Justin's (new) Review Thread

Thanks again, Yoda.


The Illusionist (Sylvain Chomet,2010)



In an era where most every film is laden by heavy-handed dialogue and exposition, Sylvain Chometʼs The Illusionist is a breath of fresh air–then again, so was his last film, The Triplets of Belleville. Chometʼs wonderful artwork and lively characters and worlds make for an incredible viewing experience. Itʼs not easy to create a film with no dialogue–not to mention an animated film–but heʼs made a career (however short itʼs been) out of it. His charactersʼ actions speak louder than their words ever could, and the bittersweet nature of The Illusionist–-but never overwrought with sentimentality–is never once bogged down by superficial language. Chomet has really given us something special here, and he has given it to us with his heart on his sleeve, much like his protagonist, The Illusionist himself.

Originally written by the French filmmaker, Jacques Tati, The Illusionist follows an unnamed French magician who travels abroad performing his act to dwindling audiences. But, while traveling through Scotland, he meets a girl in her teens, who works in the inn heʼs staying at. The Illusionist notices her tattered clothing and worn, over-sized boots and takes it upon himself to purchase her new shoes. And from there on, she follows him to Edinburgh, where he seeks to find work performing his act. Unfortunately, at this point, interest in magic acts seems to be waning–people are finding more interest in television and rock music. Sad, but entirely true, so The Illusionist must find other work, however humiliating or unfitting. Alice is, however, smitten with the glitz and glamor of society in the city, and it ultimately takes a financial toll on the soft-hearted magician.

This is a story about broken people who have given all they can give, and The Illusionist is one of those very people. Chometʼs world is full of life and energy, yet there is an underlying sadness to it all. The Illusionist is caught on the cusp of an era with an obsession with rock music and television, where magic is hardly relevant anymore–in the conventional sense, anyway. Sylvain Chomet pokes fun at the theatrics of rockstars, and even lingers around television screens, where people either stand in front of the window watching, or steal glimpses as they stroll by. Alice and The Illusionist stay at a hotel filled with other individuals in similar situations; these people are stuck where they are, with one sole talent to give the world, and the world has moved on. Both The Illusionist and Alice show tremendous sympathy towards each downtrodden individual–-and even save a few of their lives, too.

The Illusionist is truly a work of art and delicacy that is rarely seen in cinema today, both in animation and live action. There is a moment in the end (and youʼll know what Iʼm talking about when you see it…) that is one of the most bittersweet moments that youʼre likely to see in awhile. The Illusionist is one animated film that should be seen and will likely not be forgotten.

Exactly. I really, really liked Black Swan, but I'm not sure if I'll watch it again before a long time has passed. The subject matter was deeply unsettling to me and I had to look away during some scenes because I couldn't stomach them. In spite of having seen it only once, there are some moments that are etched in my mind and every time I see a mention of Black Swan, I think of them. That says a lot about the emotional impact this film had on me. Not a lot of films are capable of doing that from only one viewing. Black Swan might very well be my favourite film of 2010. I'm just not sure if I want to watch it again to confirm that...

I'm with Brodinski it isn't something I want to watch for a while great movie but very much like work to me
I felt the same about Requiem great movie but not one to watch over and over

Nice reviews

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I don't know, man. I'm not a fan of these Potter films. I've seen like 3 and a half (I think): Order of the Phoenix (for my summer job, no BS), Half-Blood Prince, Deathly Hallows and part of The Prisoner of Azkaban.

The biggest issue I have is that these films leave me cold and unengaged. I could care less what happens to Potter or the other two. Perhaps this is because I just kind of rolled into the series through a job I had instead of actually checking them out myself, starting with the first one. All I took with me from watching Order of the Phoenix was: "Is this it? This is one of the most successful movie series ever? How..." As a result, I didn't have any interest to watch the previous films. I only watched Half-Blood Prince en Deathly Hallows because my girl wanted to and again, I wasn't particularly engaged in the story or the characters.

It's not for me I guess.

In case you were wondering, I deleted my review mostly because I thought it was crap.

More reviews will be on the way....and hopefully better ones, at that.

You know what, Justin? You've almost talked me into taking a look at this, should the chance come along.

Tree of Life review coming up soon.

The Tree of Life (Terrence Malick,2011)



The Tree of Life is quite possibly Terrence Malick’s magnum opus, as it might very well be a culmination of his entire oeuvre. However short his filmography may be, there is a strong overarching theme throughout his work. Malick has always taken a great deal of care crafting his films; a span of seven years passed between The Thin Red Line and The New World, if that tells you anything. But Malick has made an undeniable impression on those who have had the privilege of watching his films. The Tree of Life is no different; it has divided audiences, much like The New World, but that is perhaps the early sign of a masterwork. Slowly and quietly, his films have had an impact on those same people--whether they enjoyed it or not--while he goes unnoticed by most of the population. Let’s face it though, that’s how he wanted it from the very beginning.

Summing up The Tree of Life is nearly impossible, especially within the confines of a simple, straightforward review. It’s Malick’s most abstract film with no real narrative to speak of. Instead, it moves in mood and tone, and by swirling, kaleidoscopic imagery. Reminiscent and intensely personal, he has crafted a film about life and all of its complexities, about growing up, fatherhood and motherhood and even the creation of the universe, which all comes together in a mosaic of life--much like the film’s poster. It sounds intimidating, yet Malick’s touch is delicate and precise. Emmanuel Lubezki’s cinematography is breathtaking to watch, and Alexandre Desplat’s soundtrack is both subtle and fitting.

Set in the 1950‘s, in the midwest, The Tree of Life follows a boy and his family (the O’Brien’s) through a tumultuous, unsettling time of their lives filled with tragedy and suppressed feelings--but, of course, it isn’t without its share of beauty. The chief conflict in the film is Jack’s (Sean Penn) problematic feelings towards his father, played by Brad Pitt. However, this is much later in life, and we’re only given glimpses as to how his life has changed and how he interacts--or doesn’t--with the rest of the world. Jack appears withdrawn, disillusioned with his life. This is primarily the driving force of the film, which is entirely a reflection on his past relationships with his mother and father and his siblings. Difficulty with the father figure is one of the most common symptoms of a character’s psyche, in all forms of art. Malick approaches this differently, however; instead of vilifying the father, he gives him a sense of humanity--this was done so well, it nearly brought me to tears. Balancing out the father, Jessica Chastain plays the mother, whose affection contrasts the father’s nature quite well.

The Tree of Life is the work of someone who is setting out to discover and explore, and only Malick could have created such a monumental piece of cinema. This is Terrence Malick at his very purest. A seemingly evanescent piece of filmmaking that truly had a lasting impression on me. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen it, yet the images still play out in my mind as if I had just finished watching it. The Tree of Life is a lasting piece of art, that won’t likely be forgotten any time soon. Malick, along with very few others, are pushing cinema to new heights, all the while creating something truly personal and special.

I am going to see this when it comes to my town Nice review Thanks

Attack the Block (Joe Cornish,2011)



Upon hearing about Attack the Block, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I didn’t really know much about it; somehow it had escaped my radar. But I did do some research and learned some very refreshing facts about the film, which quickly soothed my skepticism. Edgar Wright had been involved with the production, as well as Nick Frost. I’ve been a fan of both for a long time now, but the director I was still unsure of, as he hadn’t really proven himself; this happens to be his first feature film…and it’s not a bad start, at all. With hilarious dialogue and plenty of great, action packed set pieces, Cornish has really started off with a bang.

Aliens have landed. This time, however, they are met by a group of miscreant teenagers armed with bats, fireworks and plenty of other random items in their arsenal, rather than the military. Let’s not get ahead of things, though. Before the action takes off, it begins with some activity one wouldn’t really expect from their protagonist: a mugging. Led by their quiet, serious leader, Moses, who’s played excellently by John Boyega, they confront a woman walking home, named Sam, who is played by Jodie Whittaker, who is the unfortunate victim of the mugging. Suddenly, something crashes violently into a car nearby, which bursts into flames. You can guess what it is. Unfortunately for the alien, it happens to be in the presence of a gang of teenagers whose guts and nerve far exceed that of the average teen. Luckily for Sam, though, she’s able to escape. As you can probably guess, this is not the only alien to show up—not by a long shot. Of course, this won’t be the last time Sam and the gang are going to meet.

Like Edgar Wright and Co., Cornish does many clever things with the photography, editing and music. It all blends together wonderfully. He takes advantage of the environment and the fireworks and chaos going on all around South London. There are some really great shots consisting of smoke, fireworks and the aliens, which are pitch black with glowing blue eyes. The soundtrack and images are what give “Attack the Block” its science-fiction/horror feeling, which blends firework smoke and retro electronic beats. Though one of the huge surprises in the film is John Boyega. Cornish works exceedingly well well with the actors, who give off the frustrating confidence of a teenager flawlessly. All of this is brought together with a strong sense of humor, largely consisting of idle banter and slang.

But in the end, Cornish manages to bring sympathy and understanding to this characters. In one very strong scene where Sam is inside of Moses’ apartment, you can already get a sense of how young these kids really are. That singlehandedly made me feel for these characters, who, at first, seem simply like miscreants causing trouble. There’s a strong sense of theme that makes the film, which is that our actions have consequence. Not a unique theme perhaps, but a valid one, and a resonating one nonetheless. Cornish is definitely a promising director, who has delivered a film that will likely keep everyone happy.

Another Earth (Mike Cahill,2011)



Another Earth boasts an interesting premise: what if, quite literally, another Earth appeared before us? Bigger and closer than the moon, bearing the same landscape of the Earth, but alternatively, a different reality from our own. Of course, with an idea as intriguing as this one, almost inevitably, they’ll be asking many of the same metaphysical questions we often ask of ourselves, and the life we have before us. “What is reality?” “Is there anything out there waiting for us, god or otherwise?” “Who are we?” You get the idea. These questions have often been asked by films of the same ilk as well, such as Solaris (remake and original). Mike Cahill’s film is moody, transgressive, introverted, brutally honest and mind-bending, much like Soderbergh’s— which, in my eyes, sounds like a recipe for greatness. Each film carries their own sense of independence and individuality, though they share similar sentiments towards redemption and self-discovery. It doesn’t quite touch the masterstroke of Soderbergh’s film, but as far as modern science-fiction is concerned, this is certainly very good

Another Earth is not light-hearted or melodramatic; in fact, it’s pretty damn dire and no nonsense. Cahill has crafted a film more about mood and tone than anything else, though his script is well-written and thought-provoking. Rhoda Williams, played excellently by Brit Marling, is a very intelligent young girl whose interests in space leads her to an acceptance letter and scholarship to the prestigious Boston College. All of that is shattered in an instant, and the consequences are not only on her, but her actions shake the foundations of others’ lives. Intoxicated and behind the wheel, she overhears the radio talking about the discovery of a new planet, as she gazes up towards the night sky, she slams into another car. Shot with a dizzying, handheld aesthetic, the moments leading up to the collision are hypnotically dreamy. The collision itself is sudden, horrific and will likely leave you shaken. Rhoda stays at the scene, and is ultimately sentenced to four years in prison for vehicular homicide. When she’s finally released, the world has changed, and the Second Earth, as they call it, is closer than ever and perfectly visible.

As I said before, Cahill’s script is really strong—he mixes tension and subtle, minimalism very, very well. More specifically, the script never truly slows down to a crawl, but rather, it grows from within Rhoda. Cahill’s cinematography (yes he also did that, along with the editing) is sublime, as it captures the landscape and surreal nature extraordinarily well, as well as Rhoda’s inner turmoil—it’s all tinted with blues, like the ocean waters and sky. Driven by guilt and remorse, Rhoda takes up a job as a janitor at her former high school, despite the temp agency encouraging her to do something more. But, as her guilt worsens, she comes into contact with the sole survivor of the accident, who’s a composer and teacher at Harvard, John Burroughs. William Mapother, who plays the character, might be the only weak link in the film (his current state seems particularly exaggerated).

Though imperfect, Another Earth is undeniably a very good film with a lot of soul. There is something intensely personal about it, maybe it has something to do with Marling’s life, or Cahill’s, or perhaps they’ve shared similar circumstances. As preposterous as some of he script is, it’s difficult to say how much it really matters when in the face of such introspective filmmaking. He put together a film with many great elements, such as mixed media, a haunting soundtrack (reminiscent of Cliff Martinez’s Solaris) and a strong script led by Brit Marling’s stellar performance. Perhaps most importantly, though, it’s clear that Cahill set out to make a film about guilt, remorse, lost chances and people beaten down by existence. It may seem hopeless or relentlessly dreary, but, in this world, there might just be an inkling of hope for Rhoda and John, whether it be their reality, Earth One, or the alternate reality, Earth Two, because for them, it makes no difference.

Captain America: The First Avenger (Joe Johnston,2011)



I’ll come right out and say it: Captain America: The First Avenger is as bland a motion picture as they come. As you might have already guessed, for the most part it follows a formula, which might have been fine, if they had had more competent actors and a director with a personality. I hate to beat a dead horse, but comic book movies such as Batman Begins, The Dark Knight and Spider-Man worked because the inner-conflict within the protagonists and their outer conflicts are paid an equal amount of attention. Unfortunately, in Captain America, this does not happen. It isn’t all bad, though, there are some good things, but it all really comes together in a very, very mediocre fashion, that’s almost instantly forgettable. It’s unfortunate, since the film is well made and looks good.

We begin in the midst of WWII: the Nazis are invading Norway, led by a sadistic, power hungry general named Johann Schmidt, played well by Hugo Weaving—who, by the way, is given very little to work with. Schmidt seeks out the power of the gods and since this is Norway, he means the Nordic gods. Schmidt is not one to simply obey orders, he has other plans in mind—though he shares the same goal as just about every comic book villain: world domination. Meanwhile, a beaten up (literally and figuratively), downtrodden Steve Rogers, played by an extremely average Chris Evans, has a hunger that can only be satisfied by enlisting in the military and serving his country. Noble his intentions may be—he proudly states that he “doesn’t like bullies”—he’s been rejected five times because of his many health problems and skinny build. Of course, as luck would have it, and perhaps a little too coincidentally, he runs into a German scientist named Dr.Abraham Erskine, who is played very well by Stanley Tucci. Dr.Erskine has the instinct that he will be the perfect candidate for his government funded project.

Ironically enough, before he becomes Captain America, Steve Rogers is actually more interesting; he’s damaged, tired and hates the bullying of other countries. Why doesn’t he carry this weight throughout the film? It’s incredibly lopsided—all of the real drama is in the first half of the movie. He transforms into a superhero whose resilience and goofiness overshadows everything else—the good half, basically. Of course, it isn’t all bad; aesthetically it’s well done, Joe Johnston takes advantage of montage and colors—it truly gives the film a more authentic, comic book panel appearance. Johnston also does a nice job with the time period (which might be one of the most interesting aspects of the film). There are even some great scenes throughout, even a few of the action set pieces are wonderfully crafted. But the film fails to make much of an impression beyond the appearance. It seems like a common critique for Hollywood productions, though nevertheless a valid one. It’s just too bad there isn’t much more to say.

Our Idiot Brother (Jesse Peretz,2011)



Our Idiot Brother is definitely misleading; even the poster itself makes it look like another mundane comedy with no personality. It happens to be a well-written film with a few very funny scenes. It’s still flawed, but it proves to be just a little bit more than merely passable entertainment, though it comes dangerously close to that category—or otherwise called “disposable entertainment”. Paul Rudd plays an idiot, at least he’s supposed to be one. Unlike the world around him, he’s honest, innocent and child-like— these traits ultimately cause problems within his family. What’s most interesting is that it isn’t even really about him, so much as it’s about his family and the ugly lies and secrets we keep from one another. Ned somehow ends up tangled up in a web of family troubles, inevitably putting a heavy strain on their relationships with each other.

Almost immediately, we are shown, quite clearly, Ned’s personality: he’s a hippy with a caring, honest disposition that’s extremely difficult to dislike. Ned lives a very simple life working as a biodynamic farmer (which he’s forced to explain in one scene) with his girlfriend, Janet (played by Kathryn Hahn) and dog, named Willie Nelson—who he loves dearly, perhaps even more than his girlfriend. Unfortunately, being the kind of oblivious person he is, he sells a cop who’s “having a difficult time” marijuana, which lands him in jail. In eight months, he’s released, but comes home to find that Janet has moved on and despite his protests, keeps Willie Nelson. So, now, he’s forced to move back home with his mom and three sisters, who welcome him with open arms….at first, anyway.

Ned’s sisters are pretty much the cliches you might have imagined; they all have vastly different personalities, all having chosen very different careers and paths in their lives. One is a hard-edged, career driven journalist, named Miranda, played by Elizabeth Banks; another is a bisexual artist named Natalie, who’s played by Zooey Deschanel; and last, but not least, is an unhappily married housewife named Liz, played by Emily Mortimer. Regardless of the archetypes, they do bounce off each other quite well—the interactions and scenarios work. Paul Rudd’s performance as Ned improves the exchanges even more, where he’s the center of all of the conflict. Like I mentioned earlier, the script is indeed pretty good. Rather than focusing too much on the goofiness of Ned, it spreads it out, and we can certainly see how his behavior brings his sisters’ problems to the surface. I hesitate to go any further without giving too much away, but it’s well done.

I, like many others, still believe the film to be uneven and ridden with cliches. It seems like a contradiction, since the film is undeniably enjoyable. Sadly, unlike other comedies in recent years, this one in particular will likely be tossed into the mix of “fairly enjoyable, but only above ordinary”—if that’s truly a category. What prevents it from going any further is the lack of laughs throughout; instead, we have several pretty funny moments mixed with some mediocre melodramatics, such as the scenes leading up to the ending. Being this critical certainly sounds like I’m picking at an innocent film, even so, it lacks the comedic edge of a variety of other films. Our Idiot Brother is a nice idea, but it doesn’t push itself far enough. It tries to be both dramatic and comedic, and lacks the punch for either.

Melancholia (Lars von Trier,2011)



Putting his antics aside, von Trier is indeed a talented filmmaker, though I doubt that’s ever been up to much debate. Melancholia is his newest film following the heavily controversial Antichrist which enraged and divided audiences due to its graphic imagery. But in Melancholia, we have a different type of animal, and I’d argue that it could be equally as controversial—just not necessarily in the classical sense (which involves gratuitous violence and sex in today’s entertainment world). Like a majority of his films (if not all), Melancholia stars a female protagonist surrounded by utter gloom and doom. Justine, played amazingly well by Kirsten Dunst, is in a state of extreme depression.

A planet has been spotted in the Scorpio constellation, glowing red with energy, then shifting into a variety of other colors. It sounds peaceful enough, so the scientists of the world, along with the media, name it Melancholia. As mundane and insignificant as the events of Earth may be, a wedding is taking place: Justine is marrying Michael, played by Alexander Skarsgard. Justine is not as down-to-earth as she appears at first glance. She’s deeply troubled with feelings of depression, fear and anxiety. Her sister, Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), is saddled with Justine’s problems. Though she tries to be comforting, you can visibly see the burden that Justine is on her. Claire’s husband, John (Kiefer Sutherland) doesn’t even hide it—he’s frustrated because of the amount of money he’s put into the wedding, and with Claire’s preoccupation with Justine. Claire and Justine’s relationship is the most intriguing part of the film, and the most integral.

One of the problems of the film is that the choices of the characters make little sense, and some of the plot points seem particularly ridiculous. Von Trier was never a great writer, but his weaknesses are shown pretty transparently here: his dialogue and the fluidity of the script feel off-kilter. Melancholia also teeters towards being comically gloomy, at times. Regardless, it’s definitely well-directed, and the imagery is stellar. In Antichrist, the film opened with a rather intense sex scene in slow motion, set to classical music—and similarly in this film, where the soundtrack is a Wagner piece and the end of the world is happening in dramatic fashion. Visceral, memorable images have been the focal point of von Trier’s most recent films. They will certainly leave a significant impression on the viewer.

Kirsten Dunst’s performance is one that should be championed around Oscar time. Von Trier’s notorious history with depression can obviously be felt here; it feels very personal, like his own experiences have been transmitted to the viewer. Dunst’s performance is less vocal, and more internal. Justine’s evolution throughout the film is mesmerizing to behold, all in due part to Dunst. Opposite of her is the always wonderful Charlotte Gainsbourg. Claire is the exact opposite of Justine, and their relationship works as the beating heart of the movie. Moving between tenderness and anger, to bitter resentment, to hatred—it all seems to move all over the map, which works for and against the film. There’s one great scene where Claire is trying to encourage Justine to take a bath. I dare you to not be moved.

Despite the stilted dialogue and messy screenplay, Melancholia is a good film. It’s problematic, but ultimately it does end up working. Now, the biggest problem in the film is what keeps me from bumping the grade up to a high “B”. As good as the characterizations are, the film still feels a little pointless. We understand the relationship and the portrayal of extreme depression—but what else is there? If, as Justine says, the Earth is such a miserable place, then what’s the purpose of this film? Maybe I just “didn’t get it”, who knows. Lars von Trier probably has a lot to say behind the symbolism and clunky screenplay, but it’s hard to say what it is or if even he knows how to say it.

nice reviews.

I personally thought that it worked in Contagion, because the virus was basically the main character. All of the characters were tied together through the virus, some trying to survive it, some trying to find a cure and some trying to make money off it.

My gripe with Contagion is that it sometimes feels rushed. When that scientist finally finds the cure by testing the vaccin on herself feels very, very forced, because it's barely set up. There's just a little visit to her father beforehand and that's it if I recall correctly. I wasn't a fan of that, and as a result, I ended up rating it .

Good review by the way, Justin, as per usual.

That's actually a good point.

Thanks for the feedback, everyone.

The Artist (Michel Hazanavicius,2011)



Surprisingly in 2011, we have a “black and white silent film”. The Artist is surely an unusual animal, but even more surprisingly is that it’s been undeniably successful in winning over the hearts of critics and viewers alike. But does it live up to the hype? Not quite. In The Artist, we have a story about the progression and impact of audio in cinema, only told through a relationship between a man and a woman. It’s an intriguing idea that has a lot of potential. Unfortunately, it squanders it by not taking full advantage of the amazing cast and possibilities within the silent medium. Director Michel Hazanavicius has a passion for the era, and it shows, but unfortunately the problems outweigh the positives.

George Valentin, played by French actor, Jean Dujardin, is the comically self-indulgent premiere actor of the time. He’s suave, mustachioed and incredibly over-the-top. One day, a fan accidentally stumbles into the picture with George, and the two are caught in a strangely awkward moment on the front page of the newspaper the next morning. This woman, named Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo), continues to fall into George’s life in a variety of ways. Peppy is an aspiring actress, and George helps her find her place. The two have a great deal of chemistry together–with her charming wink and his suave, Clark Gable-like appearance. But their relationship is not all wonderful, as her talents are soon noted by numerous agents, and audio is not far off at all.

Granted, there are scenes in the film that truly raise it into new heights. But the drama never feels threatening, or real enough. It’s all in due part to the script, which is sadly underdeveloped. The real core of the film lies in George and Peppy’s relationship. The chemistry is there, but the drama isn’t. We have a film that seems to be more focused on what it is rather than what really matters most: the characters and their relationships. George and Peppy are potentially two interesting people with more to say and more beneath the surface, we just never go there. Their relationship is hollowed out by weak screenwriting.

Hazanavicius directs the film with a keen eye, however. His attention to detail and loving care towards the environment and time period are well done. Like Hugo this year, Michel loves cinema and its history, much like Scorsese. Both films show that perfectly clearly. In one particularly good sequence, George is on the verge of losing it all due to the invention of audio, and he makes a feeble attempt at salvaging whats left of silent cinema. He directs and stars in an adventure film where he’s in the jungle with a beautiful woman. The ones you’ve probably seen parodied a few times. It’s hilarious, but the results are what’s so sad.

Michel Hazanavicius is a talented filmmaker, though he never takes it far enough. The Artist is one of those well-made films that lacks the very charm it tries to create. Although enjoyable, it’s stricken with ridiculous scenes clearly designed to charm the pants off the viewer. Instead, it’s stuck in a state of goofy humor and shallow characters that never fully come into their own. It also made me wonder while I was exiting the theater: is this the only type of silent film we’re likely to get? One that uses silence as a gimmick, rather than as an artistic choice? I’d like to think not.

The Woman in Black (James Watkins,2012)



The Woman in Black is a throwback to an older generation: a generation of haunted houses, ghosts and creepy children. It’s a challenge, certainly, for a film such as this to be released in an era where no one is frightened by ghostly apparitions anymore. But nevertheless, director James Watkins’ The Woman in Black is pretty creepy. Initially I was skeptical as to whether or not Daniel Radcliffe could shoulder the load—since the film is centrally focused on his performance and his alone. And, sadly, he limps along to the finale. An average performance that needed more push.

Arthur Kipps (Radcliffe) is having trouble. He’s been haunted ever since his wife died tragically after childbirth, leaving him with a son, Joseph, and a nanny. Kipps is having further difficulties with his finances and is on the verge of losing his job until he is offered to take care of a deceased woman’s estate. Kipps is sent on his way into a small town, where he soon finds he is unwelcome by the locals, and also by an unknown entity draped in black. She appears in the woods and, unnervingly enough, all over the mansion.

The story itself isn’t really complex. But that’s precisely what allows Watkins to focus entirely on the mood. This is where Watkins is most successful. He works with the grey- and-black toned photography very well. Strikingly moody and grim. What was most important was Radcliffe’s performance, which is what is most uneven. While he works reasonably well in solitude, his relationship with his son seems completely artificial and contrived. They lack the chemistry necessary to build empathy. In fact, they seem incredibly distant.

Susan Hill’s creation The Woman in Black is at its heart a haunted house, ghost story. But in this case, the plot never hits the high notes it needs to. It’s creepy, but it never builds the emotional and unstable feeling that we as an audience need and live for—our catharsis. As harsh as it sounds, The Woman in Black is purely artificial in its way of storytelling. We hit all of the necessary jumps and thrills, but we never go any deeper. A good example of this is in the opening scene where Kipps is contemplating suicide, yet his performance is never as heartbreaking as it should be.

In the end, it’s not a bad film. It might, and most likely will be enjoyed for its classic horror feel that could prove to be a breath of fresh air—and it’ll certainly cleanse our palette of recent, awful horror movies. We can always hope that this is a foreshadowing of better horror to come. Ones that actually care about their characters, not only the unique ways they can torture them (see any other horror movie in the past five years; e.g. Saw 20 and yet another exorcism). The Woman in Black is a solid piece of craftsmanship, and unfortunately, that’s about as far as it goes. It’s too bad, too, since it could have been a great horror film.

The Grey (Joe Carnahan,2012)



Let me start off with the plain and obvious: The Grey is a B-movie, of sorts. One of those releases that goes straight-to-video. But does that make it a bad movie, necessarily? Not at all. For what it’s worth, it’s undeniably silly and suspenseful at the same time. Liam Neeson’s performance is achingly real. As I see it, The Grey is precisely caught in the grey area between B-movie and a movie like The Edge (horrible pun aside). Despite its goofy but interesting premise, it’s a surprisingly thrilling ride into the heart of the wilderness, and man. Poetic, yet unrelentingly brutal, The Grey is a must-see film for those who long to see a classic existential, survival thriller. Oh, and the wolves are pretty badass, too.

A team of low-lives are on their way to a barren portion of Alaska to drill for oil. This is the type of group that one would probably send on a mission such as this: ex-cons and marginalized people with little connection to the outside world. This is primarily where the film works the best. Each actor does very well with what they’re given. Though we’re only provided with snippets of each individual’s life, the empathy, I felt, was surely there. Liam Neeson plays Ottway, a hunter who’s haunted by memories of his girlfriend. He’s an accomplished marksman. His existence is pretty shoddy, and at the beginning of the film he’s contemplating suicide.

As you might have guessed, before they can arrive, the plane crashes in a horrible storm. There are very few survivors. This has to be one of the most frightening, disorienting plane crashes I’ve ever seen. But on the contrary, the cinematography of the Alaskan north is beautiful and majestic. It’s big, open and at times still and somber. Since we’re often in the mind of Ottway, all throughout the film we are reminded of a poem that Ottway’s alcoholic father wrote, which is quite beautiful. It goes something like this,”Once more into the fray. Into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day. Live and die on this day.” The melancholic tone of the poem seems perfectly fit for the somber, grim tone of the film. Mix that with flashes of his girlfriend and we have a some very depressing imagery.

Though Ottway is a hunter, he’s never been the one being hunted. In the wild, there are no real weapons. His rifle was destroyed in the plane crash, so essentially all they have left are sticks and some useless rifle bullets. Ottway is the only real woodsman the group has to rely on. Some of the most unnerving scenes are the ones at night. A howling can be heard from not far off. These wolves don’t really seem like ordinary wolves. They are huge and unintimidated by man. Director Joe Carnahan holds nothing back when showing how brutal nature can be.

The Grey does slip into silliness from time to time, namely in the scenes where the team is devouring a wolf carcass and teasing the pack. Nevertheless, Liam Neeson brings his A-game into every scene. One of the best scenes in the entire movie is where Ottway is screaming for a savior, yelling into the sky, but to his remorse, no one answers. This leaves us with a lot of questions about Carnahan’s intentions with his film. It may be that he simply provides us with no easy answers. The Grey certainly offers us just that in ample doses.