Cloud Atlas

You know what really sucks? Roger Ebert passed away over a year ago now. There are very few movie reviewers that I would actively go out and read on a regular basis, or hunt down their opinion on, but Ebert was the top. We didn't always agree, but I have a tremendous amount of respect for his writing, his knowledge and opinions on all things movies. In the past few movies I've watched, I make a cursory Google search for that film. I land upon the basic sites, like iMDB and Wikipedia, where I can gather some information. Then, I see just below those results, articles from other sites, including reviews. And Ebert's articles always seem to be on the first page. Reading his reviews on movies that I'm just discovering now brings about mixed emotions: sadness, that he is gone and can't hear his opinions anymore, but happiness as well, for the contributions that he shared with us. Cloud Atlas is the latest movie where I sought out Ebert's column, and was again pleased to find a well written article that didn't try to pick apart the film or attempt to explain how it all comes together. This particular quote stands out to me:

I gave up any attempt to work out the logical connections between the segments, stories and characters. What was important was that I set my mind free to play.

His approach to simply consume the movie as is stood out to me, and made me realize that I perhaps tried to watch it incorrectly - if such a thing is possible. Halfway through the film I did just this though, as I consumed without the concern of trying to delve into secret meanings or even trying to tie the pieces of the film together. I quite enjoyed it, and yes, will be making plans to watch it again.

Cloud Atlas was a difficult film to finally sit through. It was difficult to find anybody to go see this movie with initially, so I resolved to go - on a Sunday afternoon - by myself. It's lengthy, clocking in at just under three hours, but the buzz surrounding the film sold me. I grabbed a quick lunch and made my way to the theatre, at which point my phone buzzed with a phone call, which was a bit different than the typical texts. It wasn't anything important, but a simple invitation from a friend to spend the afternoon visiting local sites. In an effort not to decline social invitations, I accepted, and put Cloud Atlas off. I never had a chance to go back to the theatre to see it.

After some time, it became available for home viewing and my same friend from before said we need to watch it together, which I would love to do. But schedules happen, days slip by, followed by months. Finally, something gives, and my friend cannot wait any longer - I don't blame him, and he tells me he would love to watch it again. Unfortunately there were more pressing things, and it never came to be. Vdio launched, and I signed up. It was the video offshoot of Rdio, which I absolutely adored. However, Vdio wasn't the same all you can eat monthly cost like Netflix was. You had to buy movies, which I had very little interest in doing digitally (I maintain a selection of physical Bluray films). The service was struggling, so they gave me $25 of credit to buy anything on the store. I went and immediately spent that credit on Cloud Atlas. However, it wasn't meant to be: Vdio went under a few months later and I lost access to the movie.

Visiting with my parents, they decided to give Cloud Atlas a try. I think we got about thirty minutes into the film before they wanted to turn it off. It seemed complicated, jarringly cutting between time periods. And it was three hours long. I was beginning to think it wasn't meant to be. That was, until a couple of weeks ago, when I stumbled upon the Bluray copy of Cloud Atlas at a very reasonable rate. Another friend said, without question, purchase the film and watch it. So I did.

I wasn't blown away. Expectations had grown over the past two years to a degree that wouldn't allow me to reach that level of satisfaction with the film. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of the film either, or really what type of movie it was. The actors each play many different roles in the film, which is composed of six core time periods. You get an introduction to each time period, just as you would with any story. They seem unrelated to begin with, and we keep jumping from one to another. We discover that each timeline is its own story, and slowly, we star to see parallels running between them. Maybe they are related. Events in some timelines seem to have an effect on others. Is time a loop? Do they run in parallel?

The entire thing is masterfully put together. Following each story is effortless - for the most part - and before you know it, the film comes to a conclusion that seems to pull it all together. The actors do a fantastic job, and are often unrecognizable in their various roles. When the credits roll, they give you images of each of them, and I was pleasantly surprised as many of them I had no idea were acting in a part that I had just watched for the past three hours. The film is ambitious, and delivers on different levels. No, I didn't understand everything, but I know now that I don't need to. I'll finish with another quote from Ebert's review, which can be found here.

But, oh, what a film this is! And what a demonstration of the magical, dreamlike qualities of the cinema. And what an opportunity for the actors. And what a leap by the directors, who free themselves from the chains of narrative continuity. And then the wisdom of the old man staring into the flames makes perfect sense.

The Stuff

Starting a story can be difficult, I understand. It's an important part of the story structure, and when done properly or even differently, can draw you in, turn you away, or set the tone for what is to come. Years ago I had a thought that I should put together a web site that featured the opening credits of various movies. There must be a neat history lesson to learn here, but what I saw in many modern films is the complete lack of opening credits. Oftentimes, you don't even get the title of the movie until the very end, which can help immerse you into the film from the beginning then slap your face at the end to wake you up from the alternate reality you've just sat through to remind you that it's been a movie the entire time. A final blow to follow up on perhaps a revelatory ending. Or maybe the title comes up slowly, to ease you back into the real world.

When you put a movie on, before the beginning of the story, you get all the logos of the various studios involved in the creation of the film. This has become an art form upon itself, as more movies have taken it upon themselves to modify the logo a bit to suit the film's tone. The logos are typically animated, and run for ten to fifteen seconds. On some productions, you'll sit there for an entire minute before the movie starts, which is either frustrating, or a helpful aide to ease you into the experience.

The Stuff does it a bit differently. As it casts aside any association with production studios, the first frame jumps into the setup of the story, producing a jarring effect that doesn't really let up for the rest of the story. I guess, you could say, it helps set the tone for the rest of the movie, as it does away with any pretense that this is a legitimate film. Or maybe the copy of the movie we were watching had that element cut out - which is highly unlikely as it's never happened before. The scene is pretty simple and plays out the brief description of the film I read beforehand: a miner discovers a white ooze coming out of the ground, tastes it to find that it's delicious, then immediately declares that he can make a fortune selling it. Then we get a bit of overlay credits, including the title of the film, which affirms to me that we didn't just start the movie ten minutes in.

We're quickly introduced to Mo, a corporate saboteur who takes a contract from the ice cream industry to look into how the white ooze is made, as it is now packaged and sold as The Stuff. Mo is played by Michael Moriarty with an absolute genius performance, nearly breaking the fourth wall in scenes so ridiculous that they must have gone through many takes to get. He works with what he gets though, with some truly ridiculous dialogue, but is also given an opportunity to improvise in many of the scenes. So much of his dialogue is delivered through a half smile, that it's either a perfectly content, smug, confident character or it's just that laughable. Either way, it's an absolute treat to watch.

A young boy sees The Stuff moving on its own inside his family's refrigerator and freaks out - of course, but takes it to a whole new level by going on a rampage in the grocery store. The kid really plays it up, and tries to evade his family who are now under the control of the white ooze. It doesn't take long before he teams up with Mo (and is quickly abandoned without much thought) to discover the source of The Stuff and what it's doing to the populace of the country. They're joined by the woman who spearheaded the advertising campaign to make The Stuff as popular as it is, although at one point she mentions that it practically sells itself. The crew is also joined for a bit by "Chocolate Chip Charlie," who if I can recall was a CEO of a cookie company who has been kicked aside. So he fights back with his fists, which leads us into some nice comedic, gruesome fights.

The film moves along at a good pace, typically getting right into the substance of each scene. I think the movie achieves more than it's B-Movie goals, providing us with cult movie fuel by embracing the absurd and running with it. Larry Cohen, the director, was aiming to put a bit of commentary in on consumerism in the 80's, with an exaggerated parallel to the cigarette and alcohol industry: it may be bad for us, but we can't stop ourselves from consuming more and the overbearing advertising serves as a reminder and push to use/drink/ eat more. Just as in Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD, victims of The Stuff become zombies, their minds controlled and bent on spreading the ooze to more carriers. Messages of corporate greed, control and corruption are hammered home, especially after the day has been saved. The film has been described as a bit of a time capsule for the decade, so it's a fascinating way to look back at the years where I was just a child, oblivious to it all but still very much part of it.

"Enough is never enough"

Computer Build of 2014: Murney

All the parts were spread in front of me on the table. They beckoned my name, but they felt disjointed; like
they didn't belong where they were. They knew their place and were confused why they weren't there, and it's entirely my fault. On a slow Thursday at work, I took the plunge and began ordering computer parts online. Months of research had thrown me into analysis paralysis. It took one post - a recommended system - to snap me out of it into the purchasing mode. It was quick; it was furious; it was expensive. Twelve hours later my credit card would be locked, and I would spend twenty minutes on the phone taking quizzes about my credit history and my shopping habits over the past twenty four hours. My credit card company was staging a kind of pre-intervention before my habit spun out of control too quickly.

Enemy

I wasn't aware of the term 'ambigious cinema' until after reading some reviews of Denis Villeneuve's latest
film, ENEMY. After seeing the term, I was washed over with happiness as it instantly set alight to a list of films in memory that would instantly fall under the label. Those movies were ambiguous enough, that I didn't want the added stress of having to file it away in my mind some where. The way I see it, the distribution of people that enjoy these films is polarizing, although, I will attempt to buck the trend and put myself in the middle (and upon further thinking, skew myself toward enjoyment moreso than hatred). You see it happening more often, but not in Hollywood. Films like THE GREY slip by with an ambiguous ending, although it was easier to process and interpret your own ending. I presume that everybody in the audience who groaned at the lack of the ending are not fans of this type of cinema. With THE GREY, you could easily draw your own meaning. With ENEMY, the task is not so clear. In fact, the film works against interpretation, creating abstraction with the intent to bewilder. As the credits fade onto screen at the end of the film, you're going to sit there, staring blankly with your mouth open. Your brain goes into a desperation mode, as it reaches the far corners of your cob-webbed mind looking for meaning.

This is especially true for the very end scene of ENEMY.

Again, you're either going to really like that, or absolutely hate it. I can sympathize with both, although be warned, I really did enjoy the ending. One of the first thoughts you grab onto was one my friend said: "you can see why it didn't have a wide release." It's almost a shame, but it's also the harsh truth. You know there must be meaning, right? You're just missing it. You try to draw the line from beginning to end, connecting some of the strange imagery, story and characters together. This may be the first mistake: lines don't always connect, and they don't always run straight. Consider time, for a moment. It's linear: past, present and future. But expand into the idea that time is not straight. Time is cyclical, perhaps. Time overlaps on itself. I really don't want to get too much into what I drew out of the film, so as to not spoil the experience for you. I knew next to nothing about this film, aside from Jake Gyllenhaal's killer beard and it being filmed in Toronto. The tagline reads "A man seeks out his exact look-alike after spotting him in a movie." It seems simple enough, and it is - but it's not. It truly was an incredible experience.

So in the spirit of ambiguous cinema, you may be reading an incredibly ambiguous review, if you can even call it a review.

Jake's performance is top notch, as he plays two characters in one film where the subleties between the two are incredibly important. They are look-alikes in the most literal sense of the term. There are times when you're not sure which one you're seeing, especially early on. And when you discover that they are identical, your mind will race back to see if you've been fooled earlier in the film. It won't have much time though, as you become preoccupied with the current scene. ENEMY does not do what you expect, as you sit on the edge of your seat throughout. I couldn't stop thinking about what I would do if I came across my doppelganger in a situation like this. The movie is vividly coloured yellow. What does it mean? Is the movie about one man's struggle with himself? Is it a struggle against a greater power? The film moves slowly about, although the pacing is actually quite tight, as is every scene.

Just like that, I'll end this entry. ENEMY is a movie that begs to seen multiple times, and it deserves it too. It's not meant to be understood immediately: like a fine piece of art you can revisit it to discover something new, or look for further meaning. Discuss it with friends, read reviews. Watch it with an open mind. It deserves to be seen.

Feed the Voices: The Book

The trip up to see my family is a long one; clocking in at nearly six hours, it leaves me quite a bit of time for thought (which can be dangerous) and listening opportunities (be they podcasts or music). I was making the journey in February of 2013, when my thoughts drifted toward one of my good friends and how I've neglected his birthday nearly every single year. We have done a bit of a gift exchange in the past, which was always a book or DVD/Bluray, but the guilt for not actually being there on the day itself was starting to tear at me. And instead of apologizing (again and again) I decided to buy my apology in a heart felt gift.

We started blogging around the same time, and have encouraged one another to continue throughout the years. There would be long talks on content, site statistics and generally: doing more with the blog than simply write and post. We played around with the idea of putting our posts together into a book. Creating something physical out of the virtual was a noble goal, and brought with it a certain weight to what we were spending our time doing. In this online world, the printed word is still held with a regard of realism.

Edge of Tomorrow

Last summer, Oblivion took me by surprise and currently stands as one of my favourite movies (of the past few years, at least). So seeing previews of Edge of Tomorrow brought about an anticipation and excitement for another Tom Cruise sci-fi adventure that was ultimately - and pleasantly - fulfilled earlier this week. There was a fleeting moment of anxiety as the theatre dimmed that the movie would not meet the expectations I had, or that it wouldn't impress me in the same way that Oblivion did last year (a fair comparison). Edge of Tomorrow does not disappoint; if anything, it exceeded my expectations and proves itself as a solid sci-fi action movie.

I spent entirely too much time talking about Cruise in my previous entry about Oblivion, giving very little insight into my enjoyment of the movie. It was a film that took many elements of my other, favourite sci-fi films and seemingly blended it into one satisfying vision of the future, and that's all I could say about it. Right now, that's all I could say about it too. In browsing the web the other day, I saw a blurb about Oblivion: how it was all surface, with no depth - and how this isn't actually a bad thing. Yes, it feels great to enjoy a movie on many different levels, but it's also possible to enjoy a movie that is, for lack of a better term, flat. There is no hidden meaning in Oblivion, no subtle context or commentary. What you see is what you get, and in that, it excels. They could have thrown elements of environmentalism to us (how we will inevitably destroy our own planet) or even hint at the brashness of humanity when we clash with aliens. They could have, but it's all been done before, so why not focus on a simple, perfectly executed story line that is universally comprehensible. The movie moves at a perfect pace, characters are well rounded, the music ties it all together (thanks M83) and visuals, along with the special effects, are understated and beautiful.

Edge of Tomorrow could be seen as a second story in the building that Oblivion has laid the groundwork on: a building whose initial purpose is to deliver to us an approachable, successful science fiction film. If not, the two movies go practically hand in hand if for no other reason than having Tom Cruise playing the same character to bring us forward. Edge of Tomorrow raises the stakes though, by introducing a time travel mechanism that will inevitable confuse movie goers. This is a fact: time travel is confusing, as when anybody who puts any thought into it can attest. You could spend more time talking about the time travel mechanics in Looper than you would any other element of the film, and in the end, it seems that it can only detract from the experience. People would be too quick to point out fallacies. Others don't want to put the brain power into it. So it's important to make the rules of your science fiction mechanic very clear in the movie; it should teach you, sell you on it and put it on the backburner for the rest of the film. This is exactly what Edge of Tomorrow does perfectly.

Just like Oblivion borrows heavily from other films within the genre, Edge of Tomorrow's main mechanic has been seen before in the movie Groundhog Day, which should be immediately recognizable to most audiences. In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray's character is forced to live the same day over again, until he "gets things right." It's a comedy that turns romantic, that could have became incredibly grim - when you spend time thinking of it, and put yourself in his shoes, the suicide montage that plays off comedically in the film is the depressing and dismally inevitable result of living the same day thousands of times. It's not a stretch to believe Phil was travelling through a level of hell in this movie; luckily, the film expertly guides us away from the grim reality of Phil's phenomenon. In Edge of Tomorrow, Tom Cruise's character, Cage, is stuck in a similar loop of living the same day over again - an ability that the aliens themselves possessed and have presumably used to all but conquer the planet. Every time he dies, he wakes up the previous day and has to relive it again. The premise, of course, being that he gets better every time he cycles, become a great warrior. Can he make a difference though?

We're treated to a couple of "death montages" that actually play out with some dark comedy, but it doesn't take long for the film to really get underway. We're introduced to Emily Blunt's character, who adds more weight to the film - she does a great job, and the story takes the right direction. I thought initially it would become fairly predictable, but I'm happy to have experienced a couple of satisfying turns, and some clever ways to develop these characters while still retaining focus on the end mission. The special effects are - as expected - amazing. While the "Live. Die. Repeat." tagline is front and centre, we're treated to some neat exoskeleton combat suits, mind-bending action sequences and a world that manages to convey a realistic future. The director, Doug Liman, keeps things tight and moves things along well. I'm not left with many criticisms. We're also not left with questionable paradoxes: the movie instructs us, doesn't break its own rules and delivers on all front. I'm not convinced there is much more than the surface here, and that's not a bad thing. I'll be sure to check this film out again, and I look forward to it.

Pompeii

My parents have always been big movie fans, often seeing everything that comes to the theatre regardless if
it's good or bad. Whenever I go visit them, I eagerly anticipate watching a movie in one of their many recliners, embraced by the heavy blanket embroidered with majestic golden retrievers. The air conditioning typically runs high, so the blanket is needed, and the end result is a cozy movie watching experience that only mom could provide.

On a recent visit, my father was listing off the movies that we could watch. I'd seen many of them, but voted for Pompeii. My perception of the movie made it seem like a good match, and it didn't matter that everybody said the movie was terrible. If anything, that works for the movie in these situations. I often can't take my mom's word for the quality of a film, as she tends to enjoy it all - unless it's overly violent, vulgar or offensive. Pompeii is a PG-13 rated film that has been scientifically melded together to be as inoffensive as possible: you won't find much blood here (although there is violence), a lack of skin, no sign of band language, and simple leading characters with names you don't need to remember.

The story is familiar for anybody who has watched movies in the past, and the Pompeii name is going to be familiar to many who learned about the disaster in school. To catch everyone up though on the story, Pompeii was an ancient city that was devastated by the eruption of the nearby Mount Vesuvius in the year 79AD. Instant death occured for most of the inhabitants, estimated at around twenty thousand. The city was then covered in many metres of ash, where it would remain for another thousand years before the city (and a neighboring town) were rediscovered, so to speak. What you see in many images of are the result of injecting plaster into the digs, which exposed "perfectly" preserved people and animals, in various living and dying states. The images are both fascinating and unsettling; a reminder of how fragile life is and how humanity seems to love living on the edge. Indeed, there are over 3 million people living close to Vesuvius now.

So how do you fit that into a full length feature film? Well, you first watch Gladiator a few times to figure out what worked for it, then remove those elements. Halfway through your film, have the volcano explode and we can proceed to run frantically around, and hope that our hero gets away with his girl, and the villain is taken out with a gigantic, burning rock. Use Pompeii for the backdrop, because people will actually recognize the name. It's a recipe for success, right? With a budget reportedly hanging around $100 million, the film would gross just $23 million ($98 mil internationally) to become classified as a gigantic flop. And unfortunately it's not even the type of movie that will live well afterward, perhaps picking up a cult following of sorts. No, this is an example of a movie that will be forgotten, only coming up as a footnote in articles describing the history of the ancient town.

Is the movie all that bad? It is - and it's not. For a formulaic, inoffensive romp of special effects, it could have done much worse. It's just that the story has been done before, and this brings nothing new to the table. Gladiator was released in 2000, was a brilliant film and still in the minds of movie-goers, so a film like this may seem like a bit of a cheaper, weaker rip off. What stands out then are the elements missing from Pompeii that really made Gladiator shine, which is nearly everything: real emotion, motivation, context, acting, pacing, etc. The list goes on. Pompeii is empty and harmless. But it may not be fair to compare this to Gladiator in the end: Pompeii could have done much worse. Kit Harrington and Emily Browning were decent enough, and it's always nice to see Jared Harris on screen. I haven't seen Carrie-Ann Moss in anything in what seems like ages. Keither Sutherland though, damn. If anybody could be accused of phoning in a performance, this is definitely it. I'm thinking the movie would have been better off without his character at all, and instead spend more time on building the chemistry between our main love interests and our hero's rise from orphan to slave, from slave to gladiator, and from gladiator to free man. The shining star in this film has to be Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, who plays another gladiator who must do battle one more time before earning his own freedom. You may recognize him as Eko from LOST, or from other films like Thor, and The Mummy Returns. Let's get a Pompeii prequel that focuses entirely on Atticus' story. Now that, could be great.

Godzilla

There is a tremendous amount of guilt when I tell myself - and others - that Godzilla has been an institution in my life since, well, as long as I can remember. In the mid-eighties my father and I would spend an inordinate amount of time watching Godzilla movies on Betamax. My favourite around the time was GODZILLA 1985, although I haven't seen it in years (and reviews indicate it may be one of the worst). The guilt comes from not having watched any for a solid period of time, perhaps fifteen years or more; the only exception was taking a break to watch GODZILLA 2000 and of course, the abomination of Hollywood's 1998 remake. For one of my birthdays, my friend obtained a large amount of the franchise films and we watched a few, and it was all new to me. It turns out I don't know much about Godzilla, but that hasn't stopped me from loving the character, or falling into a warm, nostalgic bliss when I recall Sunday afternoon's spent in front of the black and white set watching the King of Monsters' exploits as a child.



There's no better way to break back into the Godzilla franchise than experiencing it on the largest scale possible, the IMAX screen. If a large screen was ever needed, it's to fit the scale of Godzilla himself. So it was a Monday afternoon when my friend and I undertook the mission, plopped down our cash and strolled into the IMAX screen. The ominous voice told us it was time to put on our 3D glasses; we obliged, and the famous IMAX countdown began. When it hit 2, then 1, a quiet moan turned into a monstrous thunder of rage and fear inducing terror that only the voice of Godzilla could pull off. The roar of Godzilla brought shivers down my spine. I was instantly transported back in time as nostalgia reached out and caressed the back of my head. At this point I had a feeling that this was going to be it: I was going to love this movie regardless if it was terrible or not. If all I got was an amazing rendition of the King himself, with more of that mighty roar, I would be satisfied.

So at this point, my opinion may be skewed into bias. I loved this film. The slow build-up and reveal of the King of Monsters was perfect. Godzilla himself looked incredible: he had all the appearances of the Godzilla we've come to know and love, and none of the giant lizard monstrosity that appeared in Roland Emmerich's 1998 attempt. His sound was spot on, and loud, just as it should be. This is exactly how a young Ryebone would picture Godzilla in the future: larger, louder, full of menace and warmth. Satisfaction was finally here.

In the 1998 version they attempted to make Godzilla the villain, which he inherently will be, as he tromps through cities causing death and destruction. And that's how Godzilla first appeared, in 1954 (and 1956 in the American butchering). Godzilla represents the nuclear threat, a man-made terror that we unleash on ourselves and once out, are unable to stop. This remake takes the focus away from monster-as-man's-creation and puts humanity as the semi-hapless victim (they are partially responsible, but the film focuses elsewhere), which is a significant change that doesn't really detract from the quality of the film, but definitely takes away potential, meaningful depth that could help the film long term.

It's unfortunate then as well, that the acting stood out as particularly terrible. Our main protagonist was barely that, played with wooden stoicism by Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who you may remember from the Kick-Ass films. He may be a victim of the script, which doesn't give him a lot to work with: his character is fairly passive and seems to wander from location to location, coming into close contact with more important characters through sheer chance than anything else. It would have all been forgiven though, if it wasn't for the great job that Elizabeth Olson did opposite Johnson's character. The scene was lopsided, awkward and seemingly cut short out of embarrassment. Bryan Cranston delivers, of course, but he doesn't get nearly as much screen time as he deserves and what the film actually needs. I would have thought that Ken Watanabe would be more significant as well, but he seems to be stuck in a daze throughout the film. I'll blame the script for that one. When you boil it down, it seems there were quite a few missed opportunities: they had the right actors, but didn't do the right things with them.

A slow build-up to Godzilla and his fight scenes may put off the modern viewer, but they are faithful to the Toho films of past and allowed the anticipation to build to a solid pay off, although we could have used a bit more (who wouldn't want more, really). There are times when the camera seems to cut off too early, but I feel as though it executed properly. Gareth Edwards was able to capture Godzilla's character and makes us see why he's named the King of Monsters. It doesn't blatantly set us up for a sequel - although there will be one - and stands tall in the franchise. The problems and missed opportunities will not get in the way of the child-like awe and giddiness that I felt throughout the film. It's an excited state that I haven't felt at the movies in quite some time, and seems rather fitting that it comes back here.

The Amazing Spider-Man 2

That the general public wasn't ready for a Spider-Man reboot ten years after the release of the "original" in 2002 is proven by the relatively poor box office numbers the new one has managed to do. However, I think it's safe to say that everyone is happy that it wasn't as bad as Spider-Man 3, which was a boneheaded mess (for the most part). I didn't really care for The Amazing Spider-Man in 2012, but it wasn't terrible. I like to think that it would have done much better if it wasn't overshadowed by Marvel's runaway juggernaut of The Avengers films. And as time keeps on churning, the need to bring the largest Marvel properties back into the fold of the home studio is becoming more pertinent with every release. Sony did a good job twelve years ago, but Marvel came in and disrupted the whole thing. We wanted a crossover with X-Men as well back then, but the fact that different studios licensed our beloved characters all but cemented that this will not happen. Enter Marvel, who turned the comic book movie industry on it's head. With the advent of Spider-Man 2, Sony is talking about a similar structure, albeit with purely Spidey related characters - the only ones they are licensed for. They're talking Sinister Six and spin off movies, so it's relevant to look at this singular movie not only as a Spider-Man sequel, but as a setting off point for a gargantuan franchise of movies, television series and toy lines.


The first movie in this series did not impress me. I felt as though they messed with the origin of Spider-Man just a bit too much: they took him away from the wrestling ring yes, but what really got me was Peter Parker as a character. That is to say, he was ass. And I don't want to discredit that Parker was an ass in the original story, but he had good reason for it (kind of). My issue is that Parker is an ass throughout the entire film. He's kind of a passive aggressive bully with a jerk attitude that just didn't fly with me. I chalked it up to modern times: this is a remake for the current generation. I realized that Spider-Man was not being written for me anymore, but molded into a persona that current kids can relate to. So yeah, I'm just too old now, great. There were also a few ridiculous elements in the movie, and maybe too-convenient coincidences but overall, it was a decent ride, just not entirely my thing. As a child, I collected Spider-Man comics like it was nobody's business - they make up the bulk of my collection. And today, when I look at a modern comic or storyline, I become bewildered, and swing back to my old collection of eighties and nineties comics where I find comfort in the writing and art styles (except Spectacular Spider-Man, the art always bothered me in that title).

So I was pleasantly surprised in The Amazing Spider-Man 2. It was pretty good!

First, there was the acting, which I think has improved greatly since the first iteration. Garfield is definitely hitting a comfort spot here and has dropped the smug, jerk like mannerisms. Emma Stone turns in another good performance, as she has more to work with in this film. What it equates to real, genuine (I'm buying it) on screen chemistry which helps the film quite a bit and actually leaves the original trilogy in the dust (many moments between Maguire and Dunst were just weird). The rest of the cast, including Foxx as Electro, is full of talent and put in decent performances.

This isn't a Spider-Man origin story, which helps (for me) my enjoyment of the film. We've sat through enough already, so moving on to something new feels refreshing. Tackling new villains is perfect, although I will say that I don't feel as though Electro had much motivation or screen time. The same could be said for other villains, although I appreciate that Rhino merely book-ended the film, which lends itself to appearing in future movies. It's become pretty defacto that our favourite villains will be enhanced through technology, as opposed to their original powers. X-Men set the standard for costumes that will work on screen, and this is no different, as the villains take on somewhat realistic looks, although I'm glad to see them go over the top a bit. Electro looked very cool, although it reminded me too much of a recent video game release. You could easily say the movie dragged on too long - and it did. The movie's plot didn't necessarily focus on what I want it to, and spent a lot of time on Peter and Gwen's relationship. Which is great and all, but I got it already, you know? The movie isn't necessarily subtle, and because of this, I feel it wastes some time here and there.

Spider-Man, as depicted on the streets fighting crime, has matured a bit in his juvenility: he's quick with his wit, and is more comfortable with both criminals and fighting. He's tormented though, and in wanting to protect everyone he pushes them away. With great power, right? I'm really looking forward to the third film now, to see where Spider-Man's actual character goes: they introduce villains but they also grow Spidey's character, so we should have a fairly solid trilogy. Then where? Well, they were talking about Sinister Six, which is always classic. They've firmly established that all these great villains will be a byproduct of Oscorp special projects working in the dark, which is fine I suppose; it's a popular comic book trope. Spin off movies? Maybe we can get a Black Cat film to help fill the lack of female heroes on screen. He has one of the largest, most diverse rogues gallery in the industry, so there is a lot to tap into. We got a glimpse of a solid Sandman story in Spider-Man 3 (I believe - if the rumours are true - that he was the focus of the third film, when the studio forced Raimi to include more villains and plot than the movie could sustain) that was driven not by a greedy criminal, but a man trying to make ends and doing anything for his family. Done right and with some actual character study, there could be a long list of movies featuring Spider-Man villains that could lead into a mixed movie. They could do for villains what The Avengers did for heroes, and because it hasn't really been done before, it would feel fresh.

Sorcerer

As I "review" films I often make a note of what my expectations were going into the film, and how those
expectations affect my level of enjoyment. It's typically an inverse relationship with low expectations often resulting in a high enjoyment of the film. That is to say, it's easier to enjoy a movie if you bring in low expectations, as it's harder to enjoy a movie with high expectations. Oftentimes, I think of it as a crutch, and it's easy to dismiss or praise a film based on that binary scale. Every so often though, I bring in expectations not of general quality, but regarding specific elements, which can either be met or not met, and in turn, my satisfaction could go either way. For an early example, I look back to the original Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. In this case, I knew very little and didn't expect very much, but I did want to see some great skeletal action - you could say I wanted an update on the old Clash of the Titans skeleton combat that I so thoroughly enjoyed as a child. I got it, and much more (did anyone expect such a clever performance from Depp though, really).

Over the past few weeks I've been keeping tabs on the latest Blu-ray releases, and saw a movie named Sorcerer come up on a frequent basis. I hadn't heard of the film before, and for some reason, I never sought out any information on it. I would see the cover art - and this is crucial - in thumbnail form alongside other April releases, but I would never click on it. I saw news of different editions, and discovered that the film is from 1977 and directed by William Friedkin, a name of whom I did not recognize (although in retrospect I should have, being the director of The Exorcist). None of this was on purpose, but it ended up being quite the experiment in what your expectations can do to a film.

I'll allow you to stop reading now if you don't want to know more about the movie - an effort for me to pass onto you the ability to view the movie with a completely blank slate. (So spoilers ensue, of course.)