Okja

OKJA (Bong Joon Ho, 2017)

Under the leadership of CEO Lucy Mirando (Tilda Swinton), the Mirando Corporation has a grand design to disrupt worldwide meat production in OKJA; however, the discovery and breeding of a so-called superpig that leaves less of a carbon footprint while tasting good is not intended for a rapid product launch. Instead Lucy distributes twenty-six superpigs to farmers around the globe for a competition to name the best one in ten years.

Mija (An Seo Hyun) and her grandfather Heebong (Byun Heebong) are raising their superpig named Okja in the mountains of South Korea. Okja is essentially a floppy-eared hippo with a dog’s personality, so to Mija she is more like a beloved pet than livestock. Although Mija assumes her grandfather has purchased Okja from the company, she despairs upon learning that the Mirando Corporation has taken the superpig to its local headquarters before sending her to the surely dire fate that awaits in New York City.

Determined to get her best friend back, Mija embarks for Seoul, where her attempt to retrieve Okja crosses with a rescue mission led by Jay (Paul Dano) of the Animal Liberation Front. They want to expose Mirando’s practices and need Okja to gain access to their facilities. The public relations fallout surrounding the ALF’s heist and return of Okja lead the corporation to bring Mija to New York for a reunion of the girl and her superpig.

OKJA is akin to a hybrid of David Lowery’s 2016 remake of PETE’S DRAGON and FAST FOOD NATION, mixing the action-adventure of children’s fantasy with political satire. Such a genre medley makes for a striking, albeit inconsistent, fable. Rather than scratching out a screed against multinational conglomerates, writer-director Bong Joon Ho seeks to provide balance to a complicated issue, even if where the film’s sympathies reside are never in doubt. The activists practice laughable extremes to prove their commitment to ideals and struggle to pass their own purity tests. Although the corporation is undeniably driven by a profit motive, Lucy is well-meaning in bringing this product to the market. The inherent deception in her marketing plan is necessary because consumers tend to prefer not to know how their food gets to them.

OKJA doesn’t shy away from depicting the realities of factory farming and processing, but Bong isn’t arguing in favor of vegetarianism or veganism. The film’s aim seems to be less specific. Rather, it seeks to raise consciousness of the system and how consumer choices and attitudes are interconnected with corporate decisions. Bong is addressing big, complex questions about international demand and the supply chain. The points he makes can get muddled, which is the challenge of infusing so much thematic ambition into a simple story.

There’s a lot to like about OKJA even as Bong tries to do more than he can effectively manage. Jake Gyllenhaal’s Johnny Wilcox, a Jack Hanna-like TV host who is the face of the superpig competition, isn’t established sufficiently for the dark turns the character takes to have dramatic impact. Gyllenhaal’s broad performance comes off as a miscalculated attempt to match Swinton’s quirkiness. Bong mostly succeeds at shifting tones from sweet to satiric and humorous to horrifying, but easing into the film’s end, including a post-credits scene, indicates that he wasn’t certain how to wrap OKJA beyond one obvious matter.

Lest OKJA sound like an economics lesson, the adventure Mija finds herself caught up in might be better thought of as a globalism-questioning WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, although be advised this is decidedly not a film for little kids. Early scenes of Mija and Okja cavorting in the countryside have the charm of the children playing with E.T. An impresses with the determination and intelligence she conveys in Mija even as others try to exploit her for their interests. Bong shows off his flair for staging action with Mija’s thrilling chase after Okja through downtown Seoul. Although OKJA is ambivalent at best about whether changing the world is scalable, it rejoices in the fights and victories achieved on a micro level. That may not be altogether heartening, but the small wins are what fuel the pursuit of larger ones.

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