Monster March II: Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

Seven months ago, we began Monster March on a Mummy Monday with Boris Karloff’s The Mummy, but the first Universal Classic Monster movie was Tod Browning’s Dracula. And so it seems appropriate to return and begin again for Monster March II (cue the spooky music) with Bram Stoker’s Dracula, nominally more faithful an adaptation, directed by Francis Ford Coppola and starring Gary Oldman as the Count in all his myriad forms. 

I say “nominally more faithful,” because from frame one, Coppola’s Dracula veers wildly from the source material by reimagining the legendary vampire as a Byronic antihero, cursed by his dark past and searching for the reincarnation of his lost love in the person of Mina Murray (Winona Ryder). Alas for the Count, Mina is already engaged to solicitor Jonathan Harker (Keanu Reeves), and so Dracula’s journey to England becomes less a real estate game and more an amorous quest that just so happens to involve a little bloodletting. 

 

Plainly put, Oldman acts rings around everyone else in the cast, even the delightfully hammy Anthony Hopkins as Abraham Van Helsing. Oldman plays Dracula in no fewer than four different iterations, and he aces all of them. Bela Lugosi was iconic, but he seems one-note in comparison to Oldman’s more sophisticated portrayal of a vampire who is alternately tortured and torturer, a lusty bedfellow and a carnivorous lover. The image of Oldman never quite supplants Lugosi, however, proof positive of just how primordial the 1931 original remains, yet Oldman’s “Old Dracula” is a close second as he defies the laws of physics, suckles at shaving razors, and commands your attention in a riveting first act.

 

That opening third of the film, in which Count Dracula holds Harker hostage in his castle, is the best the film ever gets, a note-perfect introduction to an adaptation that never quite lives up to its own beginning. The opening is so compelling, in fact, that you’ll almost forget that Keanu Reeves is madly out of his depth as a young British solicitor, encumbered by the worst British accent since Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins (and perhaps even worse, given that his greeting of “Count Dracula” sounds more like “Count Chocula”). So good is Oldman, and so spooky is his castle, that Coppola might well have stopped the film there and turned in the best short film about Dracula.

 

After Dracula leaves Transylvania, however, the film slows to a crawl in its depiction of Dracula as romantic foil. Oldman is often too psychotic for the work of courtship, and it’s frequently unclear whether Mina is truly falling for Dracula or whether she’s laboring under his hypnosis, his absinthe, or both. Meanwhile, the film spends a great deal of time with Lucy Westenra (Sadie Frost), her three suitors (Richard E. Grant, Cary Elwes, and Billy Campbell), and Van Helsing, such that it feels like Coppola wasn’t quite sure which film he wanted to make – the star-crossed lovers or the paranormal medical mystery. Of the two, the latter is more compelling, but it never bears Coppola’s full attention.

 

What’s very clear, however, is that Coppola wanted to make one of the most erotic Draculas ever, filling the film with copious nudity and literalized subtext. In doing so, however, much of the tension of the film becomes inert. To borrow an unfortunately apt line from Alfred Hitchcock, the terror is not in the bang but in the anticipation; the sensuousness of Lugosi’s Dracula was all subterranean, where Oldman’s Dracula is, in the biblical sense of the word, openly ravishing. It’s an interesting forerunner to the Twilight films, of all things, with a doomed immortal languishing as an unabashed romantic, but its erotic dimension is so overblown, so baroque, that it becomes fairly ridiculous. 

 

Coppola’s direction, too, is sumptuous and ornate. Often Coppola is attempting to ape the filmic style of Old Hollywood, with dramatic fades and creative camera angles that would make Orson Welles blush with envy. It’s for those reasons, Coppola’s fiendish attention to classical styling, that the film’s exaggerated sexuality and violence end up distracting rather than amplifying. When Dracula licks the shaving razor that nicks Harker’s throat, it’s icky but spontaneous, yet when the vampiric Lucy vomits blood onto Van Helsing’s face, it’s nauseating for all the wrong reasons. 

 

By dubbing the film “Bram Stoker’s” Dracula, there’s an immediate claim to authenticity, an appeal to authority that suggests this is the definitive adaptation of the novel. Hokey reincarnation notwithstanding, Coppola may have succeeded in spite of himself. The film replicates the novel’s obsession with emerging technology, particularly its intersection with the epistolary mode of storytelling, and the script has a keen interest in Stoker’s most likely inspiration, Vlad the Impaler. And Keanu Reeves aside, this Dracula stars as good a cast as any (including the woefully underrated Tom Waits as the sniveling Renfield). Yet Bram Stoker’s Dracula tries so hard to be grown up that it loses some of the power of suggestion. Lugosi could say more with a discreet bow than Oldman says by leaping into bed with his prey.

 

Put another way, Oldman is no Lugosi, but it’s worth it to watch him try. Gliding across the carpet and whirling a titanic sword, his Dracula is buckets of bloody fun.

 

Bram Stoker’s Dracula is rated R for “sexuality and horror violence.” Directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Written by James V. Hart. Based on the novel by Bram Stoker. Starring Gary Oldman, Winona Ryder, Anthony Hopkins, Keanu Reeves, Richard E. Grant, Cary Elwes, Billy Campbell, Sadie Frost, and Tom Waits.

Darkest Hour (2017)

When I saw Dunkirk back in July, I can safely say that at no point in the film did I think to myself, “This movie could use more Gary Oldman.” And yet, here we are, with Darkest Hour as the unintentional other half of Dunkirk, treating at length the only part of the event that Christopher Nolan didn’t recount in full – the homefront. There is probably a very intriguing “Dunkirk Saga” to be crafted from editing the films together, though I think Hollywood’s efforts would be better spent at giving us more films of Oldman as Winston Churchill.

Gary Oldman stars as Winston Churchill, appointed Prime Minster of the United Kingdom after the appeasement policies of Neville Chamberlain (Ronald Pickup) become untenable. Churchill, his wife Clemmie (Kristin Scott Thomas), and his secretary Elizabeth Layton (Lily James) move to 10 Downing Street to prepare for war – or peace – with Nazi Germany as it marches further into France.

It need not be said – for everyone already seems to be in unanimous agreement – that Gary Oldman gives a bravura performance as Churchill. Oldman’s name is being bandied about once more for an Oscar, to which I have to say it’d be about time. As Churchill, Oldman is (as ever) chameleonic, disappearing behind the jowls, the glasses, and the cigars in a performance that is not quite impersonation and certainly far from caricature, though it does resemble an uncanny impression in that Oldman is difficult to recognize in character. There’s something in the eyes, the voice, the stance, yes, but by and large it’s quite easy to disregard the artifice and believe we are watching Churchill himself. And while many times we clamor for a sequel because we want to know what happens next, I’m first in line for Darkest Hour II (“Dark Harder?”) because I want to spend more time in the company of a performance this fine.

The time frame of Darkest Hour is quite tight – less than a month – which is all the more astonishing when you consider what was asked of Churchill in those brisk days. To inherit an office diminished by one’s predecessor, and to be faced with several forms of political and military extinction, with little more than the English language as your principal weapon of defense... well, it’s not for nothing that Churchill’s wife at one point remarks that her husband has “the weight of the world on your shoulders.” A brief telephone call with Franklin D. Roosevelt might seem a moment for the Americans in the audience to feel involved, but it quickly becomes a reminder of how maddeningly unhelpful the isolationist America was at the time and how bitterly alone Churchill must have felt as he stared down the barrel of Hitler’s gun. “It’s late,” he breathes wearily, a sense of hopelessness edging into the film’s middle.

Director Joe Wright is perhaps still best known for directing the first-rate Atonement, so it comes as a slight shock that here too Wright takes the opportunity to revisit Dunkirk – recall, James McAvoy finds himself separated from Keira Knightley by the evacuation. Earlier this year, Christopher Nolan set his exploration of humanized hopelessness and fractured time at Dunkirk, but here Wright treats the event as the tipping point of a global conflagration, an Atlas-like burden which Churchill must shoulder with the full knowledge that the fate of the very world rests upon his response. But Wright is careful to keep his Churchill human, too; rather than err on the side of hagiography, Wright presents a Churchill wrestling with his doubts and willing to laugh at his faults, as when he initially mangles the “V for Victory” gesture.

At the heart of the film is a moment that shouldn’t work as well as it does. Having hung Chekhov’s gun on the wall when he mentions offhandedly he’s never ridden the subway, Churchill takes to the underground and mingles with the people. It feels initially like Screenwriting 101, setting Churchill amongst the proletariat, but the scene works so well that I didn’t want it to end. In that cramped subway car – and the film is, if nothing else, devoutly claustrophobic – Oldman imbues Churchill with such grace, humor, and candor that it’s not hard to believe a nation (indeed, a globe) was charmed by such a charismatic leader.

Darkest Hour is rated PG-13 “for some thematic material.” Directed by Joe Wright. Written by Anthony McCarten. Starring Gary Oldman, Kristin Scott Thomas, Lily James, Ronald Pickup, Stephen Dillane, and Ben Mendelsohn.

The Hitman's Bodyguard (2017)

When I started to see the reviews trickle in for The Hitman’s Bodyguard, I began to worry. Was this yet another case of all the good moments finding their way into the trailer, leaving the movie an emptier experience? The good news is that the exact opposite is true – most of the funniest lines in this action comedy were not spoiled by the advertising (largely on the basis of Samuel L. Jackson’s perennially creative love affair with a certain four-letter word). That’s not, however, to say that The Hitman’s Bodyguard is as successful as it ought to be, but it is diverting enough.

Michael Bryce (Ryan Reynolds) is a down-on-his-luck personal protection agent scraping the bottom of the barrel until a call from Interpol agent Amelia Roussel (Elodie Yung), who just happens to be an ex-girlfriend. Agent Roussel asks Bryce to transport the boisterous hitman Darius Kincaid (Samuel L. Jackson) to The Hague to testify against a war criminal (Gary Oldman) in exchange for a full pardon for Kincaid’s wife (Salma Hayek).

The Hitman’s Bodyguard is, in effect, a murderous Planes, Trains, and Automobiles with Samuel L. Jackson and explosions instead of John Candy and feel-good holiday cheer. And like its late-80s comedic predecessor, The Hitman’s Bodyguard sails on the strength of the chemistry between its two leads. Jackson is essentially playing one more facet of himself, a wisecracking, foul-mouthed badass with an infectious laugh and a violent temper. Ryan Reynolds does yeoman’s work as the straight man, but he’s a straight man with an edge, capable of playing deadpan punchlines like, “I hope they kill him, I really do.” Together, the two are comedy gold, and one senses that the best moments are the ones that developed through improvisation and riffing off each other’s strengths.

The moments that feel the most like the familiar Reynolds/Jackson personas are particularly strong because there are other parts of the film that feel overly scripted. The first act in particular feels like the most perfunctory beginning to a film since the on-the-nose opener for Ant-Man, though like Ant-Man the movie turns around rather effectively once the plot is permitted to progress. The first few scenes of The Hitman’s Bodyguard do the work of introducing the film and its characters, but in a way that baldly displays the mechanics behind the narrative. In the scene introducing Kincaid, for example, Interpol explains his motivation to him as he predicts how their plan will go awry; meanwhile, the villain is introduced while he murders a small child in cold blood.

Speaking of the villain, what was the size of Gary Oldman’s check and – given the brief screen-time allotted to him – was it worth it? From my perspective, Oldman is always worth the price of admission, but the film catastrophically underutilizes him. He’s entirely effective at creating a villain who is instantly loathsome, and in that sense you need an actor of Oldman’s caliber to make quick work of a thin character. It is, however, more than a little distracting to cast Oldman as a villain who spends most of his screen time as a silent defendant in court. Likewise, Salma Hayek is an odd choice for Kincaid’s wife, whose appearances on screen are largely limited to a prison cell and a flashback south of the border. One wonders if she was cast preemptively for a larger role in a potential sequel, because again these strike me as very expensive choices for comparably small roles.

Maybe I’m just getting old in my moviegoing years to be concerned about the budget for a film that otherwise entertained me. The Hitman’s Bodyguard is not as entirely as funny as I’d hoped it would be – at least in terms of quantity – but it did leave me with a good feeling and a few memorable one-liners which would be abjectly criminal to spoil. It has a few unsurprising but crunchy action sequences to pad out the funny bits, and if the plot had been a little less direct to allow more room for Reynolds and Jackson to bicker, it’d be an instant home run. The Hitman’s Bodyguard is good but not great, not a movie which demands to be seen theatrically but for which I am pretty glad to have done so.

The Hitman’s Bodyguard is rated R for “strong violence and language throughout.” Direct by Patrick Hughes. Written by Tom O’Connor. Starring Ryan Reynolds, Samuel L. Jackson, Gary Oldman, Elodie Yung, and Salma Hayek.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the third of eight films in the Harry Potter series, represents in a lot of ways a changing of the guard:  Alfonso Cuarón takes the directorial reins from Chris Columbus, Michael Gambon assumes the role of Albus Dumbledore, and a general mood of darkness falls over the franchise.  And really, only one of these things is less than ideal, because Azkaban feels the most accomplished of the three Harry Potter films thus far.

Though the wizarding world at large is content to conceal the truth from Harry, Ron, and Hermione (Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson), the recent escape of Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) from the wizard prison Azkaban puts them all in great danger – Black was imprisoned for betraying Harry’s parents and facilitating their deaths at the hands of the dark lord Voldemort. With soul-sucking Dementors prowling Hogwarts in search of the escaped convict, Harry must confront the untold secrets of his past, while new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) teaches him to repel the Dementors.

Cuarón, who struck gold two years ago with the breathtaking Gravity, is perhaps an unlikely choice to take the helm on a major kid-friendly franchise; though well-known at the time for his hard-R Y tu mama también, he had already acquitted himself well with the fantastical The Little Princess (the VHS tape of which still holds fond memories for my sister and me, worn out though it may be). In fact, one might be forgiven for thinking that Azkaban was directed by Tim Burton, for Cuarón replaces Columbus’s austere candlelit corridors with dark and angular shadows, winding passageways, and a color palette more night than day.

It’s a marked difference from the style Columbus worked to cultivate, a style that fit the source material quite well, but I appreciate Cuarón’s decision to innovate visually and take Hogwarts in a moodier direction. It helps the franchise feel less like a kiddy-movie and moves it into a more mature and, I think, more interesting direction. As much as I appreciated it in the first two films, there is only so much wide-eyed wonderment that Harry Potter can be allowed before he grows up and accepts the wizarding world as his new normal. Cuarón’s play with shadows and his modified colors give us the sense of a world being lived-in, being inhabited.

The elephant in the room here is, of course, the recasting of Dumbledore after the unfortunate passing of Richard Harris. It’s important to recognize that Gambon is doing something different with Dumbledore – a more knowing, more wearied headmaster to Harris’s kinder, gentler Dumbledore – but I have to concede that it is not to my liking. I’d have preferred Peter O’Toole inherit the role (as, I understand, Harris’s family lobbied), for there is something about Gambon’s temperament that strikes a false chord for me, something almost perplexingly youthful in a character who shouldn’t be. Gambon isn’t patently bad as Dumbledore, and for that reason the revolt will have to wait for now.

I’d also like to levy a modest complaint about the underuse of the always commendable Gary Oldman, whose turn as Sirius Black amounts to little more than a cameo. This is a minor grievance, a clash of the role’s smallness in the book juxtaposed with the screen presence of Oldman. He is, of course, cast as a guarantee for future films, but one can’t help but wish Prisoner of Azkaban had just a bit more of said prisoner in the film.

These are, though, as I’ve said, small nits to pick in a film which is otherwise highly enjoyable. My personal favorite of the series (at least, on memory – I’ve only seen the next five films once each), Prisoner of Azkaban is well-crafted and engaging, with a central mystery that holds up on rewatch and a visual style that sells the film even without the ever-capable score by John Williams. On the whole, I’m feeling rather good about reviewing the Harry Potter series.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is rated PG for “frightening moments, creature violence and mild language.” There are some jump scenes in this one, including an attack from a wolf-like creature and an enormous dog, to say nothing of the appearance of the Dementors (ghostly, soul-devouring prison guards) in a few scenes. The film also includes a hippogriff (half eagle, half horse) which is meant to be gentle once one sees past the gruff exterior, the threat of execution, and an escaped demented prisoner.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014)

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is now the eighth “Apes film,” the second film in the third franchise since 1968.  I list off the pedigree because I am feeling a slight sense of ape fatigue.  Though the film is tracking in the low 90s on Rotten Tomatoes, my take on it is a little less enthusiastic – there’s nothing the film does incorrectly, but I do have a distinct sense of having seen all this before.

A decade after Rise of the Planet of the Apes, apes and humans live in isolation from each other.  The apes, led by Caesar (motion-captured by Andy Serkis), want to live in peace in a semi-civilized state; the humans, led by Dreyfus (Gary Oldman), want to reclaim a hydroelectric dam in the middle of ape territory.  While Malcolm (Jason Clarke) tries to broker a peace with the apes, Caesar faces a dissenting faction from within, led by his advisor Koba.

Rather than go toward the fantastical apocalypses provided by the Heston and Burton eras, Dawn continues in the realistic vein of its predecessor, with a marked focus on the verisimilitude of the special effects.  Assessing solely these visual effects, Dawn is a triumph; between the movements and the digitized facial expressions, it’s heroically easy to forget that you’re not watching real monkeys.  There’s rumbling about Serkis being up for an Oscar for his lead performance – well, I’m not sure about that, mostly because it’s hard for me to tell what’s Serkis and what’s an animator, but I do think he’s courting a well-deserved “Special Technical Achievement” award.

There’s a lot of other moving pieces in the film that are also successful, though they’re far outshined by the technical fakery.  Oldman and Clarke are compelling enough, though Oldman’s role is roughly equivalent to Bryan Cranston’s in Godzilla – he’s there for a plot mechanism, and you’ll probably leave the theater itching for more screen time from an actor as talented as he is.  But the slightly undercooked quality of the human characters really emphasizes the fact that this is first and foremost the primates’ show.

When it comes to the story, though, I’m not convinced that Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is particularly visionary.  It is certainly more subtle than Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (an obvious inspiration) in that it isn’t reductionist in its approach to protagonist/antagonist relationships.  But once it does establish Koba and Dreyfus as antagonists of a sort, the film proceeds in a fairly predictable manner.  What ultimately emerges is a very unsurprising allegory about cooperation in spite of differences, open-mindedness on the subject of diversity.  Forgive me for saying, I’ve seen this movie several times already.

With a very different movie, I’d have spent a long time on the matter of the familiar plot, but in the case of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes this is less a misstep and more of a non-step.  The filmmakers don’t strike any false notes here; rather, the melody is quite familiar (no pun intended, though Michael Giacchino’s score does recall early Apes soundtracks).  The visual effects are the standout feature – the apes are strikingly rendered, the sequences in which they attack are appropriately terrifying, and the internecine struggles feel astoundingly human.  It’s not the second coming of science fiction, but it is a well-told iteration of a classic tale.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is rated PG-13 for “intense sequences of sci-fi violence and action, and brief strong language.”  There is some amount of blood seen, mostly during fights between apes.  Fight scenes between humans and apes proceed with more gunfire but with less blood; some of the scenes of attacking apes may be frightening for younger viewers.  The film also includes one F-bomb and several scatological S-bombs.

Pop back here on Thursday when The Cinema King tackles Transformers: Age of Extinction!

The Dark Knight Rises - EPIC Review

Enough time has passed, I believe, that a more extensive and more specific look may be taken at Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises.  In the tradition of 2008’s “Epic Review” of The Dark Knight, I’ll be discussing more in depth what I enjoyed about the film, which will inevitably entail spoilers of both general plotlines and specific dialogue which I’ll invoke.  The goal is, I hope, to provide a more detailed assessment of the film beyond my earlier review which gushed over the technical aspects of the film but could only allude to the story and its effect on me.  For safety’s sake, the bulk of the review can be found after the jump; those reading this review from anywhere other than the front page will be advised that spoilers begin below the first image in this review.

I cannot stress this enough:  if you have not seen The Dark Knight Rises yet, do not read any further.  The success of the film depends wholly on allowing it to develop at its own pace; any spoilers therein would detract from the overall experience.

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part Three

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the final part of our Armrest Review of The Dark Knight, the middle entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part Two

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the second part of our Armrest Review of The Dark Knight, the middle entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.  

Armrest Review - The Dark Knight, Part One

Welcome to another edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

I’m joined again by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side once more.  For today’s Armrest Review, we’ll be watching The Dark Knight, the middle – and perhaps greatest – installment in The Dark Knight Trilogy.

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part Three

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the final part of our Armrest Review of Batman Begins, the first entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.  

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part Two

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

A further welcome back for the second part of our Armrest Review of Batman Begins, the first entry in Christopher Nolan's "Dark Knight Trilogy."  As before, I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the next installment of this series.

Armrest Review - Batman Begins, Part One

Welcome to the first edition of “Armrest Reviews,” a new series in which I, The Cinema King, will partner up with a fellow filmgoer to review films as we watch them.  That’s right, we’ll be writing our unexpurgated observations as we watch the film, meaning you could theoretically read the review while watching the movie and “watch along” with us.

I’m joined by The Popcorn Prince, who’s been watching movies for almost as long as I have.  He’s a big Batman fan, so I’m pleased to have him by my side for the debut of this series.  For today’s Armrest Review, we’ll be watching Christopher Nolan’s 2005 Batman Begins, the first installment in The Dark Knight Trilogy.

Cinema King:  As the opening titles come on – no credits here, no time to waste before the movie begins – a big welcome to The Popcorn Prince.  Prince, glad to have you.

Popcorn Prince:  Thanks, King.  Truly an honor to help debut a new series.  I’ve only seen this movie a few times, so it’s good to go back right before the new movie comes out.

Monday at the Movies - January 9, 2012

Welcome to Week Two of "Monday at the Movies." On the docket for this week, four films adapted from popular novels (an unintentional link), including one where The Cinema King reverses a decade-long antipathy toward a particular fantasy film!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (2011) – I’ve never been overly captivated by the Harry Potter franchise. That is, I’ve never fallen head over heels in love with the movies, but I’ve taken them for what they are – well-done and imaginative but otherwise unremarkable fantasy adaptation films. And this film (affectionately dubbed 7B by myself and others) had to do a lot to win me over, mostly because I couldn’t approve of paying to see it after my now-legendary attempt at a midnight show of 7A. Now that I’ve rented it (for free), I’m ready to say that 7B was a well-done close to the franchise, but I think a lot of reviewers fell over this movie in a dead faint by overstating the film’s good attributes – chief among them a strong cast of England’s Finest (including a great turn from Ralph Fiennes as Lord Voldemort) and exciting action sequences. This is an effective second half of a film, but as a film in its own right 7B doesn’t quite work. There were plenty of moments where the film faltered by standing on its own, including moments where a quick expositional memory jog would have filled in gaps or even moments where the film didn’t clearly articulate what was happening (i.e., the moment when one character dies – but it’s not clear which of two characters). I liked it, and I wouldn’t unsee it, but it didn’t quite live up to the hype. Fans and devotees, though, will gobble this up.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) – Mark it, loyal readers. The Cinema King has to reverse policy. The first time I saw Peter Jackson’s adaptation of the Tolkien series, I fell asleep. After a rousing introduction narrated by Cate Blanchett, the film faltered for me. But after ten years of decrying the film as “The Wizard of Oz without ever actually getting to Oz,” the browbeating of literally everyone else who saw it induced me to give it a second shot. And honestly, I’m kind of glad I did. Fellowship is much more exciting then I remember, with plenty of great cast members and a plethora of well-directed rousing battle scenes. I’ve also tried reading the Tolkien novels, but those I find completely impenetrable because the story takes a backseat to the mythology and the linguistics; fortunately, Jackson makes knowledge of each creature’s name nonessential and wisely prizes the narrative and character interactions. The best of these is Sean Astin’s level-red dedication to and compassion for his friend Frodo (Elijah Wood, who’s nowhere near as amiable as his traveling companion). I was glad that I opted to rewatch this film and moved toward the second one with eager anticipation.

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002) – After a good experience with the first film, I was incredibly disappointed with The Two Towers. Here is the glacial pace I remember, the problems of divergent focus, the not-much-happening mood pervading most of the whole film. After a promising first installment, the Lord of the Rings franchise starts to fall apart for me. Where the first film had strong character interaction, here Peter Jackson loses track of many of his key players every so often without a thematic link to bind them together. The film’s only significant action sequence comes at the end, much like in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End; here, though, the two hours of buildup are nowhere near intriguing enough to merit a three-hour runtime. While new characters Gollum and the Ents are entertaining and well-performed, they’re not given much to do other than tease things to come in the third installment. And my problems with Frodo continue here; he’s generally unlikeable, frequently misled, and more than a bit condescending. And a closing monologue about the nature of endings alludes to the problems of this film as a story – there isn’t one. But the promise of an ending is enough, I believe me, to do something I never thought I'd do - watch the third film.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011) – Knowledge of the cast alone (Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, Tom Hardy, Toby Jones, Ciaran Hinds, Mark Strong, and John Hurt) was enough for me to pick up the John le Carré novel before even seeing a trailer, and I’m pleased to report that the film lives up to the book’s reputation and does a classy, thorough job of adapting the source material. Gary Oldman plays the uber-collected mole-hunter George Smiley, pursuing a double agent at the top of British intelligence during the height of the Cold War. The performances here are solid, as expected, although the atypical nature of this spy story (nothing blows up, and more relies on what is not said than what is actually done) might alienate some. Additionally, the plot is obtuse, although like Inception the right amount of mental calisthenics will prevent audiences from getting too lost in the details. But director Tomas Alfredson does an extremely solid job creating a very 1970s vibe throughout the whole movie, juggling flashbacks and multiple settings with great visual cues (such as the color of Smiley’s trademark specs). If Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy doesn’t net Oldman the Oscar he’s deserved for so many years, it might be time to hang it up as far as the little gold man is concerned.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

The Professional (1994)

In a way, The Professional was exactly the film I was looking for.

The Professional (also known as Leon) was near the top of my "I can't believe I haven't seen these movies yet" list, especially in light of the fact that its writer/director, Luc Besson, wrote Taken, one of my all-time favorite action movies. Followers of this site have already noticed that it's been a while since I rated a film as "to my liking," much less "a great film." The losing streak, dear readers, is broken, because The Professional is both.

Leon (a very subdued Jean Reno) is a hitman, a self-professed "cleaner" who takes in orphan Mathilda (a very young Natalie Portman) after her family is gunned down by drug-addled DEA Agent Nathan Stansfield (a very outrageous Gary Oldman). As Stansfield seeks to tie up the last remaining loose end - namely, Mathilda - in his spiraling descent into drug-fueled madness, Leon struggles with his own paternalistic misgivings about Mathilda's request to be trained to be a cleaner.

The performances are stellar. I've knocked Jean Reno before for being hammy or for simply not trying, but it seems that's a new trend. He's fabulously restrained as Leon. It's a role that could have gone two ways - cold and emotionless or entirely creepy. Somehow, Reno finds a way to create a sympathetic character who's more human than not, a man who never poses a threat to Mathilda, even though the audience may be worried that his intentions with her may be less than pure. Roman Polanski he's not; no one in their right mind could accuse Leon of exploiting Mathilda, whom he comes to regard as a daughter. The key other half of that dynamic is Portman, who proves how talented she really is. She's endearingly gruff, deceptively innocent, and completely in control of her emotional spectrum. Though she's only 12, Mathilda is perhaps the most mature character in the film, and it's because of Portman's gifted acting that the character even succeeds; she's both completely human and a prototype for Kick-Ass's Hit-Girl, a stunning combination. And while we're talking stunning, let's acknowledge Oldman, who's wildly over the top as Stansfield. This is a versatile actor we're talking about; he's played Sid Vicious, Dracula, Stansfield, Lee Harvey Oswald, Commissioner Gordon, and Sirius Black in the same career - and done all in such a way that he's practically defined those characters. Stansfield ranks as one of the best movie villains I've ever seen, downright spooky and at times frightening (especially when he pops his special but unnamed pills) but never cartoonish to the point of improbability.

High praise to Besson for melding a knockout script and dynamite visuals - to him belongs all the credit, since he wrote and directed it all on his own. While he owes a lot to his three fine actors, Besson deserves a hearty pat on the back for a freshly original story (even sixteen years later, it still holds up) which avoids predictability and never falters, even though almost no action occurs between Mathilda's adoption and the final confrontation with Stansfield. For this, we have the directing to thank; Besson is a prince when it comes to inventive camera angles, a master of pacing, and a pro at eliciting good performances out of already solid actors.

One thing I particularly loved about The Professional - aside from the downright stunning gunfight scenes and Jack Bauer-esque escapes - is the way that Besson creates compellingly human characters in Leon and Mathilda while establishing a key divide between them and Stansfield. Leon and Mathilda have backstories which inform their personalities, which in turn inform each other as to why the other one behaves the way he/she does. All of this is done in an entirely clear manner so that the audience never wonders, "Why is Mathilda doing that? Why didn't Leon say this?" Conversely, we have no idea why Stansfield behaves the way he does; he is, like Ledger's Joker, an absolute force of chaos blowing in and out of the movie. He's a DEA agent, sure, but why is he involved in drugs? Is it business or personal? On a scale of one to ten, how crazy is he? The characters that need to be human are, and are entirely, but the villain is more akin to a tornado than a mastermind. The clash of reckless madman and methodical hitman is golden, but it never feels overwrought. Indeed, the real heart of the piece is what is unsaid between Leon and Mathilda.

Simply put, The Professional is one of the best movies of the 1990s. Indeed, if I ever get around to making a "best of the decades" list and The Professional's not on it, call me out, and I'll eat my hat.
The Professional is rated a very hard R "for scenes of strong graphic violence, and for language." It's a movie about a hitman who kills a lot of people in very bloody shoot-outs, and several F-bombs trickle in along the way.

The Dark Knight (2008) - EPIC Review

I suppose that by way of apology I should explain pour quoi this review was so long in coming. I know that after my first viewing - which was (be jealous) truly an IMAX experience - I was so overwhelmed that not only could I not speak for five minutes on the car ride home but I also knew on some level that any initial reaction to this movie would have been no more than one could get from a teenybopper seeing The Jonas Brothers for the first time.

So I had to see it again. Within 24 hours. And then again. And again. And guess what? I'm going back. Because it's the movie we need and the movie we deserve. <-- That's a reference to the movie. If you haven't seen it, it might not be a good idea to read this review since I'll both be liberal in referencing dialogue and discussing plot points (although I won't be revealing any on the scale of "Rosebud is the sled" I will be exploring issues with which even casual Batman fans should be familiar), and I'll be featuring a proliferation of images that (again) won't give too much away but might be better left unseen by the uninitiated. Just go and see the movie, then check back with me, since you'll get more out of this review. Back? Where do we begin? Three years ago a little director called Christopher Nolan made a little movie called Batman Begins which, if we're being honest, made only comparatively little splashes at the box office. But then again, it's not about the money. It's about sending a message. And the message was that comic book movies could be serious works of cinematic literacy without compromising the source material.

The Dark Knight is no exception to this rule and unquestionably is the golden standard by which all other comic book movies - and indeed perhaps all other movies, period - will be weighed. (I can feel nothing but pity for future directors of comic book movies who are destined to fall short of this cinematic perfection.) Picking up where the first movie left off, The Dark Knight finds its eponymous hero (Christian Bale, back in the role for which he was born) facing escalation in the form of amped up enemies and do-gooder Bat-doppelgangers -- and a new nemesis, the self-professed "agent of chaos" known only as The Joker (the divine Heath Ledger, who's receiving all the accolades he deserves for this, his final and most magnificent role). All the old cast are back for this one, save Katie Holmes who's replaced by the less irritating Maggie Gyllenhaal. And we have a few new faces, too - of course, Ledger as the "dog chasing cars" man supposedly without a plan, Eric Roberts as mobster Sal Maroni, and Aaron Eckhart as Gotham's white knight Harvey Dent, the straitlaced D.A. with a touch of destiny about him.
Why so serious? For some comic relief, we have (Sir) Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman back as butler Alfred and CEO Lucius, respectively, but a great deal of the laughs - uncomfortable ones though they may be - come from Ledger's Joker, upon whom I cannot heap enough praise without sounding like either a sheep critic who feels obliged to respect the actor in light of his ultra-untimely passing or a giggly fanboy (the latter of which is probably closer to the truth) marveling at this, the truest interpretation of Batman's greatest nemesis. Though his first scene on-screen - a heist brilliantly planned by The Joker - won't get a lot of chuckles, his second appearance most certainly will. The Joker holds the mob financially hostage, unveils his master plan for correcting Gotham, and executes - and I do mean executes - the strangest, most audacious magic trick since Nolan's 2006 magical mystery tour The Prestige. Should we laugh at something like that? It's difficult not to. He does that, makes us question our ethics and morals for laughing at the more gruesome moments of life. It makes one think, that's all.

Making us think is one of Nolan's specialties here. This is so much more than just a seminal entry in the world of comic book adaptations - which, make no mistake, it is. The Bat-gauntlet has been thrown down. But The Dark Knight is, among many things, a mature rumination on the very nature of heroism, of deceit, of good and evil and the mutual necessity one has for the other. The very concept of heroism is up for grabs here, as well-intentioned civilians doll up like the Bat and take on crime themselves. "What gives you the right?" one asks Batman. Hockey pads or not, one has to admit that it does take a certain brand of madness to dress as a Fledermaus and dive from rooftops. And "madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push."

Where the first film devoted a great deal of contemplation to mulling the power and pains of fear, here the main issue at stake is duality - the mirror relationship between good and evil - with a liberal dose of secrecy thrown in for good measure. The clearest example of duality is of course the nature of the battle between Gotham's Dark Knight and its anarchic harbinger of lawlessness, The Joker. "I don't want to kill you!" the Joker cackles at one point. "What would I do without you? You... you complete me." Earlier, in a home video of sorts, Joker grins as he decries Batman's need for secrecy and suggests "This is how craaaaaazy Batman's made Gotham."

Surely this is cause for contemplation; Batman's first villains in this series were mere mortals (not so mere, though, should Nolan choose to play up Ra's al-Ghul's immortality in later installments) with fear toxins and utopian aspirations. Gotham before Batman had never seen a man so without rules as The Joker, a man willing to allow himself to be killed for a punchline.
And no discussion of duality could be complete without Harvey Dent. Just as Scarecrow was the perfect way to explore fear, the district attorney - the white knight - is Nolan's masterstroke in the discussion of doublethink. "I believe in Harvey Dent," the oft-repeated aphorism goes. To believe in Harvey Dent, though, is to believe in a world that doesn't need Batman, a world where crime can be stopped in the courts. The Joker, of course, begs to differ and endeavors to "turn [Dent's] little plan on itself." Failing to corrupt The Dark Knight (even finding him "too much fun"), Joker turns to the white one. Because all it takes is a little push to win the battle for Gotham's soul. Aaron Eckhart's performance as Harvey Dent is sadly lost in the shuffle of praise for the movie - and undeservedly so. As Dent, Eckhart has the unenviable task of playing an optimist in a world without hope, a task made all the more impossible once everything is taken from him - even his Robert Redford good looks. In a way then, Harvey is a mirror of Batman as well; where Batman lost everything and chose good, Harvey seeks revenge and sense in a world gone mad - decency in an indecent time, as Dent cries at the film's second climax.

Oh, yeah. There are two climaxes to the movie. You read that right. The screenplay by the Nolans is a marvelous examination of the Batman mythos, drawing on all of the best Caped Crusader chronicles to create what is the most complete, most honest, most magnificent Batman story ever told. (And this from a reviewer who loves Jeph Loeb's The Long Halloween!) This two climax bit is part of the magic of the movie (and also a nod to the rise of Two-Face?); just as one major threat is defeated, Batman is reminded that the battle for Gotham's soul has yet to be won. This final act of the film is haunting - pure poetry. The chills that ran up my arms couldn't have been from the air conditioning in the theater, because I felt the hair on my arm stand up at all four screenings - in different venues, no less. As The Joker hangs upside down and taunts Batman with his notion that "I think you and I are destined to do this... forever" the camera slowly does a 180 and turns so that The Joker appears to be right-side up... but he isn't. The world, Nolan tells us in a brilliant use of visual language, has been turned topsy turvy, on its head just as the "SLaughter is the best medicine" semi earlier in the film.
For me to delve any further into scholarly analysis would be to give short shrift to my duties as a reviewer (although if I haven't by now convinced you of the film's marvelous nature, you might need a quick reminder - Rotten Tomatoes ranks it 94% fresh, but only because 6% of critics are afraid to join the crowd). Every actor brings an A-game or better to the table, so we might as well go right down the line. Christian Bale actually plays three parts here: gravelly Batman, "fake" playboy Bruce Wayne, and the real Wayne who legitimately wants to do right but understands the necessity of his facades. As butler and confidante Alfred, Michael Caine is pitch-perfect, providing the perfect amount of levity while also bringing gravitas by keeping the secret that could crush his employer's spirit. You'll never believe Gary Oldman is British, since he plays such a spot-on Chicago-style cop as Lt. Gordon. I've already lauded Aaron Eckhart's turn as Harvey Dent; the biggest compliments I can give Maggie Gyllenhaal is that she's not Katie Holmes and that she made me forget that I really don't like her - especially in a scene where she finally gives Harvey "an answer." And of course Morgan Freeman, who's rapidly becoming one of my favorites, is unindictable, saying more with an enigmatic smile than, oh, let's say Keanu Reeves can do with a whole movie. Heck, even Eric Roberts comes close to inciting curiosity that he wasn't in one of the Godfather movies.

Then there's Heath Ledger, who's in a caliber all his own. Where each other actor is physically recognizable (well, except for Eckhart in the second half), Ledger completely immerses himself in the role and disappears behind that David Lynch voice and a face only Baby Jane Hudson could love. If you thought Johnny Depp's turn as Captain Jack Sparrow was a physical transformation, wait until you see this. Ledger blows Jack Nicholson (as much fun as he was) out of the water with a dark and gruesome anarchist who delights in chaos and physical abuse. Moviegoers aren't screaming "Oscar!" for no reason, and it's got nothing to do with the tragic passing of Ledger back in January. It's got everything to do with the highest echelon of acting that I've ever seen.

There are some who say that the editing befuddles, but these must be the same nitwits that cried foul at the "confusing" plot of the second and third Pirates of the Caribbean movies. The only confusing thing about this movie is how it can be so irreproachable and still be made by humans. It's as layered as an Alan Moore plot, with little nuggets to reward repeat viewings - like the year imprinted on Harvey's silver dollar or the ballerina grace with which the opening bank robbery is choreographed. The script is endlessly quotable without being showy, by far surpassing 300 for "Most catchphrases in a single bound." A great deal of that is delivery, because when you get down to it there's nothing truly remarkable about the line "Here's my card."

The soundtrack, too, is everything a movie score should be - gentle in spots (courtesy of James Newton Howard) and aggressive in others (characteristically Hans Zimmer's work), all without screaming "Listen to me!" From the chaotically frenzied Joker theme ("Why So Serious?" on the soundtrack) to the majestic Batman action theme ("Like A Dog Chasing Cars" and "I'm Not A Hero" as best highlights), the score swoops like a - "Like a submarine, Mr. Wayne. A submarine." And the special effects - well, they're virtually nonexistent. You see, Nolan is an advocate of hyper-realism in his filmmaking, so almost none of what you see is CGI. Yes, Nolan really blew up the Brachs candy factory (which stands in for a somewhat more targetable facade). Yes, Nolan really flipped a semi on its head. Yes, Nolan really filmed a car chase scene on Wacker in Chicago. I'm pretty sure he didn't really crash a helicopter into a skyscraper, but it looks damn cool anyway.

I'm this close to announcing a new king in the land of cinema. No, I'm not abdicating my throne as The Cinema King. I'm mere centimeters (or one more screening, preferably IMAX) from placing The Departed at #2 on the list of Greatest Movies of All Time. Because here's another perfect movie. It's unquestionably the best movie of 2008, and I see no competition in sight.

Batman Begins (2005)

It's perhaps difficult to appreciate now, three years after Batman began, what director Christopher Nolan did for the comic book movie genre. For land's sakes, folks, Bryan Singer's Superman - the all-American Boy Scout ambassador of good will - was considerably more angsty in response to the smash hit called Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne, alias Batman. With a new take on the quintessential origin story, a few plausible revamps to the old rogues gallery, and a solid cast, Christopher Nolan redeemed the Batman franchise from the Schumacher debacle.

And all that with nary a Batnipple in sight.

How does every Batman origin story need to start? In the alley behind the theater where Thomas and Martha Wayne were gunned down by oft-faceless hood Joe Chill (not The Joker, Tim Burton, but nice try), right? WRONG. In typical Nolan fashion, Batman Begins toys with the audience's expectation of chronology that origin flicks like Spider-Man and Superman led us to anticipate. As Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale, one of the best living actors) receives his training from Ra's al Ghul (Ken Watanabe) and the League of Shadows - especially personal mentor Henri Ducard (the perma-divine Liam Neeson), his backstory is fleshed out. By the time he returns to Gotham to clean up the city and (in the words of Jeph Loeb, arguably one of the greatest Batman writers of all time) make good on his "promise on the grave of my parents to rid this city of the evil that took their lives." Among the evildoers are Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy, immaculately exuding creepiness through his eerie eyeglasses) and mob boss Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson) - but there is good in Gotham. Detective Jim Gordon (Gary Oldman) and legal beagle Rachel Dawes (a bland Katie Holmes, the only strained link in a pitch-perfect chain), as well as Wayne associates Lucius Fox (the ever-eloquent Morgan Freeman, who just gets better at playing himself as time goes on) and butler Alfred (Michael Caine, whose moments of levity are well-appreciated), are on hand to assist in the neverending battle.

If it smacks of an ensemble cast, it's not. The focus, make no mistake, is on Bale's Dark Knight. With a cavalcade of great actors (only two of whom, I might add, hail from the continent which birthed Batman in the first place), it might be easy for any one of them to get lost in the shuffle, but thankfully each holds his own. You'll pardon the sexist language, but Holmes is out of her league here - then again, I can't think of an appropriate modern actress who wouldn't be (I say appropriate because Judi Dench would rock but might be more believable as Alfred's love interest). What helps the cast along is a whizbang screenplay by Nolan & David S. Goyer which not only sets the groundwork for a franchise but stands alone on its own merits, not the least of which is its clever use of repetition to further plot points and recall earlier hints and foreshadowings.

So the cast is mostly impeccable, the screenplay tight as a pimped-out ride. Of the direction I have only positive things to say. Nolan is a master both at intense action scenes such as a Batmobile chase scene and at moments of "arranging matches" drama as when Falcone explains the law of Gotham to Bruce. Relying on CGI to the point of nihilsm, Nolan gives his hyper-realistic take on Batman that extra layer of authenticity by showing us reality on the screen. Chicago never looked so corrupt - nor worth saving. Additionally, a score composed by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard deftly bounces between peaks and troughs of action. Though it's not as "listenable" as some of Zimmer's other soundtracks (such as the uber-catchy scores for the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise), the score here doesn't call attention to itself but rather supplements the visuals in a way that is almost subconscious.

It's an intelligent movie. The heroes are walking that fine line between good and evil, bending society's conventions and occasionally the laws to achieve real justice. The movie, in a theme that would be more fully fleshed out in its sequel, also asks where the line is and whether Batman is crossing it. The threat of escalation, too, lingers over the whole shebang, further questioning the label of "hero." And the villains are even less civil than previously; Scarecrow, for example, is less than reluctant to target innocent women and children so long as they fear him. Where Spider-Man 3 hit heavy the metaphor of "villain [Venom and the black suit] as revenge," Batman Begins is an elegant contemplation of fear and power, even if the bullet-train climax is less than wholly realistic.

And for a movie that drew applause not precisely at the end of the movie but rather 30 seconds prior to conclusion with the mere turning over of a playing card within an evidence bag, Batman Begins is a movie that needed no sequel. Certainly I won't grumble over The Dark Knight or even deem it unnecessary. But Batman Begins is more than able to survive and thrive in independence, with a complete ending that we might believe could occur in the real world.

Of course, then came a little film known as The Dark Knight, which shattered expectations - and box office records.

Mr. Nolan, I never got a chance to thank you for Batman Begins...

"And you'll never have to ."