Kubo and the Two Strings

KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS (Travis Knight, 2016)

Childhood for the one-eyed boy named Kubo (Art Parkinson) is magical and mystifying in the stop-motion animated KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS. He brings origami to life as he tells enchanting stories to the villagers near the cave where he and his mother are hiding out. Kubo can shred his three-stringed musical instrument, a samisen, like MAD MAX: FURY ROAD’s Doof Warrior, although no fire shoots out of the neck. While these are marvelous skills for a kid wield, there is much for him to be concerned about. His mother is ill, and and his grandfather, the Moon King (Ralph Fiennes), has killed Kubo’s samurai father and is responsible for the eyepatch the boy must wear. Kubo’s mother insists that he always carry a monkey totem and be home before sundown lest her two sisters (Rooney Mara) and the Moon King find them and complete the task they did not finish.

One night Kubo stays out past his curfew with the predicted tragic results. The Sisters torch the village and try to harm Kubo, but his mother uses her magic to save him and send him on quest. To defend himself from the Moon King Kubo must search ancient Japan for an unbreakable sword, impenetrable armor, and invulnerable helmet. Helping him on his journey are Monkey (Charlize Theron), which is the enlarged totem brought to life, and the samurai Beetle (Matthew McConaughey), a forgetful, wise-cracking insect.

KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS comes from the animation studio Laika, which, with the films CORALINE, PARANORMAN, and THE BOXTROLLS, has developed a reputation for delivering quality children’s fare that is unafraid of handling material that can be visually and thematically darker. The deep oranges and dark blues dominate the palette for a story steeped in legend, like something witnessed through the flickering flames deep in the belly of a cave. The stop-motion animation provides a tactile sense of wonder at the imaginations tapped to bring this fantastical and early historical world to life in the style of folded paper.

KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS puts two kinds of immortality in opposition. The Moon King offers Kubo the chance to live forever with him among the stars, although the price to be paid is his one good eye. Alternatively, the boy can find strength and inspiration in the memories of his deceased parents to resist the Moon King and, in turn, survive through generations because of the bravery he shows. This may sound like rather heavy subject matter--and it is, implicitly--but director Travis Knight and screenwriters Marc Haimes and Chris Butler treat this as a grand challenge to be met with the spiritual guidance of his mother and father than an oppression heaped upon a protagonist unsuited to deal with it.

The film is not left wanting for humor, however. Theron’s voicework reveals a delicacy in the figure entrusted to assist Kubo, but she also brings a sarcastic edge to Monkey, especially as she clashes with Beetle. At face value McConaughey seems like a curious casting decision, as he makes no effort to alter his Texas drawl, but the warmth and orneriness in his voice serves the act-before-thinking character well. The love-hate dynamic between Monkey and Beetle produces some amusing sparring. Likewise, Kubo’s journey encompasses the spectrum of emotion, concluding with a beautiful testament to the ties that bind. The importance of family is hardly a new theme for children’s entertainment, but the gentleness and unsentimentalized handling of it in KUBO AND THE TWO STRINGS allows the idea to be seen anew.

Grade: B+

Hail, Caesar!

HAIL, CAESAR! (Ethan Coen and Joel Coen, 2016)

As Head of Physical Production at Capitol Pictures Studio, Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) is an overworked executive who wonders if his efforts are worth all of the trouble. In HAIL, CAESAR! he’s not just overseeing the filmmaking on the backlot but primarily attending to the professional and private matters of Capitol’s contracted performers and directors. He’s more likely to be breaking up a starlet’s illicit photo shoot in the wee hours and managing images as he is to be behind a desk poring over spreadsheets.

HAIL, CAESAR! tracks an eventful, although not altogether atypical, day-plus for Mannix. Baird Whitlock, (George Clooney), the star of a Biblical epic, goes missing and is being held for ransom. Bathing beauty DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johansson) is in need of a husband to legitimize the pregnancy that isn’t yet showing or known by the gossip columnists. Singing cowboy Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich) gets plugged into a period drama that isn’t particularly suited to his talent for acrobatic horsemanship, thus testing the patience of the film’s director Laurence Laurentz (Ralph Fiennes). Amid this turmoil Mannix also has to fend off twin tabloid reporters Thora and Thessaly Thacker (Tilda Swinton) and slip out for a meeting with a Lockheed recruiter who promises him an easy and lucrative job.

Joel and Ethan Coen’s arch and affectionate send-up of early 1950s Hollywood provides plenty of surface pleasures for lovers of film history. Their gorgeous recreation of an aquatic musical scene analogous to one featuring Esther Williams evokes Technicolor movie magic in part through geometric design. A Gene Kelly-like routine with Channing Tatum leading a group of pent-up sailors in a song and dance number in a bar stands out as the sort of funny and joyous human spectacle that cinema excels at capturing. The latest and greatest computer-generated effects can be thrilling, but so too can men hoofing atop tables as tablecloths are pulled out from under them.

Although the Coens demonstrate fondness for classic Hollywood, they remind regularly of the artifice it is founded on. Stories about stars are planted with the press to match how the company wishes its employees to be perceived by the public. The studio bosses arrange dates between its actors and actresses solely for publicity and cover up legal matters as boosters and protection of the bottom line. The tops of sets and crews can be visible, sometimes from a distance, during these tremendous scenes of filmed entertainment. Dailies and rough cuts reveal the manipulation that goes into building an illusion of the projected dream world. As one of the Thackers says, people want to believe in something, not the facts, and the movies sell a kind of perfection. The Coens strive to undercut it while acknowledging the strange beauty all this fakery can produce. In a dark night of the soul moment for Mannix, he visits the Jesus film’s set of Golgotha. There’s nothing realistic about the crucifixes against the muted backdrop, yet the setting emphasizes a real yearning for spiritual enlightenment.

With its opening shot of Christ on the cross and first scene of Mannix in a confessional, there’s no mistaking that HAIL, CAESAR! is about the search for existential purpose and how it gets mixed up with art, commerce, and religion. Mannix’s turmoil comes from thinking that what he’s made his life’s work is frivolous and difficult. He isn’t wrong, yet Mannix isn’t quite ready to trade it in for something that won’t demand much from him while yielding greater rewards. How Mannix spends his days may be inconsequential in the grand scheme, yet isn’t he fulfilling a higher calling if going about his job with enthusiasm in spite of the struggles? Plus, there is a time and place for the minor. A lasso fashioned out of a string of spaghetti is effectively useless, yet there’s something to be said for the fleeting delight in seeing one in action.

Grade: B+

The Grand Budapest Hotel

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (Wes Anderson, 2014)

War is encroaching on the Republic of Zubrowka, a fictional country on Europe’s farthest eastern boundary, but for the main characters in THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL their concerns are being dutiful in their jobs and then saving their own necks as they get entangled in a murder mystery. It is in 1932 at the luxurious mountaintop accommodations where lobby boy Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori) comes to fill an existence as empty as his name. Although lacking in experience, education, and family, concierge M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) takes a shine to the conscientious lad and keeps him on as his protégé. M. Gustave teaches him how to attend to the guests, particularly the needy, old, wealthy, blonde women, and to appreciate the finer things.

M. Gustave’s years of fastidious attention to eightysomething Madame D. (Tilda Swinton) is rewarded when, upon her death, he learns that she has bequeathed a priceless painting to him. Rather than stick around for the rest of her horrid family to contest the will, M. Gustave and Zero depart her mansion in the neighboring state of Lutz with the masterpiece in hand. An accusation of homicide is directed at M. Gustave, and shortly thereafter authorities haul him off to prison. Zero carries on at The Grand Budapest Hotel in his stead while providing assistance from the outside for his escape and their subsequent adventure to clear M. Gustave’s name.

Through ingenious visual design writer-director Wes Anderson shows how everyday life is what happens while the greater course of history develops around us. Anderson uses a lot of shot-reverse shot construction and first-person perspective to maintain a narrower frame on the primary action while bigger events take place outside the protagonists’ view. The 1932 section, which comprises the greatest portion of the film’s running time, is photographed in Academy ratio, a creative choice that mirrors cinema of its day and suggests an inability of M. Gustave and Zero to see beyond their enclosed domain. (The 2.35:1 frame for the scenes in 1968 and 1.85:1 aspect ratio in 1985 and present day not only help to orient the action in time but allow for wider consideration of what happened in the past.) Insidious developments are afoot in the nation, yet the protagonists are practically incapable of seeing them, as when M. Gustave and Zero’s attention is drawn to news of Madame D.’s death in the newspaper than the large-type, above-the-fold headline speculating about war.

For Zero, who recounts his youthful tale to a young writer (Jude Law), the past exists in the brightness and pastels of nostalgic memory and is to be endlessly explored. THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL was not shot and is not projected in 3D, but the camera scans and probes the frame in every direction, lending surprising dimensionality to the flat surface. The effect is akin to examining microfiche. If one scrutinizes every corner, perhaps what went unobserved and was thought unremarkable at the time will be revealed.

Alexandre Desplat’s score is almost constant as it supports the story in silent cinema fashion. Alternating between jaunty folk music and the rich, booming sounds of an organ, the music pushes the brisk action onward at a breakneck pace. The film editing has a musical quality to it as it bounces between reactions, and Anderson’s visual jokes come quickly too, whether it’s an absurd coat check receipt, the signs switching on a museum’s closing time, or the brief glimpse of a thug holding his shoes to explain how he snuck up on his target. THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL is packed with details, and Anderson strives to make some of these flourishes as invisible as M. Gustave and Zero attempt to be in their servitude.

Although THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL possesses an elegant Continental demeanor and a confection’s appearance, steely resolve and a tender heart are tucked inside. Zero fondly recalls the days he spent at the hotel, but those memories are also laced with pain. Long after the main action in the past The Grand Budapest Hotel is described as “an enchanting old ruin”. Its former glory may no longer be visible to the naked eye, but the charms the hotel holds for its admirers cannot be erased by remodeling or the march of time.

Grade: A

Skyfall

SKYFALL (Sam Mendes, 2012)

James Bond (Daniel Craig) is missing and presumed killed at the start of SKYFALL, the 23rd official 007 film.  Things are not looking good for the British Secret Intelligence Service either.  MI6 head M (Judi Dench) faces being pushed out of her job, agency headquarters are attacked, and the hard drive with the identities of undercover agents working in terrorist groups is still out there for the wrong person to use against them.

Although he’s the worse for wear, Bond reappears and is approved to return to active duty.  He sets out to find the computer device with all those important secrets.  The path eventually leads him to Silva (Javier Bardem), an amoral genius who feels a certain kinship with his pursuer.  

SKYFALL differs from previous Bond films in that it devotes more time to character study than the spectacle-laden series ordinarily grants.  It’s not exactly an origin story, and thank goodness for that.  As a character Bond doesn’t need some complex history to explain why he’s chosen his line of work.  Nevertheless, it’s heartening that this installment adds a bit of dramatic substance to its typical arsenal of flashy stunts, worldly glamour, and sexy women.  Whether Craig continues to play the spy, SKYFALL brings some closure to his trilogy of films that deepens the character and his relationships with co-workers.  

With his flamboyant performance Bardem’s Silva makes for the most memorable villain in a long time for the Bond films.  His alternately attempts to seduce and taunt Bond with the promise of what they can do together outside the purview of government oversight because, after all, bad guys have more fun.  Bardem plays Silva as the cross of The Joker, Br’er Rabbit begging to be thrown into the briar patch, a tech nerd, and a dandy. He doesn’t just want to show up Bond and MI6.  He wants to be able to show off how superior he is to them.

Director Sam Mendes gets strong performances out of the supporting cast too. Dench’s M continues a respectful but cool relationship toward Bond that pays off in unexpectedly emotional ways.  As her potential replacement, Ralph Fiennes pleases as a political weasel working to see that her resignation is demanded.  Naomie Harris’s Eve adds the complicating dynamic of professional admiration for and attraction to Bond as they work together.  Bérénice Marlohe brings the requisite sizzle to her scenes with 007 while lending sadness to what the franchise would typically treat as a disposable role.

On a technical level, SKYFALL has to be one of the best looking Bonds.  The lighting flatters the stars, but cinematographer Roger Deakins reserves full eye-popping beauty for how he captures the locations, including Istanbul, London, Shanghai, and Macau. The set for the uninhabited island, a stand-in for Hashima Island, is a dazzling space that supports the bigger is better mentality of these films.  

SKYFALL proves that a long-standing series can deliver the expected fundamentals while keeping the new films fresh and unpredictable.  If the three Bonds with Craig point the direction for another fifty years of the spy, let’s hope it follows the evolutionary path this one lays.

Grade: B

Wrath of the Titans

WRATH OF THE TITANS (Jonathan Liebesman, 2012)

Although Perseus (Sam Worthington), the son of Zeus (Liam Neeson), could be so much more than a fisherman and widowered father, he is content to pass his days in this humble manner in WRATH OF THE TITANS.  Family problems force him to abandon the low-key life he has chosen, though.

Zeus comes to Perseus with a dire warning that his imprisoned father, Kronos, is becoming more powerful and may soon break out of Tartarus.  Perseus doesn’t want to get involved, but when Zeus is taken captive in the underground prison by his brother Hades (Ralph Fiennes), he accepts that he must again come to the rescue of those mortal and, for the time being, immortal.

Joining Perseus on this adventure are the battle-tested queen Andromeda (Rosamund Pike) and Poseidon’s son, the mischievous demigod Agenor (Toby Kebbell).  Along the way they must fend off many monsters, fight Perseus’s half-brother Ares (Édgar Ramírez), and break into Tartarus.

Even if it isn’t saying much, WRATH OF THE TITANS stands as a minor improvement to its predecessor.  The various CGI beasts that attack Perseus and crew boast inventively nasty designs. The fearsome Kronos resembles a stories-tall nightmare eruption from hell in vaguely humanoid form.  Ancient times are brought alive in an eye-popping digital world of gods, demigods, and men.

Director Jonathan Liebesman previously helmed the visually incoherent BATTLE LOS ANGELES, which was my pick for last year’s worst film, but in WRATH OF THE TITANS he manages the action scenes with a bit more patience than what has become the standard practice for chaotically shot and edited blockbusters.  To satisfy my taste he could still slow it down a bit more to allow for greater appreciation of all the computer wizardry involved in the action.  Nevertheless, at least this is a step in the right direction.

WRATH OF THE TITANS works not to take itself too seriously and hints that something of substance resides between the setpieces.  As Hephaestus, who possesses a map into and out of Tartarus, Bill Nighy provides welcome comic relief.  The screenplay identifies potentially rich thematic terrain with gods losing their strength because the people are  becoming more secular and praying less to them.  That exploring a contemporary theological concern is treated as fallow ground within popcorn entertainment comes as no surprise yet adds to the list of the film’s missed opportunities.

The trip into the Labyrinth ranks as the biggest and most bewildering chance that WRATH OF THE TITANS blows.  Rather than exploring the untold challenges and mysteries within it, the trip through the maze is brief and mostly uneventful. Like much of WRATH OF THE TITANS, these scenes are navigated with the dispassionate and ceaseless forward momentum inherent in following and completing GPS directions.  Perseus gets where he needs to go, but his journey contains as much excitement as there comes from being told to drive straight for a hundred miles.

Grade: C-