The Good Liar (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm not quite sure how to talk about this movie without spoiling things, but then again, given the title and marketing, surely everyone knows what to expect. Ian McKellan and Helen Mirren play Roy and Betty, respectively, two single people of a certain age who meet online and arrange a dinner date together. Despite a little awkwardness -- they each used false names online -- they appear to hit it off well. Betty isn't quite ready for intimacy, having lost her husband the previous year, but the two become quasi-romantic companions. So much so, in fact, that when Roy's knee gives out on him one night, Betty instantly insists that he stay the night in her guest room.

Of course, we're well aware at this point that they are both liars. The excellent opening sequence shows them doing the opposite of what their online profiles describe, and more importantly, we've seen Roy in action. Roy, you see, is a con man, and with his partner they enact various means to swindle others out of money. It would seem his specialty is vulnerable women like Betty, who he plans to woo until she lets him into a joint bank account with her savings. All seems to go according to plan with Roy and his partner (played by Jim Carter) until Betty's grandson Steven (Russell Tovey, who should really be in more movies) gets suspicious.

I can't say too much more about the plot, because even these twists are deliciously executed by The Good Liar. The greatest pleasure of the film is watching its two leads -- who have never starred on screen together -- play a seductive cat-and-mouse game together. But the film has its other charms. It seems to take its aesthetic from Hitchcock at his best, which results in a fabulously stylish if largely bloodless thriller. We're drawn into a magnificently textured and detailed world, where every little prop and piece of clothing is carefully selected for maximum effect; we, like the characters, are drawn into a web of deceit so calculated we don't really know it until too late.

That may not be wholly fair. Jeffrey Hatcher's screenplay has its strong points, of course, but we do see some of the larger twists coming a mile off. This kind of story requires an airtight plot, but we don't get that here. Instead, by the second act, the film tries to smooth everything over with sentiment, which is itself unexpected. We can't expect the motives or rationale, and frankly, in an expository sequence that feels like it came from a completely different movie, I'm not sure The Good Liar earns its own attempt at Big Ideas and Significance. It takes traumatic history and exploits it for crude and unnecessary dramatic purposes.

And yet, by the explosive climax, I could have forgiven this film anything. Surprisingly violent, emotionally and physically, it's one of the most shocking things I've seen on screen all year. Director Bill Condon has lured us into a false sense of security and comfort -- with the exception of another brilliantly staged scene of violence earlier in Charing Cross station -- and finally pulls out the rug at the last. While the film as a whole is clearly inspired by Hitchcock, it manages the uncanny feat of performing itself like something Hitchcock might have created, and shows us yet another skill set of the dynamic and versatile Bill Condon.

All is True (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

For all Kenneth Branagh's cinematic achievements -- feel as we may about them -- All is True is far and wide the most impressive to me. As director, here he exhibits the closest he has come to an arthouse film, and its understated but passionate sincerity is the most controlled and restrained he has ever been. I admire him for that, and of course for bringing Judi Dench and Ian McKellan along for the ride.

After the Globe burns to the ground, William Shakespeare (Branagh) leaves the London theatrical scene and returns to his home in Stratford-upon-Avon. Memories of his career haunt him as he attempts to reconnect with his family, his wife Anne Hathaway (Judi Dench) and daughter he had all but estranged years prior. He actively mourns the death of his son Hamnet some twenty years previously, a death his family has processed and moved on from. Though he may claim to desire uniting his family, his obsession with death and his depression over arrogance and genius wasted serve more to tear what filial connections he has asunder.

True or not is the sort of winking charm of this film. The oft-repeated titular phrase seems to genuinely want the plot here to ring true, though almost nothing is known or even suspected of the Bard's retirement. Rather the film strings together what amounts to fanfiction of the highest order,  combining melodrama and costume drama and some nice meditations on Shakespeare's work. Case in point: an unbelievably delicious scene in which the aging Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton (Ian McKellan), pays his friend and idol a visit, and the two sit before a fire musing on the value of the latter's sonnets, which they make clear were written about Wriothesley. While they do not speak of that love that dare not speak its name, the subtext is only too clear and heartbreaking.

It's all great fun for any Shakespeare fan or English major, but I can't imagine it's terribly accessible (much less entertaining) for anyone else. There are lots of tidbits of interest, especially for those of us highly suspect of the popular conception of Shakespeare's supposed life, but the film is generally a sweet and melancholy view of the artist as an old man piecing together the ruins of his life. The breakout performance belongs not to Branagh, though, fascinating as he may look under the heavy makeup, but rather to the actor playing his daughter, Kathryn Wilder. Ultimately, even with her powerhouse performance under the titans sharing her screen time, the film is the kind of thing I would pair with Roland Emmerich's magnificent Anonymous in class I'd teach on Shakespeare. A lot of fun, terribly interesting, gorgeous to behold, and fabulously conspiratorial.

Beauty and the Beast (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

It's everything you could want it to be, piled with even more on top. While some will no doubt question and criticize an almost shot-for-shot remake of a beloved classic, this new vision overcomes any and all pitfalls along its way with style and splendor to spare. In an age of remakes that don't always work (think of the abysmal Cinderella in 2015) and re-imaginings that only occasionally do (Pete's Dragon, as opposed to Maleficent), it is certainly a risk to be aiming for the Golden Era of Disney musicals. With the likes of Aladdin and The Little Mermaid coming soon from the studio, one can only hope that Disney is up for the challenge. But if this film was any indication, we're in for a new golden age.

Taking up the torch of other fabulous remakes, Beauty and the Beast does everything right. Like the 1996 101 Dalmatians, it expands the story just enough to round out the characters, fill in plot holes, and address a new audience. Here we get a bit more of Belle's melancholy backstory, and while it doesn't seem quite necessary, it helps us understand the new dynamic between Belle and Maurice, played to perfection here by Kevin Kline. Maurice's sentimental vocation consists of making music boxes while Belle is now the inventor. This film slyly patches up shady holes from the cartoon such as its dubious timeline and the nature of the enchantress's magic. Not much is done to address the Stockholm syndrome or bestiality inherent in the story, but then again, why would it? That's the fun stuff. And while the marketing of this film was deeply flawed regarding its "gay agenda", let me assure you: there is no difference between this film and the cartoon in terms of LeFou. He was a simpering sycophant then and he is again here; representation of gay characters may be important, but so is good representation, and a flamboyant minion of the big baddie whose unrequited affections earn him physical punishment and emotional distress is not good representation. That said, the character does fare better than in the original, and here he is shown to break from Gaston during the climax to help the castle's inhabitants in repelling the violent townsfolk. And while the character is no more gay here than he was 26 years ago, we do see him dancing briefly with another man during the finale. Kind of like what happened at the end of Mamma Mia!, except without Colin Firth taking his shirt off.

It also, like last year's The Jungle Book, stays almost painfully true to the original -- down to exact musical numbers and bits of dialogue -- so that its state-of-the-art special effects and live-action visuals enchant us anew. "Necessity" be damned; I'd happily watch an exact replica of a classic cartoon done in live action any day, because animation doesn't always do it for me. It's just preference, so stop your bellyaching purist crap. There is so much detail carved into every single frame of the film that you'll never be able to catch everything. Richly detailed sets (production designer Sarah Greenwood also worked in Atonement, Anna Karenina, and the recent Sherlock Holmes films) and costumes (Jacqueline Durran, with similar credits) fashion a tangible tapestry with more style than you can appreciate. Realistic CGI mesmerizes you into believing in magic, and if that sounds paradoxical, it's just a testament to the colossal achievement of these filmmakers.

Other technical elements might deserve more praise than I can give, but lastly I'll mention the music. Hearing these beloved songs re-orchestrated is a magic on its own. We hear little countermelodies and darker edges to familiar tunes that make them seem fresh, as though we're hearing them for the first time. Alan Menken wrote some new music for the film with Tim Rice, and the songs fit in perfectly. They will also be new favorites. Of course, they gave one to Kevin Kline to sing that will tug at your heartstrings (and stick around for the credits, because Celine Dion sings it again, much like she did the title track for the original). They also gave a new one to the household staff, and while it's no "Human Again", it's a similar idea and no less lovely. The best, however, is saved for Dan Stevens (of Downton Abbey fame), who belts out the transcendent "Evermore" as he climbs the castle, watching Belle ride off to save her father. It's a brutal yank at your heartstrings that, I promise, will leave you feeling things.

Thankfully, as you might have gathered, Bill Condon shows that he knows how to use his fabulous ensemble cast to the best of their varied abilities. It's not easy to do, but here he finds the perfect moments to highlight everyone at their most fabulous. Luke Evans shows off his impressive singing chops while Josh Gad does his comedic thing, and the two share some great scenes together. Even better, the animated castle staff all have their places firmly staked out, and whether they're animated or not, all perform admirably. Keep your ears open for Ian McKellan, Stanley Tucci, Gugu Mbatha-raw, and the incomparable Audra McDonald. I was a bit put off by Ewan McGregor's Lumiere (mostly because who is Lumiere but a Maurice Chevalier wannabe?), but it didn't take long for him to grow on me too.

But the greatest success of Beauty and the Beast is its unequivocal sense of Joy. It's pure and intoxicating from the first rapturous musical number. A furious cascade of song and dance, style and substance, color and light, the film flies through its two-hour running time with ease, puking its happiness out of the screen and into your heart. It's not a sensation we feel often in movies these days. But, then, don't we want more than this provincial life? It's here to say, "Bonjour!"

IMDb: Beauty and the Beast

Mr. Holmes (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

When the lights first came up during the ending credits, I confess myself to have been disappointed. I've been spoiled by the several incarnations of our favorite sleuth in recent film and television, and frankly I enjoy those versions' speed, wit, and energy. I knew this film would have little, if any, of that, but I was still a little fidgety in the auditorium as I watched the old man slowly crossing the screen before me.

But the film has not left my mind since I saw it, and I realize now that it might be the most fascinating movie I've seen all summer. Screenwriter Jeffrey Hatcher (and original author Mitch Cullin) and director Bill Condon (Gods and Monsters, Dreamgirls, The Fifth Estate) have done something remarkable with the character of Sherlock Holmes and his world. They have made it understated. In fact, everything in the film is so marvelously nuanced and calm that it's quite easy to miss the calculated beauty and intrigue. And, as I continue to reflect on the work, that is precisely what makes the film so memorable.

And, of course, Ian McKellan is astonishing as an old man fighting to regain his memory and solve his last case. But for all of us who love Holmes will attest, "the case" isn't really his only intellectual pursuit. This film weaves together three completely different cases, all centering on Holmes: These are not cases that he is simply solving, but rather cases in which he himself is complicit. One concerns his last professional case, involving a mysterious woman who has lost her children. One involves a Japanese man who harbors a secret animosity toward the man he believes stole his father away. And one involves Holmes's housekeeper, who is displeased with her situation, and her son, who develops an intimate friendship with the old man.

McKellan is carried back and forth in time and place by our filmmakers, and he carries the weight (and makeup) of it admirably. His eyes, often staring into space to search for something beyond our comprehension, show the sadness, the perception, the love, and, as he himself declares, the regret in his life. He seems to effortlessly play the part of a dying old man, and yet his vigor and passion shines brightest when he shares scenes with the young boy (Milo Parker) who lives with him. The two are matches for each other in curiosity and excitement, and seeing the care with which they treat each other pulls at your heartstrings like you won't believe.

There are certainly other jewels in the cast -- notably with Laura Linney and Frances de la Tour -- but none have enough screen time to capture our attention. Rather, we follow Holmes as he navigates his own foggy memories and see how they hamper his daily activities. We see flashbacks in the way he himself might, with images that fly across the screen that don't make sense until much later in the picture. When, about three-quarters of the way through the film, Holmes remembers/solves one of his cases, I thought for sure the rest of the film would be a melodramatic descent into tragedy as we saw the now "successful" detective lose his mind entirely.

Instead, the last quarter of the film digs still deeper into his character. He shares his regrets and his frustrations, and he articulately reveals the one problem that forever eluded him. We also see how he has been attempting to solve that problem with his housekeeper and her son, and we ultimately see him grapple with it until he gains victory. I could have never seen this movie's climax coming. More important, I don't think Mr. Holmes could have. But Condon puts together all the pieces of this immense puzzle into such an elaborate pattern that it will take me several viewings to appreciate all the subtleties in this picture.

And, happily, this movie ends with an uplifting sensation that reduced me to a blubbering mess. I mean, how many films about old people -- especially old heroes -- end with anything but death or, maybe worse, loss of self (I'm thinking of The Iron Lady, and how it ends with a haunting look at isolation and a retrograde situation)? But this is a celebration of sorts of life, curiosity, caring for others, and coping with a haunted past.

If you like mindless blockbuster entertainment, you may want to pass this one up. Mr. Holmes is anything but elementary.

IMDb: Mr. Holmes

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)

Score: 5 / 5

Well, there it is. It's all over. Now, if I can get some of these feels out of my system, we've got a film to analyze. If you haven't seen it yet, I don't recommend that you read any further, because I don't filter myself. Unless you're like me and don't mind spoilers. In that case, let's push on!

My primary problem with The Desolation of Smaug, you may recall, dealt with its dizzying cinematography, its reliance upon computer-generated effects, and its occasionally sloppy editing. I have many of the same issues with this film, but I think because this one is shorter and concerns an outlandish battle as its premise, these elements were more palatable. Indeed, the more I watch Desolation (the Extended Edition, naturally) the more I like it because its added scenes round out the kinetic and sometimes disjointed editing. I expect the same from the Battle of the Five Armies Extended Edition: The theatrical release features distinct moments that feel chopped and poorly strung together, most of which take place in the first hour or so. The incredible effects here are not quite so overwhelming as they were in either of the previous films for me, and I think that's largely due to two factors. First, the drama in this film is much darker than before, and Jackson wisely keeps the drama in all the action shots; rather than silly animation or spectacle for the sake of spectacle, he finally nails a balanced combination of drama and spectacle for the first time in this trilogy. And second, the colors of this film match its tone: Darker and austere, this picture (though still dazzling) rivals some of the more monochromatic visuals of The Two Towers or The Return of the King, and thus the effects feel more comfortable in their environment.

I don't want to spend much time repeating my earlier claims, because most apply to this film as well as the previous two (so go read those posts!). The only new notable member of the cast is Billy Connolly as Dain Ironfoot, and his performance is what it is (more comic relief than heroic entrance). Richard Armitage does some nice work on Thorin, Lee Pace rocks as Thranduil, and Orlando Bloom steals the whole movie as a swashbuckling Legolas. Martin Freeman takes a graceful step back to let the Big Events of this wide world take command of his trilogy, and in doing so he subtly nuances his performance with some of his best moments in the series. A few of the dwarves shine in this, notably Ken Stott (Balin) and Aidan Turner (Kili), and of course Luke Evans (Bard) nails it yet again.

Okay, on to the meaty parts. The film starts with a bit of a messy bang, with no introduction other than a long shot of Lake Town under Erebor's silhouette. Suddenly an inferno breaks out and Peter Jackson starts flexing his muscles for the upcoming climax: Jackson shows twice in this movie his tried-and-true skill for directing utter chaos. Just as I was getting worried that we weren't going to hear Benedict Cumberbatch's bone-chillingly erotic Smaug voice, Bard and the dragon face off in a brief and effective climax that might have belonged in the previous film. A year ago I liked the cliffhanger ending. Having seen the surprisingly short beginning of this film, I wonder if Jackson made the right choice.

That said, the buildup to the Big Battle is comparatively slow and talky, so maybe a fiery start was in fact the right decision. Of course, "slow and talky" for The Hobbit isn't really what it means for your average movie. Jackson moves quite efficiently between elf, dwarf, human, and orc camps to explain the various dynamics of the forthcoming conflict. Legolas and Tauriel go on a little excursion to scout the enemy's army while Thranduil and Bard attempt to negotiate with the increasingly crazed Thorin. Bilbo's brave decision to surrender the Arkenstone to the elves and humans, along with Gandalf's timely arrival, amp up the stakes just in time for the wild climax, which lasts for almost half the movie.

Jackson pulls some really fresh tricks in this installment (which says a lot after the recycled bits of Desolation), besides his typically astounding and excessive special effects. The dramatic lull of the post-inferno pre-battle narrative is juxtaposed with some funky scenes featuring the White Council in Dol Guldur. Happily, we get to see Hugo Weaving and Christopher Lee kicking some major butt, and Cate Blanchett looking possessed and kicking even bigger butt. But the sequence is a little rushed, a problem I suspect will be addressed in the Extended Edition; the editing is just too strange for me to accept as is. The sequence has some really trippy visuals, and I'm not sure I know what's happening half the time, but I guess it looks cool? That said, the scene did get me to back off my soapbox about the whole dead-Ringwraith thing, so I suppose Good call there, Jackson.

But his tricks don't stop there. We see some other creepy, almost psychedelic moments scattered in the picture that I bought simply because they weren't as bizarre as the Dol Guldur stuff. Thorin's "dragon sickness" causes him to have a freaky hallucination of being swallowed in his own gold, and as he rants and raves Bilbo hears the voice of Smaug coming from Thorin's mouth. And of course there's some amazing moments in the battle itself, besides the sheer scope of its visuals. Jackson takes liberties in buttressing the orc armies with trolls, bats, and were-worms (a creature Tolkien vaguely mentioned in canon), but they all make for a battle in which we feel truly anything could happen; and it does, as we even see a man turning into a bear as he falls from the sky. The turning point of the battle occurs as Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo engage Azog, Bolg, and their captains atop a high overlook. Legolas and Tauriel soon join the fray, and the battle amidst the snow is a spectacle beyond my wildest imaginings. After Thorin has defeated Azog (come on, that's not a spoiler, did you think this was going to end any other way?), we see the pale orc floating beneath the ice and his blood spilling out under a frozen waterfall. It's really breathtaking stuff.

A few elements of the film don't work so well. Alfrid lingers on after the Master's abrupt demise, and his supposed-to-be-funny bits just get annoying after a while. A few minor plot holes kept me from giving my whole heart to the film, and though Howard Shore's score is still lovely, the constantly repeated themes of music became contrived and predictable. But all these weird pieces of the puzzle melted away, for me, when I began to sense Jackson's heart in this movie. A lot of tender moments felt like throwbacks to The Lord of the Rings, complete with greater emotional resonance than anything in Journey or Desolation. In fact, I suspect that if this series were watched in order -- from An Unexpected Journey up through The Return of the King -- then this movie would bridge the gap perfectly in terms of aesthetic and tone, as it darkens the fantasy of Hobbit and leads right in to the emotional powerhouse of Rings.

Well played, Peter Jackson. And thank you.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

IMDb: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

Score: 4 / 5

We're going to dive right in, so if you haven't read my review of An Unexpected Journey (2012), I recommend that you do. This review is for the theatrical release of The Desolation of Smaug; if the extended edition improves my opinion, as I truly think it may, I will add to this post accordingly. Also, I'll say here that I love the movie, and am so thankful that Peter Jackson has continued his venture into Middle-earth. That said, let's dig a little deeper.

Starting with the positives: The acting in this film is just about as solid as the previous one. But what really works here is that we don't have to slog through introductions and basic character development, because we already know these guys (sorry, but there's only one woman here). Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage take off on a dramatic marathon from the opening scene, and don't let up until about five seconds after the final blackout (if you're not holding your breath when Bilbo delivers his last line, you're doing it wrong). Each proves to be heavyweight champions of the film because they allow for greater gravitas and desperation, far more than their lighter-hearted performances in Journey. The other dwarves don't matter as much; their sparkling individuality from the first film is glossed over into a largely ambiguous chorus. I don't think it's a bad change, either; their performances are all decent (even those who don't speak in this one), and with the introduction of new characters, time simply could not be spared. Ian McKellan is of course in splendid form as Gandalf, but his role is unfortunately clipped and laden with superfluity and spectacle; more on that later.

Now for the newcomers, all of whom are exciting and welcome additions to the franchise. Luke Evans steals the show as Bard (the Bargeman, not Bowman? Okay, P Jackson, I see you), the rugged and dangerous man who reminds us perhaps a bit too much of Aragorn. Evans skillfully navigates the waters of rebellious indignation while maintaining his role as sympathetic father, and promises great things for his forthcoming redemption. Similarly outstanding is the ethereal Lee Pace as Thranduil, the Elf-King, whose movement and voice work is chillingly elegant, and whose anger boils under an icy surface with palpable heat. Orlando Bloom happily returns as a more dangerous Legolas, though his fraught love life seems both contrived and disjointed (obviously not Bloom's fault). Evangline Lilly plays his love interest, the Elf Tauriel, in a very welcome if unfortunately tacky female presence. And, finally, Benedict Cumberbatch beautifully voices the titular diabolic dragon with such beauty and power that the voice could be vibrating up from the earth itself.

Besides the acting, two elements of the film work exceptionally well. First is the typically beautiful score by Howard Shore. Second is the breathtaking Lake Town. The inspired design and architecture, overlaid with a fresh color scheme and stunning set decoration, steals the entire film. Watery and cold, sturdy and rustic, the set provides atmosphere out the wazoo and gives a sharp and gritty edge to the middle episode of this Hobbit trilogy. Also in its favor, a greasy Stephen Fry hops into the film for a delightfully wicked turn as the slippery Master of Lake Town.

But little else in the film pays off like it should. The whole product feels disjointed and unfocused. Spinningly fluid camerawork speeds over moments that could be lovely and forces empty spectacle on otherwise dramatically taut visuals (as we see in the eaves of Mirkwood, near the Ringwraith tombs, and all over Dol Guldur). The atmosphere and background artwork of these scenes is brilliant, but the camerawork sacrifices drama for spectacle. Used selectively, this type of photography could work. But almost every shot in the movie is kinetic, and at such speed or angles that the action becomes confused and the drama insubstantial. And some visuals are so overwrought with special effects that they lose focus and tangibility. Special effects should be special, buttressing the visuals rather than commanding them for two and a half hours.

Don't get me wrong, the film is visually stunning. But I'm using this film as a sort of example to express my fear that this is the direction of all fantasy or adventure franchises (I was concerned with Maleficent in the same way). I worry that we will soon be in over our heads with films featuring top-heavy action without drama, special effects for disconnected spectacle, and extravagant visuals that are ultimately nothing much to look at. Elaborate design only works if it supports the art's substance.

An equally problematic element is Desolation's surprisingly lazy script. At least three lines are directly stolen from LotR. Tauriel's use of athelas mirrors Arwen's in Fellowship (2001), and the Master's henchman Alfrid (though potentially a memorable creation) has a woefully similar design to Wormtongue in Two Towers (2002). We know Jackson's team has incredible creative talents, so why is he resigning himself to familiar patterns? Some have argued that these elements tie Hobbit and LotR together; I contend that with only six films, the filmmakers should focus on expanding their universe and covering as much ground as possible artistically as dramatically, rather than reinforcing vague patterns that ultimately mean nothing to the plot of the films or the themes of Tolkien's works. The source material, cast, and crew are consistent between the trilogies, and that is more than enough to bridge the gap.

The script also features severe pacing problems, which surprised me because Jackson has proven time and again his brilliant control over pacing lengthy films. After an atmospheric, talky prologue (a risky and arguably successful move), the film flies at breakneck speed -- sadly skimming the surface of the rich Beorn episode and reducing the adventures in Mirkwood to a mere fraction -- to the halls of the Mirkwood elves, where it screeches to a halt. There it assumes acceptable dramatic pace, maintained until the dwarves enter the Lonely Mountain. Meanwhile, Gandalf's independent ventures are forcibly spliced in in brief and irregular increments. His scenes are so fast, heavy with special effects, and whirling visuals ad nauseam that they feel part of another movie entirely. Finally, let me say that while the romantic weirdness between Tauriel, Legolas, and Kili the dwarf is interesting, it also feels hopelessly contrived and poorly executed. But I'll stop there, or we'd be here until the new movie comes out.

Scene study time! To further illustrate the central problem with this movie, let's discuss how the above elements work (poorly) in the climax, when the dwarves finally face Smaug in Erebor. Though Bilbo's initial encounter with Smaug is lovely, Thorin enters to interrupt his escape. We've spent two whole movies fretting about the state of the mountain and the dangerous potency of Smaug, and now the heir to the kingdom just saunters down to check out what the burglar's been doing? This could work, if we attribute his behavior to his obsession with the gold, but it doesn't make any sense that he would enter after the dwarves heard that Smaug was awake. Then, when Smaug spots Thorin and Bilbo, the remaining dwarves just charge in and brandish their weapons. As if they think that will do anything. The whole situation is laughably stupid.

The harried scheme concocted by the dwarves is similarly silly, and the whole final act is poorly executed by the filmmakers. The plot is needlessly complicated, and the editing jerks us from one set of dwarves to another as the different "teams" race around to start fires, move billows, yank levers, swing on chains, and shout obscure things. The dwarves' ludicrous efforts notwithstanding, the writers wanted to make an already complicated sequence more exciting by forcing several Tense Moments when main characters could die: Bilbo leaping off a collapsing platform high in the air, Thorin swinging up and down on a chain above an abyss. And, finally, though Smaug logically seems to focus on Thorin, he easily (and uncharacteristically, in my estimation) gets sidetracked by the other dwarves in their cat-and-mouse game.

I am biased, but for the sake of argument, Tolkien wrote a fitting encounter that works much better logistically and dramatically: Encamped on the slopes of Erebor, the dwarves are attacked by Smaug, who secretly issued from his lair after chatting with Bilbo. Jackson could have expanded that -- as he does so well -- and made it just as dramatic. He could thus have avoided the dizzying spiral shots inside the mountain, the needless designs of complex dwarvish machinery, and the obnoxious special effects of piles of gold coins being tossed about. This also would have simplified the unwelcome plot devices while maintaining (even increasing) the dramatic intensity. Just saying.

That said, the film's ending is fine. Jackson pulls a nice "Smaug the Golden" thing by taking Tolkien's title and making it literal. This translation is infinitely better than Jackson's irritating misinterpretation of Sauron's "Red Eye", but that's a conversation for another time. Splitting up the dwarves was a good idea, methinks, as it promises emotional urgency for the opening of The Battle of the Five Armies (2014); Bard's imprisonment and the orc attack on Lake Town similarly seem brilliant additions to the tale. Leaving everything hanging is a gamble on Jackson's part, and somewhat forced, but I think it works. We'll just have to wait to see if it pays off this December.

IMDb: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

Post-script: Though my reactions to the camerawork and weird editing remain steadfast, the Extended Edition of this film definitely improved my opinion of the picture. And each time I watch it, I like it more. We desperately needed more of Beorn on screen -- partly because he just wasn't shown enough in the theatrical release as a character, partly because we know he'll return in the final film -- and we got it. Hopefully he'll earn his place as a truly awesome character before the Battle of the Five Armies is over, but we'll have to wait and see. The scene of Gandalf introducing the dwarves to him (a fan favorite) not only adds Beorn moments, but allows Ian McKellen some room for acting.

The enchanted stream and white stag in Mirkwood made me happy because the scene made Mirkwood a greater character and threat. The theatrical release skipped right through Mirkwood up to the spiders, making the psychedelic weirdness of the forest only a funky anecdote; here, we see the more specific and shocking realities of Mirkwood's malice. Where The Lord of the Rings relished in its profundity and enigma, The Hobbit seems to want to explain -- or, as I like to say, show and tell -- the subtleties of Middle-earth. The white stag adds a level of mystery to the film that has been missing in the series, but then it also ties Thranduil's elk-motif in with the fauna of Mirkwood.

The (several) added scenes with Thrain are just fabulous. His presence makes Thorin a more interesting character by association for a couple of reasons: His declared title of King Under the Mountain makes more sense to us the more we see his paternal connections (Thror in the previous film, Thrain in this one), and the madness that supposedly runs in his family (brought on by their dwarf-ring) feels less contrived when we see the extent to which it affects his father. The scenes in Dol Guldur add to Gandalf's adventure because Thrain's attack is so unexpected and vicious, and because the implications of Thrain's presence make Dol Guldur more horrifying. Jackson's early days as a horror filmmaker make these sequences shine, much like in Shelob's Lair in Return of the King. I am surprised, I must say, that the theatrical relsease used some of the same footage of Gandalf with Thrain, but simply cut Thrain out. It kind of blows my mind that that would work logistically, but it does.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)

Score: 5 / 5

In preparation for the upcoming final installment of the franchise, I thought we'd take a step back and review the previous two Hobbit films. I am an avid fan of Tolkien, and of Peter Jackson's films, but I won't be comparing the two because comparing film to literature is silly. This review will focus on the first film, and consider it in context of Jackson's other Tolkien adaptations.

Peter Jackson's return to Middle-earth in 2012, almost a decade after The Lord of the Rings, is a surprisingly graceful and beautiful transition. I say transition because this new series is an adaptation of a children's fantasy adventure, and so carries a much different tone than the previous trilogy. Jackson manages the somewhat simple story with elegance and intelligence, encouraging a new audience to look closely at his 48 fps (frames per second; this is twice as fast as the usual film speed) to see the fantastic computer-generated effects in stunning high definition. The action is crisp and clear, almost as if it was really happening inside the screen at that moment. Howard Shore's score is perhaps the one element that most connects Hobbit to LotR, and it is especially noteworthy here.

The screenplay, however, is not dumbed-down into simple or childish fantasy. Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Philippa Boyens have again expertly organized the story into brilliant beats of emotion and excitement, and the dialogue is comical and charming. And yet, for its lighthearted joy, it provides a great framework for emotional weight that will surely be added in the later installments. We sense again profoundly human pathos -- in a world where humans only make up a fraction of the population -- in hauntingly intimate moments like Bilbo's final encounter with Gollum.

The acting is, of course, stellar. The cast creates a flawless ensemble that plays off each other surprisingly well. The thirteen dwarves, perhaps the trickiest roles to play due to their inconsequential ambiguity, are all so specifically detailed and provide such intensely unique performances that by the end of the film, I could identify each by name. Perhaps a little bit more of an introduction to each would have helped the process, but it honestly matters very little in this film. The main one to remember, though, makes sure that you do: Richard Armitage performs the dwarf leader Thorin with power and genius, turning a completely unlikeable character into, arguably, the most important in the story. Martin Freeman (a choice I was originally not thrilled with) proves a solid Bilbo and an unlikely focal point of the film; his choices are inspired. Ian McKellen returns to his Oscar-nominated role as Gandalf and injects it with such strength and energy that he steals the film right away from the ensemble.

The rest of the ensemble are no less impressive than its triumvirate of leads. Sylvester McCoy is McKellen's only rival for thievery, however, in his turn as Radagast, the eccentric wizard of wilderness. His crazed demeanor and frenzied presence on screen is delightful, and proves (beyond the character work of the dwarves) that the filmmakers' creativity has only grown in the years since LotR. Lee Pace pops in at the beginning as the ethereal Elf-King Thranduil, and Barry Humphries' outrageously musical Great Goblin has now become my favorite character in the film.

The scene with the White Council is one of the film's two best. Featuring McKellen, Cate Blanchett, Hugo Weaving, and Christopher Lee (all of whom reprise their roles from LotR) sharing salty banter and Important Thoughts, the scene's actors play perfectly off each other's timing and strengths. This is a brief but memorable actors' workshop, and it provides the film's most dense, heightened dialogue, so pay attention. The best scene of the film, however, goes to the Riddle Game between Bilbo and Gollum (Andy Serkis). Their timing, energy, and ingenuity in performing hilarious and beautiful dialogue is impeccable, and increased by the fact that they are forced to react to each other in a rather small physical area. The scene is a masterclass in filmmaking. Bravo.

Now for the criticisms. The sequence with the stone giants is just annoying. We know you have cool special effects, Jackson, and we know you like to exaggerate brief comments in the source material (remember the staircase in Moria in Fellowship of the Ring? Yeah, Tolkien just said the Fellowship ran down some stairs, and Jackson turned it into a crazy theme park ride), but this is overkill. The effects aren't even as good as others in the film, and the sudden, brief danger only muddies the plot and pacing. Another element that bothers me a bit in the film is that Nori, one of the dwarves, is characterized as a pickpocket. So why do they need a burglar so desperately? It's problematic, and a bit superfluous.

Also, the Ringwraiths. I won't delve too deeply into the problems with this element in Tolkien's text, but the Ringwraiths aren't dead, so how can they be buried and return as spirits? Answer: they can't. Jackson himself portrayed them as very much Un-dead in LotR. "No living man can kill me," the Witch-king says; besides, Jackson showed us what truly dead people look like in Return of the King. They're green, ugly, and #bitter. Jackson either misinterpreted or purposefully wants to go a different direction (presumably to give credence to the Necromancer's title), but he's still inconsistent with his earlier characterization. But if those are my only complaints, I can't deny that this is one damn good movie.

Jackson's ending is the franchise's best yet, followed closely by the ending of The Two Towers. Devastating, inspiring, touching, and spectacular. Moving from a photogenic sunset into a fiery cliffside dusk, and a dawn of breathtaking splendor, the sequence is perfectly paced and promises great things for the next two films. Beautiful.

IMDb: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Post-script: The Extended Edition adds a few lovely touches here and there, but by no means alters the film as much as the LotR extended versions. The dwarves sing a fun, familiar (to Tolkien readers) song in Rivendell, and the Great Goblin sings some more, but mostly the additions are little extended shots here and there in Hobbiton and Rivendell. The White Council's scene is extended a fair amount, though, and the dialogue waxes informative on Thorin's mad family and the state of the Rings of Power. Again, not too "important" for this film, but important for what will come.