Coming off of a very strong year for movies in 2022, the film industry was faced with several obstacles (some avoidable & others unforeseen). From the impact of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes on the fall movie season to the box-office juggernaut of the “Barbenheimer” phenomenon this summer, I found 2023 to be quite a whirlwind of a year for movies. Some critics & commentators are celebrating the comic book movie “bubble” bursting (signaled by films like The Flash and The Marvels bombing at the box office). Clearly, audiences were more excited to watch acclaimed directors like Greta Gerwig and Christopher Nolan tackle untapped IPs (Barbie) for the big screen or show off original takes on somewhat unknown historical figures (Oppenheimer). Such talk, however, has caused many good & great flicks to be overlooked and underpraised. Thus, as I do every year, I want my final blog of 2023 to give some love to films that you may not have seen or (unfortunately) even heard of.
Admittedly, I have yet to see many of what are considered to be the year’s best films, including (but not limited to): Celine Song’s Past Lives, Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon, and Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things. Still, I want to use this opportunity to shine a light on some of my favorite movies that I haven’t blogged about before. While some are familiar among moviegoers (casual or otherwise), there may just be one or two on this list you’ve never heard of that are nonetheless worth checking out. That being said, here are my thoughts on some of my favorite movies of 2023. A Man Called Otto Having seen the bulk of director Marc Forster’s filmography, I can’t say that I’m the biggest fan of his work. While I do think that his fantasy-comedy Stranger than Fiction starring Will Ferrell is great and I enjoy his version of World War Z starring Brad Pitt (despite not being remotely like Max Brooks’ modern classic book on which it’s based), I find myself in the minority when it comes to the movies he’s made that are considered his best, including Monster’s Ball and The Kite Runner. And don’t even get me started on Quantum of Solace! So when I saw the somewhat positive reviews for his Tom Hanks vehicle A Man Called Otto, I was cautiously optimistic. Maybe it would turn out be another really good (or perhaps even great) movie from Forster. Fortunately, my tempered expectations paid off in full. In remaking Swedish filmmaker Hannes Holm’s Oscar-nominated movie A Man Called Ove (itself based on Fredrik Backman’s novel of the same name) for an American audience, Forster manages to deliver one of my favorite movies of this year (and one of his best films). That being said, I do think that much of the heavy lifting here is done by Forster’s cast (and not just the obvious answer of his lead performer). To be clear, Hanks is the well-deserving star of A Man Called Otto. Like some of his darker performances in films like Road to Perdition, he plays against type by summoning an emotional vulnerability that exists beneath a cold, hard exterior & must be peeled back layer by layer throughout the film. While he’s no machine gun-wielding gangster in the Great Depression, his portrayal of Otto Anderson as a lonely and curmudgeonly widower feels like it’s ripped from the same cloth. In that regard, I found Hanks’ presence in the movie refreshing. To be sure, his more typical work is more than welcome when he does it. However, I tend to really enjoy when he does movies like this because he simply doesn’t do them that often. Unlike so many of his most acclaimed roles, from Forrest Gump to Sully, he doesn’t primarily rely on his signature charm as both an actor & as a person. And that makes his turn as Otto (in my humble opinion) one of his better roles in the last fifteen years. While I expected to at least enjoy Hanks’ turn in A Man Called Otto, I was pleasantly surprised to be swept away by much of the supporting cast that successfully elevate his lead performance. There are many actors from the film that I could spotlight, but I want to emphasize my favorite Hanks co-star: Mariana Treviño, who plays his nosy yet endearing & well-intentioned new neighbor Marisol. Not only is she a strong female presence in a (somewhat) male-dominated story, but the way that her undeniable charm plays off of Hanks’ anti-sociable tendencies as Otto makes for a pretty compelling central character relationship. The “tough love” that Marisol shows Otto from very early on after meeting him keeps what could’ve been a predictable narrative overly reliant on a tropey friendship. Instead, though, Forster (along with screenwriter David Magee) gave Hanks and Treviño the material & flexibility to shine in telling a thematically relatable & rich story about letting go of the past to accept new people into your life & live for a brighter tomorrow. Even if you’re not a fan of some of Forster’s other flicks, I strongly encourage you to give A Man Called Otto a chance. You’ll at the very least find something to enjoy about Hanks’ performance, and (hopefully) be sucked in by the rest of the cast around him that make the two-hour runtime more than worth it. Missing A relatively new approach to cinematic storytelling is “screenlife” which emphasizes a distinct aesthetic meant to emulate using computers, tablets, and/or smartphones as the means of telling the story. Somewhat inspired by the “found footage” subgenre that was popularized by films like The Blair Witch Project, “screenlife” initially found its stride in horror with movies like The Den and Unfriended before expanding its reach to tell stories in different genres. Arguably, a big turning point in “screenlife” cinema was the critically & commercially successful release of the mystery thriller film Searching in 2018. Directed by Indian-American filmmaker Aneesh Chaganty (who co-wrote the screenplay with Armenian-American producer Sev Ohanian), the film grossed more than 75 million dollars on a less-than-one-million-dollar budget. Five years later, after Chaganty and Ohanian teamed up for Run (the “spiritual sequel” to Searching) in 2020, they co-produced the directorial debuts of Will Merrick and Nick Johnson (the editors of Chaganty’s previous two films) for a third entry in this blossoming series of “screenlife” flicks. And, just like Searching and Run, I thoroughly enjoyed Missing for what it was despite its flaws. As a big fan of both Searching and Run, I was somewhat disappointed to learn that Chaganty and Ohanian would not be as hands-on with Missing. With the former no longer being the writer-director and the latter not co-writing the screenplay, I wondered if another “screenlife” thriller with them only as producers would work as well as Searching. Fortunately, since Merrick and Johnson worked intimately on both Searching and Run as editors, much of the visual flair & storytelling sensibilities of Chaganty and Ohanian remained intact. Working off of a story that Chaganty and Ohanian thought up, Merrick and Johnson seamlessly translate it to the screens of iPhones, laptops, security cameras, and many more innovative avenues into the life of teenager June Allen (Storm Reid) as she tries to solve the mystery behind her mother Grace’s (Nia Long) sudden disappearance. With Chaganty and Ohanian’s story (adapted by Merrick and Johnson who wrote the screenplay), Missing offers an intricate web of story threads for the viewer to unravel. And, much like Searching, it’s incredibly fun for the audience to go along with some of the crazier places that this mystery takes us. While this may seem like a turn off, it’s a movie that gives you what you give it. In other words, go with the story being told even if some of it’s a bit implausible or outlandish because it makes up for any flaws in the screenplay by consistently engaging you from start to finish. And much of that value comes straight from the solid cast assembled for Missing. So much credit goes to Storm Reid in the leading role of June. She immediately feels like a genuine teenager whose evolving mental & emotional state while unraveling the mystery about her mother helps invest the viewer in her struggle. When put next to her incredible, single-episode performance as Riley in HBO’s incredible adaptation The Last of Us, Reid had a great year showing some range as an actor. While her chops certainly carried the film, I was pleasantly surprised by Joaquin de Almeida’s performance as Javier. Playing a Colombia gig worker who becomes an unexpected sidekick in June’s investigation, de Almeida initially put me on edge because I found him a little suspect and (potentially) untrustworthy. However, he successfully kept me guessing in his first couple of scenes before ultimately proving his worth as both a capable investigator & source of emotional support to June despite being a total stranger. With her mom missing, June’s changing dynamic with Javier makes for a strong core relationship of the narrative that I was entirely taken by. If you’ve seen Searching, you’ve pretty much seen Missing. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also watch Missing. Despite essentially telling the same story with flipped roles, it’s a thoroughly entertaining mystery thriller that doubles down on the screen gimmick to tremendous results. And if Searching or Run didn’t solidify my interest in Aneesh Chaganty and Sev Ohanian as a storytelling/filmmaking duo, then Missing easily did. All I can say to them is: KEEP MAKING THESE MOVIES! 😊 Air Despite having only directed a handful of movies in the last quarter-century or so, Ben Affleck has a fairly strong filmography to his name (having not seen Live by Night, I can’t say I’ve seen him make a bad movie). And while many film fans seem to remain committed to arguing that his Best Picture winner Argo (which I did thoroughly enjoy) is still his best movie, I think he outdid himself this year with Air. As someone who cares not one iota for watching or knowing sports but quite enjoys many sports movies, I think Air is one of the best modern examples of the genre. Even though it’s not a traditional sports movie (which makes it all the better). For the uninitiated, Air tells the story of the incredibly lucrative 1984 business deal between Nike and then-up-and-coming basketball star Michael Jordan. The deal itself was spearheaded by Nike’s talent scout Sonny Vaccaro (Matt Damon) and backed by its co-founder and then-CEO Phil Knight (Affleck), the former being taken with Jordan’s potential & raw talent to the point that he successfully convinced the latter to devote the company’s entire basketball division’s budget to courting Jordan to be their spokesperson. The film also spotlights the work of Nike’s lead shoe designer Peter Moore (Matthew Maher) in conceiving of the “Air Jordan”—a shoe worthy of Jordan’s talent—and the lengths that Vaccaro and Nike had to go to assure Jordan’s mother Deloris (Viola Davis). I’m pretty stunned that Amazon Studios delivered my favorite movie of the year for two years straight (Ron Howard’s Thirteen Lives being my top film of 2022 which YOU MUST WATCH if you haven’t; it did not get near the amount of love last year that it deserved). I never would’ve guessed that Jeff Bezos’ company that began as an online bookstore would emerge decades later as one of the leading film studios in terms of consistent quality (and not just in movies; the success of The Boys is evidence enough of that). Perhaps the most impressive thing about Air is that it’s essentially a dramatized Nike commercial/full-throated love letter to Michael Jordan. In the hands of another, less skilled filmmaker, it easily could’ve felt like that. However, Affleck does an incredible job (along with screenwriter Alex Convery) of injecting just the right amount of engaging drama & inspirational pathos into the movie’s narrative to overcome any kind of perceivable pap. Which, in my humble opinion, makes the achievement of this film all the more impressive. Of course, much of its success (aside from the team behind the camera) is thanks to the strong cast. Beyond just the solid supporting performers, from Marlon Wayans and Jason Bateman to Chris Tucker, our three leads do an incredible job of focusing the story of Jordan’s emerging partnership with Nike on the affirmation of mutual respect between people. Part of that is unquestionably due to Damon and Affleck’s worthwhile chemistry. The former’s more curmudgeon and grounded, yet quietly hopeful, take on Sonny Vaccaro does wonders playing off of the latter’s ever-so-slightly zany personality as Phil Knight (a dynamic that Ridley Scott tried, but somewhat failed, to capture in his film The Last Duel from two years ago). On top of that, their passion for securing the deal with Jordan—equal in measure (if not always evident in Knight’s reluctant business instincts)—keeps the viewer invested in both their “love-hate” relationship & the progress of Nike’s deal with Jordan. While it’s great watching Damon and Affleck play off of each other on screen, Viola Davis undeniably steals the show from both of them. I can’t imagine it being controversial for me to assert that she’s one of the best actors living today given her incredible turns in films like Tate Taylor’s The Help and Gina Prince-Bythewood’s The Woman King (not to mention her Oscar-winning role in Denzel Washington’s Fences). Surely, her role as Deloris Jordan in this movie is quite different from those others in terms of time, place, and narrative context (she isn’t lopping off leads in 19th-century Africa or confronting verbal & emotional abuse as a housekeeper in the Jim Crow South). However, she effortlessly brings a strength, grace, & tenacious spirit to Deloris whose protective motherly instincts and unyielding pride & belief in her talented son shine through within minutes of her appearing on screen. Furthermore, her presence in the latter half of the movie helps spice up the cast of (mostly) male corporate suits (albeit some with strong personalities). Ultimately, Air was clearly a labor of love for Affleck as well as his cast & crew. Fortunately, that love produced a great movie that manages a very tricky proposition of balancing real-life events about a business deal with drawing the audience’s interest & focus to a cinematic version of those events. I can’t stress enough to sports movie fans, lovers of sports history, and just cinephiles generally that Air is one of the best movies of the year. Even if it doesn’t get recognized with a Best Picture nomination at the Oscars next year, it certainly deserves it. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. By the time the credits rolled on The Edge of Seventeen, I knew that I was utterly enamored by the filmmaking of writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig. In teaming with old-school director and producer James L. Brooks (Terms of Endearment, As Good as It Gets), she crafted one of the best coming-of-age movies of the 21st century (and, arguably, one of the best in the genre. Period.). Thus, when I heard that her sophomore feature would adapt the 1970 novel “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” by the acclaimed novelist Judy Blume for the big screen, it instantly became one of my most anticipated films of this year. As expected, Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. did not disappoint. In telling a story set in about Margaret Simon (Abby Ryder Fortson) wrestling with puberty, relationships, and religion, Fremon Craig beautifully captures the universality of growing up without generalizing or minimizing the utter specificity of a girl becoming a young woman. As a writer, she effortlessly humanizes all of her characters (not just the three leads) by leaning into & highlighting their flaws without villainizing or demonizing them. As a director, she seamlessly brings the audience into Margaret’s interpersonal world (on top of the homey, idyllic atmosphere of mid-20th century suburbia) by relying on the talent of her actors to drive a character-focused narrative with ease. While Fremon Craig’s attention to detail and solid director of her cast make the film very good, it’s the performances of the cast themselves that (in my humble opinion) makes it great. Starting with our lead performer, who is a somewhat unknown (despite excellently playing Scott Lang’s adorable & charming daughter Cassie in the first two Ant-Man films). Abby Ryder Fortson is an utter delight as Margaret. She develops her acting chops by showing more emotional range with Margaret being put in several uncomfortable situations (some more embarrassing, while others more unnerving). Furthermore, her ability to draw the audience into Margaret’s journey through the early stages of puberty demonstrates how effective her creative choices are as an actor. Beyond the immediate empathy that she evokes as a young person figuring out her identity (an experience we all go through at that point in our lives), Fortson gives a solid performance as the lead alongside the likes of an Oscar nominee and an Oscar winner. Which brings me to the other two shining stars of this movie’s cast. To hopefully nobody’s surprise, both Rachel McAdams and Kathy Bates kill it in their respective roles. The former plays Margaret’s sweet and sensitive yet tough mother Barbara who is constantly there for her daughter while being on her own emotional journey facing her past & her strained relationship with her fundamentalist Christian parents. Simply put, McAdams gives one of her most mature & amazing performances to date. By showing restraint in how Barbara expresses her inner turmoil to Margaret (particularly in the dinner table scene), McAdams exemplifies how much she knows this character. It also works as a refreshing contrast from Fortson’s material that’s immersed in the melodrama of adolescence. The least (and, somehow, most) surprisingly pleasant performance comes from Kathy Bates as Margaret’s grandmother and Barbara’s mother-in-law Sylvia. In this role, Bates presents the nuances of generational relationships in how tough she can be on Barbara and her son Herb (Benny Safdie) despite her incredible love & protective instinct for Margaret. And she performs this duality incredibly well. Even when she becomes a bit of an antagonist in the film’s third act, Bates never lets the character come off as a straight-up villain. Instead, she elevates Fremon Craig’s dialogue for Sylvia by portraying this lonely older woman as an understandably flawed person whose motives for her actions are relatable & human. She also has some of the funniest lines & line deliveries in the whole movie, which is just the cherry on top. If you happened to sleep on this film, either because you didn’t know about it or felt turned off by the seemingly exclusive premise, please give it a shot. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. is another solid film from Kelly Fremon Craig that only cements my love for her sensibilities as an artist. Without a doubt in my mind, she’s up there with Greta Gerwig, Marielle Heller, and Gina Prince-Bythewood as a relatively young & new female filmmaker to look out for. I’ll certainly be watching whatever she makes next, and you should, too (after seeing this movie, of course)! Joy Ride Adele Lim, an accomplished television producer, screenwriter, & editor of Malaysian descent, has only recently made a name for herself in film. By co-writing Jon M. Chu’s Crazy Rich Asians and the underrated Disney animated flick Raya and the Last Dragon, Lim cemented herself as an emerging talent in Hollywood. Thus, it was only a matter of time until she directed her own film. Coming out early this July to strong reception but ultimately being overshadowed by “Barbenheimer,” Joy Ride is a comedy flick that deserves more attention than it received this year. Instead of writing her directorial debut herself, Lim developed the story with frequent writers on Seth Macfarlane’s shows (Family Guy, American Dad!, and The Orville) Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and Teresa Hsiao. Together, these three women succeeded at their mission of making a film starring Asian-American women who are “messy and thirsty, but have so much heart.” With their screenplay, they deliver a breezy triumph of raunchy comedy that puts cultural representation at its center without letting the story’s heart or celebration of female friendship distract from the many laughs they invoke in the audience. And there are many. With a solid screenplay to work off of, the film’s four leads work wonders to humanize their characters while also making them the butt of dozens of jokes over the course of the runtime. To begin with the two best friends that are the focus of the story: the ambitious lawyer Audrey (Ashley Park) and the aimless freeloader yet passionate artist Lolo (Sherry Cola). As the evolution of their relationship makes up the heart & soul of Joy Ride, these actresses play off of one another incredibly well in both the comedic & more dramatic moments. In moments, both of them are unlikeable (albeit for different reasons). However, their coming to understand & accept each other despite starting to grow apart works well enough as the emotional climax of the third act. Furthermore, I appreciated Cola not overplaying her rivalry with one of the other lead characters to the point of it feeling cartoonish. The more overt sources of comedy are Audrey’s college roommate Kat (Stephanie Hsu), an aspiring actress who’s trying to overcome her highly promiscuous past, and Lolo’s socially awkward cousin “Deadeye” (Sabrina Wu), who just wants some real friends. Coming off of her Oscar-nominated performance in last year’s Best Picture winner Everything Everywhere All at Once, Hsu demonstrates a greater range here by playing into her comedic timing to great effect (particularly as her life starts falling apart). Wu, on the other hand, deftly maximizes their screen time with some superb line delivery & strong instinct for physical comedy (particularly during the K-pop music video sequence). This is especially impressive given the fact that Wu hasn’t really acted before. Simply put, Joy Ride is frickin’ hilarious! It doesn’t overstay its welcome thanks to great pacing & plenty of even greater jokes that occur often. On top of that, the cast is quite charming as they elevate the screenplay to make it thematically universal despite the cultural specificity that exists on the narrative’s surface. Like the next film I’m going to discuss, this movie is proof that comedies can still work with modern audiences if they’re well-written & have something to say. Needless to say, if you’re in the mood for a really fun, raunchy comedy whose message enhances its jokes (as opposed to detracting from them), check out Joy Ride. You’ll likely have a coke-infused blast!! 😉 Barbie Due to how big of an impact that it had on cinema & pop culture this year, I couldn’t write this blog and not address at least one half of the “Barbenheimer” phenomenon. And while I commend the ambitious endeavor that was Oppenheimer (particularly Jennifer Lame’s well-paced editing & the awards-worthy performances from Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey, Jr.), I simply enjoyed Barbie more. Which surprised me considering my cautious optimism for it going in. Despite loving Lady Bird, Greta Gerwig’s solo directorial debut, I wasn’t as taken with Little Women as many others were. Thus, I sat down in the theater for Barbie hoping to like it but being prepared to be disappointed. Fortunately, the opposite happened. Not only did I thoroughly enjoy my first viewing, but I liked Barbie even more the second time around. As not only the director but also the co-writer of this film, Gerwig delivers an incredibly entertaining romp that (in my humble opinion) proves comedies are by no means dead if they can transcend the constraints of being “just a comedy” & having something to say…while also still making you laugh a ton. 😊 Without question, Barbie doesn’t work without the insanely talented cast bringing life, humor, and humanity to the screenplay (which Gerwig co-wrote with her partner & fellow filmmaker, Noah Baumbach). And our two leads couldn’t have been cast better. First, our titular Barbie played by Margot Robbie (who also produced the film). She is pitch-perfect in front of the camera, which isn’t at all surprising considering her stellar performances in films like I, Tonya and Babylon. She embraces the character’s stereotypical, surface-level plasticity in the first half of the narrative (both physically & emotionally). However, the amount of nuance she brings to many of her facial expressions, much of her body language, & most of her dialogue reflects a meticulously prepped & crafted performance that effectively feeds into the themes of Gerwig and Baumbach’s script. The way she plays Barbie’s journey to discovering her own humanity could’ve easily played as cheesy or overly sentimental, but in Robbie’s capable hands the arc for the character is compelling for the entire film. And while Robbie is great in the lead, I do think that Ryan Gosling kind of steals the film from her (my rewatch only reinforced this belief). As the primary Ken, he goes all-in on the “himbo” archetype from the get-go which ensures the dichotomous relationship between him and Robbie’s Barbie works the whole movie. Perhaps this was more surprising given my association with Gosling’s career being more driven by dramatic & serious roles in films like Drive and Blade Runner 2049. However, by playing into some more of his well-timed comedic tendencies that he’s exhibited in past roles (from The Big Short to The Nice Guys) & dialing them up to eleven, Gosling delivers not only one of the best performances of cinema this year. He has secured his place in the Academy Award conversation (and may very well win his first Oscar after two nominations). We’ll just have to wait & see, but I think he will deserve it if he wins because of how deftly & delicately he balances his innate charm with his character’s off-putting personality while ensuring that Ken’s arc to starting his journey of becoming a better person feels earned & genuine. Fortunately, both Robbie and Gosling are propped up by an impeccably talented supporting cast who do very well maximizing their screen time without ever overshadowing the two lead characters. While many of them deserve the spotlight, I want to focus on a few of them that resonated with me above the rest. Of all the Kens, I think Simu Liu is easily the standout as the direct rival to Gosling’s Ken. Their interplay early in the film perfectly sets up the ultimate showdown on the beach in the third act (while amazingly intermixed with the “I’m Just Ken” musical number). Regarding the Barbies, I found Kate McKinnon’s take on Weird Barbie exceptionally fun (particularly her introduction in the first act). Luckily, this film is not filled only with Barbies and Kens to entertain. Michael Cera perfectly delivers as Allan (Ken’s friend) by doing what only he can do best: be a pale, awkward (both in sound & action) “normie” who unexpectedly (but hilariously) kicks ass when needed most. Without a doubt, the best human character is Gloria thanks to a relatable & empathetic performance from America Ferrera. Of course, everyone who’s seen Barbie knows the moment that she shines most is delivering her climactic monologue in which she lays out the mind-bending paradox at the heart of the female experience. Despite being a passable plot device to propel the film into its resolution where the Barbies take power back from the Kens, Ferrera’s incredibly believable performance keeps Gerwig and Baumbach’s on-the-nose lines from feeling unearned or overly distracting. And, while never once seen on screen, Helen Mirren deserves some praise for her fitting narration & laugh-inducing delivery of some of the movie’s best lines (specifically, calling out using Margot Robbie to comment on unrealistic beauty standards for women). While the whole cast is fantastic, the unsung hero of Barbie is the technical craft on display. In particular, the way that Oscar-nominated cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (who’s collaborated multiple times with filmmakers such as Martin Scorsese and Alejandro Gonzáles Iñárritu) shoots the breathtaking sets. The amount of detail in the production design, combined with Prieto’s camerawork, perfectly immerses the audience in Barbieland right away. In addition, Gerwig’s reliance on practical sets as well as old-school special & visual effects (rather than relying on CGI, which she easily could’ve done) demonstrates the amount of care & creativity that went into this production. Simply put, Barbie deserves to be the highest-grossing film of the year. It’s a very well-crafted piece of crowd-pleasing cinema with something on its mind that doesn’t let its message obstruct or deter from the entertainment value of its story. By allowing the actors to fully embrace the more eccentric absurdities of the screenplay while ensuring that they can carry the more dramatic & emotional scenes, Greta Gerwig has proven to me that she’s a filmmaker worth following for years to come. Besides, the film also taught me that…I AM KENOUGH!! 😊 Godzilla Minus One As this year came to a close, none of the Hollywood blockbusters releasing in December enticed me enough to head to the theater one last time. Meanwhile, I kept hearing such immense praise befall the newest Godzilla movie from Japanese studio Toho. Thus, I took a chance & went to go see Godzilla Minus One at my local movie theater. Fortunately, it was well worth my time & money by not only being one of the best monster movies I’ve ever seen but also surpassing so many big-budget American movies coming out these days. For many reasons, Minus One surpasses all of Legendary’s “MonsterVerse” movies for several reasons. One big reason for this is the fact that its writer-director Takashi Yamazaki prioritizes investing the audience in the human characters’ stories & relationships. As such, when its titular kaiju does appear in all his glory I felt appropriately terrified for the fate of the people. As much as I enjoy films like Godzilla vs. Kong, I rarely care about the people in those movies out of a desire to just see the monsters fight. In the case of Minus One, it was the opposite. I was very much invested in the interpersonal journey of our lead character—traumatized pilot & veteran Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki)—and the inner circle of friends & family he assembles over the course of the immediate years following World War II. I simply cannot express the same sentiment for any of the human characters in any other kaiju (or kaiju-adjacent) flick that I’ve seen. Admittedly, I haven’t seen the overwhelming majority of Toho’s Godzilla movies. In fact, aside from Legendary’s version of the nuclear monster, I’ve only seen Ishirō Honda’s original Godzilla flick from 1954 and this year’s Minus One. With that in mind (and the fact that I don’t like Honda’s movie all that much), I found Yamazaki’s subtle nods to the movie that kicked off this 69-year franchise fitting & fun. Whether it was the design of the monster echoing back to the “man-in-the-suit” look of the older movies or the stinging musical cue that was utilized to punctuate the onset of Godzilla’s destructive antics, I liked those little nods to honor a well-regarded & culturally significant film franchise that’s been around for so long. Another cherry on top of the goodness that is Minus One is how it maximizes its budget to deliver some great visual & special effects. Not only does Godzilla himself look very convincing ninety-five percent of the time that he’s onscreen. The creative ways that Yamazaki & his creative team shoot the various set pieces (notably the sea battle & the attack on Ginza in the second act) are shining examples of how to capture entertaining action that should serve as a model for big-budget Hollywood action movies going forward. Ultimately, the heart of why this movie is good is its story & themes. Which utterly shocked me about it when I left the theater a few weeks back. BUT IT’S TRUE!! Minus One is an emotional rollercoaster ride that uses action & special effects to enhance its narrative instead of the other way around. Furthermore, its exploration of overcoming trauma & survivor’s guilt by finding purpose along with a strong support system is such universal groundwork for a great story despite being set at a very specific time in Japanese history. In other words, this story could be told in several different times, places, and cultures & be just as good because of how resonant & relevant it is to the human experience in general. Please trust me when I say that Godzilla Minus One is worth going to see in theaters. If you’re a big fan of Toho’s Godzilla movies, it offers a “back-to-basics” take on kaiju storytelling without forgetting what makes this kind of film great. And if you’re a general moviegoer without any history of watching monster movies, it tells a compelling & emotional story with some interesting, relatable characters and great action sequences. Somehow, it works for pretty much everyone which (in my humble opinion) to just how good of a movie it truly is. So, those are my thoughts on some of my favorite films of 2023. Of course, there are plenty of other movies that came out this year that are worth checking out: Alexander Payne’s The Holdovers, Gerard Johnstone’s M3GAN, Nick Bruno & Troy Quane’s Nimona, Raine Allen-Miller’s Rye Lane, George C. Wolfe’s Rustin, and Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer. Just to name a few. 😉 For my thoughts on some other 2023 films, click on any of the titles below:
What are some of your favorite films from this year? What movies are you most excited to come out next year? 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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Darren Aronofsky is perhaps the epitome of divisive filmmaking. From his antitheist commentaries Noah and Mother! to his latest film, the Brendan Fraser vehicle The Whale, Aronofsky does not make crowd-pleasing movies with mass appeal. And while I don’t love all of his movies, I greatly appreciate his auteur sensibilities for one reason and one reason alone: he gave us The Wrestler.
Released fifteen years ago today, the film stars Mickey Rourke as middle-aged, washed-up professional wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson who struggles to relive his glory days in the ring due to his failing health while also attempting to reconnect with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) and kindle a romance with local stripper “Cassidy” whose actual name is Pam (Marisa Tomei). Not only is The Wrestler my favorite Aronofsky flick, but it’s easily one of the best sports movies ever made & one of my favorite films of the 21st century. Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “The Wrestler.” You have been warned.] The Good For a character-driven drama film, The Wrestler has an exceptional lead cast. Of the three main actors, Wood’s performance is certainly memorable despite her minimal screentime compared to the other two. Having most recently played a fantastical version of Madonna in Eric Appel’s satirical biopic Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, comparing these two roles demonstrates the range she has. Going from exploring the emotionally complex dynamic between a neglectful father & his resentful daughter to embodying the toxic end of a romance between music sensations makes for some solid goalposts for what Wood can do as a performer. And she doesn’t disappoint in this movie. As Randy’s daughter Stephanie who’s written him off due to countless mistakes he’s committed in the past, Wood brings an edge & coldness to the character without falling into the (unfortunately) too-common narrative trap of coming off as wholly unlikeable. By the time we meet her in The Wrestler, we’ve seen enough of Randy’s self-destructive & selfish behavior that accepting him as a failed parent who missed out on much of his daughter’s coming-of-age is pretty believable. Thus, Stephanie is instantly sympathetic in spite of her somewhat aggressive personality. Easily her best scene is when she finally warms up to Randy again as they spend the day together on the boardwalk in New Jersey. We get to see a taste of what a healthy version of their relationship could’ve been and it’s ultimately bittersweet. Unfortunately, Randy (due to problems in another aspect of his life) messes it up again by missing a dinner date. And then Wood brings some of the most authentic grief & rage on display in the entire movie. As she explicitly states, she’s not even mad at her father anymore as she prefers to simply move on with her life without him in it ever again. At a critical point in Randy’s story, one of the only people that could give him solace & comfort in his middle age writes him off completely. Thus, the stage is set for his ultimate downfall (or ascendence, depending on your interpretation of the ending). Yet, I never once felt like Stephanie was too hard on Randy or mercilessly unforgiving. Her responses to his actions were consistently justified & relatable, which is mostly thanks to Wood’s solid performance. The other person to credit for this story, as with how any movie starts, is the screenwriter. Robert Siegel, who directed his own screenplay Big Fan & wrote the Ray Kroc biopic The Founder (both after The Wrestler), laid a great foundation for this film. In his exceptional characterization, Siegel never fails to make the viewer believe in how these people act towards one another nor in the decisions they make. Furthermore, his minimalist dialogue gives the actors what they need to ground the film in a suitable kind of human depth & emotion that keeps the story engagingly nuanced. Simply put, like any film, it goes nowhere without some good writing. And Siegel’s writing for The Wrestler is damn good. The Great While Evan Rachel Wood does a very good job, it’s our two leads that make The Wrestler what it is. And one side of that equation is the vivacious & effortlessly talented Marisa Tomei. An Oscar-winning actress for My Cousin Vinny, she received her third nomination for her role in this film which is more than deserved. Her portrayal of Pam, or “Cassidy” when on the clock at the strip club that Randy frequently patronizes, serves as a lovely foil to Mickey Rourke’s titular character. They are quite similar in that they’re stuck in dead-end jobs that worked for a time but they’ve both hit a point in their lives that they want something more. The difference, however, is that Pam actually commits to getting a worthwhile future (namely for her son) while Randy can’t overcome his flaws to get the same thing with his daughter. Consequently, his journey is tragic because he remains trapped in the same circular motion of trying to recapture his past wrestling fame & damns the fallout for anyone that he cares about (including Pam). Even when Pam comes to the climactic match to profess her love for Randy, he rejects her because the superficial admiration he gets in the ring is more important to him. None of this love story works without Tomei’s graceful, honest, and respectful performance that injects so much humanity into her character. Particularly given the fact that female strippers in movies & television can too often be objectified, stereotyped, and/or bereft of any emotional nuance, her ability to break that mold by fully leaning into Siegel’s writing & her own talents more than proves that she earned her Oscar nomination. Of course, the artistic conductor of this cinematic train is the director who keeps the film on track (😊) with a specific & effective creative vision. In that respect, Darren Aronofsky does some of his best filmmaking to date. He brings Siegel’s grounded character to life with a tactful combination of the talents of his cast & crew. From the intimate cinematography (which I’ll elaborate on later) & immersive location shooting to the efficient editing & delicate guidance of his performers, Aronofsky’s merits as a filmmaker cannot be doubted no matter what you think of his other, more controversial movies. Even if you hate Mother! or Requiem for a Dream, his work on The Wrestler is masterful. And while his talents are on display from start to finish, I found the boldness of his approach to the ending one of the best creative choices of the whole film. It reminded me very much of Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash, my second-favorite movie of all time, because it similarly refuses to provide the audience with moral closure. In other words, Aronofsky never judges Randy’s actions to the point of either wholly agreeing or condemning him. Instead, he lets the viewer decide whether his midlife crisis ultimately culminates in a tragic, existential loneliness or a profoundly empowering commitment to what one loves in life. Of course, the cherry on top of this fantastic ending is the original Bruce Springsteen song that we get during the end credits. Sharing its name with the movie, “The Wrestler” is a hauntingly beautiful elegy that (depending on how you interpret the ending) either laments or celebrates the significance of Randy’s life. By extension, it has something to say about what it truly means to live for what makes you happy in all its complications & crossroads. Undeniably, The Wrestler would not be the movie it is without Aronofsky’s unique & inspired hand on it. While some may think that’s for the worse, I clearly think it’s for the better. The Groundbreaking The obvious standout performance in this movie is Mickey Rourke, which is a bit ironic considering he was supposedly reluctant to accept the part at first. However, The Wrestler simply wouldn’t be what it is with someone else in the lead role (including Nicholas Cage, who was in the running at one point). Not only did Rourke bring his own experience as a professional boxer to portray the character impeccably, but Aronofsky also let him rewrite all of his dialogue to make a dying star of an athlete more realistic. With how much Randy is dragged down by indulgences (from alcohol to cheap, meaningless sex), Rourke brings a grace to this character that not every actor could’ve pulled off so well. The soul of “The Ram” is one inhibited by his own flaws making him go around in a circle of self-destruction. And Rourke’s tough exterior adds a fitting layer of enticing yet raw sentimentality to Randy’s character that ensures he remains the heart & soul of The Wrestler the whole way through. Undoubtedly, he’s one of the (if not THE) best lead character in any of Aronofsky’s films (although Nataline Portman in Black Swan might give him a run for his money). As such, he's one of the groundbreaking elements of the film. The unsung hero of The Wrestler, however, is the cinematography by Maryse Alberti. A French native and New York urbanite, Alberti’s filmography is primarily centered on documentaries & independent narrative flicks. Her “cinéma verité” approach does wonders for this movie. Specifically, her breezy use of closed frames superbly captures Randy’s emotional turmoil feeling boxed into his life whenever outside the ring. Furthermore, her intimate & excessive tracking shots keep the audience constantly engaged in the minutiae of Randy’s day-to-day existence by ensuring that we follow every detail of his steps through life without crossing the line into parody or pretension. As such, Alberti’s work on this movie unquestionably remains one of its most signature & memorable components. Even if you’re not a die-hard cinephile or knowledgeable about Mise-en-scéne, you simply cannot watch The Wrestler & not feel the harsh, gritty, and unforgiveable visual style that would make the film feel incomplete without it. Conclusion Need I say more? The Wrestler is, in my humble opinion, a champion of the sports genre with terrific performances & technically brilliant work going on behind the camera. From top to bottom, it remains an impressive feat of filmmaking and is more than worth 100 minutes of your time if you have yet to ingratiate yourself to its mesmerizing spell of dramatic realism & deft clairvoyance about the ups and downs of the human experience. What do you like or dislike about Darren Aronofsky’s masterful drama The Wrestler? 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 Image by Marco-willy from Pixabay Over a decade ago, Lionsgate kicked off the “YA dystopian” craze of the 2010s wherein film studios sought to make hundreds of millions of dollars off of teenage moviegoers wanting to see their favorite young-adult novels adapted for the silver screen. From Gavin Hood’s Ender’s Game and Phillip Noyce’s The Giver to the Divergent and The Maze Runner franchises, this formula seemed to bring moderate commercial success (yet mixed critical reception) to studios willing to fund these efforts.
And yet, more than ten years later, only Lionsgate’s original effort remains part of the cultural zeitgeist: The Hunger Games! After four box-office hits based on the trilogy of novels by Suzanne Collins, this sci-fi action series is back with a big-screen take on the 2020 prequel novel “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” this weekend. As such, what better time to re-examine The Hunger Games movie franchise to see how well it holds up? So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! The Hunger Games (2012) Admittedly, I haven’t seen most of the contemporary successors to the first film in The Hunger Games series (only Ender’s Game, which I didn’t love). So, I lack much of an accurate metric to measure it with against the rest of its genre. That being said, I firmly believe that the first entry in this franchise, directed by Gary Ross (Seabiscuit, Ocean’s 8), is a pretty good movie. But not great. Perhaps the biggest strength of 2012’s The Hunger Games is how the competent worldbuilding does not overwhelm audiences or drag down its central narrative. By relying on production design and dialogue to give the viewer enough information to feel emotionally invested in the titular battle royale, Ross’s directing manages to keep the story first and the franchise-building second. While this more stripped-down, simplistic approach keeps the film from achieving greatness, I think it was necessary to introduce those unfamiliar with the books to the dystopian society of Panem (and how our protagonist’s life fits within it) by minimizing the political machinations at this point in the overarching story (fortunately, that comes in the sequel). All of these movies (but especially this first one) rely on the talents & chemistry of its cast to elevate the material to something greater than what one might expect from a YA novel. As the heart of this particular story revolves around the burgeoning romance of charmless fighter Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) and the reliably charismatic Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), I found myself more invested in their growing bond than I figured I would be. While Hutcherson does a good enough job making Peeta sympathetic, I wasn’t necessarily drawn to his performance. Lawrence, on the other hand, is a powerfully magnetic actress whose casting as our reluctant heroine is about as perfect as you can get. Not only does she effortlessly pull off Katniss’ more badass moments, what she arguably does best here is engross the viewer in her story in spite of how standoffish her personality can be at times. That is a testament to her incredible talents, and how she plays off of Hutcherson (mostly) makes up for how the more political aspects of the story centered on the behind-the-scenes manipulations of President Coriolanus Snow (Donald Sutherland) are set dressing in this movie. Of course, Katniss and Peeta’s traumatic love story is the focal point of the titular battle royale-turned-bloodbath involving teenagers pitted against one another in a fight to the death. Aside from Lawrence and Hutcherson, I think the standout amongst the child actors is 13-year-old Amandla Stenberg as the mischievous tree-climber Rue. The female tribute from District 11 and a foil for Katniss’ younger sister Primrose “Prim” Everdeen (Willow Shields), Stenberg injects some much-needed humanity during the height of the Games while also helping to make Katniss more likeable by bringing out her nurturing & protective self. And, of course, Rue’s tragic death is a very memorable catalyst for (arguably) the rest of the series as it’s the inciting event which motivates Katniss to do more than just survive the Games but to prove (alongside Peeta) that the tributes refuse to die simply for sport. Amongst the adult cast, Woody Harrelson kills it as the alcoholic mentor Haymitch Abernathy that you love too much to truly ever hate. Obviously, he has charm emanating from every ounce of his body whenever he’s in a scene. But, more importantly, his character feels real enough in that he gives solid advice to Katniss and Peeta and somewhat redeems himself during the Games while always remaining true to who he is deep down: an asshole. 😊 Aside from Harrelson, though, I have a massive soft spot for Cinna (Lenny Kravitz), Katniss’ main stylist who has a big old heart by seeming genuinely upset that he has to be the first one to apologize to Katniss for the situation she’s found herself in. Ultimately, its all of these actors (just to name a few) who keep the plot-heavy narrative from being too bogged down with boring exposition or mindless action sequences. Overall, The Hunger Games is a fairly solid start to this film franchise. To be clear, not all of the younger actors pull off what Lawrence and Stenberg can (although I mostly blame it on some of the writing). However, its handful of weaknesses are largely overshadowed by its sheer entertainment value & endearing potential to become something greater than the sum of its parts. Simply put, rewatching this film made me even more excited to dive into the sequels. The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) After Gary Ross decided not to direct the sequel to his film The Hunger Games due to scheduling conflicts, Francis Lawrence (I Am Legend, Water for Elephants) takes the helm of the rest of the franchise (much like David Yates did for the Harry Potter series). And I think it’s hard to argue (having not yet seen his newest addition, The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes) that his first outing adapting Suzanne Collins’ novels remains his best. Simply put, Catching Fire is not just a great Hunger Games movie. It’s a great movie. Say what you will about Lawrence’s direction in the later films, but he does damn good job at pacing this 2013 sequel with an effectively apt balance of intense action & poignant character moments. Furthermore, he fully takes advantage of the more mature narrative from Collins’ middle entry in her original trilogy by relying on his very talented actors to invest the audience in this increasingly political drama. Maybe not everyone liked this turn, but I found myself fully enthralled by how much Catching Fire expanded upon the straightforward “teen battle royale” of the first movie. Instead, the Games themselves (just like pretty much the rest of the narrative) serve the larger story about planting the seeds of revolution while keeping our heroine completely in the dark about it. Much of the engrossing nature of Catching Fire comes from the tense, yet oddly & mutually respectful, dynamic between Katniss and President Snow. From there first scene together, Lawrence & Sutherland elevate one another’s performances to shine in different yet equally compelling ways. Whereas Sutherland’s decades of experience as a thespian allow for a smirk or look utterly terrifying (and thus sufficiently villainous), Lawrence really comes into her own as an emotionally intimidating character whose fiercely principled nature causes her to butt heads with virtually everyone in her life. And that makes for some great character drama. Even more impressive, though, is that this twisted, subject-ruler relationship remains some of the most enticing character-driven fodder in the entire franchise. Of course, the first Hunger Games flick had pretty good lead actors, too. Unlike its predecessor, however, Catching Fire lets most of the supporting cast really shine. Coming off of being “whelmed” by Josh Hutcherson in the first movie, I was pretty impressed by how much better he was at injecting genuine tenderness into Peeta to match the natural charisma that he emanates in the role. Certainly, his intentional performance helped invest me even further in his burgeoning romance with Katniss (which makes where their story goes in the latter two films even more devastating). Of course, Woody Harrelson is as reliably entertaining as ever despite being a little more restrained in his performance than in the previous film (although that move makes sense due to his changing dynamic with Katniss & how deceptive he is the whole time). I didn’t mention Stanley Tucci at all when discussing The Hunger Games, and that was wrong of me. 😊 He KILLED it, and continues that stride here as the Capitol’s mouthpiece & prime entertainer Caesar Flickerman. He uses just the right amount of cheese to pull off the heightened nature of his character as emblematic of the Games’ “reality TV” elements. But another returning cast member that I ended up liking even more the second time around was someone who, in my humble opinion, was underused in the first movie: Elizabeth Banks as Effie Trinket. In Catching Fire, she nails the handful of emotional moments she gets (namely, when she pulls Katniss’ name at the Reaping and her emotional apology the night before the Games). By doing so, Banks strips away the character’s synthetic façade & makes Effie feel like a real person despite her seemingly shallow personality. And I have to give praise to Lenny Kravitz once again in his, unfortunately, final appearance as Cinna. Like Banks, Kravitz does as much as he can with his minimal screen time by remaining Katniss’ most ardent supporter. On top of that, though, his raw, brutal & emotional exit just as the Games kick off gets me choked up whenever I watch it. These returning actors alone make Catching Fire the best film of the franchise. But we get even MORE incredible performers for their first appearances in the franchise. Easily, the standout newbie is the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker/double agent for the blossoming rebellion. Perhaps no other actor besides Hoffman (may he rest in peace) could’ve kept the audience seeing Catching Fire for the first time so much on their toes about where his true loyalties lie. Yet, Hoffman gives an incredibly subdued performance that elevates this franchise higher than it perhaps ever deserved to be. Beyond Hoffman, though, I enjoyed pretty much all of the veteran tributes who became Katniss & Peeta’s allies in the Games. Sam Claflin is effortlessly charming as Finnick Odair, not just for his magnetic physique but also how fiercely protective he is of his elderly mentor Mags Flanagan (Lynn Cohen) whose sacrifice was surprisingly affecting. Even more over-the-top, yet deliciously so, than Claflin is Jena Malone as the ferocious & rage-filled Johanna Mason whose emotional shield goes down only a handful of times to tremendous effect. Through her performance, the audience starts to realize just how furious the tributes are at President Snow for forcing them back into the Games. And, of course, I have to shine a spotlight on Jeffrey Wright’s efficient and reserved genius Beetee who does some really good work as a character than can come off as nothing more than a plot device. Need I say more? Catching Fire is an exceptional political thriller that raises the stakes for these characters by leaning fully into Collins’ political commentary about the nature of power. Yet, director Francis Lawrence doesn’t let you forget why the Hunger Games movies are a solid action franchise. If I haven’t yet convinced you that it’s both a sequel that improves upon the original while also a standout young-adult movie of the last decades, I’m not sure what I could say to do so. The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 (2014) Very recently, Francis Lawrence expressed regret about splitting “Mockingjay,” Suzanne Collins’ conclusion to her original “The Hunger Games” trilogy, into two movies á la the Harry Potter franchise.[1] I remember seeing both of these movies in the theater when they originally released, and even back then (as a barely-legal adult just starting college lacking any kind of knowledge about the art of filmmaking) I felt the narrative being stretched out between Part 1 and Part 2. Thus, I was concerned about how both movies would hold up upon a rewatch. What I’ll stress right out of the gate is this: the two Mockingjay movies are, in my humble opinion, the worst Hunger Games movies (at the time of writing this, I haven’t seen The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes). That being said, I still enjoyed them & think they’re well-made overall. Let’s begin with the positives of Part 1. While the “battle royale” concept served up some good, old-fashioned entertainment in the first two movies, I appreciated this film’s shift to focusing more on politics & character drama almost exclusively. Instead of the Games driving a good chunk of the plot, Katniss is thrown into the politicking of the underground resistance centered on the ruins of District 13 led by President Alma Coin (Julianne Moore). Furthermore, the intriguing “cat-and-mouse” dynamic between Katniss and Snow remains just as good (if not as front-and-center) as it was in Catching Fire. As always, Jennifer Lawrence gives a commendable performance as Katniss. While I do think her scenes involve just a little too much crying for my taste, she pulls off the conflicted emotions of the heroine by ensuring that Katniss’ vulnerable side shines through more so than in the previous two flicks. In particular, how the narrative relies on humanizing Katniss for political purposes with propaganda & the “commercialization” of war makes for some interesting dynamics between Katniss and the adults around her telling her that they know what’s best for her. Fortunately, however, Lawrence isn’t the only younger actor given some good stuff to chew on here. Without a doubt, the “most improved” in this movie compared to his first two appearances is Liam Hemsworth as Gale Hawthorne. He had his moments at the whipping post in Catching Fire (yet was given virtually nothing to do in the first movie), but it’s in this movie that Gale finally feels like a relatable character & an engaging part of Katniss’ inner circle. I was especially fond of his monologue atop the charred remains of innocent people left in the wake of the Capitol’s bombing of District 12. While I didn’t shed a tear, I really appreciated the focus on Gale’s unique relationship with Katniss being the focus here. It was a refreshing change of pace from the emphasis on Katniss & Peeta’s romance in the first two movies. My final big positive applies to both Mockingjay flicks. I liked that this story (credit to Suzanne Collins) really turns the franchise from a YA survival thriller into a political drama that explores the moral complexities & ambiguities of war and revolutionary change. Is the writing a bit on the nose at times? Of course, but it doesn’t take away from the important questions raised about whether civilian casualties are worth the “greater good” or the irony of propaganda’s artificiality being able to evoke such genuine & powerful emotions from those who consume it. Again, this ain’t no Argo or Lincoln. But it’s a decent political story that remains entertaining on the whole. Unfortunately, this being a true “part one” of a two-part (really three-part) story causes the film to have some significant drawbacks. A big complaint that I have with both Mockingjay movies relates to how big the cast has grown. While most of these characters get a few good moments here or there, I never felt that Julianne Moore got a single scene to fully come out of her shell & inject some life into President Coin as the subversive antagonist of the third act of Collins’ trilogy. Not only does her character lack the dramatic heft of Sutherland’s President Snow (who also feels shortchanged in these movies compared to his magnetic presence in Catching Fire), but Moore’s writing & dialogue comes off as “show, don’t tell” to a detriment. Aside from Coin, however, some other great actors introduced in Part 1 are, in my humble opinion, utterly wasted given the amount of talent dripping from them in other projects. Notably, Mahershala Ali’s role as glorified personal bodyguard Boggs rings hallow (and it’s not Ali’s fault one bit) while Natalie Dormer of Game of Thrones fame is mostly forgettable as propaganda film director/archetypical “tough girl” Cressida (again, not Dormer’s fault). Even many of the returning actors, like Harrelson and Hoffman (who have roles in the main plot), feel shoved aside in favor of shooting Jennifer Lawrence cry a lot. Ultimately, though, the biggest problem of Part 1 is with its pacing. I’m certainly not the first person to highlight this particular issue with the film, but I think it’s worth re-stating here: it’s a rather slow & unengaging story. I personally chalk most of this up to the fact that, once again, it’s the first of three acts. Still, the lack of forward momentum (while helping some of the quieter scenes breathe – notably Katniss singing “The Hanging Tree”) does little to make the start of a full-throated rebellion have much jolt to it. Would I have rather watched a three-hour epic version of the “Mockingjay” book that sped up the pacing & made every scene feel urgent to the overarching narrative of a change in the hierarch of power in Panem? Yup. But, that’s not what we got. And I’ll defend Part 1 as a decent movie, but not all that good. The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 2 (2015) Now we come to the official end of the Hunger Games franchise. Well, at the least the end of Katniss’ story. And, to be honest, it’s a pretty satisfying conclusion regarding how surprising certain story choices are. Yet, it’s also a bit disappointing given how anticlimactic other choices feel. As with Part 1, let’s start with the positives of Part 2. While I still don’t think Julianne Moore ever got a super effective moment (like in Part 1), I found the subplot about President Coin going full-on Machiavellian with her exploiting (and then being intimidated by) Katniss for her own political gains to be an effective subversion of audience expectations. Even if you’ve read Collins’ book, the way in which director Francis Lawrence captures Katniss’ slow-burn realization that Coin is gradually transforming into the “next Snow”—a tyrant in all but name—helps the shocking climax of her death pretty satisfying. Thematically speaking, that along with the continued examination of war’s brutality (while by no means original) helps maintain the philosophical weight of this story & reminds the viewer how much better these YA dystopian movies are than they have any right to be. Speaking of surprising twists, I always really enjoyed the idea AND execution of the 76th Hunger Games. Essentially the Capitol’s way to make literal war out of entertainment, I can appreciate some viewers feeling that it’s a bridge too far compared to the (ever so slightly) more subtle political allegory of the Games being a “battle royale” on national television. However, I find it just campy enough in concept while feeling gritty & grounded in execution to work. I especially appreciate the zombie-horror vibes of the scene involving the “mutts” in the sewers (which gave Finnick a solidly terrifying yet sacrificial death) & the sheer dehumanizing use of the “black goo”. Scenes like this, in my humble opinion, effectively demonstrate the extreme lengths that Snow is willing to go to hold onto his power. Even as it slowly slips through his fingers. Like with the other movies that came before it, Part 2 also has some good character stuff thanks to the actors who know these characters pretty well at this point. Without a doubt, Lawrence remains a great actress as she caps off Katniss’ journey in a realistically bittersweet way. Not only does she remain traumatized by her experiences (which, of course, she would be if all this shit actually happened to her), but the loss of her younger sister Prim & the end of her friendship with Gale fittingly adds to her pretty tragic ending. Yes, she survives the Games and Snow’s machinations. But she will forever be mentally haunted & emotionally scarred by the events of this story for the rest of her life. Not a fairy-tale ending by any means, but that fits this particular story if you ask me. I imagine some people don’t agree with this, but I found Peeta’s ending & use in this film to be pretty fitting, too. While he was mostly contained to interviews with Caesar Flickerman in Part 1, he reunites with Katniss & the others in Part 2 in a way that adds suspense to the mission of infiltrating the Capitol. He remains a ticking time-bomb ready to blow any second for the majority of the second & third act, yet Josh Hutcherson does well enough with the material to keep me engaged with where his headspace is at in any given moment. That being said, I personally think that the way his story ends is one of the less unrealistic aspects of the film’s ending (all I’m saying is…Katniss probably would’ve ended up marrying & having a family with Gale because they lived through SIXTEEN YEARS of life together while having more than shared trauma to bond over. Just my opinion 😊). When it comes to our two political leaders, I liked how the parallels between Snow and Coin were drawn. While neither Sutherland nor Moore ever got much time to shine in Part 2, I appreciated the subtext about how tyranny cannot be supplanted by something like tyranny but rather must be completely stripped away & replaced with an entirely new system if it’s going to have the chance to be permanently eradicated. Unfortunately, I don’t have much more positive to say about Part 2. Like its immediate predecessor (and even the first movie, to some extent), the writing sometimes falls flat here. While I found some of Katniss’ decisions emotionally justified (most obviously her assassination of President Coin), they also feel utterly reckless given the fact that she’s surrounded by several sensible adults (and even younger peers) who could’ve & should’ve prevented it. Maybe they just silently went along with it, but this small detail being overlooked causes the story choice to not feel wholly earned. Furthermore, her completely writing off Gale after Prim’s death because he might have known about it came off as one of the only times in the narrative that Katniss seemed to fit within a stereotypical mold of romantic storytelling. As I hinted at earlier, the sensible and more realistic decision would be to let time heal any wounds with Gale and, ultimately, consummate her love for him. Instead, though, she succumbs to the supposed love she fostered with Peeta as the by-product of shared trauma. This, in my humble opinion, does a great disservice to the character who (in a good sense) never truly felt like a female protagonist lacking agency or intelligence. This resolution to the love triangle, however, is just that. But the biggest sin of Part 2 (but really both Mockingjay films) is how many actors feel wasted in this two-part conclusion to the main Hunger Games series. The veteran actors, like Woody Harrelson and Elizabeth Banks, are shoved aside & get only a handful of scenes to send them off. The tributes we met in Catching Fire, such as Jeffrey Wright’s Beetee and Jena Malone’s Johanna, have no interesting presence in the plot or character dynamics. Like I mentioned earlier, Sam Claflin has some decent action moments as Finnick but that does little to make up for how ultimately forgettable his character is. Even more so, though, I felt virtually no emotional investment in his relationship with fellow former tribute Annie Cresta (Stef Dawson) because no time was really given to it. Once again, Mahershala Ali’s turn as Boggs (even during his death scene) falls flat at no fault of his own but due to how swiftly in the story he’s taken out. And Natalie Dormer’s Cressida survives the war, but has so much exposition-heavy dialogue that she’s more of a plot device than a compelling member of the cast. While I appreciated the emotional moments from Elden Henson (of Daredevil fame) as the mute cameraman Pollux, his brother Castor’s (Wes Chatham) death didn’t hit as much as Rue’s death in the first movie or Cinna’s death in Catching Fire because there was never much attention given to that relationship in the first place. And then there’s the other wasted talent of this cast. In his final film performance, Philip Seymour Hoffman remains understated to a fault (although his smirk in the execution scene was pretty awesome). Stanley Tucci ends his time as Caesar Flickerman with a whimper because, unlike Banks’ Effie, we never get a single moment humanizing him or bringing retribution for his complicity in President Snow’s political games. Worst of all, though, Donald Sutherland’s very minimal screen time in this movie should make his final moments with Katniss & his iconic death preciously impactful. Instead, he seemed like he was over the role & just read some lines to sound villainous rather than the smart, cunning & dutifully honest antagonist that we saw in Catching Fire. I’ll say it again. The two Mockingjay movies should’ve just been a single, epic action flick/political thriller. Imagine a world where the Hunger Games movies were in the conversation of “best cinematic trilogies of all time.” While many people would disagree with such a possibility, I remain sad that we’ll never know how fun that meaningless debate could have been like. Still, Part 2 is a decent enough end to this main story. Now, the question is, can The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes be a return to form for the franchise? The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes (2023) [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes.” You have been warned.] Having read Suzanne Collins’ prequel novel to the “Hunger Games” trilogy of books about a year ago, I went into Songbirds & Snakes expecting an adequately-made blockbuster with a somewhat underwhelming story & an overly long third act. Certainly, some people (critics and general audiences alike) leaving the theater after seeing this movie are feeling that way. However, I found it to work better than I anticipated in spite of its flaws. Thinking about the core of the narrative, Songbirds & Snakes is a well-done example of the villain being the hero of their own story. To be clear, director Francis Lawrence and writers Michael Lesslie & Michael Arndt never really try to make the audience fall in love with its protagonist, the ambitious teenager Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth). Much like other stories of this nature (Joker comes to mind), the movie very effectively paces out Snow’s descent by making him feel neither pure good or pure evil but rather just a human being. Thanks to Blyth’s more-than-competent approach to the material, the audience is sympathetic to the plight of Snow and his family—protective cousin Tigris (Hunter Schafer) and patriotic matriarch Grandma’am (Fionnula Flanagan)—due to his underdog story of wanting to use the tenth annual Games to re-establish the prestige of the Snow name. However, as the Games themselves (specifically Snow’s morally questionable methods to help his tribute) unfold, the character’s darker impulses & selfish worldview really start to shine through. Thus, by the time we see his unforgiveable betrayal of best friend Sejanus Plinth (Josh Andrés Rivera) in District 12 in the third act, Snow’s arc feels complete & satisfying without making too many overt connections to or ties with the four Hunger Games flicks that came before. Elevating Blyth’s take on the franchise’s villain made noteworthy by Donald Sutherland, we have our female lead: the female District 12 tribute with a beautiful voice & soul, Lucy Gray Baird (Rachel Zegler). Obviously, she is the “songbird” to Snow’s “snake” in terms of her innocence & moral righteousness that’s sharply contrasted with his ruthless pragmatism. While a bit on the nose, the chemistry (romantic or otherwise) between Blyth and Zegler serves as the heart of Songbirds & Snakes by making Snow’s inability to give up his political aspirations in favor of true love tragic & simultaneously deserved. Furthermore, the fact that Zegler fully embraces how different Lucy Gray is from Katniss Everdeen makes the central story refreshing & unique compared to the rest of the franchise. It helps the viewer delineate the fact that she’s not the main character of this story (albeit an important one), despite being a resilient & intelligent survivor like the “Girl on Fire.” To the film’s benefit, this is Snow’s story first and foremost. Fortunately, Blyth’s performance is surrounded by a top-tier supporting cast with (in my humble opinion) three particular actors to highlight for pretty different reasons. To begin with Viola Davis, whose deliciously evil take on Snow’s morally bankrupt mentor easily makes her the most memorable Head Gamemaker of all the Hunger Games flicks. Not only that, but how she embodies Snow’s limitless desire to remain in the Capitol & embroil himself in Panem politics on his climb up the ladder of power adds substance to his own descent into villainy. Another campy, yet admirable & fun, performance comes from Jason Schwartzman as Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman (presumably the ancestor of Stanley Tucci’s zany Caesar Flickerman). During the very intense & dour second act, Schwartzman’s pitch-perfect delivery & comedic timing injects some much-needed levity to seeing the tributes mercilessly slaughtering one another in the arena. But the biggest surprise for me (other than Blyth, who I was wholly unfamiliar with beforehand), was Peter Dinklage. As Snow’s antagonist & co-creator of the Games (alongside Snow’s dead father Crassus), Dean Casca Highbottom is a more subdued character than I’m familiar seeing Dinklage play (especially compared to his turn in Game of Thrones). His talents, however, were not at all shocking & I found the slow-burn nature of revealing the reasons behind his vendetta for Snow (as well as his obvious drug addiction) to be one of the most emotionally satisfying aspects of the narrative outside of Snow’s story itself. While there are plenty of good actors doing good work here, I also greatly appreciated the technical aspects & efforts of the crew of Songbirds & Snakes. As his fourth directorial outing with this franchise, Francis Lawrence is as self-assured as ever in fleshing out Suzanne Collins’ dystopian world while also telling a compelling, character-driven story. In particular, the use of the camera by cinematographer Jo Willems (a frequent collaborator of Lawrence’s) was consistently intimate. Profound & emotional during the quieter character moments (particularly scenes between Snow and Lucy Gray) while being inspired & immersive during the combat scenes, Willems made the Games more terrifying than ever before. This approach to the camerawork added to the film’s retro-dystopian production design. Clearly, Lawrence approached the look of Songbirds & Snakes as constructing a historical drama within the context of Panem & the aesthetic of District 12 that was established in the other Hunger Games flicks. From the reliance on constructed sets for the Academy & battle arena to the viewing room with old-school TVs, the world in this film feels fittingly stripped down and raw. The scars of the Rebellion against the Capitol are fresh in the industrial design of the buildings & symbolism of the bombed Games arena. This helps the residents of the Capitol (namely Snow’s social circle & teachers) seem somewhat justified in their fierce defense of the Games continuing and/or hatred of the people in the Districts. Probably the biggest unsung (pun intended 😊) hero of Songbirds & Snakes is the score. While somewhat overshadowed by Zegler’s amazing singing voice, James Newton Howard (another artist returning from the prior Hunger Games flicks) successfully creates emotional & thematic for the story. Yet, it never overwhelms by being excessive nor distracts from the story happening on screen. In my humble opinion, a good score can either be the focal point of any scene or feel almost faded in the background. And Howard’s music in this movie certainly falls into the latter category, which works overall with this kind of dark, character-drive drama. While I don’t think it’s a perfect movie (the third act’s a bit too long), Songbirds & Snakes is a solid blockbuster & prequel to 2012’s The Hunger Games. Having read Collins’ original novel upon which the film is based, I found the story following Lucy Gray’s victory in the Games worked better as the final hour of a two-and-a-half-hour movie than as the last third of a 150,000+ word book. As such, the movie ultimately does what it set out to do: tell a fully-realized & effective story about the creation of President Snow as we knew him in the 2010s. At the end of the day, that’s really all I could ask for going into the theater last night. Overall, what are my thoughts on the Hunger Games franchise? Honestly, I enjoy all of it. Some movies are individually better than others (see my ranking below), it’s a pretty solid series of films overall. Do I need another one anytime soon? No, but if Collins writes another book & we do get another Hunger Games movie in the next ten years, I’m confident that it will be just as good as the rest of the franchise while hoping that it hits the heights of its best flicks. With all that said, here is my official ranking of the five Hunger Games movies:
What is your favorite Hunger Games film? Would you like to see another prequel, a sequel, or nothing from this franchise going forward? 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 [1] https://people.com/hunger-games-director-regrets-splitting-mockingjay-two-parts-exclusive-8356372 Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay [NOTE: Follow the link here to read “Part One” of this blog.] The Aviator (2004)
I have a theory. Some of the best directors in cinematic history, like Spielberg or Scorsese, reach a point in their filmmaking careers where the audience expects greatness whenever they make a movie. As a result, even if the movie is fantastic it can often be more mildly received in comparison to the “instant classics” that came before. Subsequently, that fantastic flick can easily blur into the background of their filmography to the point that it tends to get almost forgotten about in five years or less. If my theory is correct, then these next four Scorsese movies (maybe with the exception of one) aren’t often talked about as some of his best. But, in my humble opinion, they are. Let’s start with The Aviator, a historical biopic starring Leonardo DiCaprio (in his second collaboration with Scorsese following Gangs of New York) as the early-20th century entrepreneur Howard Hughes. Knowing very little about the subject matter (including the subject himself), I went in pretty cold to this film and was pretty stunned by the end. However, it wasn’t the kind of cathartic experience I get watching a psychological drama like Taxi Driver or a violent crime saga in the vein of Goodfellas. At the same time, though, there’s an impressive nature to the craft on display in The Aviator that most filmmakers never quiet achieve in their careers. And yet, nearly four decades into his career by this point, Scorsese hits that mark of greatness so effortlessly. Admittedly, The Aviator is not my absolute favorite of his films. Mainly because there isn’t much specific about it that draws me back into watching it. But that doesn’t diminish how good of a move it is. In my humble opinion, the standout is DiCaprio’s central performance. While he relies on his signature charm & winning personality that he uses in many of his roles, I appreciated how unlikeable Hughes ends up being. While he’s sympathetic due to his struggle with OCD, much of his “fall from grace” comes about as the result of his poor decisions regarding his investments and personal relationships. And DiCaprio does a surprisingly good job at playing a character that is never fully good or bad; he’s just human. On that note, the film is also not the traditional biopic in some important aspects. Notably, writer John Logan makes the bold yet impactful creative decision to end the story on a bittersweet note with Hughes still struggling with his mental health and lacking any genuinely helpful outlet for it. Despite trying to find comfort and stability in his various business ventures, his life remains unfulfilling and he never truly redeems himself or rights the wrongs that he’s committed over the course of the nearly three-hour runtime. At a time when so many biopics try to make you fall in love with the protagonist after seeing their downfall, I respect & appreciate Scorsese’s direction that allowed the audience to see Hughes for something more akin to a real person. Is The Aviator a modern classic or a powerful commentary about mental health? I don’t think so, but it’s an exceptionally well-made film that immerses you in that time period and the intricacies of Hughes’ eccentric and unfortunate life. Again, it isn’t my favorite Scorsese flick but it’s a pretty damn good one. Hugo (2011) I don’t think anybody would be surprised to learn that Scorsese doesn’t really make family-friendly movies. Thus, many of his fans (or just movie lovers in general) may have completely overlooked the Best Picture nominee Hugo for just that reason. Which I think is a crying shame because it’s a really heartwarming movie without being overly sappy or sentimental (a difficult balancing act for any filmmaker). Watching the first half of Hugo would convince any viewer that it’s a spirited adventure movie centered on the burgeoning friendship between the orphaned wannabe clockmaker Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) and a toymaker’s goddaughter Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz). And that would be a fair assessment. It may also explain why those who tend to gravitate to Scorsese’s style of filmmaking avoided this one. But, if you go into this movie not expecting a typical Scorsese movie than I think you’re more likely to enjoy it than not. I was particularly impressed by the performances & chemistry of the two child leads. While I’ve seen Moretz shine in some roles later in life (The Miseducation of Cameron Post and Nimona stick out in particular), I’m always taken aback by younger actors who excel in a dramatic story even if their role isn’t particularly dramatic. But what really makes Hugo great in my mind is how Ben Kingsley emerges as the “secret protagonist” in the second half. Playing Moretz’s elderly godfather, his character is revealed to be the innovative French director Georges Méliès who made some of the most important movies (A Trip to the Moon and The Impossible Voyage) in the early days of cinema. Essentially, once Kingsley’s performance dominates the runtime Hugo turns from a child-focused whimsical adventure to a celebration of film history (very much inspired by Scorsese’s own dedication to the preservation of cinema) it is elevated to one of Scorsese’s better modern movies. And I think that’s because Scorsese (alongside writer John Logan) treat the narrative as mature and emotionally complex despite starring children and being a film that kids can watch & enjoy. For Kingsley’s take on Méliès confronting his own legacy and place in history while realizing that some people out in the world have not forgotten him nor his contributions to cinema. Simply put, Hugo is an undemanding and lighthearted movie that isn’t trying to stir controversy or explore the darkest depths of the human psyche. In that sense, it’s a very different movie for Scorsese. In a different sense, though, it comes straight from Scorsese’s heart as a man in the latter years of his filmmaking career honoring the contributions of those who came first as a way to help the audience fall in love with the movies all over again. I think there’s perhaps no higher aspiration for an artist than to tell a story that reminds the person consuming that art why they love it in the first place. The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Even if you’re not the biggest fan of the last twenty or so years of Scorsese’s directing career, I think you have to agree that there is one movie he’s made in this century that has stood the test of time and cemented itself as not only a modern classic but one of Scorsese’s best movies to date. And it’s not The Irishman. 😊 Three years after his fourth collaboration with Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio takes center stage as former stockbroker, financial criminal, and current motivational speaker/author Jordan Belfort to tell another impeccable “rise and fall” story that (shockingly) competes with Goodfellas. With the grimy and corrupt world of Wall Street as his backdrop, Scorsese weaves a big-budget cinematic epic that also remains one of the best black comedy movies ever made. Its unabashed embrace of raunch in portraying the surreal antics of filthy rich bastards with such creativity and artistry makes The Wolf of Wall Street (in my humble opinion) an absolutely fantastic movie. Of course, I can’t share my love of this movie without highlighting DiCaprio first and foremost. As the leading man/unreliable narrator Belfort himself, he takes everything that audiences love about him and makes it slimy. From his disarming good looks to his ineffable charm, DiCaprio leans into his star-studded image to craft an almost unbelievably scummy financial magnate who takes advantage of virtually everybody in his life. Within the immense three-hour runtime of the film, DiCaprio squeezes every ounce of charisma out of his performance to ensure the audience stays on his side for as long as possible. And then the narrative hits a point that you can’t help but laugh at his expense rather than alongside him…and it’s so satisfying when that happens (if you’ve seen the movie, you know the scene I’m referring to). Fortunately, Scorsese assembled such an outstanding cast for this film that DiCaprio is elevated & propped up by so many great characters. While there are several actors worth spotlighting, there are three I want to focus my love on (in no particular order). Unlike some of his prior roles in more straight-up comedies like Superbad and 21 Jump Street, Jonah Hill builds off of his dramatic chops from movies like Moneyball as Belfort’s best friend and business partner Donnie Azoff. Not only is his physical comedy throughout predictably excellent, but his line delivery is pitch-perfect from start to finish. Another noteworthy supporting performance comes from an (at the time) relative newcomer to Hollywood: the Australian actress/producer Margot Robbie. While her undeniable physical beauty contributes to making her an excellent leading lady, Robbie approaches the character of Naomi (Belfort’s second wife) with such humanity. In other words, she elevates Naomi to a three-dimensional woman who suffers emotional & domestic abuse but stands up for herself while also having severe characters flaws independent of her relationship with Belfort. Simply put, this role put Robbie on the map & I think the movies are all the better for it. Arguably the most memorably supporting role, however, is portrayed by none other than Matthew McConaughey who utterly maximizes the little screen time he gets with one of the best bits of acting that Scorsese has ever captured with a camera (again, if you’ve seen the film you know the scene). Despite his lack of significant screen presence, McConaughey’s Mark Hanna arguably serves as the inciting event of the film as Belfort’s first mentor who gives him the knowledge & tools he needs to succeed on Wall Street (but also spiral downward in a haze of drugs, sex, and moral corruption). Like any Scorsese flick, however, the accomplishments of those behind the camera are just as important as the performances of the actors being filmed. With any great movie, the foundation of its greatness can be found in the screenplay. And Terence Winter’s Oscar-nominated script brings to life Belfort’s time on Wall Street scamming thousands of regular people with a breathtaking degree of care. His story never gets completely lost in the “high-life” experiences of the victimizers because it remains grounded by the federal government’s efforts to nail Belfort and his cronies and serve righteous justice to these white-collar criminals. Equal to Winter’s screenplay is Thelma Schoonmaker’s editing which does an excellent job of pacing a three-hour film by using the cuts and camerawork to humorous, dramatic, and cathartic effect in a perfectly balanced triad. Her technical prowess is emblematic of all the behind-the-scenes work that deserves more praise than movies typically get, because the work they did to bring Scorsese’s vision to life allowed The Wolf of Wall Street to represent Scorsese at the top of his game. It’s unforgettable in the best ways, and sometimes I even consider it better than Goodfellas. Even the fact that it hits that level proves to me that it’s easily one of Scorsese’s best films while also cementing its status as one of the greatest movies of this century. Silence (2016) Sandwiched in between the insane black comedy The Wolf of Wall Street and the epic gangster drama The Irishman is a Scorsese movie that might just be his most underrated modern movie to date. It doesn’t involve any of his “go-to” actors & actresses, which I can see some fans of his being turned off by. Yet it features two of the best younger actors of their generation in the leading roles with some great supporting performances. Furthermore, it’s one of Scorsese’s most beautifully shot films that fully embraces the natural & political environment of its setting to tell an intimate, meditative, and thought-provoking story about faith. Unlike The Last Temptation of Christ, Scorsese’s first major thematic exploration of religion, Silence lets the character-driven narrative propel its examination of ideas rather than the inverse. And it does so by ignoring many of Scorsese’s signature cinematic tricks (namely, the kinetic soundtrack cues and the reliance on performances toying with melodrama). The film’s two lead roles, Sebastião Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Franciso Garupe (Adam Driver), are anything but overly dramatic. They are very restrained, which greatly reflects the tone of the movie as a whole. And this approach works for this kind of story that isn’t focused on over-the-top action set pieces or orgies on a plane. Rather, Garfield and Driver make up the heart & soul of Silence that is an intimate character study about two Jesuit priests trying to find their missing mentor Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson) while also spreading Catholicism to the native Japanese with the help of a converted man Kichijirō (Yōsuke Kubozuka). And they do so incredibly well (Garfield in particular). But, in my humble opinion, the most prominent hero of Silence is cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto. His eye for angles and lighting beautifully captures the natural landscape, rural villages, and Tokugawa-era iconography of Japan. It brings this time & place to life for a Western audience that is mostly unfamiliar with this history of Christian persecution in East Asia. Prieto’s gorgeous work earned an Oscar nomination and easily should’ve won (sorry, La La Land) because it’s some of the best cinematography that I’ve seen in any Scorsese movie. It may not be his most iconic, entertaining, or fun movie, but Silence is a masterful exploration of faith that, to my surprise, was utterly engrossing. The violence on display is punctuated due to how Scorsese restrains it for dramatic effect, but the most meaningful aspect of the movie is how it offers differing perspectives on some of the biggest questions of the human experience without harshly judging those willing to find answers peacefully. Conclusion I hope I’ve convinced you that Martin Scorsese is one of the greatest living filmmakers (and arguably one of the greatest of all time). Hopefully, you didn’t need to read this two-part blog to be convinced of that. Just watching a small selection of his movies will be more than enough evidence to sway you. With all that being said, here is the official ranking of my ten favorite Martin Scorsese films (not including Killers of the Flower Moon…because I haven’t seen it yet 😊):
What is your favorite Martin Scorsese film? Is there a movie of his that you feel is massively underrated or overrated? 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 In my humble opinion, there are very few filmmakers living today that can earnestly claim the mantle of the one of the best of all time (let alone the best). Two years ago, I celebrated my favorite selections from the extensive filmography of one of them: Steven Spielberg (in two parts!). Now, with the release of his star-studded Western crime epic Killers of the Flower Moon imminent, I found it no better time than to shine a spotlight on another living director whose decades-spanning body of work earns some consideration as the GOAT of modern cinema. Before going forward, I freely admit that all of these movies deserve a blog of their own (and perhaps someday will get that). For now, though, I aim not to offer a comprehensive analysis of these eight movies but rather proliferate my love for them without getting bogged down in the minutiae. That being said, I think it’s safe to say without a doubt that Martin Scorsese is one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 Taxi Driver (1976) By 1976, Martin Scorsese had already spent nearly ten years earning acclaim as a director. However, he was still trying to make a name for himself with movies like Who’s That Knocking at My Door? (his directorial debut) and the Oscar-nominated Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. Many film historians and cinephiles would contend that his 1973 crime drama Mean Streets is his first truly great movie. I disagree. That honor, in my humble opinion, belongs to the psychological thriller Taxi Driver. Let me explain why. Admittedly, Robert de Niro’s first of many collaborations with Scorsese came in Mean Streets. And he was good in that movie. However, I think it’s hard to argue that his turn as the mentally disturbed veteran/taxi driver Travis Bickle should be recognized as one of his best performances to date. From this artistically fruitful collaboration between de Niro, and Scorsese, one of the most awfully compelling protagonists in modern film history was born. Of course, you don’t get the heart of de Niro’s Bickle without the masterful screenplay by Paul Schrader (a prolific director in his own right). Simply put, the way that Schrader’s narrative and dialogue combine with the actors’ screen presence and chemistry with one another absorbs the audience in his gritty, disturbing version of contemporary New York City. Furthermore, his ability as a writer to engross the audience in every thought, line, and action of morally compromised people like the pimp “Sport” (Harvey Keitel) and the child prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster) makes a great artistic partner with Scorsese’s eye for visual characterization. When all of these elements come together, they produce a masterpiece of cinema. Taxi Driver is not only a signature of the low-budget character studies from the “New Hollywood” generation. But it remains a powerful meditation on the degradation of loneliness, the complex layers of masculinity, and the destructive nature of violence. As such, I think it’s hard to deny that it remains one of Scorsese’s best. If you ask me, though, it was his first truly great movie. The King of Comedy (1983) For my thoughts on this film within the broader subgenre of black comedy, click here. Only a few years after his Best Picture-nominated sports drama Raging Bull, Scorsese did anything but give away his artistic discretion to mainstream interest. In fact, he did the opposite: he made a film so insanely against the grain of acceptability that it was pulled from cinemas a month after its release (making it a box-office flop). In spite of all the mixed reactions it received at the time that it came out, The King of Comedy remains one of my favorite Scorsese movies. Again, you cannot discuss a Scorsese flick without highlighting the incredible work of his lead performer. What I find most admirable about Robert de Niro in The King of Comedy is how it’s very different than his previous roles like it. While there are some similarities to be drawn between the disturbed Travis Bickle or the megalomaniacal Jake LaMotta, the character he plays here (the wannabe stand-up comic/psychopath Rupert Pupkin) is noticeably very different. If you ask me, de Niro’s turn as Pupkin is actually the standout of all of his performances in any Scorsese movie that I’ve seen. At the very least, though, it’s easily his most underrated leading performance. By injecting so much charm and life into the writing of Paul Zimmerman, de Niro turns Pupkin’s amazingly psychotic personality into the bedrock of one of Scorsese’s best protagonists ever filmed for the silver screen. I would also contend, though, that the unsung hero of this underdog flick (yes, more so than de Niro’s acting) is the striking framing & lighting choices of cinematographer Fred Schuler. A relatively unknown name in his own right, Schuler (in collaboration with Scorsese’s direction) fully maximizes the camera as a way to reflect on Pupkin’s unsettling psyche by using long, static takes to inject uneasiness into the scenes focused on dissecting the protagonist’s unstable mind (namely during his time spent in his mother’s basement relishing in delusions of grandeur). All in all, The King of Comedy more than deserves its status as a “cult classic” but rightfully deserves higher praise in the echelons of Scorsese’s body of work. On top of being a sadly relevant examination of the toxicity of celebrity that is so central to America’s media-driven culture, it’s also a genuinely hilarious movie that mixes suspense and cringe humor to powerful effect. It’s just as daring as Taxi Driver (if not more so), not due to its thematic use of violence but in how it boldly challenges the viewer to fall in love with a narcissistic yet sympathetic stalker. Goodfellas (1990) It’s hard to deny that Goodfellas is Martin Scorsese’s crowning achievement. Some of his other movies might be more fun, while others arguably have better writing & acting. Nevertheless, Goodfellas remains Scorsese’s magnum opus as (in my humble opinion) the definitive “rise and fall” movie that combines the best of what he has to offer as a director into an incredible concoction of cinematic magic. Again, one can’t celebrate the brilliance that so many of Scorsese’s movies possess without highlighting the jaw-dropping performances that he gets from his actors. Admittedly, I’m not super well-versed in the filmography of the late Ray Liotta (although I did enjoy him a good bit in Elizabeth Banks’ Cocaine Bear that came out earlier this year). That being said, how can you say that his turn as lead gangster Henry Hill in Goodfellas isn’t his best performance? The way that, through both his physical presence and narration, he invokes such intense sympathy from the audience despite becoming more despicable and pitiful as the narrative progresses. By the end, however, there’s a tinge of heartbreak in just how tragic his ending is but not because he failed to redeem himself or turn over a new leaf. Quite the opposite; Scorsese’s direction (along with Liotta’s performance) helps the viewer actually buy into Hill’s disappointment with no longer living the life of a “wise guy.” Simply put, Liotta is asked to make a rather unlikeable person the charming protagonist of a crime epic and does so nearly flawlessly. And yet, somehow, Liotta puts in the second-best performance in Goodfellas. Without a doubt, he is justifiably overshadowed by the impeccable talents of Joe Pesci (a semi-frequent Scorsese collaborator) in the role of Tommy DeVito. He steals every single scene he’s in thanks to his outgoing and boisterously obnoxious (yet somehow endearing) personality on display. Not only does he dominate the screen when working with Liotta, but even Robert de Niro himself can’t keep Pesci from absorbing the entire audience with whatever he’s doing. From the iconic “funny how?” scene in the restaurant to the incredibly petty violence he commits against Billy Batts (Frank Vincent), Tommy remains one of Scorsese’s most iconic characters and more than earned Pesci’s only Oscar (HOW DID HE NOT WIN FOR The Irishman?!?). If you ask me, Goodfellas is indeed Joe Pesci’s best performance ever captured on film. And thankfully it was because it elevates the movie to a whole other level. To reiterate what I said in the beginning, every movie in this blog deserves its own blog and that is no less true for Goodfellas. In fact, I could write over a dozen paragraphs about just the editing alone. Because Thelma Schoonmaker’s work as the editor of Goodfellas remains some of the best ever utilized for the silver screen. She perfectly embodies the idea of “ordered chaos” in how she elegantly paces this two-and-a-half-hour crime epic that always feels fast & intense while never failing to elevate the more dramatic & deliberately slow moments. Just the intercutting in the climactic “helicopter scene” alone is a brilliant exercise in slowly ramping up tension and delivering incredibly payoff. The fact that she didn’t win an Oscar is also a disgrace (no offense, Dances with Wolves). I haven’t said anything about Goodfellas that hasn’t been said already. The writing is great. The acting is great. The directing is great. The editing is great. Everything about it is pretty damn awesome. Admittedly, there are some Scorsese movies I’d rather rewatch just because I’ve seen Goodfellas so many times. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s easily one of his best & undoubtedly one of the best gangster flicks ever made. Cape Fear (1991) One year after the release of his Best Picture nominee Goodfellas, Scorsese decided to make a pulpy thriller (itself a remake of a 1960s movie starring Gregory Peck). The fil stars Robert de Niro playing a smooth-talking psychopath recently out of prison who, thirsting for revenge against his shoddy defense, devotes his life to terrorizing his lawyer’s family. Is Cape Fear a masterpiece? No, but it’s a thoroughly entertaining movie & I respect Scorsese for going in such a different direction in the wake of Goodfellas. Much like The King of Comedy, the major standout in this movie is de Niro’s acting. Somehow, he’s managed to portray four very different murderous psychos in four different Scorsese flicks. Whereas Travis Bickle is anti-social, isolated & brooding, Rupert Pupkin is charming & conniving. And despite his character Jimmy Conway in Goodfellas being ruthless yet restrained and smart, Max Cady (the character he plays in Cape Fear) is outlandish in how crazy he is despite also possessing a subversive amount of emotional intelligence that’s evident whenever he torments his lawyer Sam Bowden’s (Nick Nolte) family. Simply put, the comically sadistic persona that de Niro fully embraces from start to finish makes the film a rollicking good time. As a whole, there’s not much to say about Cape Fear. It’s by no means a film you study critically by picking apart every frame or scene of, but it doesn’t need to be. By expertly balancing potentially jarring tonal shifts with some over-the-top performances and melodramatic moments, it’s a really fun movie that works surprisingly well. I was shocked by how playful it was given the premise, but by the end it worked because the movie never takes itself too seriously. In my humble opinion, this shows just how talented Scorsese’s directing is. Despite how prestigious of a career he had by this time, he still wasn’t taking himself or his work too seriously to its own detriment. Which is why Cape Fear remains one of my favorite movies from him. And there’s many more great films to come. TO BE CONTINUED…
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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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