Mockingjay: Part One (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Okay, I've never really been on the whole Hunger Games wagon. Don't get me wrong, I like them quite a lot. But the aggressive, vocal fanbase has often put me off. I finally got to read the first two books, and they're fine, and I thoroughly liked the previous two films. This one feels different, though, and I very much enjoyed it. Director Francis Lawrence (I Am Legend, Water for Elephants, Catching Fire) slowly builds up to its climax, which for me is the last, I don't know, ten minutes, and I eagerly anticipate the final film as a result. I'm glad Lawrence is directing both parts of Mockingjay, because it lets me hope that he will balance out a doubtlessly thrilling conclusion to this series.

In case you, like me, were wondering where this franchise was going, be prepared for a surprise. Because suddenly the dystopian world of Panem isn't divided into an evil empire and righteous rebels (yes, I am thinking about Star Wars), but a chaotic, war-torn country with virtues and vices all around. With Mockingjay, we are thrust headfirst into a gray area (and no, I'm not just talking about their jumpsuits) where plans and actions and intentions are all dangerous gambles with dire consequences. This film explores themes of the influential (and misleading) power of media, suggests ideas of guerrilla warfare and terrorism, and the ultimate costs of war. It's a powerful meditation on these things, even more so than The Hunger Games or Catching Fire due to its slower pace.

This film is nowhere near as action-centric as the previous films. Moody and broody, we get a lot of closeups on Katniss to see the effects that war horrors have on her. We see her desolate homeland, her hopeless countrymen, and her tortured love Peeta, but more importantly, we see the effects they have on her. She isn't just the firebrand the rebels want her to be, because she also feels the burn from that flame. I was a little upset, at first, that this film isn't remotely as exciting as Catching Fire, but I think that's because we need a little break to cement and explore our relationships to these characters before letting all hell break loose in the final installment. And that's not to say Mockingjay is without its tense scenes: The Capitol bombs a hospital at one point, and near the end of the film a small team infiltrates the Capitol to rescue Peeta.

I don't think that Jennifer Lawrence quite rocked this performance as she has before, but I also don't think she was given much chance. The Mockingjay Katniss isn't the same one who can own a battle arena. This Katniss is buried -- literally -- in a mine of secrecy, expectations, and fear. She isn't allowed to shine as she would prefer. She can't help Peeta, she can't go home, she can't reconcile the effects of war with the people she loves. Instead, she has to become a figurehead, filmed and protected, and watch as the people around her go to fight or cower under attack. As far as her emotional center and conflicted passions, Lawrence nails it here. But I expect Part Two to bring a dynamic change to her character.

Sadly, we don't get much of the charming and skilled Josh Hutcherson (Peeta) in this one, though his few moments are dramatic highlights. With him, and so horribly briefly, we see Stanley Tucci rocking his fabulous costumes as television host Caesar. We do, however, get to see a bit more of Liam Hemsworth as Katniss's other romantic interest, which is good because up till now he hasn't had much onscreen time, and Sam Claflin supports as fellow victor and rebel Finnick. Natalie Dormer (The Tudors, Game of Thrones) shows up as leader of the film crew, and we see a bit of Woody Harrelson again as a now-sober Haymitch. Elizabeth Banks rocks a jumpsuited Effie with sweet charm, though her time onscreen is also sadly short.

The real stars of this film, however, are the people in power. Donald Sutherland maintains his icy, terrifying hold on President Snow, and Philip Seymour Hoffman returns as ex-Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee with typical intelligence and fervor. But newcomer Julianne Moore gave a weird edge to this movie for me, as the rebel President Coin. She shows strength and smarts in leading the war effort, but something feels wrong to me. Besides her striking visage and crazy eyes, President Coin has cultivated a rigid, militaristic atmosphere among her people. I predict that her true colors have not been entirely shown. At one point, to defend her strategy, she claims "We are not the Capitol," before glancing directly at Katniss and then quickly away. Other characters mention in passing her strict control over rebel life. I wonder if her methods are not so very different from those of her avowed enemy, President Snow. But I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

IMDb: Mockingjay: Part One

Whiplash (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I don't know much about the percussion world, but Whiplash presents us with a cutthroat competition of academic drumming. The movie centers on young Andrew now enrolled at Shaffer Conservatory, supposedly the best music school in the United States. In a coming of age story, Andrew becomes increasingly isolated and obsessive over his ambitions; he longs to be "one of the greats" and allows nothing to interfere, including his new girlfriend, his distant family, and his own physical health.

Miles Teller (Rabbit Hole, The Spectacular Now) plays our protagonist with passion and strength. I don't know if he learned to play the drums like a pro -- a feat that is no small matter, even from my layperson perspective -- but his dramatic performance alone carries the film. His haunted stare and furious perseverance take the movie into a darker side of the "coming of age" narrative, without his becoming an antihero.

The other star of the film is his primary instructor, Fletcher, played by a terrifying J. K. Simmons. Fletcher is a monster, one who seems to have no personality traits other than aggressive violence and sadism. He terrorizes his students with unpredictable cruelty and often unjust punishments. He humiliates students in class, encourages backstabbing and jealousy, and even throws a chair at Andrew's head. He claims to do it all for a good reason -- that he seeks to continually push students to be better, and that "good job" are the most harmful words in the English language -- but his methods are barbaric. Simmons performs as a chameleon, hiding his true self behind a series of false caricatures. We get only brief glimpses into his true self, which vaguely reveal a tortured soul, before he dons another mask. The performance is a marvel.

Whiplash, named for one of its tough musical numbers but having a curious double meaning, is never less than brutal. Its depiction of competitive musical culture is perhaps even more compelling than any number of action-oriented "sports" movies, likely because it is so unexpected. This isn't Glee or even Stomp. Its focus on artistic and educational atmospheres make it feel more like Dead Poets Society -- but with a bad teacher, rather than Robin Williams -- and the self-torturing Teller and insane Simmons make it feel weirdly like Black Swan. So, yes, it's pretty great. The editing is tight and effective, Damien Chazelle's direction is wonderful, and the ending is nothing short of rousing. Well, okay, it's a bit of an incredulous stretch, but it's quite exciting anyway. Do yourself a favor and check this one out.

IMDb: Whiplash

Child of God (2013)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Adaptations. Sometimes we love them, and sometimes we don't. But to just complain that a movie isn't like its book, or a television show isn't like its graphic novel is intellectually and artistically lazy. I always find it much more stimulating to analyze how and consider why certain changes have been made (the word "adaptation" implies change, guys, especially when the material changes medium). And that process often makes me appreciate the work more anyway, so it's win-win.

I have to say that James Franco's Child of God fully keeps the spirit of Cormac McCarthy's novel as I read it. It's not necessarily plot-driven -- neither is the novel -- because it concerns itself more with character and theme. In case you didn't know, our protagonist is Lester Ballard, a murderer and necrophile who haunts rural Appalachia. Expelled by society, he eventually lives in caves populated by his decomposing trophies. Even though the movie isn't strictly plotty, Franco's control of Lester's descent into degradation is a wonder to witness, so much so that his increasing madness almost makes sense to us.

Of course, full credit for Lester's realization has to go to Scott Haze. I can't even imagine his process for becoming Lester, but the result is truly incredible. He turns the character into a horror that rivals most we ever see on screen, while also making him a sort of pitiful everyman. Haze throws his whole body into Lester, morphing his face into a wraithlike sneer and worming his way through bramble and mud with agility and haunting grace. Haze hasn't shown up on many big screens yet, but he probably will after this picture; if Child of God had mainstream producers, I'm convinced Haze would have been a social hot topic and big award contender.

Some of the more difficult and expensive scenes of the novel have been omitted (e.g., the boy eating a bird's legs, the flood that forces Lester to move), but their absence allows us more time to dwell on the realities of Lester's isolated life. For example: The first scene shows Lester attempting to defend his house from being auctioned off, and being regarded as dangerous and deserving violence. In the second scene, we see him defecating in the forest. These are the realities of Lester's life, and we are shown them without pomp and ceremony. As to the fickle fecal moment (which is graphic, but brief), there's a first time for everything, folks! This shows how far we've come from toilet-flushing in Psycho, am I right?

Franco seems completely satisfied to ignore any "reason" or "cause" as to why Lester behaves as he does. He wisely scraps McCarthy's enlightening (and, in this case, limiting) flashbacks into Lester's past: This, I suspect, works better for our more literally-minded film audiences. Franco retains, however, the episodic structure of the novel as well as its three distinct movements. I don't particularly like the two(ish?) quotes used as title cards in the early minutes of the film; they are too few to be aesthetic, and seem to be forcing the viewer to accept the film as a product of McCarthy's making, not as its own artistic endeavor. But thankfully, there are only the couple incidents.

Besides the imposed text, I do like the voiceover during probably half of the film; it reflects the complicated narrative device McCarthy uses to estimate social commentary on Lester's degraded existence. I also quickly enjoyed the active camera, held at or below eye level: We are literally looking up to Lester for most of the movie, at least until the end. These are brave artistic choices, and ones that fully grappled my attention and wonder.

I have a few extra thoughts about the ending. I love McCarthy's comparison of Lester's body being dissected and the bodies of his victims being unearthed. But I also love that Franco ends with a simple, lovely, and distinctly chilling image of Lester wandering free through the mountains. My acceptance of this ending (and much of the film) largely comes down to this: McCarthy imbued so much metaphysical suggestion into his narrative (so intensely focused on one man's journey), that I often think of the novel as a parable or myth of sorts. Franco, in my opinion, mastered this technique in making this picture: he uses enough "reality" to let us believe what we see, while making scenes brief and vague to let us consider all the implications of the proceedings, rather than dictating our reactions to us. That's a damn skilled filmmaker for you.

IMDb: Child of God

Interstellar (2014)

Score: 3 / 5

It feels important. It feels sometimes dreamlike. It feels like Oscar-bait. Christopher Nolan's newest, much-anticipated cosmic drama was, frankly, a disappointment to me. But it is also quite beautiful, and in unexpected ways.

Typical of Nolan's work, Interstellar makes you think while it awes you with great visuals. Its fanciful appeal keeps the lengthy running time (almost three hours) not quite unbearable. Though not as explicitly dazzling as the special-effects-heavy Oscar winners of the last two years (2013's Gravity, 2012's Life of Pi), Interstellar features truly amazing effects and visual art. Perhaps my attention was most captured by the practical appearance of those effects. I've not read much about the making of the film, but it seems to me that more of the effects were tricks of science and photography, rather than straight computer generation. That's a really interesting choice for a space adventure, and one that keeps it fresh and absorbing.

But the emotional substance of the film falls short of its visuals. Nolan and his brother Jonathan intriguingly wrote the film with an emphasis on human (especially family) drama rather than wild space exploration and adventure. But I think they failed at balancing what might be a moving family drama and what could have been a riveting sci-fi excursion. The film is only occasionally "exciting" in the typical sense of the word, and though a lot of the characters cry most of the time it's never cathartic; this film may tug at your heartstrings, but you can also feel the heavy hand that plucks 'em. Though the dialogue has its moments -- often heightened and abstract -- there are only so many times I want to hear Michael Caine recite the same verse. In fact, I think the most emotional connection I made to the film was through the lovely score by Hans Zimmer.

The acting is really solid, fortunately. Matthew McConaughey gives a powerhouse lead performance that will surely garner some award nominations. Jessica Chastain and Anne Hathaway tag-team as his strongest supporting castmates, and Hathaway especially delivers in a crucial monologue about the essence of love, about halfway through the film. These dynamic ladies, though, are featured with lots of close-ups of alternating crying and anger; they are giving great strength, but Nolan's direction sometimes works against them. Other actors Wes Bentley, Michael Caine, Matt Damon, John Lithgow, and Ellen Burstyn are all fine, though their roles are all quite brief.

I really liked the first hour of the movie, and the second hour only a little less. The family drama is a little too familiar, but paired with this cast and the high-stakes science, it's no less engaging. Not all of Nolan's dramatic choices work as well as he obviously wanted them to, and frankly I was annoyed and shocked by all the sizeable plot holes in the picture. Nolan usually knits up his plots with incredible detail, so this felt quite uncharacteristic. But in the third hour (or at least the third act, as I wasn't really keeping time), I just checked out. I don't want to spoil anything, but the already out-of-this-world film gets aggressively weird, and I just couldn't take it any more. It felt wildly contrived and forced, and Nolan's already sentimental approach controlled the last half hour so much that I was giggling at the melodrama. That, I guess, is not the response we're supposed to have.

IMDb: Interstellar

Nightcrawler (2014)

Score: 5 / 5

I have said before that a single performance does not a movie make. And while I'm not going to eat my words, I should amend them. When a film is "about" (vile phrase) a single complex character, I think the actor can certainly make the film worthwhile. And when the rest of the film is pretty great by itself, this combination of talent, intelligence, and passion makes the experience truly enchanting. Such is the case with Nightcrawler.

Yet another embodiment in our culture's recent fascination with antiheroes, our titular cameraman commands our attention and demands our minds in his nightly adventures. A freelance crime photographer, he prowls the streets of Los Angeles in pursuit of carnage that he might sell to the news. Lou Bloom is a terrifying specter of a man: Isolated and desperate but wildly intelligent and ambitious, he manipulates the world around him to achieve his ends. He disturbs crime scenes to get better photographic vantages, he sabotages his competitors, and he cultivates romantic tension with his boss to stay protected.

Jake Gyllenhaal gives one of his most compelling performances yet, and one that will hopefully earn him great recognition come Oscar night. We already knew that he gets insanely dedicated to his various characters -- changing chameleon-like into everything from a geeky high-schooler to a hunky Persian prince -- but his transformation into the City of Angels' angel of death is perhaps his most astounding yet. His gaunt visage and bulging eyes are the stuff of nightmares (and of Academy favor; we've seen time and again their support of actors who drastically change their bodies for a performance), but the mind behind the visage is even more horrific. His glassy gaze tantalizingly gives us endless room to speculate, and in every moment on screen he is impossible to predict. The moments in which his vast intellect steps aside and his enigmatic soul surfaces caught my breath in an iron grip. Notably, his "what I want" speech to his boss about two-thirds of the way through the film almost knocked me out of my seat.

Rene Russo, though given less screen time than Gyllenhaal, is no less compelling as the morning news director selected by Lou Bloom to employ him. Her own attraction to the dark and dangerous "if it bleeds, it leads" motto serves as the crux of the film's satire on media. Which brings me to another point. As haunting as the film is to me, it never felt unbearably weighty or morbid. Don't get me wrong, it's a thriller through and through, but rather than wallowing in its own sinister atmosphere, Nightcrawler is also an exercise in pitch-black comedy. So much so that rather than giggle, I had to resist shuddering several times. Amazing that a film can provoke such a strong reaction, isn't it?

Writer and director Dan Gilroy, beyond writing one of the most terrifying, articulate male characters in recent memory, expertly controls the film's speed and style. It never feels overwhelmingly plot-driven, and its commentary on the news and crime never reaches beyond the film's scope. Gilroy -- in his directorial debut, no less -- understands Lou Bloom so well that he centers what could easily become a glum noir piece or an overblown action spectacle on intellectual drama (not emotional, never sentimental), making the film a pure psychological thriller. He and cinematographer Robert Elswit together fashion a palpably tense atmosphere entirely out of dramatic lighting, which is easily the most evocative I've seen this year.

IMDb: Nightcrawler

The Book of Life (2014)

Score: 2.5 / 5

In case you couldn't tell from the posters or trailers, The Book of Life looks incredible. Its visual design is some of the most intricate I've ever seen in animation, and it dazzles for most of its ninety-something-minute run. The characters, costumes, and decorations are so beautifully crafted that I constantly wanted to reach out and touch them -- and I didn't even see it in 3D!

Unfortunately, not much else in the film compares to its visuals. It's just a predictable, rehashed Orpheus tale of hetero romantic competition, lost love (in an idealized female figure), and brave heroism (in two idealized male figures). While I liked the film's bias in favor of the more artistic man in the love triangle (voiced by Diego Luna), each of the three leads is so heavily clichéd that they don't win over my sympathies. Channing Tatum voices the more athletic man with exceptional humor and intelligence that saves his character from utter ruin, and Zoe Saldana voices the lead woman with spunk and charm. The real character gems in this film are in its three deities: La Muerte (Kate del Castillo), Xibalba (Ron Perlman), and the Candle Maker (Ice Cube). Their performances are fine, their design is out of this world, and frankly I had more interest in their characters than in the humans.

The film's great visuals are sacrificed, sadly, by speedy pace and frantic editing. Rather than using long shots (in which, people seem to forget, a lot can happen, especially when everything on-screen is animated!), first-time director Jorge Gutierrez uses quick shots overloaded with kinetic energy and colors in which we can barely recognize what we see, let alone appreciate it. I think the film would have been better served had he allowed the stunning animation and vibrant atmosphere to envelop us on its own, rather than shoving the material at us and then pushing us along with it.

I expect that Gutierrez and his team hurried the shots to match the quick pace of the film. For a journey that spans three worlds (the land of the living, the Land of the Remembered, and the Land of the Forgotten), the film moves at breakneck speed, presumably to keep younger children totally engaged for an hour and a half. A lot of the comedy -- like the visuals -- was wasted on me, because it is both too quick and too simple. Many moments felt like they came from cheap animated television shows due to the silly nature of the humor and the awkward expressions or movements of the characters.

My final reaction to the film is one of mild disappointment. An animated feature film to celebrate the Day of the Dead seemed like such a fresh idea and a great opportunity for children (especially amidst the immigration debates of our country right now) to understand and appreciate the beauty in non-white-American cultures. While The Book of Life may yet accomplish that, I worry that the film misrepresents the culture and holiday it depicts by making the material so modern and, well, white; it subtly reinforces cultural appropriation, and I'm not sure its messages of tolerance or education are strong enough to overcome that. A few times characters break out into song, but they sing contemporary songs and use modern American vernacular, which completely shatters any fantastic illusion provided by the visuals. Finally, the last two minutes of the film are probably its best, as the three deities share lessons for us all which are really important. But I wasn't convinced by them because they felt tacked on and superficial; if you're going to put a concise, explicit moral at the end of your movie, the rest of the film needs to work hard enough to sell it. I'm not sure this one did.

IMDb: The Book of Life

Ouija (2014)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Is Ouija a spooky addition to the holiday market? Yes. But is it in any way memorable, valuable, or important to the genre? I have to say, No.

Poor Ouija. It's really not too terrible, when contrasted with the plethora of horror movies. There are "good" and "bad" of any genre, but horror seems to get the rap when it comes to "bad" cinema. It's certainly entertaining -- in terms of bad horror -- when it comes to historical comparison. But that may only be because it is more "up-to-date" when it comes to contemporary digital special effects. The fact that the film is entertaining purely because of its placement in acceptable film presentation is just sad; it should have some values other than its vague tension and its cinematographic familiarity.

Okay, Olivia Cooke is great. But she's about it. The Bates Motel and The Quiet Ones (2014) star is the sole soul of the picture. Granted, she is totally worth the watch, simply due to her emotional connection and deliverance in every single scene. One must wonder, though, if a single performance makes a film worthwhile. I mean, her delivery is admirable, but why waste a good 90 minutes? Lin Shaye (Insidious (2010), and A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), for you genre lovers) pops up for two pivotal scenes, but these scenes are heavily contrived and make us audience members feel cheated. Why would any post-Insidious film feel sincere in casting Lin Shaye as the same plot device, but with slightly heightened character? Answer: It wouldn't. Why? Because since Snakes on a Plane (2006) she's been too recognizable.

Director Stiles White is not without his credits, either. But a history of horror writers (The Possession (2012), Boogeyman (2005)) and special effects artists or production assistants (Jurassic Park III (2001), Lake Placid (1999), The Sixth Sense (1999)) does not a director make. White's approach to the material is bland, disconnected, and familiar. He never sees the material as exciting or fresh, and so it isn't to us. Granted, the script isn't wildly novel. But especially in this genre, we should expect the director to give us an entry into the material that is unusual, intelligent, or overwhelming. White gives us none of the above. In fact, every single moment that could be brilliant -- and, for the record, there are several moments that could be brilliant and, moreover, unique in the genre -- is sacrificed by White for comfort and familiarity. I think I actually muttered that twice during the screening: "I saw that coming." That's a phrase I usually reserve for uttering during third-time viewings on DVD in my own home, because I think vocalizing those comments in a movie theater is a cardinal sin.

I really don't know what else to say. Wikipedia may tell you the plot, but I guarantee you already can guess the plot simply by knowing the title and seeing the trailer. I had hoped that the performances or the director's aesthetic might increase the picture's value, but my hopes have been dashed. If you are looking for late-night Halloween-weekend entertainment and potential foreplay action, you may want to book a date for Ouija. My recommendation? Buy the actual board game. It's much more titillating. If you want the movie, wait for it on RedBox or Netflix. It's not worth the $5 for a cinema experience.

IMDb: Ouija

Fury (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Fury is brutal. It's now one of my favorite war movies -- ranking behind Kathryn Bigelow's The Hurt Locker (2008) and Zero Dark Thirty (2012) and Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan (1998)-- but I don't know how many times I'll watch it again. Writer/director David Ayer has crafted a compact, concentrated, and complex vision of war as hell that left me reeling and, yes, weeping.

Our battle-scarred heroes are at the forefront of the final stage of World War II, pushing into the heart of battle-scarred Nazi Germany in their battle-scarred tank, named Fury. Like their tank, the five-man crew has to act in perfect tandem or risk injury, death, and -- more important for them -- defeat. Passing through enthusiasm and honor to isolation, desperation, and horror, the men are forced to eventually make a last stand (literally at a crossroads) against a small army of Nazi elites. This story is not for the faint of heart.

Brad Pitt's performance as the leader of our team is really solid. It wasn't the best I've seen from him, but he carries the film with a risky and successful war-hardened stoicism. His character, however, is wildly interesting, as in one scene he shoots an unarmed prisoner in the back, in one he protects two German women from his own men. He also acts as brother and father to his team, drinking with them and breaking in the fearful, idealistic new member. His crew consists of admirable actors Jon Bernthal (The Walking Dead) and Michael Pena (End of Watch, Gracepoint) in strong performances, and Pitt takes his orders from an understated and haunted Jason Isaacs (The Patriot, Harry Potter).

The real acting gems in this movie are in Logan Lerman and Shia LaBeouf. Lerman (Percy Jackson, The Perks of Being a Wallflower) -- the young, recently enlisted typist -- can't fulfill his role as gunner due to his idealistic innocence. Pitt literally forces him to shoot a Nazi prisoner, and Lerman's arc from miserable disillusionment to the hero of the film is the stuff of aged veterans. LaBeouf (Nymphomaniac, Disturbia) plays the chief gunner and spiritual counsel to the group, and frankly his tears brought mine every time. Well-meaning but spiritually tortured, his Bible-quoting rhythms and compassionate emoting brought a much-needed sense of humanity to the film. I strongly recommend you see this movie simply for his performance, if nothing else. Which is saying a lot, because the claustrophobic atmosphere brings these five men together with remarkable homosocial honesty and emotional vulnerability.

In our world of role-playing, first-person, over-simplified, graphically violent war games, my favorite thing about Fury is that it never once feels simple, computer-generated, or remotely machismo in its approach to the subject matter. Ayer eyes most of the rubble-strewn, muddy landscape in grayscale, and heavily dirties every prop, costume, and actor's face. He also surprises us with unexpected and shocking violence, as we see bayonets through eyes, bodies under tank treads, and legs blown apart. We even see images so subtle but profound that they enhance our horror beyond the gore, including a refugee still wearing her wedding dress, and an older woman cutting meat from a dead horse. Against the tactile grit of Fury's images plays Steven Price's (Gravity) gorgeous score, featuring a men's chorus in spine-tingling efficacy.

IMDb: Fury

Dracula Untold (2014)

Score: 3 / 5

Dracula Untold is a prime example of a film that is mislabeled, released at the wrong time, and that carries unfortunate baggage with it. If you think it's a Halloween scare-fest, a Gothic romance, or even remotely like anything associated with the Dracula story ever, you're in for disappointment.

Yet it's an interesting concept and a decent (if familiar) story. A re-imagining of a generic vampire myth (that only happens to carry the name Dracula), it feels like anything but a vampire movie. It's not really a romance -- even remotely erotic -- and it's not really horror, though there are a few moments of sentiment and violence. It's essentially an action movie about an archaic antihero who has to navigate his duty to himself, his family, and his kingdom in the face of a cruel higher power. In fact, it often feels like Stephen Sommers's (also re-imagined) Mummy franchise in its focus on action and a creature that casually uses supernatural powers; it does not, however, share Mummy's wit or humor.

Luke Evans (The Raven, The Hobbit trilogy) is great as Vlad the Impaler, the brave prince of Transylvania under Turkish rule. Paternal, brooding, charismatic, and downright hot, Evans skillfully performs the rote character with heart and style. But then, I would watch him do anything. I find the film's antihero approach to the character wildly fresh, and I can't get enough of the character's "wholesome" sex appeal. That's not a very articulate way of putting it, but what I mean is that he isn't an exotic Other (Bela Lugosi), a handsome gentleman (Frank Langella), or a shape-shifting mesmerizer (Gary Oldman). He's somber, passionate, and stereotypically masculine in ways I've never seen Dracula played; he's a loving husband, a devoted father, and a sacrificial ruler. I said the film is hardly romantic, but in several ways I see the passion Evans shares with his character's son as arrestingly romantic.

This film -- and more interestingly, the title character -- wisely stays far away from an optimism all too common in other fantasy/action films (Maleficent, for example). I said earlier that it never fully feels like a vampire film, because it lacks our cultural horror of bodily fluids, foreign invasion, and sexual perversion/manipulation. Charles Dance provides the central means of bugaboo in the film, as the sorcerer/vampire living in an isolated mountain cave, and his scene with Evans is the only freaky, "normal" vampire moment in the film. Creepy, disfigured old man who shares his blood and performs arcane magic. That's normal, right? I find rather disgruntling, moreover, the suggestion that the horror (stemming from the war violence in this tale) comes from Muslim culture, as the vampiric Turkish Sultan (Dominic Cooper) demands a tribute of youth to serve in his army. Vlad, the quasi-Christian prince who speaks with a British accent, sells his soul to Satan to stop the Sultan, who speaks with a more exotic accent which sounds weirdly like Bela Lugosi's Dracula accent. Rather than, like in Francis Ford Coppola's version of the story, attempting to bridge the gap between foreign and domestic or Christian and Other, Dracula Untold is a very deeply Christian tale that not-so-subtly pits itself against Islam.

Though its plot is similar to many up-beat, mainstream action films, the film's aesthetic thrives in heavily textured darkness. First-time feature film director Gary Shore leaves a lot of room for special effects that don't always work, but he does find occasionally nice visuals. He and cinematographer John Schwartzman (Pearl Harbor, The Amazing Spider-Man, Saving Mr. Banks) especially succeed with effective lighting, notably in Dracula's final fight with the Turkish Sultan. My favorite technical aspect of the film is its costumes, designed by Ngila Dickson (The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Blood Diamond); the armor Evans wears is just fabulous.

The film arguably has a happy ending, but it's also pretty dark, so I'll leave that one up to you. Besides a few funky plot holes and too-familiar melodramatic turns, Dracula Untold is a fully functioning dark fantasy and a serviceable supernatural action picture. Overall, it's an entertaining hour-and-a-half to be sure, but it is not, sadly, particularly memorable.

IMDb: Dracula Untold

The Judge (2014)

Score: 4 / 5

It's been several years since Robert Downey, Jr., seriously performed a serious character. His role in this makes up for all of it, and then some. The Judge is essentially a character study on a highly successful big-city lawyer whose personal life is disintegrating. When he returns to his childhood home to mourn his mother's passing, he becomes entrenched in a murder trial with his father as the prime suspect. Over the course of the film, he reconnects with his roots and heals his damaged relations with his family.

Robert Downey, Jr., proves to those of us who forgot that he can be a leading man. His roller coaster ride from guarded, impersonal urban workaholic to surprisingly vulnerable hometown man yearning for belonging. He has moments of his familiar, slippery humor, but he never sacrifices character or drama for it. More impressive to me is that he is a dramatic leading man in an almost entire cast of men. We don't see this very often, where a bunch of well-regarded male actors join together to create such an emotional movie about family, pride, respect, love, and reunion.

Robert Duvall plays Downey's father, the titular judge, with the gruff short-sightedness we've come to expect from him, but it effectively sets up his domestic problems the film goes on to explore. Unfortunately none of the supporting characters are given much of any dramatic arc, rather existing solely for our two leads to bounce off and develop against. More comic elements to the story are largely brought by Billy Bob Thornton, playing a dangerous prosecutor, and Dax Shepard, playing the town's up-and-coming defense attorney. Vincent D'Onofrio and Jeremy Strong play Downey's two brothers in heartwrenching portrayals of confusion, dependency, resentment, and eventually family. Several other fairly important names show up -- including Denis O'Hare, Leighton Meester, Sarah Lancaster -- but the big "third lead" as I consider her to be in this film is Vera Farmiga (Up in the Air (2009), Bates Motel), playing Downey's high school girlfriend. She is the only supporting role that has much dramatic arc, and most of it is because of the incredible work she's put into the character, not because the script allows much time for her.

It's not an original narrative, but director David Dobkin views most of it with an eye for wildly dramatic lighting and deliberate pacing. Especially engaging for me were the courtroom scenes, with such dark interior colors and stark contrast with garish light streaming through the windows. Dobkin allows for sentimentality in this picture, but he never totally gives in to it. His catches us by small surprise here and again with sharp comedy and brutal emotional revelation. Brutal, you ask? Oh yes. In one scene, Duvall falls and gets sick (presumably from his cancer treatment) and Downey helps clean him in the shower. And then, just when it's almost too much to watch, director Dobkin throws in some comedy in the form of Downey's daughter knocking on the bathroom door.

It's a charming, stylish family drama that partly takes place in a courtroom. Its familiarity and simple plot make it that much easier to project our own associations and emotional baggage onto it, and then receive a cathartic payoff before the end. Be prepared to smile, laugh, and then let the tears come.

IMDb: The Judge