Star Trek Into Darkness

Boldly going? Kind of.

by Hunter Isham

        J.J. Abrams' Star Trek Into Darkness is a film that's often at odds with itself. Abrams and his team of writer/producers aim to create a Trek that is faithful to what has come before yet broad enough to attract a wide audience. A "Star Wars Audience," if you will. 2009's Star Trek was successful in doing this, creating an action-packed adventure that told the story of how Kirk, Spock, and the rest of the crew wound up on the bridge of the Enterprise. It found the balance between the character-driven, cerebral formula that is the basis for the best of the Trek films and the awe-inspiring set pieces that can quicken one's pace and put a crowd in the seats. I remember telling people that the 2009 Trek was "smart entertainment," and it still is, but it's sequel strains to go in both of the aforementioned directions, leaving a final product that is very entertaining at first glance, but lacks the logic that makes Star Trek tick.
        The last film, which established these new adventures as taking place in a separate timeline than those of the original Shatner/Nimoy films*, brought Kirk and co. through the academy and gave them the Enterprise. This film is purportedly about them truly earning the right to serve on that ship, and sure enough, the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise is put to the test by facing a very powerful nemesis (no Trek pun intended). Into Darkness opens with a rousing opening that would feel at home in an Indiana Jones adventure before introducing us to John Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch, pictured above), a rogue member of Starfleet whom Kirk must track down. From that point on the story gets into spoiler territory, including the big reveal of Harrison's actual identity (or is he just John Harrison?).
        Did I say big reveal? Well, for someone like myself who's followed every stage of production for this film, I can honestly say that Harrison's identity did not need to be a secret. Trekkers figured that he was probably who he turned out to be (if you really want to know, click here), and for those who've never seen Star Trek (or at least no more than the 2009 outing), the reveal held no weight. Abrams and co. have taken a legendary Trek villain and made his identity the central mystery to a film that is supposed to appeal to the masses. I'm not angry about it, but their marketing campaign could probably have drawn even more of that broad audience on the villain's name recognition alone. The mystery wrapped inside of an enigma here is luckily not the film's only surprise, and the other twists work in a more classically story-driven manner.
        What continues to work well in this rebooted Trek universe is the excellent cast that populates this film. Chris Pine takes Captain Kirk to a new emotional depth while Zachary Quinto brings more humanity to the inherently logical Mr. Spock. Scotty, one of my favorite characters from the previous film, thankfully gets quite a bit to do here, and Simon Pegg makes a great comic foil for the serious tone Into Darkness takes as it progresses. Zoë Saldana, though not given as much to do as in the last film, is still good as Uhura, giving more depth to a previously (in the original films) somewhat underwritten character. John Cho and Anton Yelchin, though also not terribly active this time around, are still fine as Sulu and Chekhov, respectively. Cumberbatch is excellent as the villain, even if the part could have been better written, and I hope he is given the opportunity to return to Star Trek someday. Bruce Greenwood returns as Admiral Pike, while Peter Weller effectively imposes fear as Admiral Marcus. Last, and unfortunately kind of least, is Alice Eve, who has little to do as Dr. Carol Marcus (a love interest for Kirk from the original Star Trek II), and who will hopefully be a fine addition with a fleshed out role in the inevitable sequel.
        The cast, though given lopsided attention, is uniformly great, and they can only be let down by their script. Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci, and Damon Lindelof have crafted a script that has plenty of fun action and some funny one-liners, but ultimately it cannot decide how to handle its villain. Cumberbatch is given a great scene to play where he explains his true identity and how he came to be a fugitive of Starfleet. This moment, and some interesting beats involving Weller's Admiral Marcus, are quite intriguing, but they get muddled with a sort of two-villian scenario the film paints that ultimately hinders the power of Cumberbatch as a true antagonist. That's a basic problem of how the story is constructed, but another issue for which I can't quite land on an opinion is how this film not only borrows elements from past Treks (which is perfectly acceptable), but it outright pulls scenes from them and tweaks the way they play out. This may not bother those who have no connection to the Star Trek of old, and it didn't entirely bother me, but after leaving the theater it felt like Abrams and the writers were just pandering to the fans too much (themselves included as fans). For example, someone gets to shout the villain's name in a way that evokes an original Shatnerian scene, and I liked it in the moment, but afterwards I wondered why it had to happen.
        These flaws are very specific to franchise films, and even more specific to Star Trek, and if I had not seen any of the older films, my initial reaction of, "that was pretty darn good," would have stuck with me. Don't get me wrong, this film is still a thrilling action-packed, popcorn movie that doesn't insult the audience's intelligence, but that reliance on spectacle isn't so inline with Gene Roddenberry's vision of Star Trek, and aping the previous films is not the best way to hold onto some of what makes Star Trek the smart space-bound series that it is. This film ends (after a lackluster bit of final action), however, with something that everyone can appreciate. The Original Series' five year mission to boldly go where no one has gone before is about to begin, and here's hoping that next time, Star Trek takes its own advice and forges a new path that reminds us why we love it and demonstrates how it can still surprise us. 8/10


*Check out the 2009 Star Trek if you want to understand this dynamic (which explains an appearance by Nimoy in Into Darkness).

The Conversation

Before PRISM, there was Hackman.

by Hunter Isham

        This week we take a trip back to 1974, the year that gave us Chinatown and The Godfather, Part II, the latter of which was co-written and directed by the same man who wrote and directed The Conversation, Francis Ford Coppola. This quiet but chilling thriller won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 1974, and it was nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards alongside the two aforementioned films, but it just wasn't Coppola's year, as The Conversation lost out to that Godfather sequel and its director (oh, wait...). A remarkable movie that may slip under some people's radars these days, The Conversation tells the story of private surveillance expert Harry Caul as he records a mysteriously ordinary conversation between two people for a powerful corporate client, only to be haunted by the thought that his work may bring that couple harm.
        The Conversation captures attention through its silence and apparent simplicity. Much of the film is Caul living his life as he struggles with trying to understand the conversation he recorded while debating what to do with the tapes. As an invader of privacy, we get to see how he lives, trusting no one in his life, and living in a fairly barren apartment in San Francisco as a way to appease his own paranoia given how well he knows his isolation can be anything but. The film doesn't really kick into high gear until its third act, and by then the slow simmer of revealing Harry's quiet, secluded environment and lifestyle have prepared us for just about anything, but not the quick and satisfying resolution it provides to the mystery it set up in its opening moments. We begin to feel just as paranoid as Harry, unwilling to let our guard down or enter a public space without checking over our shoulder.
        A key element in keeping such a low-key film engaging is the lead, Gene Hackman. He brings Coppola's creation to life with the proper amount of remorse, intelligence, and hardened professionalism, making him sad, but not pitiful; smart, but not arrogant. He seems like a regular guy who's decided to cut himself off from the world when he's not listening in on it. Although this film is essentially a one man show that rests on Hackman's strong performance, a fantastic supporting cast fills out the remaining parts, including John Cazale, Cindy Williams, Harrison Ford (pre-Star Wars, post-American Graffiti), and, briefly, Robert Duvall. Cazale is good as one of Caul's associates, Williams is intriguing as one of his surveillance targets, and Ford is steely and intimidating a representative for Caul's client. Ultimately, their collective strengths simply help to bolster Hackman.
        Francis Ford Coppola had quite a year in 1974, releasing both The Conversation and The Godfather, Part II, although the former isn't as widely publicized as the latter. He crafted a tense thriller that grips you if only because of its peculiar solemnity while also finding a nice showcase for San Francisco, his personal Hollywood of the north that proves to be fine backdrop without distracting from the action. Hackman and the rest of the consummate pros at Coppola's disposal inhabit a world that, for all its reel to reel tapes and pay phones, is startlingly similar and relevant to our own. Hardly dated, The Conversation can still send chills down your spine and surprise you with its twists, reminding you that while you don't have to isolate yourself, it's probably not a bad idea to monitor your privacy, lest someone else do it for you. 9/10

The Conversation

By Harry McPhaul

                The Conversation was a detective film unlike any other I have seen.  It was different in that it was not about a detective going around gathering evidence to build a case against a person or company.  All the evidence we ever see is right in the beginning and it’s only a recording of a conversation between man and a woman in Union Square. 

            The protagonist, Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) is a type of private investigator that only records audio of the people who he is hired to follow.  He is not required to analyze or interpret the data or start building a case for his client.  Harry sticks to this policy even though he believes he has chance to save someone from being murdered. 

            I have not seen many films starring Gene Hackman but from what I saw from this film I can see why many people appreciate his acting ability.  He perfectly portrayed a surveillance expert throughout the whole film.  In every scene you could see him watching every single detail.  The fact that he never gave out his phone number or where he lived to even his friends was another part I liked about the character.  It was as if Coppola spared no detail in creating this person who has become the best in industry by being the most paranoid.

            The film did feel a little slow for most parts because Harry is not trying to obtain more information about the people he was hired to follow.  It sort of all comes to head toward the end when we finally get to see the plot of the murder.  After Harry puts together the pieces to the murder (after the murder has already happened) he gets a phone call saying that he is being watched so he will not call the police.  He proceeds to tear up his apartment looking for the “bug.” Then the credits start rolling and I was left with this feeling of: what was the point.  I could not really understand why he was hired by the same people who were committing the murder.  Overall I did enjoy the film.  It was no Godfather but I’d give it a 9/10.

Drive

Just a little dark. Maybe.

by Hunter Isham

        Before formally jumping into this review of Drive, I'll say that I've had a whirlwind of a weekend that kept me fairly busy, and I've been away from the keyboard for a bit. With official business out of the way, let's get down to why we're all here. I was one of the intrigued few who decided to catch Nicolas Winding Refn's 2011 crime drama Drive while it was still in theaters. It's a film that is at once quiet and subtle yet pulsing with energy and bursts of violence. Ryan Gosling stars as the Driver, a movie stunt driver and freelance getaway man who gives his criminal clients strict rules about how long they have before he takes off. He makes the acquaintance of an attractive neighbor, Irene (Carrie Mulligan), watching over her and her young son. From there he works to help settle her husband's debt, freeing them from the watchful eye of those who dwell in Los Angeles' seedy underbelly.
        To be quite honest, I haven't seen Drive since it's theatrical release, and while it's certainly a film that sticks in your mind, I haven't been eager to see it again, despite my own curiosity as to how I'd perceive it now. There are many great elements of this film that make it quite good, specifically the cast, including the stoic Gosling, a tender Mulligan, a cowering Bryan Cranston (as Gosling's mechanic pal/manager), and a slimy, menacing Albert Brooks as a movie producer whose got more than just a little business on the side. Gosling does a great job of holding our attention despite the low key character, making it absolutely necessary to watch him when he suddenly bursts into bouts of violence, such as a now infamous scene in an elevator involving the Driver's shoe and a henchman's head. With such a wonderful and varied cast, which also includes an appearance by Mad Men's Christina Hendricks, it may be hard to imagine there being a standout, but Brooks gives a truly powerhouse performance. He shares a scene late in the film with Cranston that is hard to forget, and divulging any details would spoil both the plot and ruin the nuances of the performances (contrasting Cranston's relatively weak character here with Breaking Bad's Walter White shows his own fantastic range).
        Another strong element that gives the actors a beautiful sandbox in which to play is the gorgeous cinematography that Drive features. This film can be a feast for the eyes at times, even if it's when Gosling is walking down the corridor of a strip club, clutching a hammer that will soon be a tool of coercion. Winding Refn (of Denmark, for those who are curious) certainly knows how to direct a film, matching the wonderful photography (for which cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel must largely be responsible) with a steady pace that doesn't lurch forward as one might expect given the many quiet and relatively explosive moments. Cliff Martinez' score must also be given a good deal of credit for helping to set the mood of the film.
        Good actors? Check. Taut direction? Check. Solid screenplay? (Not mentioned, but yes, it's solid) Check. Everything seems right, so why haven't I wanted to revisit the world of Drive. Well, it's dark. I don't have a problem with dark, but Drive is dark in that melodic, occasionally ponderous way, where bad things happen and the audience is supposed to sit and admire how beautiful everything looks, no matter how violent it is. Is it the violence? No, I don't mind the film's violence (although I did cringe a bit when viewing the film), but when Drive gets violent, it gets violent. It sounds like I need to watch more Rock Hudson and Doris Day comedies, but I really don't mind the intensity of it all. I suppose my main beef with Drive is that I simply didn't love it with a capital L. Many proclaimed it one of the best films of 2011, and thought it was a dark horse candidate for some Oscar nominations (Brooks is deserving here), but I merely considered it very good. That's definitely not an indictment of this film's quality, but rather a statement about my reaction to it. I suppose the worst thing I can say about Drive is that when the end credits rolled I immediately felt the need to watch something light and funny, and I settled on Mel Brooks' classic Blazing Saddles. That film takes you about as far in the other direction as is possible, but that's a topic for another review. For now, feel safe that if you don't mind lots of blood and a potential craving for insane screwball comedy, Drive is a trip worth taking. 8/10

Chinatown

By Harry McPhaul

                Chinatown was a classic detective movie.  It was the story about a private detective investigating an alleged cheating husband only to find out he has been murder.   The detective (Jack Nicholson) traces the evidence to discover that the man’s death may have been caused by a corrupt water department.   The story alone seemed like one of the first of its time which made the film more interesting.  It did not have many slow parts which can often happen in detective movies because they have go and gather evidence. 

                I liked how it kept me interested but without a lot of gun fights or knife fights (weapons in general).  Yes there were a few scenes with weapons but it was only occasional and only lasted for about a minute.  This is what made the film more realistic because no one really goes around shooting up a whole city to solve one murder.  Also another part that made the film more believable was the acting.

                Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of Detective Gittes was highly effective.  I liked how he was keeping almost all the evidence he was gathering to himself and then using it to persuade people to give him more information.  Another great part I liked was how he only mentioned he used to be a police officer a few times.  Many times in similar films we hear numerous stories about the protagonists’ past history as cop which can get repetitive and irritating.  Detective Gittes only shares about 2 stories and says he used to be a police officer maybe 3 times. 

                Overall, I can see why many people would enjoy this film.  The only part of the film I felt was disappointing was the ending.  It kind of ends abruptly and leaves you with the feeling that the bad guys got away with everything.  It is movie that I think should definitely be watched multiple times to help understand the ending better.  I would still recommend that  viewing this film.  I would give it a 9/10.

Chinatown

Forget it, Jake.

by Hunter Isham

        Roman Polanski's 1974 mystery film Chinatown is neo-noir at its best, introducing elements to the film noir genre that before would have seemed far too controversial. Our hero is the unsavory yet decent snoop J.J. "Jake" Gittes, a man who deals mostly in finding and revealing the adulterous acts of his clients' spouses. He doesn't exactly seem in it for the good of the people. Hired to look into the personal life of Hollis Mulwray, chief engineer of the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, Gittes quickly begins to uncover a devious scheme of corruption, the kind that is a hallmark of the detective film. Chinatown gives us a tale that's about as dark as they get, and the film's famously shocking ending is a reminder of that tone, yet it stands as one of the greatest mystery films of all time.
        For all of the iconic roles he's inhabited, Jack Nicholson has the ability to become his characters while also being unmistakably Nicholson, and his first performance as Jake Gittes is typically fantastic, and one of the many keys to this film's success. Nicholson's many characters over the years have included those who have their own crazy idiosyncrasies and moments of apparent insanity, such as Jack Torrance in The Shining and the Joker in Batman, but as Gittes he is restrained while retaining all of his charm and personality. He can talk his way into (or out of) just about anything, and his wilder moments come only when he's forced to literally spring into action. Such a slick personality needs something to counter it and Faye Dunaway does this as Evelyn Mulwray, the mysterious wife of Hollis who always seems to be hiding something. Dunaway's performance is a true balancing act as she is able to go from an overly protective enigma to a real, softened person caught up in a whole lot of deceit. The trifecta of wonderful actors in Chinatown is complete with John Huston as Noah Cross, a man partially responsible for bringing water to Los Angeles with Hollis Mulwray. Huston—known mostly for his illustrious career of a director of such classics as The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The African Queen, The Man Who Would Be King, and Annie—is excellent in his few scenes as Cross, a formidable persona with whom Gittes crosses paths. The remainder of the cast is filled with character actors who provide all the right touches, be they hardened cops or shifty henchmen (a role Polanski inhabits here quite well).
        The rest of what makes Chinatown work like a well-oiled machine is hardly minor. Robert Towne's screenplay is smart, dark, and complex, creating a mystery around the real life water wars that took place in pre-War Los Angeles while swapping out real figures for fictitious ones for the good of the story (for example, Mulwray is a stand-in for Mulholland, now famous for the twisty road that bears his name). Now legendary composer contributes a period-specific score of haunting brass and strings that helps pull you into the film's world during its throwback opening credits. The man who puts it all together (and who nixed Towne's original ending) is Roman Polanski. Given that his personal life has sullied his name for many, we'll just avoid his indiscretions as they have no affect on how his work should be viewed (although interestingly, Chinatown was his last American film, just a few years before he made it impossible for himself to return). Whatever you may think of him as a human being, there's no denying that Polanski can direct, something the Academy confirmed decades after he'd fled by awarding him for his work on The Pianist. Of all his films, which also include Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown will likely remain that one "classic" that everyone admires. Polanski successfully recreates 1930s Los Angeles with the locations untouched by still-growing development, leaving the film with an authentic atmosphere that feels just right. Some films like Chinatown are more about the period than the story taking place within it, but here it is just the opposite, where everything feels real but never heightened.
        Chinatown has become the ultimate neo-noir film, reaching into the darker depths that were often hinted at in earlier motion pictures. Classics like 1955's Kiss Me Deadly approached the line, and even a limb over from time to time, but Polanski's film firmly plants itself in a new generation of genre. Even if Chinatown weren't toying with a formula, it would still be one hell of a movie, with Nicholson, Dunaway, Towne, and Polanski all operating at the top of their respective professions, creating an endlessly entertaining experience that should not be missed. Many films have tried to follow in its footsteps, including a worthy but somewhat lesser follow-up (1990's The Two Jakes, written again by Towne and directed by Nicholson) and the phenomenal L.A. Confidential, but this one remains the gold standard. It's Chinatown, and I don't think we'll ever forget it. 10/10

Behind the Candelabra

By Harry McPhaul

          Behind the Candelabra was the story of the relationship between Liberace and his much younger lover Scott Thorsen.  I went into this film knowing very little if anything about Liberace because he was little before my time.  From what I could tell, Michael Douglass’ portrayal of Liberace seemed spot on. 

          Michael Douglass gave the best performance out of the whole cast.  He had Liberace’s mannerism down to every single detail.  From the way he talked to way he played the piano, he was the most believable character.  Also the makeup applied Douglass to make him look more like Liberace was outstanding.   The makeup overall I felt was an underrated aspect. 

          During one part of the film, Matt Damon’s character (Thorsen) is required to have plastic surgery.  Once the surgery was over Damon looked like he actually did have the surgery.  They also showed the surgery being done which was a hard to watch at some times but still interesting.   It just goes to show the amount of detail Soderbergh went to show the price of being one of Liberace’s lovers. 

          I was not eager to see this film because of the story but more because of the actors.  While watching I began to following every detail and felt the emotions being expressed.  As someone who had never really heard of Liberace I was able to still able to feel like I had seen his performance many times.  For readers who do not have HBO it will difficult to watch this film, legally.  But I would still recommend this film.  I would give it a 9/10.

          

Behind The Candelabra

Shinier Than Your Average Biopic

by Hunter Isham

        When Bob Black (Scott Bakula) takes his new friend Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) to see his buddy Liberace's (Michael Douglas) show in Las Vegas, Scott quickly wonders how (in the 1970s) so many people could be drawn to, and adore, such an obviously gay performer. "Oh, they don't know he's gay," Bob explains. Well, if there was any doubt before, that can be laid to rest with Steven Soderbergh's supposedly final* film, Behind The Candelabra, which takes a look at the relationship between an aging Liberace and the young Scott for a number of years. Of course, I don't think there were many who doubted Liberace's private life, at least not in the years since the great pianist passed away, but this film is a compelling view of a rather ordinary relationship twisted by Liberace's penchant for the gaudy life of a celebrity that was every bit as glittery and surprising as his show in Vegas.
        The oddities on display in this film are brought out through its characters, although it remains grounded due to the wonderful performances by Michael Douglas and Matt Damon. I've never seen much footage of the real Liberace, but based on photographs and stories alone, Douglas seems to capture his personality with the appropriate amount of flamboyance and charm while never tipping over into a caricature. One review I read prior to the film's debut noted how this may be Douglas' best performance since the original Wall Street, something I wholeheartedly agree with, because this is yet another commanding performance (though not forceful like Gordon Gekko) in which he simply disappears into the character. Damon doesn't have the same luxury of such a public persona on which he can base his performance, but he nonetheless conveys an appropriate naiveté while helping to create a believable relationship with Douglas. The fact that I never doubted their bond as real, or thought they might be winking at the camera, is a testament to their ability to perfectly inhabit their roles.
        While Damon and Douglas ground the sometimes crazy elements at play here, as I said before, they along with the rest of the cast are what give Behind The Candelabra its unmistakable quirk. Scott Bakula has fun as that man who first introduces Scott and Lee (as Liberace like to be called), and Dan Aykroyd is very good as the manager who tries so desperately to keep his client's personal life from the public eye. An unrecognizable Debbie Reynolds is a treat to see in a few short scenes as Lee's mother, sporting a big prosthetic nose and a thick Polish accent. The cast member who damn near steals the show is Rob Lowe as Liberace's horrific plastic surgeon. With an accent I couldn't quite place (New York?) and a face pulled as tight as humanly possible, it's great fun to see speak so seriously about the work he does (which, for the squeamish out there, gets a bit of cringeworthy screen time). The casting itself is hilarious as Lowe is no stranger to parts where his characters are considered handsome, yet here he plays someone who's so flattened and pulled that it hurts just looking at him**.
        Soderbergh had a lot of the hard work done by casting such fantastic actors to portray these distinctive characters, and a wonderful script by Richard LaGravenese keeps things moving while providing the proper amounts of humor along the way (some dark, some just plain funny). However, the director creates a deft balance between of tone, not just with the comedy provided him in the script, but also with how much he should wink at the audience with Liberace's personality and lifestyle. Soderbergh never betrays his subject, yet he also allows us to laugh at the excess on display, gently poking fun at how Lee had a garish home that included a ceiling mural of his own face. The film is also quite beautifully shot, especially the performance scenes in Las Vegas, and that can also be attributed to Soderbergh, who acts as his own cinematographer (credited as Peter Andrews).
        "Too much of a good thing is wonderful," said Liberace, and while that may not be the case for Scott Thorson and those who orbited around Lee, it is certainly true for this film. Great direction, a fantastic script, and a potential all-time best performance by Michael Douglas help communicate an inherently gonzo tale with heart and humor. Matt Damon and Douglas' chemistry make us believe that Scott and Lee were just like any other couple going through tough times, no small feat for such recognizable screen personas (especially Douglas). Although it's a shame this possible last film for Soderbergh is on HBO rather than in theaters, it's still a biopic well-worth your time, whether you DVR it, stream it, or catch it later on DVD. Liberace's story has been dragged into the spotlight in the past, but here it's told with just the right amount of glamour and heart. 9/10



Note: For those curious, Michael Douglas' head was digitally put on to the body of a pianist trained to play exactly like Liberace, so no, Gordon Gekko has not been hiding a secret prodigious talent for playing the piano.

*He's taking an indefinite break (but may work in TV).

**Lowe has stated that the makeup process involved a migraine-inducing procedure of pulling skin and holding it in place while they were shooting.