Over the course of the history of film, studios and filmmakers alike have been chasing the coveted three-movie winning streak because…well, for some reason, human beings revere things in groups of three. When it comes to storytelling, audiences gravitate towards a three-act structure spread out over the course of three distinct chapters. Many film trilogies, such as the original Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings movies, follow the same central characters over the course of a grand journey. Others, like Sergio Leone’s Dollars trilogy or Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones trilogy, de-emphasize an overarching story by telling standalone adventures with compelling heroes like the titular Indy or the “Man with No Name.” Some filmmakers have even created “thematic trilogies” with three films that are tied together by ideas rather than plot and continuity (director Alejandro González Iñárritu’s “Death” trilogy and writer Taylor Sheridan’s “Frontier” trilogy are good modern examples of this phenomenon).
Due to the centrality of trilogies to the historical narrative of cinema, lovers of movies inevitably debate the question: “What is the best movie trilogy of all time?” I don’t know if I have a good answer for that, but I do know what some of the best trilogies are (some of which you may not expect). So, today I begin a brand-new blog series celebrating what are (in my humble opinion) the best movie trilogies ever made. I will dissect how they tell a consistently compelling story across distinct and entertaining flicks. And, with the release of Wes Ball’s Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes this weekend, what’s a better time than now to look back on what’s arguably the most underrated trilogy in modern cinematic history? Without question, the first three Planet of the Apes reboot films make up one of the best trilogies in cinematic history. Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) Five years after the commercially successful but critically panned reboot of the original Planet of the Apes directed by Tim Burton, 20th Century Fox seemed disinterested in doing anything with the franchise as it stood. However, that changed when they received a script from husband-and-wife screenwriting duo Amanda Silver and Rick Jaffa (Jurassic World, Mulan, Avatar: The Way of Water) with a fresh take that would essentially reboot the long-running series of Apes movies. Five years after that, the first installment of this incredible trilogy premiered in August to positive reviews from critics that ended up grossing just under half-a-million dollars. The question now, though, is does this movie hold up more than a decade after it came out? YES. IT DOES. Thanks to Silver and Jaffa’s solid screenplay receiving some assured direction from British filmmaker Rupert Wyatt, Rise of the Planet of the Apes exceeds any expectations for what a seventh film of this franchise could be. It does not try to repeat the specificity of the 1968 original classic, but respectfully pays homage to its deft handling of social commentary and groundbreaking make-up effects by tackling 21st-century issues and utilizing 21st-century technology. At a lean 105 minutes, the movie doesn’t waste a second of your time by making each scene relevant to either the hero’s journey at its core or the world-building going on in the background. Despite not getting a lot of attention in retrospect, Wyatt deserves kudos for managing to kickstart a critically and commercially successful sci-fi series made up of wildly entertaining blockbusters with something on their mind worth saying. Simply put, Rise is a damn-near modern classic that has seemingly been overshadowed by its successors. So, let’s spend some time dissecting why this movie is exceptional both on its own & as the start of something new. When you ask most people what they know about these modern Apes reboots, they’ll likely bring up one person’s name before anyone or anything else: Andy Serkis. This is more than deserved since Serkis’ performance as the trilogy’s protagonist, Caesar, is the consistent standout of the entire trilogy & still one of the best CG-infused characters in cinematic history from both a technical & emotional standpoint. By drawing on his extensive experience working with motion-capture technology for Peter Jackson in The Lord of the Rings trilogy and King Kong, Serkis brings a walking, talking chimpanzee to life & makes his physical and emotional journey completely believable & grounded in the reality of our world. While other actors in the series shine in their roles as the apes, it is Serkis and his collaboration with the creatives at Weta Digital that serves as the model for it all. The grace and subtlety that he injects into every gaze, smile, frown, and scream allows the audience to fully buy Caesar as a fleshed-out character. This is perhaps best embodied when Caesar shouts his first word: “NO!!” In other words, without this central performance being as good as it was this trilogy would likely not be as good as it is. Aside from just Caesar, though, I really enjoyed some of the other apes in Rise both in terms of their relationship to the protagonist & what they did. Given the structure of the screenplay, many of their best moments come in the third act. The notable examples prior to that are Caesar bonding with the orangutan Maurice (Karin Konoval), Caesar freeing the gorilla Buck (Richard Ridings) at the animal shelter, former alpha Rocket (Terry Notary) submitting to Caesar as the new alpha, and Caesar breaking Koba (Christopher Gordon)) out of Gen-Sys. All of these brief scenes & moments help flesh out the cast of apes surrounding Caesar and create a solid foundation for the climactic battle sequence of this movie (not to mention the future movies). But what about the human characters? Unsurprisingly, of all three movies, Rise is the one that relies the most on a human cast driving the plot forward given they are the ones in charge of the planet. To that point, the standouts without question are James Franco as the Gen-Sys chemist Dr. Will Rodman and John Lithgow as his Alzheimer’s-stricken father Charles. Simply put, their relationship (both with Caesar and with each other) forms the emotional & thematic core of the movie. It is through Franco’s outlook on the consequences of his work that Wyatt and the screenwriters explore important themes like anthropocentrism and the arrogant corporatization of medical testing. Both in how Will unwittingly treats Caesar like a lab experiment/pet more than a son and how that sharply contrasts with Charles’ genuine love for the chimp, Rise offers up perhaps the most developed & hard-hitting human-on-human relationship despite relying on one-dimensional human supporting characters like Will’s veterinarian girlfriend Caroline (Freida Pinto) and Dodge (Tom Felton), the sadistic “caretaker” at the animal shelter. Perhaps what works best about Will as the human protagonist is how his story is kind of a tragedy unlike Caesar’s being a hopeful ascent to freedom from oppression. Whereas Caesar frees his fellow apes & leads them to a new home away from human society, Will’s short-sighted and selfish devotion to the ALZ-112 drug unintentionally leads to humanity’s downfall. One saves his species while the other destroys his, and that kind of mirroring works wonders on a viewer like me. 😊 While the characters keep the film’s narrative grounded & compelling, Rise fully embraces its blockbuster aesthetic by the third act with an incredibly fun and engaging chase/battle sequence. Starting at the animal shelter with a prison break & culminating with a tense shootout atop the Golden Gate Bridge, this collection of scenes can feel a bit silly in isolation. However, thanks to the restrained yet brisk pacing of the first two acts & Wyatt’s mature take on everything up to that point, the film earns this kind of ending. In addition, it gives us some really great characters moments from Buck’s sacrifice play for Caesar, Koba’s ruthless behavior towards the humans teasing things to come, and the heartfelt goodbye between Caesar and Will in the woods. If the film was just everything I’ve mentioned by now, it would be a solid standalone movie with a great hero’s journey that explores some relevant & important ideas. But Silver and Jaffa exceeded even that reasonable expectation by smoothly and effortlessly integrating a subplot involving the genesis of the “simian flu.” From Will’s colleague and chimp handler Robert (Tyler Labine) becoming patient zero to Will’s neighbor and pilot Douglas (David Hewlett) ultimately spreading the virus worldwide, this thread leaves the door wide open for an awesome film trilogy to bloom. Fortunately, it did, indeed. Could the film have done without some of the cartoonish acting or slowed down a little bit? Sure, but these minor critiques do little to keep Rise of the Planet of the Apes from being one of the most underrated films of the last fifteen years. It should not have been as good as it is, but fortunately it’s very good and is only diminished by the fact that its sequel is even better. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) After a solid start with Rise, 20th Century Fox wasted little time closing deals to begin development on a sequel. With Rubert Wyatt leaving the director’s chair out of concern for the turnaround being too quick, the studio hired Matt Reeves (Cloverfield, Let Me In, The Batman) to help the sequel (although some of Wyatt’s ideas, like the time jump & Caesar’s rivalry with Koba, were used). While none of the human cast from Rise returned (save for an uncredited cameo from James Franco), Serkis, Notary, and Konoval all reprise their roles alongside several new human and ape characters. Additionally, Weta Digital returned to make the visual effects for the film. Premiering in July of 2014, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes received overwhelming positive reviews and grossed over 700 million dollars (making it the eighth-highest grossing film of that year). Unlike Rise, which I watched at home, I vividly remembering seeing Dawn in the theater with my cousin and friends. As a rising senior in high school, I was utterly blown away by how good the movie was. Of course, I was too young to fully grasp the thematic depths & richness of character that critics at the time were highlighting. Nonetheless, my peers and I found it very cool and fun which helped the movie stick out in my memory all these years later. Clearly, I’m not the only one. Whenever I hear people discuss this trilogy, rarely do I hear Dawn referred to anything but the best of them. Upon rewatching all three movies over the past month, I wholeheartedly agree. With a solid foundation from Rupert Wyatt in Rise, Matt Reeves fully embraces the limitless possibilities left over by that film’s ending in the best way possible. It begins with one of the best uses of “gloom-and-doom” opening credits I’ve ever seen by tracking the spread of the “simian flu” across the globe and, consequently, the near-extinction of the human race. From there, it just gets better. If you ask me, the sheer greatness of Dawn can largely be credited to the full-throated commitment of the creatives behind the movie (including Reeves driving the ship) to a character-driven, Shakespearean tragedy about apes thriving while humanity teeters on the brink of collapse. This unique version of a post-apocalyptic Earth, crafted by returning screenwriters Amanda Silver and Rick Jaffa working alongside newcomer Mark Bomback (Unstoppable, The Wolverine), deftly explores the effects on trauma on psychological well-being and interpersonal relationships through the friend-turned-enemy dynamic between Caesar and Koba (now played by Toby Kebbell) and the apes who commit themselves to one or the other. Like all of these movies, they work only as well as the actors’ ability to invest us in their characters and conflicts. Leading the way once again is Serkis’ awards-worthy turn as Caesar. At this point in the series, he seems to command a mastery of the art of motion-capture performance. In tandem with the VFX artists’ incredible attention to detail, Serkis fully maximizes every twitch of the eye, twist of the face, and shift of his body to serve the emotional necessities of each moment that he’s onscreen. The degree of confidence and maturity that he brings to the character reinforces how much Caesar shines as a leader of the apes while also ensuring his lower moments make a formidable impact to drive the narrative home. What I appreciate most, however, is how “full-circle” this arc is for Caesar. Whereas he ends Rise in triumph leading his people to freedom & a better future, Dawn is the inception of Caesar’s downfall as a simultaneously heroic and tragic figure upon realizing the weight of his failures as a war with humanity looms on the horizon. Without a doubt, Caesar’s arc in Dawn is a fantastic middle chapter that Serkis fully services from start to finish. Perhaps the only ape that potentially steals the show from Serkis as Caesar is Toby Kebbell’s turn as Koba. Taking over from Christopher Gordon who played a relatively minor role in Rise, Kebbell cements Koba in Dawn as a compelling & memorably cinematic antagonist by injecting more than enough relatability in his bloodthirst and treachery to ensure the character is as complicated a villain as possible given that he’s a talking ape. A more understated ape character, in my humble opinion, is Nick Thurston’s portrayal of Caesar’s eldest son Blue Eyes. While not the most intriguing or cool character to watch, Thurston solidly and consistently draws empathy from the viewer in his innocent and youthful experiencing of Caesar’s “death” and the horrors of war as begun by the vengeful Koba. By the end of the second act, Blue Eyes steps into his own as an up-and-coming leader to help him stick around as a memorable secondary character (while making his fate in the next film all the more bittersweet). Even more so than Rise, the humans in Dawn are certainly not the focus and that’s a good thing (other franchises dense with CG characters, like Transformers and Legendary’s “MonsterVerse,” can learn a thing or two from this trilogy). As such, the screenwriters and director fittingly make sure that their presence & role in the plot serve the apes’ stories first and foremost. Consequently, actors like Jason Clarke and Keri Russell do their job adequately but fail to leave a lasting impression given what little writing they have to truly chew on. The one human character that stands out from all the others, to no surprise, is Gary Oldman. Without question one of the best actors alive today, Oldman brings his typical gravitas and devotion to the sympathetic villain Dreyfus in the few quiet moments he gets to show the audience how much he lost due to the “simian flu.” At the same time, he brings the sort of “reluctant heroism” characteristic of his portrayal of Jim Gordon from The Dark Knight trilogy to this film which helps differentiate Dreyfus from the more ruthless Koba. On a technical level, Weta Digital is at the top of their game & will continue to top themselves with the final act of the trilogy. However, I want to take a moment to spotlight the incredible behind-the-camera work outside of the VFX department. First, the breathtaking cinematography pulled off by New Zealand filmmaker who collaborated with Alfonso Cuarón on the third Harry Potter flick. Similar to that exceptional work in tandem with a genius director, Seresin’s camerawork for Reeves in Dawn deserved to at least be nominated for (if not win) an Oscar by sticking so loyally to the gritty aesthetic that Reeves is going for. Not to mention how he pulls off making fire look gorgeously enticing and harrowing within a single frame. Another frequent Reeves collaborator is Oscar winner and two-time nominee Michael Giacchino (Ratatouille, The Batman, Society of the Snow). Simply put, Giacchino brings his signature awesomeness to both of Reeves’ Apes flicks by injecting stark contrast between the quiet, character-focused scenes and the bombastic action set pieces. Like any great composer, the music is vivid and apparent without ever overwhelming the visuals, dialogue, or other sounds that occur. As a cherry on top, Giacchino pays subtle homage to the 1968 original Planet of the Apes film without losing sight of the specific atmosphere of Dawn. When all of these elements come together—the directing, acting, writing, cinematography, music, visual effects, sound design, and so on--Dawn culminates in a well-paced sci-fi action drama. The first hour expertly establishes the ten-year span the apes have spent creating a home and life for themselves before re-introducing mankind to the equation. This lights a spark that sets off the rest of the story filled with betrayal and tension that ultimately delivers in its last forty-five minutes and sets up a war between apes and humans. After rewatching Dawn, I’m glad that people haven’t forgotten about this movie nor lost appreciation for it. Given how difficult the middle part of a trilogy can be and how often it falls short of its predecessor, this movie just nails it. Should it have been called Rise instead of Dawn with the first one being Dawn? Probably. 😊 But that doesn’t matter in the end; Dawn is one of the best cinematic sequels and earns its place in modern film history. War for the Planet of the Apes (2017) Unlike the change of directors from Rise to Dawn, Matt Reeves stuck around to close out Caesar’s story with War for the Planet of the Apes. This, in my humble opinion, was a good thing because the creative team remains largely the same. Furthermore, Reeves more than proved his ability to tell a character-driven and thematically rich drama with Dawn. As such, War serves as the (mostly) satisfying conclusion to this Planet of the Apes reboot trilogy by exploring the complexities of violence and revenge head-on without ever glorifying either. I know it can go unsaid at this point, but the visual effects and motion-capture technology on display in all three of these movies is mesmerizingly incredible. In the same way that they improved from Rise to Dawn, they got even better for War. The sheer intensity of emotion that was captured on all of the apes’ faces exemplifies this for its entire runtime. The fact that NONE of these three films won an Oscar is utterly baffling and unjust (that is, until you realize that the latter two flicks lost to Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar and Denis Villeneuve’s Blade Runner 2049). Nevertheless, the greatness of these movies is elevated & solidified by the work from Weta Digital that seamlessly and gracefully bring these sentient apes to life. Of course, the actors’ performances do wonders to make the visual effects completely believable. In the effort to not just keep repeating myself, I’ll keep this short: Andy Serkis delivers arguably his best performance ever as Caesar in this whole trilogy but in War particularly. Despite relying on more dialogue than in the first two movies, his masterful command of motion-capture performance to let his eyes, face, and body language convey so much with so little will undoubtedly stand the test of time when the history of CG-generated characters in cinema is written. Fortunately, Serkis is no longer the sole standout like he arguably was in Rise. Instead, several actors portraying apes do wonders with what they’re given. Two veteran performers deserve much praise: Karin Konoval and Terry Notary (Maurice and Rocket, respectively). Not only are their characters given more to do than in the previous movies, but both actors contend for the “unsung hero” of the mainstay cast of apes. As Maurice, Konoval consistently demonstrated a lovable amount of empathy & humanity into the orangutan whose face may look the least like a person compared to the chimps and bonobos that fill out much of the rest of the cast. Furthermore, her ability to subtly center the majority of the scenes allow for a viewer to legitimately make the case that the film could be told through Maurice’s eyes as the angel on Caesar’s shoulder. Notary, on the other hand, works exceptionally well to make Rocket the reliable right-hand soldier to Caesar. His grit, strength, and tenacity parallel Caesar when it matters in the violent combat sequences. A newcomer, however, may just steal the show from all of the apes except Caesar: Steve Zahn as the talking loner “Bad Ape.” Like Koba in the sense that he draws the audience to him the second that he first appears on screen, Zahn’s pitch-perfect line delivery and quirky physicality solidify “Bad Ape” as one of the most memorable ape characters in the entire trilogy. Especially in a film like War that’s very dark and somber for much of its nearly two-and-a-half-hour runtime, his use as levity just enough to make an impact but never to the point of turning the audience against him. Much like Dawn, the noteworthy human characters in this movie are few and far between. For me, Woody Harrelson playing a post-apocalyptic and more sympathetic version of Apocalypse Now’s Colonel Kurtz is the only true standout. In crafting this sadistic military commander, Matt Reeves and his writing partner Mark Bomback avoid repeating the reluctant leader that Gary Oldman played in Dawn. Instead, Harrelson gets to portray a (mostly) surface-level villain in the best possibly way. As “The Colonel,” he fills the antagonistic role well enough both in terms of the plot revolved around the actual war itself & as a fitting foil to Caesar when it comes to the film’s commentary about the self-destructive nature of revenge. For that alone, Harrelson deserves some praise for acting his ass off against Serkis in his motion-captured prime. When it comes to the screenplay and story, I think that War is arguably the least entertaining of the three films but also may be the most thematically impactful. While I do think it’s my least favorite of the trilogy, I fully appreciate & commend Reeves and his team of artists committing to the “anti-war” bent in both the de-sanitized portrayal of violence. Not only does it provide a grounded examination of war in the context of an inherently silly sci-fi concept, but the backdrop of war effectively serves Caesar’s personal journey of struggling to overcome his desire for revenge. Furthermore, it fulfills the promise in Dawn of Caesar’s story ultimately being a tragedy defined by an ape freeing his people from torture and oppression, struggling to make the right choice which results in harm being done to apes thanks to Koba, and ultimately failing to give up his bloodlust and thus confirming that he’s not as different from his archrival as he told himself he was. Like I did after first seeing the movie, I still don’t love the particular circumstances of how Caesar’s life ends (why didn’t he deal with the arrowhead in his stomach in the seemingly days or even weeks since escaping the Colonel’s compound?). That being said, the ending itself feels necessary and satisfying from an overarching story perspective. Also, in terms of the characters, I was a bit disappointed in the underutilization of Blue Eyes (especially after his surprisingly good impression in Dawn) and Caesar’s mate Cornelia (Judy Greer), the latter of which felt barely present in both of these last two movies. While I completely understand the significance of their shocking deaths to propelling Caesar’s self-righteous revenge story, I just wish that both of these actors/characters were given a little more respect in this trilogy given how important they are to Caesar. Thus, War tops off this trilogy in near-perfect form given what was set up in Dawn despite not being as joyously entertaining as that movie or even Rise. All that being said, I hope I’ve convinced you that the first three Planet of the Apes reboot movies form one of the best movie trilogies ever made. But, if you don’t believe me, watch them (or rewatch if you haven’t seen them in a long time) and see for yourself. I promise you won’t be disappointed. 😊 Do you agree with me that these modern Planet of the Apes movies are incredibly underrated? What are other great film trilogies that, in your humble opinion, are worth peoples’ time? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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For the first time in over a year, I revisit the book “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider by sharing my surprisingly contrarian opinion about a comedy classic: the 1975 British film Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” You have been warned.] The History In January 1973, shortly after the conclusion of the third season of their BBC television series Monty Python’s Flying Circus, the comedy troupe “Monty Python” made up of six members (in alphabetical order)—Eric Idle, Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Michael Palim, Terry Gilliam, and Terry Jones—started writing the first draft of a screenplay divided evenly between the Middle Ages and the present. Throughout the writing process, they ditched the present-day storylines by deciding to focus the script’s narrative on the mythology of the Holy Grail. Having never directed a feature film before, Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones embraced the “hands-on” nature of the directing process. However, no major studios expressed interest in funding the project. So, Gilliam and Jones turned to several high-profile musicians and rock bands—Elton John, Ian Anderson, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd—who found the film as “a good tax write-off” due to the top income tax rate in the United Kingdom at the time was “as high as 90%.” In this manner, they managed to fund the film’s entire $410,000 budget. Principal photography was done primary on location in Scotland and heavily featured multiple castles in central and western Scotland (some exterior shots featured castles in England and Wales). More castles than were ultimately included were supposed to be part of filming, but weeks before shooting began the country’s Department of the Environment forbade castles within its jurisdiction from being utilized by the cast and crew out of fear that allowing this would result in damage. For the scene involving the Rabbit Caerbannog, a real white rabbit was used but switched with puppets for the killing scene. The bite effects were pulled by Gilliam and SFX technician John Horton using special puppetry. During filming, the rabbit was covered in red liquid as a blood simulant in spite of its owner’s preference that the rabbit remain spotless (this was done without the owner’s consent). While the liquid was difficult to remove from the animal’s fur, the rabbit was ultimately unharmed. Additionally, due to budget constraints, Gilliam and Jones refrained from the knight characters riding actual horses and chose to have them mime horse-riding while their porters followed them banging coconut shells together to simulate the sound of trotting hooves. Prior to filming, Chapman (who played the Pythons’ version of King Arthur) suffered from acrophobia (a fear of heights), shakes, and bouts of amnesia due to struggles with alcoholism. Thus, Chapman refrained from drinking during production to remain “on an even keel” before achieving sobriety about three years later after completing the film. Debuting in London on April 3, 1975 before premiering to the American public in New York City on April 28 the same year, Monty Python and the Holy Grail earned £2.3 million pounds during its initial theatrical run (and about $5.5 million from subsequent re-releases). Not long after premiering on various television networks in the late 1970s, the Pythons were dismayed to learn that many networks censored the film’s excessive profanity and use of blood. Consequently, they pulled the broadcast rights of the film and only allowed it to be shown on select U.S. networks (namely, PBS and Comedy Central) that ran the movie uncensored. Contemporaneous reviews of the film were mixed, with some revering the “occasionally inspired” comedic gags, its “youthful exuberance” and “rousing zaniness.” Others, however, felt the movie was simply “an excuse for set pieces” that were not uniformly entertaining” or even lacked funny moments for the majority of its runtime. With the passage of time, however, Monty Python and the Holy Grail has developed a more favorably reputation with cinephiles. It has nabbed a high-ranking spot in the several media rankings of the best comedy films and British films of all time. Thus, it has achieved cult status as a noteworthy piece of independent cinema and postmodern comedy (even being adapted into the 2005 award-winning Broadway musical Spamalot that was supposed to be adapted into a feature film before plans were scrapped in 2021). The Cons There are movies, like Citizen Kane or Mad Max: Fury Road, that are considered classics or fantastic films (or both) that I simply don’t get. These films, however, are meaty enough for me to really dive in & elaborate on several reasons why I don’t connect with them or find them worthy of the reputation they have developed over time. And then there’s Monty Python and the Holy Grail. A comedy that, in my humble opinion, isn’t all that funny. The core of my philosophy when it comes to movies (or any entertainment medium, for that matter) is that their primary purpose should be to…entertain (shocking, I know!). Thus, a comedy film or show should make me laugh above all else. And Holy Grail just doesn’t (for the most part). Maybe I’m just not on the wavelength of fans of this film or the Pythons’ comedic stylings, but pretty much all of their bits that make up the runtime of the movie are, in the words of film critic Gene Siskel, “silence.” I don’t laugh with them or even at them; I simply watch them happen, shrug, and move on to the next scene. Then, I get to the final scene and just roll my eyes. An anti-climactic fourth-wall break that was done better a year before this movie came out by Mel Brooks in Blazing Saddles (a movie that I like better than this one, by the way). It was even done better by John Hughes in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (another movie I like better than Holy Grail). Thus, after just over 90 minutes, I find very little redeeming about this movie. Having not seen a single episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, my hunch is that these British comedians’ sense of humor works better in the short-form “sketch” format á la Saturday Night Live than as a feature-length screenplay. The Pros If you were paying attention, you know that I said “most” of the bits in Holy Grail don’t work for me. The one that does (and probably will for most viewers) is King Arthur’s fight with the Black Knight (John Cleese). Aside from the cartoonishly gratuitous violence employed with the villainous knight losing all four limbs during the fight with Arthur, I appreciate how his characterization is an effective satire of the wholehearted chivalry of medieval European culture. In other words, it’s the one and only piece of parody in the entire movie that, in my humble opinion, is genuinely funny (unlike the Knights Who Say “Ni!” who are flat-out annoying or the slaughter of the Rabbit of Caerbannog that comes off as childish). So, what are my final impressions of Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Aside from a fun, brief scene with the Black Knight, it’s 90 minutes of jokes that aren’t funny with a piss-poor conclusion that John Cleese himself finds retrospectively annoying. Unless you have a full-throated love of British sketch humor or low-budget comedy flicks from the 1970s, then this film probably isn’t for you. What do you think about Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones’ Monty Python and the Holy Grail? What’s your favorite (or least favorite) Monty Python flick? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay As someone who enjoys science fiction when done well, I can appreciate various flavors of the genre. Whether it’s mixing sci-fi with horror in the case of films like Ridley Scott’s Alien and Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man or more character-driven dramatic approaches as exemplified by Denis Villeneuve’s Blade Runner 2049 and Dune. Then, of course, there’s the black-and-white classics such as Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still and Don Siegel’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Not to mention some good, old-fashioned fun like the best films of Legendary’s “MonsterVerse” (Side Note: I’m VERY excited for Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire! 😊).
Yet, of all the modern sci-fi classics that people constantly bring up as a reference point for how good science fiction movies can be, there’s one in particular that I simply don’t get. Released 25 years ago today, The Matrix seemingly forever changed cinema in so many ways. Not only was it considered a groundbreaking step forward in CGI effects, it remains a staple of action & fight choreography that significantly increased Western audiences’ interest in Japanese anime. Furthermore, the film grossed over 460 million dollars, won all four Oscars that it was nominated for (Film Editing, Sound, Sound Editing, Visual Effects), and put directors Lana and Lilly Wachowski on the map. The film’s impact cannot be measured only within the film industry, however, as many of its political commentary & philosophical concepts have pierced popular culture to this day. All that being said, I have to ask…why isn’t The Matrix great? [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “The Matrix.” You have been warned.] What’s It About Set in a dystopian future, The Matrix tells the story of computer programmer Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) who’s better known by his hacking alias “Neo.” After coming across the phrase “the Matrix” frequently online, Neo is contacted by mysterious superhuman Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) who sends Anderson on a path to meet with Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne). However, Anderson is pursued by a team led by Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) and surrenders to them. According to Smith, Morpheus is a terrorist and he requests Anderson’s help in stopping him in exchange for wiping his criminal record. Anderson refuses, forcing Smith to implant a robotic “bug” inside him. Anderson wakes from what he presumes is a nightmare, only to be found by Trinity once again. After Trinity delivers him to Morpheus, Anderson is offered a choice: take the red pill to learn the truth about “the Matrix,” or take the blue pill to forget everything & return to his former life. Upon choosing the red pill, Anderson’s reality distorts. He awakens in, and breaks free from, a liquid-filled pod surrounded by endless pods that contain other humans. After being safely brought aboard Morpheus’ ship, Anderson (henceforth referred to as “Neo”) learns the true history of the early 21st century involving a war between humanity and A.I. machines. When humans prevented the machines from using solar energy, they enslaved humanity before harvesting their bodies as an energy source. To keep their minds pacified, the machines created a simulated reality called “the Matrix” for all humans to exist within. Meanwhile, any free humans took refuge in an underground city called Zion. Morpheus, it is revealed, leads a group of rebel humans to break pacified humans out of “the Matrix” while fending off the Agents: a sentient program designed to eliminate any threat to the system of “the Matrix.” Morpheus believes that Neo is “the One,” a human whom prophecy claims will free all of humanity from “the Matrix.” Thus, Neo engages in virtual combat training and visits a prophet-like figure called “the Oracle” (Gloria Foster) in an effort to aid Morpheus’ efforts while questioning if the prophecy is correct about him. While visiting the Oracle in “the Matrix,” a disgruntled member of Morpheus’ crew Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) tips off the Agents to Neo’s whereabouts. Morpheus fights off Agent Smith but is captured, while Cypher leaves “the Matrix” to kill off the rest of Morpheus’ crew. Neo and Trinity, however, are saved by sole surviving crew member Tank (Marcus Chong). Meanwhile, Agent Smith interrogates Morpheus for the access codes to the mainframe computer in Zion with the desire to destroy it. Neo, with Trinity’s help, re-enters “the Matrix” and saves Morpheus with his newly developed superhuman abilities. Neo is seemingly killed by Agent Smith, but Trinity confesses her love for Neo (thus fulfilling the Oracle’s prophecy for her) which revives Neo and grants him the power to control “the Matrix.” He defeats Agent Smith while Trinity, Tank, and Morpheus survive an attack in the real world. The film ends with Neo back in “the Matrix” and promising the A.I. machines that control it that he will free humanity from their control. What’s Good About It Don’t get me wrong; there are some good things about The Matrix. For my taste, I think Laurence Fishburne gives the strongest performance out of all the actors in the movie. This shouldn’t be surprising to anyone who’s seen a part of Fishburne’s filmography; he’s one of those actors that delivers pretty much every time he’s on screen. And his portrayal of Morpheus is no exception. From start to finish, Fishburne injects a satisfying amount of grit & gravitas into his role to ensure that Morpheus is a consistently compelling mentor to Reeves’ Neo (who I’ll get to in the next section). Another thing you simply cannot take away from The Matrix is the exceptional worldbuilding. Much like Tolkien’s construction of Middle-Earth that Peter Jackson adapted for his The Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Wachowskis essentially created a cinematic template for the modern dystopian sci-fi universe that Hollywood has drawn on over the last quarter-century. But the twisted, dark future that they predict in the film has a unique focus: philosophy. Certainly, The Matrix is not the first sci-fi flick to explore & examine ideas. However, it is one of the first (and most successful) action blockbuster movies to be so philosophically oriented. In my humble opinion, movies like Avengers: Infinity War wouldn’t have ended up how they did because major film studios would likely be too reticent to let filmmakers presume their audience to be smart enough to engage with complex ideas. That alone earns The Matrix some praise. Of course, the most objectively impressive element of The Matrix is the special-effects work. For the time it came out, the Wachowskis’ use of CGI (notably the “bullet time” sequence) was nothing short of groundbreaking. The way the effects integrate with the action without distracting from the human beings involved helps someone like me (who was only 3 years old when the film came out & didn’t grow up watching it) comprehend why people who love The Matrix really love it. That being said, I do think (unlike some big-time defenders of this movie) that the CGI is a bit dated in retrospect. Not that I think this fact detracts from the film’s sustained influence on action movies to this day. Clearly, The Matrix remains a reference point for filmmakers (including Chad Stahelski, who worked as Reeves’ stunt double on this film & became one of the creative minds behind the John Wick franchise). Thus, if nothing else, it deserves its place in film history in that respect. What’s Holding It Back While there are clearly some admirable qualities of The Matrix in terms of its cinematic legacy, its bones as a strong piece of narrative art leaves something to be desired. Let me explain what I mean. Before anything else, like the worldbuilding & special effects, a movie needs to be on a story level and character level. In the case of The Matrix, it’s not too different from other “hero’s journey” arcs in other classic sci-fi films like Star Wars. Unfortunately, I don’t think Keanu Reeves was the best choice for the lead of this particular story. While he fits well in both zany comedic roles (from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure to Toy Story 4) and eccentric action flicks like Speed or John Wick, he doesn’t have the dramatic chops necessary to draw the audience to Neo’s emotional struggle. Undoubtedly, he excels during the action set pieces and Reeves remains in the hearts of many film lovers for that (in addition his pure-hearted nature as a human being). Thus, I do not mean to slight him when I give my honest impression of his performance as Neo in The Matrix; it just doesn’t work. Which brings me to the Wachowskis’ screenplay. I praised their approach to worldbuilding earlier, which is certainly evident in their story work. However, that doesn’t mean their dialogue & character work is on par. And I’m not just talking about Neo’s journey. I’ve seen The Matrix twice, and more often while watching it I feel like it works better as a thought experiment than as a riveting story. Maybe this is just how I see cinema, but at its core stories should entertain the person consuming the story. Is it bad to explore meaty philosophical concepts and create a lived-in dystopia in the process? Absolutely not, but those elements should not supplant telling a good story as the primary purpose of the film existing in the first place. If I don’t feel invested in the characters that inhabit the dystopian world of The Matrix and fight in cool ways, then why should I watch the film to begin with? Ultimately, why do I think The Matrix isn’t great? I think, more than anything else, it just feels a bit overrated. Again, its impact upon popular culture since it came out cannot be understated. The fact that concepts in introduced like “red pill, blue bill” continue to permeate politics & society to this day is evidence enough that it should be thought of as an important film. But, as with other genre-defying films like Jurassic Park or Mad Max: Fury Road, a film’s importance and its greatness are not always in equal measure. And, in my humble opinion, The Matrix falls in that category, too. People talk about this movie as one of the best sci-fi movies ever made & I simply don’t agree. It has some bright spots, but as a cinematic package it falls short of greatness by more than a bit. But maybe I’m wrong, and The Matrix is truly a cinematic masterpiece. I suppose you’ll have to convince me otherwise. 😊 What am I missing about the Wachowskis’ The Matrix? Do you think it’s a great movie or do you agree that something’s holding it back from greatness? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay “We've all been in the trenches of love, we've all gone through the highs and lows, so Scott [Neustadter] and I felt that the only way to tell this story [(500) Days of Summer] was to come at it from a completely real place” – Michael H. Weber This time two years ago, I began to explore why romantic comedy films can be so hard to nail. Specifically, I picked apart the best (and worst) parts of some classic, old-school “rom coms” from Frank Capra’s Mr. Deeds Goes to Town to Woody Allen’s Annie Hall in an effort to better understand what makes this genre of moviemaking both timeless and susceptible to its time. But, I’m not sure I fully satisfied my curiosity with just one blog. Thus, in honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d revisit this investigation which will hopefully produce a more complete grasp on what makes the romantic comedy such a ripe foundation for filmmakers through the ages to dive into.
So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED!! [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for several movies. You have been warned.] When Harry Met Sally… (1989) Over the course of several meetings with filmmaker Nora Ephron (Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail), director Rob Reiner (Stand by Me, The Princess Bride, Misery) pitched her ideas for a new film project but she was uninterested. Around this time in his life, Reiner found himself struggling with dating again after being divorced from fellow director Penny Marshall (Big, A League of Their Own) for some time. While commiserating with frequent collaborator and fellow bachelor Andrew Scheinman, Reiner admitted to his desire to make a movie about two friends who agree to keep their relationship platonic to avoid complicating things. After pitching the idea to Ephron (who liked it), she started work on several drafts of the screenplay. To write the film, Ephron interviewed both Reiner and Scheinman (who collectively became the basis for the lead male character) while drawing on her and her friends’ own lives and experience to craft the leading woman. In addition, she interviewed people from Castle Rock Entertainment (which became the inspiration for interlude scenes of young couples being interviewed about how they met). To structure the film using dialogue, Ephron drew on Reiner’s real-life friendship with Billy Crystal (City Slickers, Analyze This, Monsters, Inc.)—notably the split-screen scene of Harry and Sally talking on the phone while watching TV together. When initially drafting the film’s conclusion, both Ephron and Reiner agreed to have the eponymous lead characters remain friends because they felt it was more realistic. However, they ultimately realized that having them get together in the end was more appropriate for the story. A mix of big-name actors and rising stars at the time, such as Tom Hanks (Philadelphia, Forrest Gump, Saving Private Ryan) and Richard Dreyfuss (American Graffiti, Jaws, Mr. Holland’s Opus), were offered the role of Harry but they declined it. Meanwhile, Billy Crystal “vicariously” experienced the director’s return to single life and thus was unconsciously doing character research for the part. Ultimately, he was chosen to play the lead while Meg Ryan (Top Gun, Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail) was hired in the female lead of Sally. Released on July 14, 1989, When Harry Met Sally… ended up grossing over 92 million dollars at the North American box office on a sixteen-million-dollar budget. It was also near-universally praised by critics, who singled out Ephron’s screenplay, Reiner’s direction, and Crystal and Ryan’s performances (with Ephron being nominated for an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, but losing to Dead Poets Society). In years since, the film was ranked in the Top 25 of the American Film Institute’s list of the top comedy films in American history. Most recently, in 2022, the movie was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress for its cultural, historic, and aesthetic significance. In the minds of many film critics and historians, the movie remains foundational to the romantic-comedy genre of cinema. During my viewing of When Harry Met Sally…, I couldn’t believe how good the movie was. I knew it had been an important aspect of popular culture around the time it came out & retained a presence among cinephiles ever since. My expectation going into watching the movie, however, was that it could in no way be as good as people said it was. Fortunately, it wasn’t; it was even BETTER. 😊 Like any great rom-com, this film either soars or flops on the strength of the chemistry shared between its two leads. Without question, the believably slow-burn nature of the relationship between Harry (Billy Crystal) and Sally (Meg Ryan) works beyond just the concept. In their different types of interactions over the twelve years that the film takes place, both Crystal and Ryan display an exceptional command of the dialogue & material which ensures the audience feels the genuine evolution of their love for one another. Undoubtedly, Harry and Sally remain the “quintessential couple” of this “quintessential romantic comedy” due, in large part, to how well they pull off this dynamic. Of course, like any good movie, the actors in When Harry Met Sally… can’t deliver great performances if the writing isn’t great. Fortunately, Nora Ephron’s screenplay more than deserved the Oscar that it won. As the screenwriter, Ephron has an uncanny ability to balance grounded comedic moments with emotional drama & romance that never feels cheesy or forced. Rather, she demonstrates a mastery of paralleling character arcs that culminate in this iconic fictional relationship while avoiding the countless pitfalls of tackling such a story. Admittedly, I’m not the biggest of Ephron’s rom-coms that she directed (namely, Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail). Thus, her screenplay for this movie remains (in my humble opinion) her magnum opus. As a whole package, When Harry Met Sally… remains the standard by which many rom-coms to this day are measured. Not only is it one of my favorite Rob Reiner films, but it’s easily one of the best romantic comedies ever made. That being said, I look forward to the day when I see a film & say: “That’s a better rom-com than When Harry Met Sally…” because it’ll mean that another movie comes close to its greatness. The Wedding Banquet (1993) In 1986, Taiwanese screenwriter and activist Neil Peng revealed to director Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Brokeback Mountain, Life of Pi) that one of their mutual friends had moved to America and had entered a same-sex relationship without his parents’ knowledge. Two years later, Lee and Peng started writing a screenplay based on this occurrence and were joined by Detroit native James Schamus (The Ice Storm, Lust, Caution) early on in the process. While the first draft was written in Chinese before being translated into English, the screenplay was re-written several times in both Chinese and English. For the lead role, Lee had to persuade Winston Chao (Eat Drink Man Woman, The Meg)—who was working as a flight attendant when they met—to accept the part. Chao was reluctant, but ultimately agreed when Lee ensured that he would hire an acting coach of Chao’s choosing to work with him. While shooting on location in New York City, Chao spent three or four hours each day before filming to rehearse and prepare. Due to the film’s low budget, Lee relied on shooting in free or public locations (notably JFK International Airport) or even the private homes of cast and crew members. However, the titular banquet scene was shot in the ballroom of a Sheraton Hotel close to LaGuardia Airport. Made on a shoestring budget of one million dollars, The Wedding Banquet was released in Taiwan in March of 1993 before getting a North American release in August that same year. Earning a global box office gross of 23.6 million dollars, the film became the most financially profitable movie of the year. It also received mostly positive reviews from critics, earning an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language Film (losing to Spanish filmmaker Fernando Trueba’s Bella Époque). Later analyses have highlighted the cultural and artistic significance of Lee’s creative decision to use a combination of English and Mandarin subtitles to “reach a peaceful coexistence between apparently irreconcilable cultures.”[i] While I don’t love all of Ang Lee’s movies, The Wedding Banquet is certainly one of his good ones. It certainly isn’t as action-packed as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, as groundbreaking as Brokeback Mountain, or as epic as Life of Pi, but it’s mature & nuanced exploration of intersections of identity, family, resistance to tradition, & cultural assimilation allow the film to transcend the sometimes-confining trappings of traditional rom-coms. In a very real sense, it feels like Lee sought to progress beyond basic love stories narratively while also make a statement about the importance of moving past restrictive sociocultural expectations in real life. Simply put, The Wedding Banquet is a pretty forward-thinking film considering that it came out over three decades ago. The most obvious reason for this is how the film shines a spotlight on same-sex love. Given when it was made, the movie could’ve easily made its central romance between two men into a gimmick whose primary purpose was to make the audience laugh at their relationship. Fortunately, Lee’s sensitive approach to his characters (already evident in his directorial debut Pushing Hands and would continue to be integral in his filmmaking) is on full display here. The main character, Gao Wai-Tung (Winston Chao), has an overall healthy & loving relationship with his partner Simon (Mitchell Lichtenstein) in Manhattan. From there, much of the comedy & “bits” stem from the culture clash that results from the lengths he goes to conceal his true identity from his traditional Taiwanese parents (Lung Sihung and Gua Ah-leh). Consequently, the audience laughs at the situations that Gao gets himself into as a flawed human being rather than the simple fact that he’s gay. I get that someone born in the 21st century reading this might be thinking: “Isn’t that how it should be anyways?” Well, as a fellow millennial, I agree with you. However, as a cinephile, I can appreciate how progressive Lee’s approach to this kind of story truly is while also acknowledge that it was only an early step towards queer cinema becoming mainstream in Hollywood with films like Gus van Sant’s Milk, Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight, and the Daniels’ Everything Everywhere All at Once. If anything, I lament the fact that The Wedding Banquet is not spoken often in equal regard with Ang Lee’s other great movies (like the ones aforementioned). In my humble opinion, it unquestionably deserves that amount of praise. Not only for being a barrier-breaking film that helped Western audiences acclimate to viewing identity & self-acceptance through a (somewhat) foreign cultural lens, but also for being just a very good movie with plenty of laughs & feels from start to finish. Given that it’s lesser known than When Harry Met Sally… or some other classic rom-coms, I strongly encourage you to seek this out if you haven’t seen it. (500) Days of Summer (2009) In 2002, screenwriter and New Jersey native Scott Neustadter (The Fault in Our Stars, The Disaster Artist) was a student at the London School of Economics where he fell “crazily, madly, hopelessly in love” with a girl coming off of a bad breakup. However, after the relationship ended “painfully and unforgettably awful,” Neustadter was inspired to co-write a screenplay based on his experience with frequent collaborator Michael H. Weber. Due to Weber being in a long-term relationship at the time of writing, he felt that the “tension” fostered between his opposite perspective from Neustadter fostered some of the key comedy in the film. In agreeing to direct the film, Marc Webb (The Amazing Spider-Man, Gifted) wanted to make an “unsentimental” and “uncynical” movie that was less of a romantic comedy and more of a “coming-of-age” story. Specifically, Webb aimed to portray the emotional experience of heartbreak as critical to the human experience as “war or poverty.” Along a similar line, the film’s star Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Inception, Looper, Snowden) greatly related to the protagonist because of how “extreme” his own past experience with heartbreak felt at the time. In particular, Gordon-Levitt appreciated the film’s “honest” examination of the “often profoundly funny” nature of romance. After premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, (500) Days of Summer was released in the United States in August of 2009 and grossed over 60 million dollars worldwide on a seven-and-a-half-million-dollar budget (thus becoming a “sleeper hit” that summer). The film received very positive reviews from critics, with several of them referring to it as one of the best movies of the year (it appeared on several publications’ top-ten lists for 2009). In assessing the film’s cultural impact ten years after its release, Gordon-Levitt’s co-star Zooey Deschanel (All the Real Girls, Elf) addressed the common misconception of Summer being a villain. In agreement with her, Gordon-Levitt warned viewers against sympathizing with his character’s “mildly delusional obsession” with Deschanel’s character since he was falling in love with “the idea of a person” as opposed to a real human being. While I’m a sucker for a classic rom-com ending where the two people in love end up together happily ever after, I also really appreciate the (sadly) less-common choice to have the film’s central relationship not work out. Maybe feeling this way is sacrosanct, but such a subversion of the genre’s trope can be quite refreshing when done right in films like Damien Chazelle’s La La Land (which surely deserves its own blog someday 😊). One of these kinds of rom-coms that I found myself really liking is Marc Webb’s (500) Days of Summer. In many respects, this movie is more dramatic than comedic (although the ennui of the main character can be rather funny in a cringy kind of way). Its writers, Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber, set out to offer up a no-holds-barred critique of a common trope in many romantic comedies centered on the straight male’s experience of love: a destructive fixation on trying to create a fantastical version of his “dream girl” to fall for rather than actually loving a person for who they are. While the source of some iconic rom-coms of the past, this trope (which remains undeniably true to many young men’s struggles with young love) can do so much damage to how inexperienced adolescents and young adults conceptualize romance. I understand that some people watch (500) Days of Summer and come away thinking that the movie has, in fact, endorsed that lens through which to view love. Respectfully, I disagree. And I think the two lead actors’ portrayal of the central relationship favors my interpretation of the screenwriters’ and director’s artistic intentions. Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), the aforementioned fantasy-driven young male, goes on a painfully relatable (albeit cringe-inducing) journey of self-discovery as he realizes over the course of a year-plus of his life that Summer Finn (Zooey Deschanel), the girl he pines for, is not who he’s in love with. Rather, it’s his delusional conception of who (or, rather, what) Summer represents that he’s pursuing which takes him most of the story to come to terms with. While this role could’ve felt consistently more repelling than sympathetic, Gordon-Levitt brings enough relatability to just how pathetic he is to make him likeable enough for the story to work. Deschanel’s character, on the other hand, could’ve easily been written (and thus portrayed) as a stereotypically unlikeable woman who unempathetically rejects the advances of the “nice guy” without remorse or reservation. Instead, Deschanel brings a much-needed level of humanity to Summer by playing well off of Gordon-Levitt’s attempts at making their relationship permanent with a believable degree of making him see reality without being needlessly cruel. With its empathetic central performances & exceptionally relatable screenplay, (500) Days of Summer is (in my humble opinion) a solid example of a great modern romantic comedy. Namely, because of how it fully embraces its bittersweet ending. By allowing the audience to feel Tom’s pain for losing Summer while also conveying that such a flawed relationship was not good for him (or Summer, for that matter), we are allowed to appreciate him moving on and meeting someone new who he can get to know for who they genuinely are & continue to grow as a person. Without shoving its morality into the audience’s faces, the movie expertly leaves us believing that we can be & do better without fully giving up on the tantalizing promise of “true love” being out there for all of us to find. Always Be My Maybe (2019) While at a fried-rice cooking competition hosted by a mutual friend, comedian Ali Wong and actor Randall Park (The Interview, Ant-Man and the Wasp) met and became close friends who supported each other’s projects ever since. Since meeting, Wong and Park spent those years intermittently developing “our version of When Harry Met Sally…” Once Wong made this idea public in 2016, the idea picked up steam and was picked up by Netflix in August of 2017 with Wong and Park attached as co-writers alongside Michael Golamco (Please Stand By). The rap persona of Park’s character was based on his amateur music career as part of the Bay Area hip-hop group III Again from the 1990s. In naming his character’s band Hello Peril, Park took inspiration from the term “yellow peril”—the derogatory term alleging a cultural threat that East Asians pose to Western society. Park co-wrote several rap songs for the movie with hip-hop producer and San Francisco native Dan the Automator. In conceiving of Wong’s character’s celebrity love interest, Wong and Park always had Keanu Reeves (Speed, The Matrix, John Wick) in mind but were unsure if he would be both available and willing. Reeves, a fan of Wong’s stand-up comedy, enthusiastically agreed to shoot his scenes. To do so, he worked around his schedule for John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum in order to fly to San Francisco. He spent two days shooting in the summer of 2018 before flying back to New York. He even contributed ideas to the screenplay (such as him wearing glasses with no lenses during the dinner scene). As a tribute to Reeves’ contributions to the movie, Park wrote the film’s end credits song “I Punched Keanu Reeves.” After sending an e-mail to get his permission to use his name in the song, Reeves gave some suggestions for the lyrics. Following a limited release on May 29, 2019, Always Be My Maybe was released onto Netflix two days later and was watched by 32 million households within four weeks. The film was widely praised by critics, who lauded Park and Wong’s chemistry and the film’s portrayal of Asian love. It has become an increasingly common part of film discourse these days (particularly on social media) to parrot Quentin Tarantino’s[ii] belief that direct-to-streaming films lack the same cultural resonance as theatrical releases. In my humble opinion, this is an unfalsifiable hypothesis for the time being. Mainly because streaming companies like Netflix and Apple TV+ have only just started becoming viable competitors to the major movie studios in the last few years (the increasing presence of streaming films in the Oscars race is testament to this). That being said, I do think that streaming originals (the really good ones, at least) will cement their due place among peoples’ top movies lists over the next few decades. When it comes to the best modern romantic comedies, I hope one of them is Always Be My Maybe. As the directorial debut of relative newcomer and Iranian-American filmmaker Nahnatchka Khan (Totally Killer), this movie—like most rom-coms—succeeds almost wholly on the chemistry of its leads. Fortunately, the seemingly close-knit friendship between Ali Wong and Randall Park did them wonders in portraying high school flames that have grown apart in adulthood. Both the aimless wannabe rapper Marcus (Park) and successful yet emotionally distant celebrity chef Sasha (Wong) come off as very relatable people who have similar struggles despite being rather different people on the surface. They live complicated lives and end up needing the other’s presence to help them figure things out. A familiar rom-com narrative device? Sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less effective here. In fact, this is one of the better examples of it that I’ve seen. On top of their solid performances in front of the camera, their collaboration on the screenplay (along with Michael Golamco) serves up a healthy mix of drama, romance, and comedy that fully delivers on all you want from this kind of movie while having a little more to say than many other films within the genre. With the interweaving of Marcus and Sasha’s journeys of self-improvement & self-discovery, they ensure to make the characters’ mutual coming together and recognizing their love for each other feel organic and deserved. Furthermore, thanks to Wong and Park’s expert comedic timing as actors, almost all of the jokes & bits land incredibly well (most notably the multi-scene satire of a fictionalized Keanu Reeves as Sasha’s celebrity boyfriend). In a sense, Always Be My Maybe combines the multi-decade love story of Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally… with the mature exploration of Asian-American family & identity from Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet. Yet its injection of modern comedic sensibilities & pacing as the “secret ingredient” makes this movie a criminally underrated romantic comedy that (in my humble opinion) deserves much more attention & praise than it’s received in the five years since its release. If nothing else, though, we’ll get even more great movies like this one in the future. 😊 Which of these modern rom-com classics (or soon-to-be classics) is your favorite (or least favorite)? What other more recent entries in this love-filled genre do you think people should check out? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst [i] https://archive.ph/20131116072525/http://postcolonial.org/index.php/pct/article/viewArticle/360/806 [ii] https://deadline.com/2023/05/quentin-tarantino-retirement-james-bond-tv-cannes-1235379761/ As a self-professed fan of black comedies, I enjoy seeking out the one that does the absolute best job at balancing humor and drama. Some are more laugh-out-loud hilarious, like The King of Comedy, while others lean much more into the serious & tragic elements of life, like Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. But few, in my humble opinion, manage to deftly manage both with such grace & prowess as one of my favorite films from the Coen Brothers: Inside Llewyn Davis, the Oscar Isaac-starring character study. Simply put, it stands alongside the likes of Fargo and True Grit as one of the Coen’s biggest artistic achievements of their decades-spanning directorial career. Furthermore, ten years after its release, it remains one of the prime examples of how to do a black comedy right.
Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Inside Llewyn Davis.” You have been warned.] The Good While the Coen Brothers are considered accomplished & outstanding writer-directors, I fully admit that not all of their movies resonate with everyone. Certainly, their dark humor & cynical sensibilities don’t always work for me. However, Inside Llewyn Davis is easily one of their best screenplays. While not as kinetic as Fargo or intense as True Grit, the story they tell of struggling folk singer Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac)—whose life is a constant cycle of betraying peoples’ trust and failing to live up to some basic standards of decency—makes for compelling drama with a tinge of black comedy. Sure, it’s resolutely depressing. And yet the way they find levity in the dour makes for interesting, character-driven antics that feel both grounded and surreal thanks to the world of folk-infused Greenwich Village that they construct. Which brings me to their directing style. This can easily be more off-putting to some not in sync with the Coen’s artistic oeuvre. Fortunately, it very much works for this film. There are a few particular creative choices they made that are not only commendable but that (in my humble opinion) allowed Inside Llewyn Davis to be a modern classic. First and foremost, I greatly respect the decision to feature exclusively live performance for the singing scenes. It adds to the gritty rawness of Davis’ impoverished lifestyle while also fully immersing the audience in the emotionally cathartic moments for his character (not to mention the supporting roles who sing throughout the runtime). Adding to that gritty, dour atmosphere is their choice for lighting (which I’ll elaborate on in the next section). The aesthetic that they chose to craft for Greenwich Village is so fitting for the story they set out to tell because it grounds some of the more heightened aspects of Davis’ cyclical journey in this very believable setting of the New York folk scene at the peak of the Cold War. In both their writing and directing, the Coens did an exceptional job making Inside Llewyn Davis accessible & relatable without sacrificing their integrity as artists. The film unquestionably gels very well with their broader filmography, but just feels like a movie that I could show to someone not ingratiated to their style totally carefree because I’m confident it will resonate with most people. The Great But what about the great aspects of Inside Llewyn Davis? While the Coen’s overall direction is solid, I feel it’s important to spotlight a couple of particular crew members behind the camera whose work does much of the heavy lifting for the film without you even realizing it. To start with something I touched on earlier, the cinematography is straight-up amazing. Done by French cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Big Eyes, Darkest Hour), he has a signature style that certainly wouldn’t make sense for every kind of movie. But it really works well here. Specifically, his hyper-stylistic use of desaturated color palette does wonders for the visual world-building of Davis’ day-to-day life. His emphasis on diluted grays and blues enhances the Coen’s creative vision by creating that visual blanket over Greenwich Village & the broader folk scene. Simply put, it lets the viewer know how saw Davis’ life is before he even does anything depressing. Yet, it gets better. By beautifully clashing his use of color with hard shadows, Delbonnel’s eye for melancholy via imagery perfectly fits the Coen’s narrative by making Davis’ world devoid of any hope without being overly sad. Without question, though, the biggest unsung hero of Inside Llewyn Davis is the soundtrack. In lieu of a traditional film score, the Coens enlisted the artistic genius of music producer Joseph “T Bone” Burnett (who they previously collaborated with on The Big Lebowski, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, and The Ladykillers). Formerly the guitarist for Bob Dylan in the mid-1970s, Burnett brings a clear understanding of how to accurately capture the sound of 1960s folk music. In addition to arranging traditional folk songs like “Dink’s Song” and “The Death of Queen Jane,” he oversaw incredible covers of songs from accomplished folk artists—Tom Paxton’s “The Last Thing On My Mind,” Hedwig “Hedy” West’s “Five Hundred Miles,” and Ewan MacColl’s “The Shoals of Herring” (just to name a few)—by the actors. In other words, without his delicate hand on this soundtrack the Coen’s choice to feature live performance simply wouldn’t feel as authentic & effective. But it does, and Burnett’s soundtrack remains one I revisit every now & then because it’s so special. It’s just not the kind of soundtrack you hear in movies. Even ones about music, which utterly boggles my mind. The Groundbreaking If something is iconic about Inside Llewyn Davis, it’s the central performance from Oscar Isaac. While a household name nowadays thanks to his roles in major franchises from Star Wars to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Isaac had some notable supporting roles in the early 21st century (such as Robert Connelly’s Balibo and Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive), it was his breathtaking turn as Llewyn Davis for the Coen Brothers here that earned him major recognition in the film industry that unquestionably launched his career. But why is that? What is it about Isaac’s take on this seemingly irredeemable character that makes it noteworthy & set him on a course for success in Hollywood? I think the answer’s simpler than one may think at first. He’s FUCKING AWESOME in this movie! To be a little more specific, he grabs your attention from the very first scene (certainly helped by his soulful singing voice). He’s magnetic in how he helps keep Davis a sympathetic ne’er-do-well whose flaws & mistakes end up endearing him to the audience instead of turning us off to him. Beyond his admirable physical qualities, Isaac’s more vulnerable moments (whether it be lashing out over his old singing partner’s suicide or forcing himself to accept being rejected to his face) ensure that Davis remains consistently relatable & engaging. Even when he’s a bit of an ass. 😊 Conclusion Need I say more? Inside Llewyn Davis is both a modern classic & one of the Coen Brothers’ best films. It’s effortless mix of comedy, drama, & style forms a rich visual tapestry that blends exceptionally well with the sound of mid-century folk music to remind us that life can get us down sometimes despite trying everything in our power to overcome the challenges. And then it asks us if getting back up is even worth it. In my humble opinion, it is…if you need to track down the missing cat. 😊 What do you like or dislike about the Coen’s melancholic dramedy Inside Llewyn Davis? Do you hold it in as high regard as I do? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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