Joker: Folie à Deux

Director: Todd Phillips
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener, Zazie Beetz, Steve Coogan, Harry Lawtey, Leigh Gill, Ken Leung, Jacob Lofland, Bill Smitrovich
Running Time: 138 min.
Rating: R

★★½ (out of ★★★★)  

It seems fitting how all these post-mortems are being done on the critical and commercial failure of Todd Phillips' Joker: Folie à Deux since the film itself can almost be viewed as an autopsy of its brilliant predecessor.That this sequel feels made by someone who dislikes the idea of sequels isn't necessarily a negative, but Phillips creates a sprawling, audaciously ambitious mess that manages to tests viewers' patience as much as it subverts expectations. It's a huge, frustrating swing for the fences, revolving entirely around 2019's Joker while simultaneously having very little to do with it. 

Relitigating the previous film's events in painstaking detail, it focuses on the motivations behind Arthur Fleck's crimes and his own fractured state of mind as he faces trial. By this point, the character's mental illness and violent tendencies aren't exactly well guarded secrets, leaving the question as to whether a deeper psychological dive justifies another entry. And now with his perplexing follow-up, Phillips takes extremely bold measures to ensure it does. Some of those work, but others don't.  

Now in custody at Arkham State Hospital, party clown and failed stand-up comedian Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) awaits trial for the murders he committed two years earlier, including his live on-air killing of TV host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). As Arthur's lawyer Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener) builds an insanity defense arguing the Joker persona is responsible, Arkham guard Jackie (an excellent Brendan Gleeson) gets him into a music therapy class. It's here where Arthur meets and falls for Harleen "Lee" Quinzel (Lady Gaga), an obsessive Joker superfan who was committed for allegedly burning down her parents' apartment. 

After Lee's plan for them to escape and start a new life together is thwarted, an increasingly unhinged Arthur must prepare for court while his legions of Joker fans root him on. With Gotham's Assistant D.A. Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey) hellbent on a death penalty conviction, witnesses like former neighbor Sophie Drummond (Zazie Beetz) and co-worker Gary Puddles (Leigh Gill) take the stand to testify. Continuing to lean on Lee for support, Arthur's grip on reality slips as Joker reemerges, transforming the trial into a circus sideshow.

Given the heavy influence of Scorsese's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy on the first film, it wasn't the worst idea for Phillips to pair Joker up with Harley Quinn for a jukebox musical in the vein of New York, New York. But after a promising start, the dark, twisted love story loses its way when scattershot execution and repetitive scenes fail to move the story forward. Clocking in at two hours and eighteen minutes, it feels longer, accompanied by a trial of the century you worry may never end. What nearly saves it are two phenomenal performances and the impressive visuals, both of which are occasionally lost amidst a package that just doesn't come together like it should.   

A cleverly conceived animated opening where Joker is impersonated by his shadow prior to a live TV performance provides a more revealing glimpse into the film's themes than you'd suspect, as the Looney Tunes-style short conveys that ongoing tug of war between Arthur's two identities. And many of the musical sequences do succeed as a manifestation of his insanity, particularly an Arkham rooftop dance and a Sonny and Cher inspired variety show spoof. But even with the presence of old school songbook standards like "That's Entertainment," "When You're Smiling" and "I've Got the World on a String," these excursions become increasingly uneven, resulting in diminishing returns the more Phillips tries to squeeze in.

Of all the picture's issues, Phoenix and Gaga aren't among them, with the former giving another complex, compelling performance that alternates between dark humor and unimaginable despair as Arthur's vulnerability is put on full display for everyone to see. And despite skepticism surrounding her casting, Gaga's work is one of the best things in this, and not just because of her singing during the musical interludes. In capturing the dangerously compulsive infatuation Lee has with Joker, her true motivations remain constantly in question. Their bond not only reflects his narcissistic need for love and affection, but ties into themes of media obsession prevalent in the first film. 

Midway through, the narrative becomes disjointed when scenes drag and action awkwardly shifts between the hospital and courtroom. Musical sequences are either piled on or disappear before returning to relay the same idea in a different song or setting. But while Arthur's trial is entirely too long, it's still entertaining to watch Joker represent himself with a Grisham inspired Southern drawl as the supposedly no-nonsense judge (Life Goes On's Bill Smitrovich!) indulges his craziest whims. By the time returning characters take the stand, what unfolds feels like a bizarre cross between the Seinfeld finale and Colin Ferguson's 1993 shooting trial. Harvey Dent's inclusion makes sense, even if the character leaves so little an impression you'll have to remind yourself he's there, until a late development jolts us into recalling why.

While there's understandable disdain for what Phillips attempts, this approaches the material from an entirely different angle than the first film, far more invested in exploring whether Arthur and Joker really are one in the same. A potentially intriguing thesis on it comes toward the end, but even that's marred by some confusing, if well shot theatrics. Its final minutes feel more deflating than tragic, likely to leave viewers shaking their heads at the infuriating denouement, as if the joke's on them. And in a way, it is. But despite its many problems, this still could be worth revisiting down the road, if only to further examine how a Joker sequel turned out like this.       

Get Out

Director: Jordan Peele
Starring: Daniel Kaluuya, Allison Williams, Bradley Whitford, Catherine Keener, Caleb Landry Jones, Lil Rel Howery, Betty Gabriel, Marcus Henderson, LaKeith Stanfield, Stephen Root
Running Time: 103 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The scariest, most frighteningly realistic part of Jordan Peele's Get Out comes early, uncomfortably zeroing in on certain stupid things that certain white people say to black people in conversations to "prove" they're not racist. With every little action and comment you squirm since their obliviousness knows no bounds, terminally unaware of how ridiculous and ignorant they sound. Some of them are probably your friends, co-workers, teachers, neighbors or family members. And on occasion, I'm willing to bet those offenders have even included you and I. It would probably be insulting to suggest that the first sixty minutes of this horror thriller places anyone in the shoes of a black man being judged by the friends and family of his white girlfriend, but it does sure give us an eye-opening idea of what he'd have to put up with. That so much of this is subtle, even subliminal, to someone not consciously looking, is possibly its most unsettling aspect.

While making no mistake about the fact that Get Out is first and foremost a damning social commentary on racial tensions in America, what's been somewhat lost in the conversation is how slyly and expertly the comedian Peele (making his directorial debut) plays that hand. That is until he doesn't have to anymore, and audiences' worst fears, heavily hinted at from the very first frame, eventually come to fruition. Even with plenty of clues where this is going, it's still kind of jaw-dropping just how far Peele's willing to take this, to the point that you wonder how a project this socially, racially and politically charged even got the go-ahead.  You could quibble about where the plot eventually ends up, but good luck finding fault in how it arrives there, building genuine terror and suspense the entire way through. "Originality" isn't a word thrown around too often these days and while there are a few familiar genre elements at play, that definitely applies here.

When black photographer Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya) takes a trip with his white girlfriend, Rose Armitage (Allison Williams) to meet her parents for the first time, she confides in him that she hasn't revealed to them his race and doubts it will be an issue. Described by Rose as open and accepting people, neurosurgeon Dean (Bradley Whitford) and psychiatrist Missy (Catherine Keener) warmly welcome Chris into their home and, almost right off the bat, something seems off. Whether it be Dean's overly enthusiastic boasting of having wanted Obama elected to a third term, his defensive explanation of why all the hired help is black, or Missy's insistence on hypnotizing Chris, it appears any concerns of not fitting in might be the least of his problems.

It only gets stranger from there, with an uncomfortable encounter with Rose's drunk, unstable brother, Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones), offensive interrogations from party guests, and the black live-in housekeeper Georgina (a brilliantly creepy Betty Gabriel) and groundskeeper Walter (Marcus Henderson) behaving like zombies. Confiding his suspicions by phone to best friend and TSA agent, Rod (Lil Rel Howery), Chris realizes he's walked into something very bad, and while he wants to stay to support Rose, common sense tells him he can't get out soon enough, as what starts as Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? very quickly devolves into Guess Who's Coming to Hell?

It may not be completely apparent until the final credits just how carefully the story is set up, playing on real-life anxieties and prejudices to draw the viewer in, as for much of its running length, the people and situations Chris encounters at the Armitage house are not only steeped heavily in realism, but painfully uncomfortable to watch. It's a key component that all these interactions, as disturbingly strange as they are, aren't so outright hostile that even he initially chalks it up to paranoia or nerves. It's easy to imagine an alternate director's cut of all these scenes that heavily emphasize that since Peele's ability to let audience's see through the protagonist's eyes at the true extent of this ignorant behavior is one of his script's greatest strengths. It's at work through every interaction at that house, whether it be a houseguest trying to chat Chris up about Tiger Woods or Rose's brother's obsession with his athletic abilities, even challenging him to a fight in one of many cringe-worthy dinner table moments.

Through much of this, Chris is about as good and patient a sport as anyone could be under some pretty degrading circumstances, and little known English actor Daniel Kaluuya skillfully walks a really tight rope, trying to remain calm in the midst of deplorable treatment masking itself as mildly disingenuous hospitality. It slowly gets to him, attempting to put on a solid front for Rose, played by Allison Williams as essentially the ideal girlfriend, even as the relationship eventually carries with it this unspoken racist implication that he'd be an idiot to screw it up, almost as if he should consider himself "'lucky" to land someone like her. In other words, don't rock the boat because you're the one being judged. All these racial overtones and undertones just keep building, boiling to the surface when the narrative bomb is dropped and a full-blown, insane explanation is given for what we've been seeing.

By the time Peele shows his cards and it's clear what's happening (the details of which land somewhere between A Clockwork Orange, The Stepford Wives and Soylent Green), a shift has to come, and how well he pulls off this transition is what will make or break the movie for many. Mostly, it's a seamless one due to the fact that we've been pulling so hard for this protagonist since he walked into an already awkward situation with the best of intentions, realizing it's now a fight for  survival. And once it is, you'll again be scratching your head at how this was even made to begin with, and yet somehow Peele pulls it off, juggling sci-fi, horror, comedy and socially conscious drama as deftly as possible considering the unexplored thematic terrain.

Given how many different things are attempted, this all remains fairly consistent right up until and including the final scene, which frightens in much the same way the rest of the film does, just in a more literal context. It cleverly reminds us, in even the most extreme situations, how justified the protagonist's fear is, and how stagnantly ingrained society's view of him is. By masquerading as a horror film, before fully evolving into one, it's able to explore and tackle timely issues that could otherwise play as as a preachy sermon under more traditional circumstances. Instead, we get something that pushes the envelope just far enough to leave a lasting imprint. How much of one will have to bare itself out in subsequent viewings, which is something Get Out proves more than worthy of.  

Begin Again

Director: John Carney
Starring: Keira Knightley, Mark Ruffalo, Adam Levine, Catherine Keener, Hailee Steinfeld, James Corden, CeeLo Green, Mos Def
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

John Carney's musical dramedy Begin Again is so effortlessly fun and enjoyable that it's easy to get swept away in the songs and forget that it actually raises some interesting questions. What exactly does it mean to "sell out?" How does stardom change someone? What should drive an artist to make music? Why is the music industry collapsing? None of these questions are overtly asked or answered, but they're present the whole time, bubbling beneath the surface of what we think will be a fluffy rom-com.While it's become a cliche to call any movie "a love letter to" whatever (in this case music and New York City) this one actually sort of is. But it's definitely not a romance. It's about our relationship to music, told through that music and two characters who are about as real and authentic as it gets.  
 
There's one pivotal scene that serves as the jumping-off point for the entire story and the moment our lead characters' lives converge. It's so important we see it twice, from two different perspectives. Struggling singer-songwriter Gretta James (Keira Knightley) is performing in a dingy, Lower East Side bar in NYC and she's fairly unimpressive. Not terrible mind you, but singing exactly how you'd expect someone of her limited experience level to. But the second time we see and hear that same performance it's through the eyes and ears of divorced, alcoholic record label executive Dan Mulligan (Mark Ruffalo) whose best days in the industry are behind him, having just been kicked out of the company he co-founded.

Though drunk, Dan doesn't experience what everyone in the bar does, but instead what  could be, adding sounds in his head and watching all the dormant instruments on stage come to life, invisibly playing on their own. He's conducting his own symphony with Gretta as its centerpiece, imagining the kind of album they'll make and release together. Of course, she thinks he's nuts. And the best thing about it is how she's completely right, but also almost equally nuts for going along for the ride. It's an incredible scene that not only highlights the power of music, but recognizes the role of producer, whose job it often is to see potential when no one else does.

The film's structure is kind of interesting, with the story not technically under way until that bar performance. Separate flashbacks show how Gretta and Dan got to this point, with neither exactly riding high lately. She's broken up with longtime boyfriend and songwriting partner Dave Kohl (Adam Levine), just as he exploded as a mainstream star. Temporarily crashing at her old friend Steve's (James Corden), she's considering a move back to England, worrying there may be nothing left for her in New York. Dan is meanwhile battling best friend and business partner Saul (Mos Def) over the direction of their record label and losing. He's also confronted with the harsh reality that his rebellious teen daughter Violet (Hailee Steinfeld) and ex-wife Miriam (Catherine Keener) resent him for walking out, rebuffing his latest attempt to be a father again at his convenience. It's here where Gretta and Dan's paths cross at the bar, with him eventually convincing her to record an album after much prompting. The catch is that they'll do it publicly at various locations across New York City, funding it themselves and recruiting a team of talented unknown musicians. They're an unusual pair faced with a difficult challenge, but the project eventually proves to be a first step toward rebuilding their lives.

For a while you're so lost in the music that it becomes just as easy to forget there's a very deliberate plot, though not necessarily one that adheres to the strict formula we're used to. Most of the music is written by former New Radicals frontman Gregg Alexander of "You Get What You Give" fame. While that 1998 single cemented the band as a one-hit wonder, these tunes not only sound nothing like it, but could almost be considered his response to the industry that facilitated its existence. It's a lot closer to the acoustic, singer-songwritery sound found in Carney's previous music-based film, Once, and they're well performed by both Knightley and Levine. They offer up dueling versions of the ballad "Lost Stars," which would seem to be a lock for a Best Original Song Oscar nod despite that exclusive category's often crazy qualifications.

The screenplay succeeds in part by not making Gretta some great undiscovered talent, but a bar singer who probably wouldn't be signed by a major label based on her vocal ability. But the true irony is that less talented artists are signed everyday for reasons having nothing to do with their music, as much of that can just be fixed in the studio. This discussion of style over substance is nicely addressed in the film, with Dan realistically written as a smart producer who knows this, but thinks his profit-hungry business partner has gone too far in the other direction. He's probably right, but also too much of a mess to articulate it or try to compromise in any way. True to his skill set, Dan knows Gretta's limitations and what needs to be done to work around them to give her the confidence to complete the album. And that just might be the sharpest aspect of Carney's script.

Knightley's an odd but inspired choice for this role since on paper it wouldn't seem like it could work at all. Strong but never transcendent in everything in which she's appeared, most of her previous performances have elicited a respectable golf clap rather than an enthusiastic rave from this reviewer. That many still closely associate her with period dramas would seem to only increase the difficulty in picturing her as a hipster musician performing at bars on the Lower East Side. Well, consider this that enthusiastic rave since Knightley connects in a way she hasn't before, making Gretta instantly relatable and recognizable to the viewer within minutes of her first appearance. Charmingly adorable and sarcastic, but never cloying, she's easy to root for and Knightley is just good enough a singer to sell this. It wouldn't work for the story if she were any better or worse vocally, so in that sense Carney really knew what he was doing in casting her opposite Ruffalo.

Such a chameleon that it's hard to believe he's the same actor who recently played wrestler Dave Schultz in Foxcatcher, Ruffalo is carving out a career similar to Philip Seymour Hoffman's in that he can invisibly step into anyone. Dan's a walking disaster who's basically torpedoing his life and career, selfishly pushing everyone away. This shouldn't be a likable guy. Then just watch what Ruffalo subtly does with him to win us over. But if there's a weak area in the movie it's the sub-plot involving Dan's inability to connect with his estranged daughter, though in fairness nothing about it is handled poorly. It's just kind of there, with my indifference undoubtedly stemming from having just seen Hailee Steinfeld play nearly the same exact angry teen role opposite Kevin Costner in 3 Days To Kill and it's starting to feel old hat.

While the casting of Maroon 5's Adam Levine is the decision most likely to induce eye-rolling amongst more discerning viewers, his actual performance doesn't, strangely accumulating more facial hair the more unlikable he becomes. By taking this on he also opens himself up to the criticism that he's just "playing himself," as Dave Kohl (not Grohl) could easily be described in the same unflattering terms sometimes ascribed to him by dissenters. But the movie's more interesting than that, looking beyond the reductive reasoning that Kohl's just simply a self-absorbed sell-out. It's into the "how" and "why." Are these people born or made? Would anyone who experiences a taste of success or fame automatically re-prioritize? Without spoiling too much, toward the end of the film we're given the rare treat of actually seeing an artist seemingly "sell-out" mid-performance, if that's indeed what's happening. Based on what we see here, Levine just might be a slightly more interesting performer as Kohl than as himself. It's not that he lacks talent in reality, just that the musical material his character's given does seem to suit his singing style better.

The biggest question explored is the artist's purpose for making music. Is it done out of the love of the art or the having that art reach millions of people and bring them happiness? Or maybe it's just about the money. Some of the best scenes occur between Gretta and Kohl, including an early one in which she slaps him for what seems like no reason, until we realize both characters communicate with an unspoken language that exists between songwriters. They got there first and are a step ahead of us, knowing something we don't. How often does that happen?  I'm still not sure the film's eventual solution to what ails the music industry is the right answer, but it works for this circumstance. The timely issue of artist compensation is rarely even addressed in movies, so I'll take it. Let's just say what Dan and Gretta eventually do with their album works only for a certain type of artist, while calling into question how much profit artists actually see when at the mercy of a record label. The only exception is if you're so big that you are the label, or in someone like Taylor Swift's case, bigger than it.

This project was formerly known under it's working title, Can a Song Save Your Life?, which is not only more memorable, but a better encapsulation of what it's actually about. Given its themes, it's almost painfully ironic that commerce won out and this was instead released with a generic title that practically oozes corporate blandness. Luckily, the end result does anything but that. Under normal circumstances we know how a feel-good musical drama like this wraps up. We know who Gretta should end up with and what should happen with Dan's career and family. Carney is refreshingly uninterested in any of this because it's irrelevant. It's not about exes or shattered relationships and he doesn't even "go there" with Gretta and Dan's relationship even though he conceivably could and get away with it. It's just that there's no reason to and it would be a betrayal of what the story's really about: The music. It never takes a backseat. Much like the album being produced in it, Begin Again tries and succeeds in making the absolute most of what it has.
        

Captain Phillips

Director: Paul Greengrass
Starring: Tom Hanks, Barkhad Abdi, Catherine Keener, Barkhad Abdirahman, Faysal Ahmed, Mahat M. Ali, Michael Chernus, David Warshofsky, Corey Johnson, Chris Mulkey
Running Time: 134 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Imagine my surprise when I'm almost halfway through Captain Phillips and the realization dawns on me that I'm not even close to the final thirty minutes everyone's talking about and the suspense has already reached unbearable, pulse-pounding levels. And this is knowing what's going to happen. Or so we think. We actually know very little aside from the fact that in 2009 Captain Richard Phillips and his crew were hijacked in the Indian Ocean by Somalian pirates, he was taken hostage, and lived to write about it. That book is the basis for this film, vividly brought to life by Paul Greengrass (United 93). How much of what ends up on screen resembles the actual incident will tiredly be the subject for much debate, but that has little to do with the finished product, which is nearly a masterpiece.

We've been through this before with Zero Dark Thirty, when intelligent discussion devolved into political mudslinging as its detractors attempted to make the filmmakers and audiences somehow feel guilty about the U.S. capturing and killing Osama bin Laden. I'm all for empathy and understanding, but is anyone else more than a little disturbed that this film's worth is being judged on how compassionately the Somalian pirates are portrayed? The same Somalian pirates who hijacked an American cargo ship and took its captain hostage at gunpoint. Greengrass going the extra mile to try to depict them as something more than one-dimensional monsters is probably giving them better treatment than they deserve based on their actions. If anything, those involved in the making of this picture should be commended for managing to invest the story with this much humanity without sacrificing any of the true event's intensity. But the big question is: How on Earth was Tom Hanks not nominated for this?

From the opening scene, Hanks plays Boston native Richard Phillips, captain of the MV Maersk Alabama container ship, as a born leader. That leadership will be severely tested when four armed pirates led by Abduwali Muse (Barkhad Abdi) take control of the ship off the coast of Somalia and he has to take whatever measures necessary to protect his crew and make them feel like they're in control, while still somehow maintaining a certain degree of control himself. What plays out is not only a severe culture clash, with the pirates' motivations remaining vague, even sometimes to them. To say their plan wasn't well thought out doesn't even begin to cover it, but despite the sloppy execution (or rather because of it) the ordeal seems that much more dangerous for the Americans. These Somalians may not know what they're doing, how to do it, and fail to grasp the magnitude of what they're attempting to pull off, but at least they have unpredictability and intimidation on their side. Also in their favor is that Phillips' crew is unarmed and must rely only on ship hoses as weaponry, deeming their numbers advantage useless.

Even, for a brief time, when it seems the defending crew is in control, they're really not. That's when a crucial decision from Phillips turns this into a gripping single location thriller with his life on the line, as well as the pride of pirates who demand to be taken seriously and refuse to be made fools of by America. Since Phillips is played by Hanks, a national treasure and maybe the single most likable performer we have, it isn't difficult to be on pins and needles worrying about the character's safety regardless of our knowledge of events. But Hanks (adopting a New England accent), never plays on that connection, instead offering up a harrowing depiction of a very scared man trying to do his best under dire circumstances and struggling to keep it together. At many points he has to use social engineering to guide the actions of his captors without them knowing, all while the U.S. Navy is poised and ready to intervene. As the situation escalates and Phillips' life is put in greater danger by the minute, their presence becomes more prominent. The Navy has a plan. Even backup plans. The pirates are only running on instinct.

In what's ultimately a battle of wills between the two captains who couldn't be more different in both values and background, both must still find a way to communicate so they can get out of this what they want. For Phillips, it's survival. For Muse, it's money and respect. Out of necessity, the relationship that develops between the two is an adversarial one, but also fraught with tension as each tries to manipulate the other to gain the upper hand. Phillips is successful simply because he's so much smarter, which is through no fault of Muse's own. And that's really where the culture clash in Billy Ray's Oscar nominated screenplay comes into play, as Muse and his crew are too prideful to truly grasp how much of a disadvantage they're at as the situation escalates past the point of no return. 

Barkhad Abdi has never acted a day in his life before this film, but you see why he'd be cast on sheer presence alone. While he may not look like a physical threat, there's an aura of danger surrounding him and Abdi conveys it without losing sight of the real person underneath, in his own way struggling for survival just as Phillips is. He's so believable and scary opposite his scenes with Hanks that it's almost easy to overlook his fellow pirates, played by Barkhad Abdirahman, Faysal Ahmed  and Mahat M. Ali, who contribute just as much at times. Especially Abdirahman, who plays the hotheaded Bilal as an uncontrollable monster prone to  terrifying fits of rage. He's the one that can't be manipulated, operating purely on bitterness and hatred. But even he has moments where we glimpse beneath the surface to sense the real deep seeded source of that frustration. Ironically, we know the least about Phillips, aside from a brief scene at the beginning with he and his wife Andrea (Catherine Keener) that neither adds or detracts from the proceedings. Everything we learn about this man's character is uncovered through the life and death situation he finds himself in. As for all the shaky cam, it didn't bother me one bit, as I was too engulfed in the events unfolding in front of me to even consider the technique used to deliver it. It's like you're right there.

Yes, the United States military and Captain Phillips are depicted as heroes in this situation because that's exactly what they were. It's one of the few things we know as fact, and also happens to work as a compelling dramatization on film. If the roles were reversed, and Americans were the initial aggressors, the same would hold true. One of the movie's greatest strengths is that it does make you consider that scenario and put the instigators actions into context. But Greengrass has no obligation to portray them "sympathetically," regardless of their history or background, of which only a documentary should be expected to thoroughly explore. All bets were off when they boarded that ship armed and ready to commit violence.

What it also shares with Zero Dark Thirty (besides providing a dramatic recreation of incredibly recent history) is a final scene that just ripped me apart. It's the very definition of "sticking the landing," going a step further to explore the aftermath with an indescribable few minutes that features the best acting of Tom Hanks' career and highlights the potential benefits of casting a trained military professional if the role warrants it. But it's really everything leading up to that scene that makes it pack the well-earned, emotional punch it does. "Based on a true story" is often a dreaded tagline but Captain Phillips isn't merely a visual retelling of an important, almost unbelievable event. It's an experience that challenges the viewer debate and consider the thoughts, feelings and motivations of everyone involved in it.
   

Where The Wild Things Are

Director: Spike Jonze
Starring: Max Records, Catherine Keener, Mark Ruffalo, Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Paul Dano, James Gandolfini, Catherine O' Hara, Forest Whitaker
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: PG

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

There may be no bigger burden on a filmmaker than adapting a popular work of literature that's already ingrained in the public's conscience. That burden is doubled when that work happens to be a beloved children's classic passed from generation to generation over the past few decades. Everyone always has an opinion about what would make for a "faithful" adaptation. It's only natural those of all ages who grew up on Maurice Sendak's 1963 picture book Where The Wild Things Are would feel as protective of it as their own childhood and be perfectly content if it were never adapted into feature film form. That's why you could hear a collective sigh of relief when it was announced the the filmmaker attached to the project would be Spike Jonze, the quirky genius behind mind trips like Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. That relief soon turned to horror when it landed in theaters late last year with a thud and flopped commercially. The biggest complaint: How dare Jonze adapt this world famous children's book and have the nerve to not even aim it at kids?

Those who thought they wanted an inventive, mature interpretation of the material should have known the commitment that would entail as audience members and the sacrifices the studio would have to make to do that. One of those was not making a children's movie. That's not to say it's inappropriate for small kids or that they shouldn't watch it, but this wasn't necessarily made for them.  Instead, Jonze was more interested in making a movie ABOUT childhood and the pain, sadness and confusion that can accompany it, especially for kids with overactive imaginations. More than that though, it's about the child in all of us that fades away as we enter a world full of responsibilities and burdens. If you're lucky enough, a small piece of that kid hangs on for the ride. That small piece is immortalized in Max's journey And what's most surprising is that Jonze saw something even darker in the material than what was on the page. He obviously felt a commitment that transcended mere adaptation, if not rendering the idea completely irrelevant altogether.

What the film has in common with the 10 sentences on which it's based on is that both lack a substantial plot. The opening minutes represent an excellent microcosm of what to expect throughout the movie as that feeling of warm childhood nostalgia is quickly replaced with isolation and melancholy in a reminder that growing up can be difficult...especially for a boy like Max (Max Records). With an absent father, a seemingly uncaring sister (Pepita Emmerichs) and a mother preoccupied with her career and new boyfriend, the 9-year-old lets his imagination run wild. After a temper tantrum he runs away and discovers the island of the wild things. That's a major deviation from the book that loyalists have complained about, even if I'm at a loss as to why. Changing the means by which he arrives in this new world neither adds nor detracts from the story and while I can appreciate complaints this method is less imaginative, I wouldn't want it attempted if the visual effects can't believably project it onscreen.

Upon his arrival Max is anointed the "king of all wild things" by this strange group of six large, furry creatures that have serious problems co-existing and have bought into the idea that he has magical powers that can help. His first order of business is to declare a wild rumpus but as tension mounts Max discovers that controlling and leading his new family isn't all fun and games. The whole thing is a strange trip where nothing much happens, yet everything happens. Most of the film consists of Max hanging out with these creatures and having a great time until cracks start to form in the relationship and the story really starts to enter darker territory. It turns from a wild rumpus into a cutthroat game of social politics not unlike something you'd expect to see on Survivor. They doubt his leadership and the cracks in the family's relationship can't be so easily fixed. His burgeoning friendship with the miscreant of the wild things, Carrol (brilliantly voiced by James Gandolfini), becomes most strained of all mainly because they're so much alike. But that's not say his interactions with the bickering Ira and Judith (Forest Whitaker and Catherine O' Hara), ignored Alexander (Paul Dano) and flighty K.W. (Lauren Ambrose) is all smooth sailing.

Above all else, this is really a film about a child's anger and how it manifests itself in the form of his imagination so it's understandable this wouldn't make for the most family friendly experience. But that's definitely in line with the themes of the book and the look and feel of this world created onscreen by Jonze is something we've never seen before, or if we have, it sure hasn't been very common this decade. There's a minimum of computer generated effects and the muppet-like monsters are all actually actors in suits provided by Jim Henson's Creature Shop. All I can say to that is "FINALLY." Finally, a filmmaker understands that CGI is not the way to go for this kind of a story and animatronics looks about a thousand times better and more believable. As if a side-by-side comparison of Frank Oz's Yoda in the Empire Strikes Back and that embarrassing looking computer generated thing that appeared in the prequels didn't prove that point already. CGI can be used well but most of the time it isn't and creates an effect similar to that of bad plastic surgery, where instead of improving the appearance of what's on screen, it just draws attention to the fact you're watching something that looks fake. The decision to take this approach made the film for me and the entire look and feel of the world recalls treasured family classics like The Neverending Story and the Henson-directed The Dark Crystal, both of which depend on the childlike thrill of imagination rather than bludgeoning viewers with special effects, although the level of technical craft is obviously much higher here.

The movie's magical trailer hinted at that and this is one of those rare cases where the final product not only lives up to the expectations of those 2 minutes, but actually exceeds them. Lance Accord's cinematography and Karen O's score just enhance the movie's trippy, other-worldly atmosphere with the only small complaint on the musical side being the absence of Arcade Fire's "Wake Up," if only because it was employed so brilliantly in the trailer that in my mind it almost already seemed like an important part of the film. The visuals or music never overwhelm, allowing the great performances plenty breathing room. The best belongs to a revelatory Max Records as young Max who perfectly conveys the many emotional shifts required for the moody protagonist. Since he escapes to the island of the wild things fairly early into the picture, Catherine Keener is limited in her screen time but still brings so much to the role of a mother who loves her son but feels overwhelmed by her life and his behavior. The wild things are just as fully realized by the actors under the suits, especially Gandolfini, who at times does seem to incorporate a little of Tony Soprano (or at least his short fuse) into the sensitive humanity of Max's new best friend, Carrol.

Jonze deserves credit for sticking by his vision, as does Warner Bros. for having the guts to release a film that didn't dumb Sendak's ideas down to make a more family friendly product. While that would have probably resulted in much bigger bank at the box office, it would do so at the expense of preserving the integrity of the material. Max finds that he can't escape the problems of growing up through his imagination and the world and creatures he creates in his own head can't make the confusion go away. Only he can. The film may be dark but it isn't depressing as proven by the wordless final scene that's just about as perfect an encapsulation of Sendak's creation as could possibly be. Will kids enjoy it? Maybe, but as far as I'm concerned that issue is irrelevant. Where The Wild Things Are is is really for adults who remember what it's like to be a kid and haven't lost the ability to see and appreciate the world through their eyes.