one another, the shots cannot contain all of the face. By cutting back and forth between the girls’ mouths and eyes and cheeks, the film gives a very sensual and intimate feeling between the two — which is exactly what Hanna is feeling during the scene, perhaps for the very first time in her life. The back-and-forth camera shots build up a very strange sexual tension, a little out of place with the conversation of friendship — but when Hanna leans in and gives Sophie a kiss, the tension finally breaks, and the cinematography for this scene ends up making perfect sense.

Hanna’s father, Erik (Eric Bana) and the villain, Marissa (Cate Blanchett), are both very intriguing characters. The movie was written in such a way to present many mysteries to the audience, and these two characters had a very dense and complicated history and relationship. Erik is an internally-emotional, externally-stoic man, who has raised a girl in the tundra of Finland. An ex-CIA man, he is quick to control his emotions, even towards Hanna. He obviously loves this girl, but he has no qualms in training her to be a fighter by actually fighting her and causing her harm. Marissa is a beautiful yet creepy woman. What is it about a southern drawl that can really make a villain sinister?

My biggest beef with this film is that there was so much information that I never got before the film ended. Erik and Marissa have some history. Hanna exists because of an experiment to create super-humans. Right before Erik’s death, he busts out an American accent, which is unlike the way he spoke throughout the rest of the film. I really do feel like this film could have been spread out into two movies (yet again, like Kill Bill). Not to say that so much information was canned into the span of a movie ineffectively, it’s just that there is a lot of information that will never be learned — and perhaps that’s the point. The audience learns from Hanna’s perspective; both Hanna and the audience coming into this movie without a lot of information about her past, so we learn what she learns — and it makes sense that life wouldn’t somehow give you all the facts in an easy way. I just feel that a first film could have been very much a teaser about these interwoven relationships and all this knowledge waiting to be gleaned, and a second film could tie the rest of the loose ends.

That being said, the film worked well. I often found myself uncertain of what would happen next, as the plan Erik and Hanna made kept becoming deterred. I want to acknowledge the film’s fantastic score, by the Chemical Brothers. Not knowing any of their previous work, I can’t really touch on their nuances that made it to the score, but I can say that the score was extremely effective. The music was highly driven, bringing the film’s action to its full potential. The music also had a bit of a Euro-pop feel, which I felt was appropriate, since the film’s events mainly happen in Europe — which gave it a very non-American presence, which I liked. The score also did have some thematic music for Hanna, which I liked. At times throughout the movie, this innocent dollhouse music would play, showing Hanna’s innocence. Though, at one point, when Hanna returns to the Grimms House to find the keeper dead, the dollhouse music turns creepy — which is extremely effective. I found this link about the score; check it out: http://music.ign.com/articles/116/1160721p1.html

Being a Whedonite, I must acknowledge the beautiful Olivia Williams, from Dollhouse. She is such a lovely woman, and she plays a minor role in the film. I love listening to her say words; her speech is so eloquent!

I verily enjoyed this film, and I would see it again. I loved the film’s book-ended opening and closing, from the deer at the beginning to Marissa at the end. “I just missed your heart…”

HANNA

 

Avatar Book One “The Blue Spirit”

This episode is an excellent follow-up to the last episode, “The Storm”.

In this episode, Aang and Zuko work together, without ever knowing it — well, without Aang knowing it. After Aang is captured by the Fire Nation (while bringing back some frozen frogs for Katara and Sokka), a man in a blue mask sneaks into the fortress and frees him. This man doesn’t speak, but he works with Aang to escape from the Fire Nation. Right at the last second, though, they don’t make it over the last wall, and they’re trapped by soldiers. The blue-masked man brings his swords to Aang’s neck, prompting Zhang to let them both go. After being hit by an arrow, the blue-masked man passes out. Aang goes to help him, and he sees a scar underneath the right eye socket. He lifts off the mask and discovers that it’s Prince Zuko!

Aang could run and save himself, or he could also save Zuko. He almost leaves alone — this is the villain who has been chasing him all over the place. But he thinks about how he just saved him from the Fire Nation fortress, and Aang does the right thing and brings Zuko to safety.

When Zuko wakes up, Aang tells a story about how he loved playing with one of his best friends, who was from the Fire Nation — and he wonders if he and Zuko would have been friends had they been given the chance. This scene foreshadows a possible friendship between the two. Building upon the stories from the last episode, it provides even more depth to Zuko’s character, making him even less the heartless villain. Zuko’s last scene in the episode is genius for this cause. He’s resting on his ship and he looks at the Fire Nation flag, and he bitterly turns away. One must infer what he was thinking, but I think it’s pretty obvious that he may have been resentful at his people — thinking about how a Fire Nation boy a hundred years ago could be friends with an Airbender.

The content of this and the last episode is what I love about this show. The show could have kept a predictable and boring trajectory of the hero and the villain, always fighting against each other. Everyone does that. But in this show, they’ve started weaving the two together, showing their similarities, showing their depth, making you feel for both the hero and the villain — changing the perceptions of the words “hero” and “villain”. As I concluded the last episode, it starts showing how everyone has their own backstory; everyone is not who they appear to be.

 

Avatar Book One “The Storm”

This is a beautifully crafted episode — full of character development (and I’m all about character development!)

The episode alternates between Aang’s and Zuko’s pasts.

The clever thing about this episode is that through the flashbacks, Zuko is the one who is the more noble one — even though he is the “villain” of the show. Aang’s backstory is that he was told he was the Avatar. At a young age, he was thrust with immense responsibility into a world of burgeoning war. His friends started treating him differently, and he overheard the decision to separate him from his guardian, Gyatso. Aang, overcome with fear and hopelessness, ran away.

Zuko’s backstory is that he, eager to learn as much about his future kingdom as possible, convinces his uncle, Iroh, to allow him into a war meeting. He’s told not to speak, but when he hears the general’s plan to sacrifice a battalion of soldiers, Zuko speaks out against injustice. As a punishment for his disrespect, he’s to participate in a duel — the kicker is that the Fire Lord was ultimately the one disrespected, so he is to battle his own father. His outburst, while out of place, was a noble thing for him to do. Then, when he’s standing before his father in battle, he again does the noble thing and refuses to fight. His father does not accept his unwillingness to duel, and he “teaches” him respect by unleashing his fiery wrath on his face — giving him the hideous scar he forever bears.

These two different stories show these two characters in different lights. It brings sympathy to Zuko, and it brings some disappointment towards Aang. Aang, the hero, the Avatar, ran away from his duty. His punishment is coming back to the world, 100 years later, only to find that his entire nation has been destroyed. Zuko, the villain, actually is a righteous man, albeit with a fiery temper, but he’s been punished for his good qualities.

The episode meshes their stories together via a storm. This storm resembles the storm that overtook Aang when he tried to run away, where he instinctively saved himself in a ball of ice. While he tries to save Katara, Sokka, and the fisherman, a giant tidal wave pushes them into the sea. This time Aang isn’t alone; he’s with the people that he loves, and that motivates him to escape the sea and continue his mission. He could have escaped into another ball of ice, away from the responsibility to save the world, but he redeems himself by surging out of the sea (which could be interpreted as his mental/dream state) and into the air (consciousness). As flees the storm, Zuko and Aang exchange glances — sharing an unknown bond. Their relationship is more complicated than hero-villain.

I love this episode, because I love character development. I love this episode also because it shows Zuko in a different light. Sure, he can be a real jerk, but if you begin to understand his past and his motivations, he’s a lot more accessible than anticipated. The lesson with this episode is that so is everyone in the world. Don’t judge so quickly.

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