Dune: Part Two (2024)

Score: 5 / 5

For anyone who didn't already know Denis Villeneuve is one of the best directors currently working (some of us would say ever), Dune: Part Two will cement that attribute to his name. For those of us who love the middle part of any trilogy -- for, indeed, the heart of Frank Herbert's Dune is the first two books, the story of Paul Atreides, this film being the second part of the first book -- this is eminently on par with the likes of the middle of The Lord of the Rings and the three Star Wars trilogies, picking up where the previous left off, diving right into action without need for more exposition, and intensifying the dread of war and prophetic doom while raising the emotional stakes for characters we already know (and a few new ones). Villeneuve has never shied away from scope and breadth in his films, but his keen focus on the psychology of his main characters is what makes all his films feel epic. With this material, he can finally embrace a real epic, and boy, is it glorious.

After their annihilation of the Atreides, the Harkonnens take over Arrakis again and wage war on the Fremen "sand rats" who live in the desert and disrupt the harvesting of valuable spice. Unbeknownst to Baron Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgard) and his brutal nephews (Dave Bautista and a chilling Austin Butler), one tribe of Fremen led by Stilgar (Javier Bardem) harbor two Atreides house survivors: Paul and his mother Lady Jessica (Timothee Chalamet and Rebecca Ferguson). As they integrate into Fremen culture, the two learn more about prophecies of a savior from beyond, a messiah meant to lead all Fremen tribes to take back Arrakis and launch a holy crusade that will turn their planet green and sweep across the stars. They decide the prophecy applies to them -- and well it might -- and take drastic steps to ensure their own ascendancy.

Whereas the first installment sets the stage in every conceivable way -- mostly expository and world-building, the first film had more intrigue and tension (if not action) than some credit it -- the second allows the various factions to collide in some spectacular battle sequences. More importantly, the heightened stakes reveal more about characters we need to care for, making the violence matter in emotional ways. To counterpoint this, several characters, especially Stilgar and Paul's love interest Chani (Zendaya) inject key moments with unexpected and wonderfully effective humor. Exerting extraordinary mastery over tone, Villeneuve and screenwriter Jon Spaihts use these elements to inform their headier themes of corruptibility of power and the uses and dangers of fanaticism in ways we rarely see in epics or hero's journeys.

Not to be outdone by cerebral intrigue, Villeneuve continues his inability to make any visuals less than picturesque. Shot by Greig Fraser, every moment could be paused, blown up, and framed, including enemy bodies falling from rocky buttes and fleets of sandworms racing across no-man's land. Costume and production design continue to be the best in the business: a sacred reservoir looking like a bottomless cavern, a princess in pristine silver that could be chains, a new reverend mother who looks like some priestess or goddess from an eastern religion. And nothing compares to the breathtaking transitions to infrared light on the Harkonnen homeworld of Gieidi Prime under its "Black Sun," a brilliant interpretation of the novel, which suggests the planet is a volcanic wasteland raped by over-industrialization; here, their world (and lifestyle) is so removed from nature that even the sun's light seems profoundly wrong and torturous.

While I was annoyed in the first film that Zendaya's Chani narrated, I was pleased to finally have some of Florence's Pugh's Princess Irulan in this film, though her part is sadly limited. So is Christopher Walken's Emperor Shaddam IV, but he's not featured much in the book either (and frankly I've rarely been interested in his acting, so this limitation was fine). Given what happens in Dune: Messiah (the final part in this trilogy, though I promise, no spoilers here), I'd have liked a bit more time with the emperor and princess, Charlotte Rampling's reverend mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, and Lea Seydoux as Lady Margot Fenring, but I expect we'll get plenty more in the next film. This isn't their story. Yet. On the other hand, I was pleasantly surprised at the visual power and attention paid to Lady Jessica's rise and the film's recognition of her disturbing desire to galvanize weak-minded religious tribes into worshipping her son and waging open war. This isn't about them understanding and joining and leading the native people; it's about them co-opting an entire planet for their own designs.

You need to see this on the biggest possible screen with the best possible stereo system. Then see it again.

The Jungle Book (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

If you had told me that yet another adaptation of The Jungle Book would be relevant -- dare I say it, even topical -- I would have laughed at you. But that joke would be on me.

In what I would consider to be this year's Life of Pi, Jon Favreau dishes up a visual feast. A sumptuous, engrossing parade of special effects and CGI from a new age, this film is a breathtaking venture that challenged my understanding of how animation can look, especially concerning anthropomorphic animals. Though they chitchat their way through each scene, often with humor, there were precious few moments in which they feel less than real. I often found myself forgetting to view them as artwork rather than real-life beasts.

Beyond the masterful artistry of the animals themselves, Favreau's team puts no small effort into getting the set pieces, backgrounds, and action sequences perfect. The holistic impression left is one of dazzling realism, one in which the supposedly lifelike mannerisms of animals in The Lion King are forgotten as obsolete. We see giant orangutans tearing apart temples, a pack of wolves attacking a tiger, and a bear contentedly licking honey off a comb, and it never once looks out of place. Some special effects in Batman v Superman (among too many other examples) don't work because there's no weight to the effects, so they feel fantastic and inconsequential. That, or the special effects are clouded by billowing dust and smoke, so half the action is hidden anyway. Not so in this Jungle Book, where the bright Indian sun, dappled on leaves, grass, and water illuminates everything.

Favreau and his team demonstrate a clear control of pacing, thematic content, and balancing the special effects with emotional weight. The cast's performances are stellar, and their delivery is matched by the animation hand-in-paw. I would argue that Favreau has a bit less understanding, however, of his target audience, if he even has one. Almost the entire movie is an intense action/adventure with no small amount of violence and terror, though perhaps tempered with the fantasy elements of talking animals. But whereas some scenes are, I imagine, quite frightening for children, other scenes feature the animals bursting into their classic songs. Noteworthy is Christopher Walken's King Louie singing "I Wanna Be Like You" in his iconic Queens accent; then again, the accents in this movie were all over the damn globe, so don't let's ruffle our feathers yet. Some critics complain that the musical numbers take them out of the film entirely; they didn't upset me, but they certainly show that Favreau is desperate for a good box office result by pleasing the children in turn.

I suppose, thematically, we could talk about environmental awareness, climate change, the threat of pollution, poaching, and the endangered species list. But there is one thematic element I found most intriguing.

I haven't read Kipling's original stories, but I remember not particularly caring for the 1967 animated film. One small reason I didn't care for that adaptation was that, at the end, Mowgli leaves his family and friends to become a man, following a young girl into the man-village. It's sort of the opposite of Peter Pan. There's a lot to be said for a film that suggests that fantasy isn't reality, and that ultimately we must grow up and away from our anthropomorphic youth. But I like that this time around [SPOILER ALERT], Mowgli stays in the jungle rather than going to the village. The final scene is of Mowgli resting in a tree alongside Bagheera and Baloo, enjoying their company in peace with no indication that anything will change. At first, I thought it was a cheap Disney-fied way of making a happy ending where a child can remain in his fantasy world without coming back to reality. But since the movie presents itself as so explicitly realistic the whole time, I suspect there's more at work here. I suspect the ending is a celebration that, in spite of being told time and again by the jungle animals that he is a man and must return to the world of humans, Mowgli declares himself autonomous. Not Shere Khan, not the humans down below, not even Bagheera, but Mowgli alone decides his own identity, independent of labels. He chooses to believe the wolves are his family, the panther and bear his friends, and his life will be lived in their company, in the environment he has always known.

P.S. Don't rush out of the auditorium. The first part of the credits are framed by an animated pop-up book reminiscent of classic Disney films as Walken reprises his song. After that number, another song -- this one not sung during the film itself -- begins to play, featuring Scarlett Johansson's silky voice as Kaa the python. In this film, Kaa is a hungrier, more villainous incarnation than in some adaptations, and her song ("Trust in Me") is sung as a haunting lullaby (not unlike Lana Del Ray's "Once Upon a Dream" in Maleficent). It's a strange way to end a Disney film, but well worth a listen.

IMDb: The Jungle Book

Peter Pan Live! (2014)

Score: 3 / 5

I'm not going to deny that Peter Pan is one of my weak spots as a result of its vibrant feel-good energy. It's got rousing, youthful numbers, a sometimes overwhelming bent toward wonder and awe, clever lyrics and sharp, campy wit, and even a few sweet moments that pull at your heart. But NBC's latest televised broadcast of an iconic musical was not all romp and joy; while it avoided some of the major pitfalls of last year's Sound of Music, this production featured some exceptional high points as well as serious problem-spots. Before we start: I will not be comparing this to other productions in the past, so don't expect that. Cathy Rigby's production is, for me, utterly perfect. Oh, and a lot of people are complaining that the acting in this show isn't very convincing, but just so you know, the point of Peter Pan is that it is fantastic and even farcical, so nuance isn't really called for. Stop bellyaching. Okay, let's go.

Starting with the cast. Allison Williams looked to be a very convincing, handsome fairy-boy, but even her bleach-white teeth couldn't entirely mask her shortcomings in musical theatre. Apparently unable to hold a note for much time, and performing almost no dancing (I thought she was playing an energetic boy?), Williams failed to steal my heart as cleanly as she did the wide-eyed and disturbingly desperate Wendy Darling (Taylor Louderman). I was especially disappointed that her woeful accent faltered more often than the slow (and very visible) wires used to carry her overhead, and her crow was just laughable.

Christopher Walken, on the other hand, rocked as Captain Hook, though part of his success was purely a result of his casting. Nuanced and campy, Walken also at times appeared to forget (or not care) that he was being broadcast, like when he opened his mouth to hold an obviously dubbed long note about four beats after it had already started. He charmed with his tapdancing prowess, and even when he broke character to speak lines in his typical Queens-ish accent. Besides his Chola eyebrows and monstrous beauty mark, Walken's costume and mannerisms made Hook at times seem to be an aged, bitter drag queen, a decision I would applaud if it were intentional.

I was very happy to see Kelli O'Hara and Minnie Driver pop in for some bonus star power. O'Hara nailed her stuff, no surprise there, and Driver pushed some waterworks in her roughly three minutes on stage/screen. The rest of the cast felt skilled and energetic, notably the dancing ensembles of pirates, lost boys, and natives. Christian Borle especially stole my attention in his dual role as Smee and Mr Darling. I have to say, though, that the design of the natives and the lost boys didn't work so well. Though the natives arguably were dressed in more authentic garb (that is, bare skin), their paint was just weird, and the costumes had some funky turquoise colors that fit well with the set, for better or worse. And the lost boys looked like almost-neon last-century German schoolchildren, complete with fetishized twinkiness. Sorry, but it happened.

Two elements of this production struck me as shockingly excellent. First, the psychedelic sets were huge and radiant, feeling like the other recently realized fantasy realms of Oz or Wonderland. I don't think the lights always played off it the best, and the camerawork could have been better at times (we rather missed Hook's attack on Peter, which made the latter's forced "To die will be an awfully big adventure" fall flat, and then Tiger Lily popped up like a mile away in what looked more like a prayer than a rescue attempt), but the set itself was gorgeous. Second, the changes to lyrics and dialogue made me very happy. Mrs Darling's added lullaby at the beginning made "Distant Melody" much more powerful later (and though I wanted more Kelli O'Hara, I was sad that Peter did not sing the duet with Wendy). Hook's tapdancing number and Peter's sung memory of running away also shone.

But a few new moments didn't work as well. My first disappointment was that Tink wasn't a real light on stage, but that's just my little stubborn preference. Hook's plot to bomb the island and thus break Peter's heart just sort of disappears without explanation. Why include the threat if you're not going to follow through? Chekhov's Gun, yo! We could have at least had Hook use the bomb at the last minute, as a final damning threat against the lot of lost boys (Cathy Rigby's production did this, and they didn't even go through the charade of painting red Xes all over Neverland). Oh, and the little addition of Wendy and Peter finding the "dozing" maid in the closet who appears dead. That was a thing. And nobody knows why.

Before we're done, we have to address the white elephant here. Or at least the white. Because the "Indians" have always been the most controversial part of Peter Pan in any of its incarnations. Disney perhaps depicted the most racist stereotypes (reducing a skin color to a tale of a man blushing from a woman's kiss while pointedly coloring the natives' skin tomato-red), but they have been present in the stage musical, too. "Ugg-a-Wugg" may be the show's most rousing number, but it is also not-so-subtly telling us that Native American languages are made up of absurd vocal patterns and children's rhymes (not to mention that the lyrics call Tiger Lily a "brave noble redskin"). Besides this positive change, though, it seemed like NBC employed a little overkill in racial diversity by casting an ethnically mixed group of Natives, which is totally fine, until you notice the almost ubiquitous whiteness of the rest of the cast, especially the lost boys.

I applaud the effort to change this to reclaim adulterated and mocked cultural territory. I also don't entirely know that this production was the only step to that end. It's tricky stuff, because while I would love to see an authentic Native presence on stage, I don't know that it can be in any Peter Pan adaptation because J.M. Barrie's own writings were deeply racist. Wow, that went around a rabbit trail. Point Being: This production was blessedly less offensive, so there's that.

IMDb: Peter Pan Live!

The Stepford Wives (2004)

Score: 4 / 5

Almost everyone hates this film -- even people who were a part of it -- and frankly I don't understand why. The "Stepford wife" has become a cultural reference point in part because of its many manifestations over the last forty years, and this film is a brave, intelligent addition to their ranks. Does it have its problems? Yes, and arguably more than enough. But I think the critical failure of this film boils down to problems with the critics, not the film.

Ira Levin's (author of Rosemary's Baby and Deathtrap) 1972 novel, a satirical thriller about gender norms in marital relationships, was famously adapted into a 1975 sci-fi thriller film directed by Brian Forbes. There have been at least three unsuccessful attempts at sequels, but the concept has rooted in our minds, sometimes leading us to accuse men of creating their own Stepford wives (I remember hearing Katie Holmes called one during her time with Tom Cruise). The story has been battled out among audiences as being either hopelessly misogynist or subversively feminist with no clear consensus, though I've only ever thought of it as a feminist effort. A big part of the "thrilling" element of the novel and first film is that it reveals to us the dangerous imbalance of gender power and the historically oppressive control of men especially in the institution of marriage. When we see our own norms exaggerated and taken to their extreme limits, we see the dangers of our own behavior, and it scares the hell out of us.

Frank Oz's 2004 remake of the film takes a very different tone from previous adaptations as well as the source material. Screenwriter Paul Rudnick injects a fierce humor into the dialogue that both heightens and trivializes the proceedings; that's not something we see in many films, especially not successfully. Oz parallels Rudnick's incredible two-tone aesthetic in striking visual fashion, moving the 70s housewife trope into a futuristic yet traditional setting. His eye for lurid colors and rigid patterns creates a hypnotic effect, concurrently enchanting and disturbing our expectations of wealthy suburbia. Finally, the actors -- including Nicole Kidman, Matthew Broderick, Bette Midler, Roger Bart, Christopher Walken, and Glenn Close -- provide the glue that pulls these complicated paradoxical stylizations together: Camp. Their performances are so wildly ostentatious that they become grotesques in Oz's world of symbols and sensations.

Part of the problem in discussing this film is that it fuses genres, and I've noticed that that seems to negatively affect some critics. In this case, our expectations for another thriller film are cast off because of the humor, our expectations for camp are conflicted because of the layered social commentary, and our expectations for comedy are darkened by the unsettling nature of the tale. That, and camp has always been hit-or-miss with critics (and artists). Some "get it," some don't. And our camp sensibility has changed, from Bride of Frankenstein (1935) to Burlesque (2010); some people (both audiences and artists) view camp as disturbing and edgy, others as funny and carefree. But camp isn't the same down the line, and style is a difficult thing for most critics to, well, criticize, because of its individual and intimate nature. The camp in this film feels funny most of the time, but I find it disturbing because, like Ira Levin's vision of Stepford, the bright facades mask a dark secret.

Besides the main conflict of feminist vs. misogynist in critical appraisals of the film, even secondary elements aren't black and white (or yellow and pink, to fit the palette). Bette Midler plays a "normal" woman, working as a writer, with frizzy hair, glasses, dark clothes, big teeth, and meat on her bones; she challenges her husband and her mothering duties at every turn while living a life drastically apart from the neighborhood. Her feminist energy, however, is ultimately turned into hyper-feminine, submissive trope of domesticity. Roger Bart plays the (original to this film) urban gay partner of a Stepford resident, and their relationship is painted as stereotypically as most: Bart is flamboyant and feminine while his partner is masculine and distant. But that trope becomes complicated when, after he becomes a Stepford "wife", he runs for a Republican political office; even after he is returned to normal, he declares himself an Independent. Whatever our opinions of these character developments, one thing is strikingly clear about this film: Nothing is what it seems, and no norm depicted in the film is left undisturbed. Even the comedy/thriller genre ambiguity is significant in this way; I would argue that this film is more effective, then, than the 1975 straight thriller.

One of my favorite elements of the film is the simple fact that, for all its commentary on varied facets of life, it doesn't really say anything definitive about them. This film is not propaganda. It has no definite moral, no lessons to impart. It does, however, aggressively open doors to all kinds of conversation. Whether we want to talk about interior design or whitewashed casts, the morality of insanity or marital power struggles, this film presents us with complicated, layered material that just begs for discussion. It pushes boundaries, subverts its own images, characters, and plot devices, and challenges us to think. In fact, maybe it does teach us a lesson: Whatever happens, think independently, lest we all become Stepford wives.

IMDb: The Stepford Wives

Jersey Boys (2014)

Score: 4 / 5

Before we start, I should admit to being a fan of musicals. And the stage production of Jersey Boys. And The Four Seasons, more so than other similar groups. My bias has now been accounted for.

I went to see Clint Eastwood's musical directorial debut last week with a lot of anticipation and no small amount of apprehension. Though I generally like his work, the excessive praise it often receives considerably dampens my own response. (I still fight down a growl remembering that Million Dollar Baby won the Best Picture Oscar over The Aviator in 2004.) John Lloyd Young's presence as Frankie Valli in the film, however, encouraged me, as he had originated the role on Broadway.

The film is most certainly not a typical exercise in musical cinema. It has surprisingly little glamour or glitter, and it doesn't have that moment of a star being born before your eyes. This story is not Glee. It's not even Dreamgirls (2006).

Eastwood expertly guides the film away from many genre clichés by simplifying the color palette, restricting the camerawork, and focusing on performances, costumes, and hair and makeup. His passion for telling these characters' story is so apparent in the intimacy and compassion with which he presents them to us. He even keeps Tommy's narrations (retained from the stage production) casual and informative; while some may see his breaking through the fourth wall as contrived, I don't see a better way to implicate the audience while simultaneously providing the necessary information and character development. Eastwood's vision for the story wouldn't allow voice-overs, and any extra scenes that might "show" instead of "tell" would be horribly confusing in any director's hands.

I found myself surprised that Eastwood took his time with this picture. Each shot feels slightly slowed down, and the dialogue isn't exactly racing. But the final product is a beautiful love-letter to a specific time period, musical style, and group of people. Muted colors and relaxed pacing elicit a strong sense of nostalgia that showbiz fabulousness would have sacrificed. Without spoiling anything, though, don't think this film is a stick in the mud -- the finale has plenty of fun and feels to pluck you up in the last minutes!

That's not to say there's no tension: above the constant threat of Mob violence and upon the brink of financial ruin, our four heroes struggle to achieve their dreams. Though their dreams are slightly different, they attempt to live in the harmonies they create. Reconciling domestic life, finances, and egos, however, prove to be overwhelming. Besides strong performances from the four singers, Christopher Walken provides a much-needed sense of experience to the young cast and bolsters the emerging themes of honor and brotherhood.

There's a lot of heart in this film -- so much that I found myself surprised and teary-eyed several times. In the absence of glitzy theatrical spectacle, allow yourself to appreciate the excellent hair, costuming, and makeup. Allow the performances to teach you something about brotherhood, passion, and chasing your dreams. Most importantly, allow yourself to tap your foot and fall in love with the beautiful music all over again. You'll be glad you did.

IMDb: Jersey Boys