Cinema Faith

Star Trek

2009-06-05T08:25:00.000-07:00

Franchise reboots are the latest Hollywood fad. Nowadays, when the excitement for a film series dies, the most popular path to resuscitation is starting over at square one. After the James Bond series devolved into mindless explosions and painful one-liners, Daniel Craig reignited the franchise with the terrific Casino Royale. After Batman digressed into ice skates and bat-nipples, Christopher Nolan reinvented the caped crusader with the brooding Batman Begins. And now comes Star Trek - the latest lifeless series to receive the cinematic defibrillator. But was the resurrection worth the effort? In a word: absolutely. Not only does Star Trek stand proudly alongside the best reboots of recent years, it also provides a breathtaking return to form for the science fiction genre - reclaiming the excitement, grace, and awe of film’s most cherished space adventures.

Let’s get one thing straight: I am not a Trekkie. In fact, obsessive devotees of Star Trek scare me - going to conventions, speaking Klingon, flashing Vulcan salutes. No thanks. The truth is I’ve never had any interest in Star Trek. I chose Star Wars early on as my space series, and never looked back. And that is precisely the monstrous challenge the director of an updated Star Trek faced - pleasing a rabid fan base as well as the uninitiated. I may not be able to speak from a Trekkie standpoint (although the online fan reaction has been unanimous praise), but I can say that as a complete novice to the series, I was blown away by the film from start to finish. And when you’re dealing with a franchise this massive - this rooted in history and context - that takes a talented director. That takes a director like J.J. Abrams.

There was a moment early on in Star Trek that proved I was in the hands of a gifted director. At the end of the opening sequence, a character commits an act of sacrifice so moving, it had in me in tears. Literally. Now keep in mind, I had no previous connection to the series, I had just been introduced to this character, and the moment occurs no more than 10 minutes into the film. That’s the kind of raw talent J.J. Abrams possesses - a director that can cut to the heart of his audience with a prologue. And it’s only a taste of the emotional highs to come. Abrams was born to direct this material, and his hand is evident in every frame.

But Star Trek is more than a one-man show - Abrams is joined by a remarkable cast that make every screen second count. Designed as the introduction to a series of Star Trek sequels, this entry is all about setting up the crew of the star ship Enterprise. By the end of the film, we have gained an intimate glimpse into every member of the ship, making us primed and ready to follow each adventure to come.

While all the actors bring something memorable to their respective roles, two deserve special mention. First, Zachary Quinto as Spock. Known by most as Sylar from Heroes, Quinto is an inspired choice for the role - possessing both a physical similarity to the original Spock and a particular flair for non-verbal acting. Since Spock is frequently torn between expressing emotion (his human side) and withholding it (his Vulcan side), Quinto’s ability to speak volumes with merely a facial expression proves essential in bringing this beloved character to life. But the highest praise goes to Chris Pine as the Enterprise’s captain: James T. Kirk. Oozing energy, cockiness, and swagger, Pine is nothing short of electrifying. And his Kirk becomes Star Trek’s Han Solo. Pine may have joined the film with an unremarkable filmography, but he emerges a movie star. Put simply: this guy‘s going places.

However, a film of this magnitude would be nothing without its special effects. And once again, Star Trek doesn’t disappoint. The digital effects on display here are absolutely outstanding. Space collisions, warp speed, black holes - even a bird’s eye view of a planet imploding - are all rendered with masterful precision. Everything feels purposeful, and everything feels big. This is what the summer movie season is all about.

And yet, beneath Star Trek’s bells and whistles, lies an inspiring message for our world today. A central theme of the Star Trek universe is unity. Every race depicted in the film has different characteristics and customs, but they are all unified by a common belief: that life is precious, and that only by working together will they obtain universal peace. This is an attitude sorely lacking in our present day reality - especially in America. Our nation has become the self-imposed watchdog of the world. We determine what’s best for other countries, and if there‘s a conflict of interest, we declare war. Some Christians have taken this even further, declaring America a “Christian nation,” and justifying the slaughter of foreign lives because God is on our side. If only the world was like the star ship Enterprise; people from every race, creed, and religion putting aside their differences, and banding together for the peace and justice of all.

I’ve mentioned Star Wars several times throughout this review for a reason. I’ll never forget watching A New Hope as a child, and taking in such glorious concepts as spaceships, light speed, and a galaxy far, far, away. Star Trek conjured up the same feelings inside me. For the first time in a long time, I felt child-like wonder, and I can’t wait for a second dose. What J.J. Abrams has accomplished here is no small feat. He took an ancient franchise that was dead in the water, and injected it with 21st century relevance. And most importantly, he made a film to fall in love with. When the credits rolled on Star Trek, I realized I had formed an indelible bond with these characters. I can’t wait to hitch more rides on the star ship Enterprise - traveling into the far reaches of space, discovering new worlds and species, and boldly going where no man has gone before. In the words of Spock, I say to this rebooted series: live long and prosper.

Grade: A

Drag Me to Hell

2009-05-30T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make: I like horror movies. Perhaps the fascination stems from my lengthy list of phobias in real life; perhaps it‘s because I love adventure rides and roller coasters. Whatever the reason, I have always maintained a closet infatuation with scary films. Whenever a trailer pops up for the latest, greatest fright fest, I want to be there. Accordingly, Drag Me to Hell had me at hello. When I first heard that the legendary Sam Raimi was making his first foray into the horror genre since 1992’s Army of Darkness, the film instantly skyrocketed to the top five of my summer wish list. This is the director of The Evil Dead trilogy after all, a series some consider among the best of the genre. Unfortunately, after months of anticipation, I have to say that Hell doesn’t quite live up to Raimi‘s prestigious pedigree. But, taken on its own merits, the film is gloriously entertaining - offering a creepy, over-the-top, fun-ride for the thrill seekers at heart.

The premise of Hell is simple. Christine Brown, a perky, 20-something, loan officer, denies a mortgage extension to an elderly gypsy woman. The gypsy is so enraged at being denied her loan that she puts a curse on Christine’s soul which will send her to hell in three days if she can’t find a way to reverse it. That may sound ridiculous to those unaccustomed to the horror genre, but the interesting thing about scary movies is that the plot is often inconsequential - it’s the execution that makes all the difference. Unlike other genres, there are only three elements that make a horror film successful: atmosphere, visceral impact, and dread.

As far as the first two elements are concerned, Hell works wonders. Atmosphere and visceral impact are two of Sam Raimi’s particular specialties. The original Evil Dead revels in them, and Hell is no exception. The opening prologue does an excellent job of setting up the stakes. A Mexican child seeks the help of a woman in his village after being cursed by a gypsy. In a few short minutes, we catch a frightening glimpse of the hell curse at work - the helplessness of the onlookers, the crippling fear the boy feels as demons stalk his soul, and the actual moment where hell opens up to claim the child forever. Yes, Raimi creates atmosphere from the start. But, at the same time, he understands that the unknown is scarier than what we can see. There are many scenes where he purposefully holds back, offering merely a sound or shadow, to hint at - rather than spell out - impending doom.

However, there are other times where Raimi can’t seem to help himself. Hell is rated PG-13, but a number of the stunts on display here push the boundaries of the classification. One of the elements that made the Evil Dead series so successful was the distinct lack of CGI. All of the special effects were painstakingly performed using real makeup, syrup, and props. Raimi utilizes the same “old school” magic throughout Hell, and the results are a welcome dose of reality for the genre. Too many horror films rely on expensive digital effects to gross out their audience, but nothing is more repulsive than a concoction of blood or vomit that looks so real you could touch it. Rest assured, horror fans, Raimi has not lost his penchant for visceral horror shenanigans. There are two scenes in particular that all but dare you to not look away. Thankfully, there isn’t a rating the MPAA can give that will ever stop Raimi from making a primal impact on his audience.

But the last element of a successful horror film - dread - proves to be the ingredient that keeps Hell from the heights of a horror classic. While the film does have isolated moments of suspense, overall, the tone teeters more on the brink of dark comedy than outright terror. And, for me, that’s a deal breaker. I distinctly remember the time I watched Evil Dead 1 and 2 back-to-back. For those unfamiliar with the series, both films contain the same plot, setting, and conflict, but with markedly different tones. The first Evil Dead is a no holds barred horror film, while the second is a pitch-black comedy complete with excessive gore, slapstick, and one-liners. In the end, I loved the first one, and hated the second. Why? Because when I sit down to watch a scary film, I want to be scared. Not amused, not thrilled - scared. If a horror film fails to elicit that emotion from me, I feel cheated. So while Hell remains a fun movie from start to finish, I equate the experience to a haunted house ride at a carnival - you’ll gasp, you‘ll laugh, but when it’s over, you’re ready for the next attraction. I prefer horror films that leave a mark - experiences I look back on years later, remembering, with shivers, the time I was scared out of my skin. All of the classic horror movies have left this impression on me, and that’s why Hell isn’t one of them.

I said before that I am a closet fan of scary movies. I use the term “closet” because I’m well aware that the average horror movie contains little to no redemptive value. This is a fact that‘s often troubled me. Is a film ever worth praising if it’s sole purpose is to frighten or disgust? I don‘t presume to have the definitive answer. However, one could argue that a film that displays the exact opposite of redemption is, in fact, redemptive. In Hell, for instance, we witness a girl plagued by the inescapable reality that demons are coming to claim her soul in three days. The notion isn’t as fantastical as it sounds. I believe those who reject God’s way of salvation are also doomed to hell. The time frame may not be three days, but, nevertheless, the lost will encounter the same horrifying reality. Yet, as a Christian, I can take comfort in the fact that hell is something I never have to worry about. God has freed me from death and condemnation, and eternal torment no longer has claim on my life. The point I’m trying to make here is that I think redemption can still be present beneath the surface of a horror film. I would certainly concede that some scary movies are completely devoid of morality (The repugnant Hostel series for example), but I still contend that elements of biblical truth can be gleaned even if a movie’s primary aim is to frighten or entertain - it just might take more digging to find them.

Horror films are a polarizing genre. For many, scary movies are about as much fun as a root canal. For others, no other film category quite compares. I fall in between those extremes. I prefer a great drama over a horror movie any day, but I will always remain fascinated by the genre. Whether the subject is sharks, spiders, ghosts, or hell, there’s nothing like seeing my worst fears come to life from the comfort of an air-conditioned theater. Heck, it’s downright therapeutic. And though Hell may not be the best this genre has to offer, there’s still a lot to admire. The premise is compelling, the special effects are outstanding, and Raimi is back to doing what he does best: giving his audience a ride to remember. So wait until this baby hits the cheap seats, grab a popcorn and your mate, and let Sam Raimi take you to hell. Just don’t run into an angry gypsy on the way.

Grade: B+

I'm Still Here!

2009-05-28T21:56:00.000-07:00

Thank you to everyone who still faithfully checks this blog! I'm sorry there's been a lack of new content lately. I got a new job a few weeks ago, and I've been finding it difficult to find time to write. But, I want you to know that I haven't given up on this site! And I hereby promise to return to my regular weekly updates.

Summer Movie Season

2009-05-07T11:07:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time of the year. Bullets are whizzing by. Explosions are sounding in the distance. Brain cells are dying by the dozens. That’s right - the summer movie season has officially begun. This is the time when Oscar bait and think-pieces take a backseat to good old fashioned fun. The time to turn off your brain, lean back, and enjoy the ride. Or at least, that’s what I’ve always thought. I don’t know whether age, maturity, or just plain snobbery is to blame, but lately I’ve been giving new thought to this whole notion of dumb-downed cinema. Wolverine opened up last weekend. And judging from the reviews, the film is action-packed, light on character development, and joyously stupid. Everything a summer blockbuster should be, right? Then why don’t I want to see it? It’s not that I don’t like fun movies. God forbid every film be a ponderous dramatic opus. It’s that I think truly entertaining films - all the elite blockbusters of summer’s past - aren’t stupid in the slightest. I propose that it takes brains to make a movie fun. And that only an exceptionally gifted filmmaker can mesmerize an audience for two hours straight. In other words, I believe smart filmmaking can exist with or without my winter coat.

Let’s take a moment, and travel back to June, 1975. In theaters across the nation, a little film called Jaws just opened to monumental acclaim. This is more than a film - this is an event. Box office lines wrap around whole city blocks, audiences are returning for repeat screenings on a nightly basis, and everywhere you go, everyone’s asking “have you seen the movie about the shark?” Jaws started it all. In film history, it’s officially considered the “father of summer blockbusters.” And due single-handedly to its record shattering grosses, studios have been targeting their big-budget action films for the summer ever since.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problem whatsoever with the division between the summer and winter movie seasons. I look forward every year to blowing my ear-drums out with action extravaganzas, and then settling down to the quiet dramas of Oscar season at year’s end. And for me, there are few things in this life more exciting than event films; standing in line with chattering fans as we wait for the doors to open, for the lights to dim, for our minds to be blown. But somewhere along the way, this dirty myth sprang up that said “fun = dumb.” And ever since, audiences have developed a “leave your brain at the door” mentality toward summer entertainment. So, because I love this season so much - because I actually care - it’s time to sound off on this sickening trend. Does it really have to be this way? Are entertainment and art mutually exclusive concepts?

In case you don't have an answer, let's toss out some examples. Here’s my list of favorite summer blockbusters - Jaws, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Matrix, Die Hard, and Jurassic Park. All of these films were released in the summer, all of them are action movies, and they all grossed over 100 million dollars in their theatrical release (the technical element that qualifies a film as a “blockbuster”). But these movies share one other thing in common: they are all masterpieces. Take away the explosions and the thrills, and you’re still left with 3-dimensional characters, groundbreaking direction, and depth-filled storytelling. These movies proved once and for all that a film can be artistic and still knock your socks off.

Here’s another list - Independence Day, Mission: Impossible 2, XXX, Con-Air, and Face-Off. All of these are summer blockbusters, but there isn‘t a great film among them. Sporadically entertaining? Sure. Guilty pleasures? Fine. But peel away the explosions and the thrills, and you’re left with absolutely nothing. These are empty shells. Cinematic junk food. They may taste good going down, but in the end you can’t shake that nagging feeling you’ve just eaten garbage. And compared to the three-course meal of the former list, I say, “not good enough.”

Maybe I’m over-reacting. Maybe there’s a place for entertainment free from the confines of art and intelligence. But here’s my question: where does it end? If we keep throwing our money at cinematic Twinkie bars, what will our kids be watching in the summer of 2030? What flashy trash will be begging for their affection if the bar of quality disappears for good? Why not keep that bar high where it could be, where it should be. The fact is we don’t have to settle. Star Trek and Public Enemies - here are two big-budget films actually worth seeing this summer - movies with equal measures of brains and brawn. You just have to push aside the Transformers and GI Joe’s of the season to notice them. And I’m begging you - here and now - do so. Let’s stop sending the message that an explosion or two is all we need out of the summer months. Let’s show Hollywood with our wallet that we deserve better, and let’s do it before it’s too late.

The summer movie season has changed a lot since Jaws started it all in 1975. For one, we now live in an ADD society. Surrounded by technology and distraction at every corner, it takes a lot more to grab our attention than it used to. Studios now spend hundreds of millions of dollars in special effects and technical wizardry to create a must-see summer film. Furthermore, comic book movies have all but replaced standard action/adventure flicks. Ever since X-Men hit the jackpot in 2000, Marvel and DC have reigned supreme over the warmer months. All of these things I can live with. What I can’t accept any longer, however, is mediocrity. Wolverine didn‘t get my money last weekend, because it‘s everything the summer movie season shouldn‘t be. It’s time to put a stake in the ground. No more glossy shells and cheap thrills. No more leaving my brain at the door; I’m keeping it with me - all 12 months of the year.

Donnie Darko

2009-04-26T21:48:00.000-07:00

Every so often, amidst the swirling array of conventional blockbusters, comes a film that defies description; one able to transcend all genres and impart a viewing experience unlike any other. Brazil and The Matrix are two of the few films that fit this category - two diverse movies so overflowing with unique story-telling and ingenuity, they stay in mind long after the credits roll. Donnie Darko is the latest entry in this all too meager list of “out-of-the-box” films where creativity takes precedence over convention; genuine surprise over body count. In an age of complacent film-making, Darko is not only a breath of fresh air, but altogether one of the best movies ever made.

Welcome to the year 1988 - a time when conversations can range from politics (Dukakis vs. Bush) to the sex-lives of Smurfs (don’t ask). The main character of the story is Donnie (played flawlessly by October Sky’s Jake Gyllenhaal). Donnie is a troubled teen undergoing the typical woes of girls, school, and loneliness in the small town of Middlesex. However, Donnie also experiences some slightly more unusual problems in his youth - vivid hallucinations and depression for which he receives medication and counseling. One night, Donnie is visited by a large creature in a bunny suit named Frank who tells him the world will end in 28 days. Is Frank merely a figment of Donnie’s imagination? What happens when the 28 days come to pass? The answers will repeatedly surprise you, and will no doubt leave a number of viewers scratching their head when the lights go up.

But what differentiates Darko from other films before it that have attempted to both entrance and confound their audience, is the endearing nature of the characters. The movie doesn’t feel like a gimmick (like 1997’s The Game), but rather a rich world of interesting inhabitants where anything is possible. The way the Darko family interacts with one another is particularly fascinating. From brother and sister fights at the dinner table (Donnie’s sister was played by Jake Gyllenhaal’s real-life sister Maggie) to playful conversations behind closed doors - this is a family that has many obvious problems, but remains overwhelmingly likable nonetheless. The most refreshing aspect was the chemistry between Donnie’s parents. I can't think of another film about teenagers where one actually senses the parents love each other. Too often, authority figures are relegated to the role of “the enemy” or used as convenient puppets to advance the story. The other characters outside the Darko family are equally interesting. Donnie’s friends are the most one-dimensional of the bunch, but still manage to provide a handful of memorable lines. Noah Wyle fits the bill nicely as Donnie’s science teacher and Jena Malone gives a heart-felt performance as Donnie’s love interest, Gretchen. While the chemistry between the two isn’t exactly electrifying, it is a perfect example of the subdued and innocent relationships we often encounter in our youth.

But without question, the movie appropriately belongs to one actor: Jake Gyllenhaal. Injecting the perfect blend of humor and despair into every scene, Donnie becomes a character we both adore and identify with. This may not be Gyllenhaal's best performance, but considering he was only 20 years old at the time, he displays a suprising amount of raw talent and depth. Darko is a movie that singlehandedly rests on its lead, and Gyllenhaal is more than up to the task.

But the film would be nothing without the man pulling the strings. Amazingly, this is Richard Kelly's directorial debut. Yet every inch of the movie feels like the product of a seasoned veteran. Employing intricate camera angles, seamless effects, and perfectly chosen 80's music, Kelly's film dances around perfection. But it would be nothing without an exceptional script that revels in both vision and ambiguity. This is a film that beckons multiple viewings and endless discussion, while still providing enough clues for viewers to form solid theories on what has taken place. If you don't like movies that stimulate your intellect and demand undivided attention, avoid Darko like the plague. For those willing to engage with it, however, the results are surprisingly rewarding.

Behind the labyrinthine plot of Darko, a number of important themes are subtly at work. The search for meaning in a meaningless world, the toil of faith without sight, and the battle between fate and free will are all ideas touched on in one form or another. But I think the theme Darko tackles best is the folly of putting on masks in our relationships with others. Toward the end of the film, Donnie's chosen outfit for Halloween is a skeleton suit. This costume represents one of Donnie's greatest strengths: transparency. Whatever Donnie thinks, he says. Whatever he feels, he expresses. There is simply no difference between who Donnie is on the inside and who he is on the outside. Unfortunately, this is not the case for his fellow Middlesex inhabitants. Donnie is surrounded by people who have perfected the art of putting on masks. People who appear to have life all figured out, but inside are empty tombs. The Pharisees were like this, and we are like this too. The most common answer these days to "how are you doing?" is "fine." But most of the time, we're not fine. We're broken. We're desperate. We're lost. Our masks are comfortable, but they're eating us alive. It's high time we were more like Donnie - hungry for honesty, immune to pretention, and unashamed to admit we can't do this alone.

In the end, Donnie Darko has a bit of something for everyone - liberal doses of humor, shades of horror and suspense, a science fiction underbelly, and even tender romance. Add to the mix poignant themes applicable to all, and you have a tour de force. This is a film to be cherished; a mind-blowing work of art that reminds us why we love movies in the first place.

Grade: A+

#20 in Cinema Faith's top 20 films of all time

Fiddler on the Roof

2009-04-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

I revisited Fiddler on the Roof kicking and screaming. The problem wasn’t musicals; West Side Story is one of my favorite films. The problem was my memories. You see, Fiddler was one of my Grandpa’s most beloved movies, and, bless his heart, he tried on more than one occasion to make it mine. But let’s face it - as a kid, there were cooler movies to like. I was living in the world of Jurassic Park and Jaws. A quaint film about singing Jews was the last thing on my wish list. Thankfully, however, with age comes maturity, and at my wife’s persistence, I decided to give the movie one more try. Grandpa was right. The truth is Fiddler is a wonderful film - a soaring epic about strange people with strange practices struggling with problems familiar to us all.

The town is Anateyka. The slogan is “tradition.” Being a Jew here means ordering your life around a carefully prescribed set of customs. Work grinds to a halt at the end of the week to make way for the Sabbath. A nosy lady named the “matchmaker” stops by uninvited to give advice on potential suitors. And, at the mere shake of a hand, the man of the house decides which husbands will marry his daughters. This last custom is the one on center stage in Fiddler. Tevye, the main character of the story, has three daughters of marrying age: Tzeitel, Hodel, and Chava. But as determined as Tevye is to handpick their husbands, his daughter’s hearts are blinded by love. Thus, Tevye faces a dilemma: over-rule the men they’ve chosen and stay faithful to tradition or give in to their wishes and relinquish authority as the man of the house.

In our world, the choice is obvious. Our society has marginalized authority so much that the custom of arranged marriages seems draconian and corrupt. But I sympathize with Tevye’s plight. In this self-contained culture, the man’s very honor is at stake. What will his fellow townsmen think of his daughters calling the shots? What sort of precedence does giving in set? Plus, these aren’t just traditions for tradition sake - they’re rooted in Tevye’s belief system. If this is the way God has ordained the home, what is a man to make of his own flesh and blood telling him the times are changing, and he needs to change too.

Yet, Tevye is a good father. And in the end, he graciously places his daughters' happiness above his pride. Played perfectly by the actor Topol, Tevye is an inspiring portrait of a Godly man. He tirelessly tends to his family’s needs, he is affectionate and selfless to everyone he meets, and he is a man of good humor who takes both poverty and affliction in stride. Tevye also maintains a unique relationship with God - talking to Him out loud like a close friend, and chiding Him playfully when problems arise. This is what a life of “praying without ceasing” looks like.

However, Fiddler is more than a mere character study. This is a film filled to the brim with music, dancing, and joy. The Jews of Anateyka know oppression - they are governed by a Czar hell-bent on driving them away from the city gates. But they have learned to be joyful despite the circumstance. And when there is a cause for celebration, they know how to party. On a visceral level, the movie works wonders - due mainly to the soundtrack. These are playful, catchy, gorgeous songs that pump the movie full of life and single-handedly earn the film‘s classic status. “If I Were a Rich Man,” “Sunrise Sunset,” “Tradition” - these are songs most people know that haven’t even seen the movie, and there isn’t a weak one in the bunch. But I guess that should be expected of a musical. What’s more surprising is how well the filmmaking holds up. The sets, direction, and cinematography on display here are remarkably top-notch. And unlike many play-to-film adaptations, nothing feels artificial.

But the most surprising thing of all is that Fiddler concerns itself with a peculiar culture in an unfamiliar time, and still manages to contain themes applicable to modern day audiences. One that had particular resonance for me was the trials of parenthood. My son is 14 months old. But it was just last week that I brought him home from the hospital for the first time. Just a few days ago that he still couldn’t crawl yet. Just yesterday that he took his first, wobbly steps. Time as a parent flies by. And no matter how far away it seems now, I know letting go will be one of the hardest things I face. One minute, daddy is center stage. The next, a spouse is there to replace him. But letting go is doubly hard when children turn their back on your values. Try as I might to instill Godliness in my son, there may come a time when he goes his own way. And then, like Tevye, I’ll be faced with a choice: harden my heart in the name of tradition or love him anyway in the name of grace. I can’t say for sure what my choice would be, having never faced such a difficult decision. But I do know one thing: when I was lost in the bondage of self and the hell of my making, I’m glad God chose love.

Needless to say, I’ve gleaned a lot more since my childhood viewing of Fiddler. I was naïve back then, and blissfully ignorant about film and life as a whole. Not that that’s a bad thing. I think we all need a time in our lives when dinosaurs and sharks are what keep us awake at night. But that time has passed, and I’m an adult now - for better or worse. At various points in Fiddler, a musician is seen playing a violin on the rooftops of Anateyka. Who is this fiddler on the roof? I think the title can be taken on two levels. The first is the plight of the Jews. Here is a race that has been persecuted for centuries. One need only look at the Holocaust or the end of Fiddler itself to understand this portrait of a lonely fiddler desperately scratching out his tune on the precarious precipice of life and death. But I feel the title has an even broader implication. One I never could have grasped as a raw, untested youth. I think we are all fiddlers on the roof. The foundation we live on - this thing called life - is a path fraught with unpredictability. Trials, sorrow, disease, and death - these aren’t abstract concepts, they’re reality. They’re inevitable. And yet we go on, joyously playing the song we’ve been given; hoping beyond hope that when it’s all said and done - when gravity finally wins - our music will carry on through the night. L-Chaim.

Grade: A

Top Ten Lists and More!

2009-04-16T16:30:00.000-07:00

You spoke, I listened. Many people have requested that I post some of my favorite films from the last few years. So, for your reading pleasure, I have included below my top 10 lists for 2007 and 2008. If you haven't seen these movies, now is the time.

But that's not all! I've also added some exciting things to the main page. First, there's a list of what I think are the top 20 movies ever made. What? It just says "Coming Soon" next to each number? Well of course it does! What better way to keep you all coming back. The plan is that in between regular theater and DVD reviews, I'll be posting reviews of those twenty films - working my way from #20 to #1. So, you see, my list will slowly be revealed before your eyes, keeping you in suspense until the grand finale! Bum bum bum. The second thing I've added is a continuously evolving top 10 list for 2009. But, since it's only April, please take that list with a grain of salt. Only the first five movies are actually worth watching, and by December, I doubt any will be left standing. Last, but not least, I've added a weekly updated "Weekend Box Office." This is for everyone who would be interested in knowing "Hannah Montana" was the number one movie last weekend. God help us all.

Whew! I think that's all the updating I can handle for one day. Got more suggestions? Leave a comment!

Top 10 Films of 2008

2009-04-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

1. Slumdog Millionaire
2. Revolutionary Road
3. Wall-E
4. The Dark Knight
5. Changeling
6. Blindness
7. Tropic Thunder
8. Rachel Getting Married
9. Doubt
10. Frost/Nixon

Top 10 Films of 2007

2009-04-16T16:22:00.000-07:00

1. There Will Be Blood
2. Into the Wild
3. Zodiac
4. Sunshine
5. No Country for Old Men
6. American Gangster
7. 3:10 to Yuma
8. Michael Clayton
9. Knocked Up
10. Juno

The Apostle

2009-04-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

A man pulls over at the scene of an accident. As the police take notes, the man grabs his Bible and crosses the road into a field where one of the cars sits in a mangled heap. As the man gets closer, he notices a teenage boy and girl lying in the vehicle - both motionless with blood on the dash. The man lays his Bible on the roof of the car, and asks the boy if he‘d like to accept Jesus into his heart. The boy nods slowly. The man leads Him in a prayer. A police officer arrives and shoos the man away, and the boy - with blood streaming down his forehead - softly mumbles “thank you.”

Thanks for watching TBN? Not so fast. As religious as this scene might sound, the movie it appears in wasn’t manufactured by a Christian studio. In fact, in many respects, it doesn’t fit the definition of “Christian cinema” at all. Direct from Hollywood, formed by the hands of secular artists, containing a fair measure of profanity and violence - this isn’t a Christian film. This is what Christian films should be. Say hello to The Apostle. Preachy writing and direction are nowhere to be found. A gospel message doesn’t play at the end of the credits. And the writer, director, and star isn’t Kirk Cameron - it’s Robert Duvall. A movie about a Christian that’s also a work of art? Now there’s a novel concept.

Sonny Dewey loves Jesus. Known by most as The Apostle E.F., Sonny travels day and night throughout his native state of Texas proclaiming to anyone that will listen (and some who won’t) that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. He dances for joy in front of bilingual congregations, he shouts truth to pastors-to-be behind a mic and podium, and he recites the books of the Bible with his children every time he sees them. Sonny’s love for God is infectious, and wherever he goes, people follow.

But Sonny Dewey is also human. He’s a self-professed womanizer, and a man prone to a violent temper. And here’s where The Apostle differs poignantly from lesser religious fare. The average Christian movie presents a main character in one of two ways: either he is a saint for the film’s duration or he is a sinner who becomes a saint in the end. Duvall knows better. Sonny isn’t a saint or a sinner - he’s both. And the truth is we all are both. The most wicked person on earth is still capable of selfless good; and the most righteous person on earth is still a monster. To portray a character as one or the other is quite simply an artificial version of reality. And that’s why The Apostle stands as one of the most accurate silver screen depictions of a Christian to date.

Yet, there’s more than mere content separating the film from its orthodox counterparts. The level of craftsmanship on display here is miles above most religious material. With The Apostle, Duvall proves himself a multi-faceted filmmaker. Like Clint Eastwood, he prefers efficiency over flash. His shot selection and direction aren’t necessarily arresting, but they get the job done. Where Duvall truly shines as a director, however, is in the memorable performances he coaxes from the cast. Billy Bob Thornton, in particular, makes a lasting impression as a gruff southerner hell-bent on tearing the Apostle’s church down. He may be in only two scenes, but both of them are stand-outs. And in front of the camera, Duvall fares even better. His portrayal of Sonny is nothing short of electrifying. Whether you subscribe to Sonny‘s religion or not, you can‘t help but love him. His energy is contagious, and his passion is inspiring. This performance landed Duvall his fifth Oscar nomination, and is really the cherry on top of an already extraordinary career.

However, I’d be remiss, if I didn’t point out that The Apostle is not a perfect film. One problem is the running time. Clocking in at 2 hours and 14 minutes, the movie feels a bit long. Some trimming near the middle when the Apostle hits the open road would make a leaner, more air-tight cut. But it’s a credit to Duvall’s acting that even in a scene that feels bloated, you still can’t take your eyes off him. My other complaint is a few awkward transitions between scenes that testify to Duvall’s relative inexperience in the director‘s seat. But really, none of these things are deal breakers. They may keep the movie from soaring to the level of masterpiece, but a few aesthetic defects in no way damper the raw power on display.

The fact remains that Duvall has created something truly special in The Apostle. Here is a film that deals frankly with religious characters and Biblical themes, but manages to avoid the didactic pitfalls of standard Christian cinema. Duvall’s intention isn’t to preach, lecture, or save. He wants to present a character - a complicated preacher who loves God with every fiber of his being, but struggles daily to quell the demons lurking within. The word “redemption” has been tossed around a lot in Christian circles. Here’s my definition of the term as it relates to film: redemptive movies depict sinful people who realize the brokenness inside them, and seek transformation in a Biblical truth beyond themselves. The truth doesn’t need to be revealed as Biblical, nor does the film have to be in any way religious. But I think special praise should be given to a movie that does wear its faith on its sleeve without letting artistry or subtlety get lost in the making. And that’s why, for my money, The Apostle is not only an inspiring character study and a great film, it’s also one of the most redemptive movies ever made.

Grade: A-

Synecdoche, New York

2009-04-03T15:46:00.000-07:00

Charlie Kaufman is a genius. There isn’t a screenwriter working today that possesses the depth, imagination, and scope that Kaufman pours onto paper with every punch of his typewriter. Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - these are scripts that will be read by aspiring screenwriters for generations to come. But only one of them is a great film. And therein lies the problem with the genius that is Kaufman; only once has he managed to meld the breadth of his incredible mind with the heart. Eternal Sunshine is the classic it is because not only is it a genre bending head-trip, it’s also a heart-tugging love story. Only when the cerebral and emotional join forces can a film truly fire on all cylinders. But when one of these crucial elements is left out in the cold, the result is a mixed bag at best. Sadly, Synecdoche, New York - Kaufman’s latest screenplay effort and directorial debut - falls victim to the latter. The consequence is a solidly directed, impeccably acted, audaciously written accomplishment that once again misses greatness by 18 inches.

Describing the plot of Synecdoche is like describing a memorable dream. The details are there, but the connections are scarce. Ostensibly, the film is about a troubled playwright by the name of Caden Cotard who attempts to create a grand-scale play about nothing more than life itself - using the stories of real folks, in real-life sets, played by actors portraying real people. Simple enough, right? Not exactly. Not only does the plot not play out as simple as it sounds, it really isn’t the point. From the very first frame, Kaufman makes it abundantly clear that Synecdoche is not a city in reality as we know it. Time skips around peculiarly, Caden happens to be in every TV show and billboard in sight, and everything - from the city to Caden’s body - is falling apart at an alarming rate.

So what exactly is Synecdoche, New York? Interpretations will vary. I have a theory that may or may not hit the intended target. Here goes. I think the clues indicate that Caden has wound up in some form of purgatory - a waiting room between death and eternity. Though how he got there isn’t directly addressed, at one point a character says to Caden, “Why did you kill yourself?” When he is naturally surprised by the question, the character re-phrases it to “Why would you kill yourself?” Perhaps a mere throwaway reference. Perhaps the key to everything. In addition, a theme that pops up at several points is the importance of making the most of your life while you have it. Combining those two nuggets, my theory is Caden was a depressed playwright in real life who committed suicide, and is now stuck in an in-between reality to learn the value of life, the value of others, and the grave waste of taking such a gift into your own hands.

Personally, I've always had trouble believing in purgatory. I don’t feel the Bible lends any concrete credence to the topic. But, I also feel that the afterlife isn’t fully comprehensible to our finite minds either. Is it possible there is a gap between death and eternity? Who can say for sure? I believe that everybody will be judged for earthly deeds, good or bad. And I believe that, even for Christians, there will be a time for mourning about the lives we lived and the things we could have done better. Perhaps that will take the form of a purgatory-like reality where bit by bit the people and things we love are ripped away, and in the bleakness and solitude, we finally realize the true value of existence, the strands by which humanity is connected, and the big picture view of life as we know it. If purgatory truly does await us (and even if it doesn’t), then Synecdoche is a grave warning to us to get it right the first time and embrace the seconds while we have them. Carpe Diem.

But Synecdoche is about as far removed from The Dead Poets Society as a film can get. Any inspiration you may glean takes work. In fact, staying with the film at all takes work. It’s a movie you admire from a distance, but never truly love. And that’s a problem when you’re dealing with a narrative this convoluted. Truly understanding every facet of the film - every idea Kaufman is trying to pack into its over-stuffed two hours - would take far more than one viewing. And the sad truth is that one viewing of this material is about all a sane person can handle. One of my favorite films of all time is Donnie Darko. Like Synecdoche, the plot of Darko is a complex, mind-bender that takes at least three full viewings to fully comprehend. But, unlike Synecdoche, Darko is about as entertaining as films come. The movie hits every beat perfectly, and manages to resonate deep within. When I was done with Darko, I didn’t understand a bit of it, but I wanted to. I knew I had to see the movie again - soon. And I did; I ended up watching it three nights in a row. That’s the difference between a movie that connects on a surface level, and a movie that invades the soul. I was stimulated intellectually by Synecdoche. I even laughed at the frequent stabs of black humor. But, I have no desire to watch it again. Because despite all its bells, whistles, and earnestness, Synecdoche feels like an empty shell. And coming from someone this talented, that’s a crying shame.

In the end, Kaufman hit the jackpot with Eternal Sunshine. The idea was fresh, and the movie pulsated with a rare emotional core. Now, one film later, Kaufman is back in a familiar rut. And all I can do is mourn the waste. Because every other element in Synecdoche is the ingredient of a masterpiece. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, in the role of Caden, proves once again why he is on the shortlist of best actors working today. Kaufman’s script is once again sharp as nails in its originality and scope. And Kaufman himself proves surprisingly capable as a first-time director - every shot and background detail is perfectly honed to underscore the ideas on center stage. But in the end, that’s all Synecdoche is full of: ideas. And film demands more than that. It demands that we feel, that we identify, and most of all, that we care. Perhaps one day lightning will strike again and another Eternal Sunshine will drop into theaters with a bang. Until then, I’ll keep on watching everything Kaufman does - admiring the vision, applauding the genius, and hoping he’s found that extra dose of heart that makes a good film great.

Grade: B

Christian Critics

2009-03-30T19:55:00.000-07:00

What exactly is a Christian film critic? I know a lot of people who greet that term with disdain. And to a point, I would agree with them. Too often, the term "Christian critic" has become synonymous with self-righteous watchdogs of Hollywood. People spouting off against the immorality of film - longing for the good ol' days of wholesome family entertainment. Or others banging down the doors of cinemas in protest of the latest blasphemy of the week. The Golden Compass, Harry Potter - you name it. These people have made their voices heard. And loudly. But while I'm often annoyed by these individuals, I do see some value in what they do. I strongly believe that not everyone is called by God to open up their minds and hearts to whatever Hollywood churns out. So, I guess it's a good thing that there are people out there analyzing films on a content level - counting up language, violence, and sex, and offering an opinion on whether a film is worth the journey. Sites like pluggedinonline.com and screenit.com provide great tools for people who are sensitive to offensive content, and aren't called to navigate through the more murky areas film has to offer. And I would never look down on anyone for utilizing them.

But there's another part of me that also sees a huge detriment to this particular brand of Christian critics. Because in the process of judging films solely for their content, something huge gets lost in the shuffle. Rather than film being treated as the beautiful art form it is, all of the sudden movies become something to watch with one hand over your eyes. And by doing that, we become in danger of missing the potentially life-changing biblical truth bubbling under the surface of these so-called "immoral" films. The fact of the matter is, God hasn't called us to live in a self-contained bubble - cut off from the unappealing aspects of the world or things that ruffle our feathers. No, He has called us to be salt and light. And where there's light, there must be darkness. Movies shouldn't all be G-rated, sanitized depictions of the world around us, because that isn't true. And if you're a Christian, you're called to focus your attention on things that are "true" (Philippians 4:8), not false. As appealing as our bubble is, it doesn't do the world any good. And stories against a backdrop of fallenness don't come without precedence. Like it or not, the Bible is full of them. As cliche as the saying has become, if the Bible was filmed it truly would be rated R. Or worse. Take the simple, seemingly G-rated story of the Israelites fleeing the Egyptians across the Red Sea. Just as the Egyptians enter the center of the split, God causes the waters to be whole again - drowning every man in sight. Men and horses gasping their last breath as the water rushes over their heads. Dead bodies floating to the surface as Israelite families look on. Grim to say the least. Then there's the classic tale of David. A story about a man who lusted after a married woman taking a shower, had sex with her, and then murdered her husband to cover up the affair. The fact is that the Bible, just like modern day films, is chock full of fallen people doing fallen things in a fallen world. But thankfully the stories don't end there; they all point toward the hope we have of redemption. Of a world set right again.

And I argue that that's exactly what great films do too. Great films depict broken, deficient human beings put to the test by extraordinary circumstances, and arriving on the other end in their essence - changed forever, and better people for it. Take the movie Schindler's List as an example. In the beginning we meet seflish entrepaneur Oskar Schindler. Oskar doesn't care about anyone or anything. The only thing he really does care about is making money. Lots of money. But through the extraordinary events of the Holocaust, Oskar undergoes a profound transformation. All of the sudden, this man who only cared about amassing wealth, actually creates a factory designed to lose money so he can save as many Jews as possible from extermination. In one of the last scenes, Oskar Schindler - the proud, arrogant, selfish character we first met - is reduced to a sobbing wreck because he realizes that his whole life prior to the Holocaust was a waste, and that even with the good he did for the Jews since then, he still could have saved more. That's redemption, folks. And that's coming from a film which is about as extreme as it gets in terms of language, violence, sex, and nudity. A film that most "Christian film critics" - judging the film on content alone - would be appalled at and demand you don't see. But I would implore just the opposite. Schindler's List is an essential film. A classic. And it deserves the same reaction a classic painting would receive - attention, respect, and awe.

So what is a Christian film critic? The definition obviously varies. As I said before, I do respect the critics out there judging films based on content alone. But, I also think there's more than enough of them to go around. Personally, I've always felt a different calling on my life. Instead of pointing people to the darkness of Hollywood, I feel called to point people to the light. Because more often than not, when I see a movie, I see truth. I see the very words of God calling out from just beneath the surface of the narrative. Broken characters made whole - redemption emerging from destruction.

I don't know about you, but I think that's something worth fighting for.

The Boondock Saints

2009-03-29T21:04:00.000-07:00

Cult films are a distinguished breed. The classification, typically granted to features that pass through theaters unnoticed only to gain a ripe following on DVD, is characterized by a rabid fan base with a near-religious devotion to converting the uninitiated. The followers effectively provide better advertising than any studio could muster – igniting word-of-mouth across college campuses, flooding the web with fan-fueled forums, and hosting midnight screenings where devotees gather in costume to embrace their discovery on the silver screen.

Unfortunately, as those who study cults can attest, the worshipped is not always worthy of the worship. Such is the case with The Boondock Saints. Saints debuted in 2000 with a run-of-the-mill domestic gross. Written/directed by first-time filmmaker Troy Duffy, the film earned a minor profit its opening weekend, and quietly disappeared. To Duffy’s delight, however, the movie has since transformed into a smash hit on DVD, making it one of the newest entries in the cultic underground. Sadly, the movie is also one of the least deserving of its second life. At best, Saints is diet Tarantino. At worst, it is a morally repugnant disgrace – cashing in on the trump card of religion to excuse the rambling of the profane.

In the opening scene of the film, two dark-clothed figures rise from a church pew to pay their respects at the front of the sanctuary. The men bow before a cross respectfully, kiss the feet of the crucified Jesus, and silently go on their way. Behind them, a priest delivers a fiery exhortation about the need for manifest justice in a frequently unjust world. The men, we soon discover, are street-smart Irish brothers chosen to be God’s earthly ministers of vengeance against those who blaspheme His name. Connor and Murphy MacMannus play the two “saintly” kinsmen with notable charisma and charm. Their brotherly bond rings true, providing the only flicker of warmth the film has to offer. Unfortunately, their strengths are overshadowed by the ham-it-up performances of everyone around them. Willem Dafoe leads the charge as a gay F.B.I. agent tracking the brother’s murderous wake. In a role that calls for him at one point to writhe on the ground in a dress and pantyhose, Dafoe chews the scenery and vomits it up; pouring more dirt on the coffin of an increasingly irrelevant career.

Yet, actors can only do so much with the direction given them. Consequently, the blame ultimately falls on the shoulders of Troy Duffy. An awkwardly edited title sequence, five minutes in, provides the first indicator of an amateur at the helm. A flashing text box describing the nickname, role, and Christian name of a newly introduced character promptly spews another red flag. Duffy has clearly seen his share of gangster movies, but his profanity-laden screenplay feels both derivative and ad hoc. Rather than developing a consistent tone, the script leaps to and fro from one genre to the next. In the end, Duffy offers neither style nor substance; just bits and pieces in search of a coherent whole.

The flaws in Saints are doubly illuminated when compared to last year’s Munich. Munich also tells the story of a group of rogue assassins who target wicked men. Spielberg’s film however, provides a moral center through the heart-wrenching portrait of Avner (played by Eric Bana). Avner, the team leader of a group assigned to kill the Muslims responsible for the 1972 Munich murders, never savors the assignment he has been given. He completes his mission out of loyalty to his Jewish homeland; and yet, with every successful assassination, we witness the indelible impact of murder on Avner’s soul. A soul is exactly what the Boondock Saints lack. Sure, they exhibit loyalty toward their friends and remember to say a prayer after pumping a man’s head full of lead, but killing comes peculiarly easy and without remorse. In fact, they seem to enjoy it. When a character expresses excitement after mowing down three gangsters in a coffee shop, one of the brother’s turns to him responding, “Liberating, isn’t it?” To cite the depravity of the men they kill or the Heavenly origin of their mission as an excuse for such callousness is nothing more than a copout. The brothers are not saints, they’re human. And murder is murder. By the end of Munich, Avner is a mere shell of the man he once was. He avenged his people, but his hands will never feel clean again.

Near the end of Saints, one of the brothers places a gun to the temple of a man he is about to kill. The Latin word “Veritas” is seen tattooed across his wrist as he cocks the weapon. The sight calls stark attention to the fact that “truth” is nowhere to be found in the land of The Boondock Saints. Duffy has cobbled together a far different version of reality; a world where violence is the answer to injustice, and murderers are glorified as saviors. Mixing violence, comedy, sex, and God into a half-baked package, the result is an adolescent wet dream - where male machismo takes precedence over reason, and God is the one to blame when dad asks about the sheets.

Grade: D