The Sixth Sense

The Sixth Sense featured a twist that these days seems totally obvious. I never like spoiling ends, even for films that are twenty years old. (I don't even like to discuss the ending of Citizen Kane.) But the twist in The Sixth Sense is not so important. I initially thought upon re-watching this horror film, written and directed by M. Night Shyaamalan, that knowing what happens at the end might make the movie feel like a one-trick pony. (For the record, I can't remember if a friend had actually spoiled it for me when I was a kid.) Fortunately, the movie, despite a dull start, has retained its wonder twenty years on.

Bruce Willis stars as Malcolm Crowe, a child psychologist in Philadelphia who appears to be going through a schism with his wife, played by Olivia Williams, and his career is not what it used to be. He does, though, take up a case of a young boy named Cole, played by Haley Joel Osment. Cole demonstrates peculiar behavior, including emotional outbursts, and he always seems to be around when something creepy happens. His mother, for example, played by Toni Collette, screams when she comes back in the kitchen after only a moment to discover that all the cupboards and drawers have been opened (she believes) by Cole.

That really is about all the plot you need to know.

The Sixth Sense may be an atmospheric supernatural horror film that requires considerable more patience than the average thriller, but this, of course, is not a bad thing. And if you know what happens at the end, it can at first make the journey seem considerably less enjoyable. But the acting really helps elevate the film. It was an impressive change of genres for Willis, who then (and now) was known primarily for comedies, dramas, and action films. But the actors who deserve the most praise are Osment and Collette.

Two of Toni Collette's highest-rated films have been horror films: this and last year's deeply disturbing Hereditary. In both, she is required to react a lot, but in the latter there is much more screaming, which isn't as impressive as the quietness that she displays here. Her character as the mother struggling to help her child (as some believe she might be the cause of his pain) is the most interesting in the film, and her scenes with Osment feature the film's best acting and some of the most powerful moments. Then, of course, there's Osment. His performance for the first part of the film essentially boils down to the trope of the creepy kid in school with invisible friends. But then there is a scene that helps him stand out as the breakthrough star of the film, when he is in class and his History teacher tells him his answer about the history of the school building is wrong. Cole tells the class that people were hanged there; how he knows this information is not clear at first. When his teacher gives him a look he doesn't like, it sets him off. Somehow, he knows that his teacher overcame a stutter, and he closes his eyes and starts screaming "Stuttering Stanley" until his teacher loses it. It's the first case of remarkable acting from Osment. He channels that energy again when the bullies lock him up in a tiny closet in which he is not the only one. The third time is the moment everyone remembers. He's cold, bundled up in a hospital bed, and he's ready to tell Malcolm his secret.

After The Sixth Sense became a smash hit, Shyamalan was crowned "the next Spielberg", an enormously high standard for any filmmaker to reach, one that ultimately proved impossible. His exceptional story-telling skills have come mainly from his directing and less from his script writing. Some of the dialogue, and especially Malcolm's "eureka" moment when he suddenly is convinced that Cole is right, are evidence of this. But I can hardly blame the media for hailing him as the next Spielberg. The Munchausen by Proxy scene is superbly filmed, assisted by the crisp cinematography of Tak Fujimoto and a hauntingly beautiful score by James Newton Howard. All of this is most apparent in the final scene, the famous twist. The way that scene unfolds is the ultimate cinematic shiver down the spinal.

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El Camino

Breaking Bad was not a show that seemed to have a need to continue its story. Closure was provided for many of the characters, and yet there was enough to entice people into watching the spinoff series Better Call Saul to explore how Jimmy McGill became Saul Goodman. And during that final episode of Breaking Bad, fans cheered as Jesse Pickman, played by Aaron Paul, finally escaped his confinement by neo-Nazis and sped off into the night. The more deserving of the drug-making duo had his redemption and his escape. But did he escape? What happened immediately after?

El Camino (or by its worse title, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie) begins immediately after Felina, the series finale that aired six years ago. Jesse flees, but of course his journey isn't finished: there are cop cars ahead. His redemption is not yet complete, and he can't just "put things right," as a friend tells him. Instead, he's a person of interest by the police, and there are some former accomplices of the neo-Nazis who are after the same money Jesse is. Jesse's only chance at getting away from the police and starting completely over is to get the money of his former captor, Todd, played here in Stockholm Syndrome flashbacks by Jesse Plemons, who was once dubbed "Meth Damon" by the internet when he appeared on the show. Having an actor like Plemons reappear is a bit of an odd choice. For one, it's noticeable that Plemons has aged since his appearances in Breaking Bad. No expensive Irishman de-aging for this Netflix special.

Paul, though, as Jesse, retains his boyish looks, but his face is scared, reciting monologues without even uttering any word. It's clear he's going through post-traumatic stress. He's not out for revenge, only survival. Thus, he's also not out for a good time anymore; this is radically different from the Jesse Pinkman we first met in 2008. Now, he's the one who knocks. (For the record, in my humble opinion, that line from the original series is probably the worst and most overrated.)

If there is a villain in this film, it is Neil, (Scott MacArthur), a welder who worked for the neo-Nazis, enjoyed the torture and humiliation of Jesse, and now is after the same money. Beyond that, there are few new characters. As expected, it's practically a family reunion, with several appearances from Breaking Bad alum. One of them is Robert Forster as the vacuum repair man who, for the right amount of money, can supply Jesse (as he did for Walter and Saul) all the items he needs to relocate and start over. Forster passed away the day the film premiered. His first scene here with Paul is fantastic. It allows us to see a spark of that humor of early, smart-ass Jesse against that calm, no-nonsense demeanor of Forster as Ed. Additionally, Marshall Adams' excellent cinematography sustains the look of this universe.

It was mentioned earlier that no one would ever claim that the Breaking Bad series would never need a follow-up. This is true. But it's also true that at times the plot and watching these characters, some new and some old, makes the whole thing feel unnecessary. I can't say that El Camino is a film not worth your time, but of the three on-screen depictions of this universe, this is the least memorable.

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Joker

I guess I can't say I'm right all the time anymore. Back in April, I wrote that few would like Joker, the newest DC film that takes a radical step away in tone and style from other DC films. In the strictest sense, I was wrong: During its roller-coaster ride that has seen it win the top prize at the Venice Film Festival but also be the subject of multiple controversies, Joker has maintained a nearly seventy-percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, with an audience score of ninety percent. Clearly, many like the film, with some hailing it a masterpiece. That being said, the fundamental problems I predicted would be present are indeed there, namely that it provides too much of a good thing (in this case, an iconic figure in American pop culture) while at the same time sympathizing with a mass murderer in an era where that could have dangerous repercussions. As if that wasn't enough, this Joker is suffering from mental health issues, likely further convincing some people that violence of this sort is usually caused by people with mental health problems.

With all that stacked against it, Joker does (as predicted) feature a stellar performance from its lead. Joaquin Phoenix is the Joker here, filling large shoes of those before him, among them Caesar Romero, Jack Nicholson, Mark Hamill, and Heath Ledger. Is his the best or one of the best? More on that later. At any rate, most of the time we do not see him as Batman's arch nemesis. Instead, we see him in the form of Arthur Fleck, a struggling clown-for-hire who is off in many ways, chief among them his poxy attempts at stand-up comedy (which is one of the few things the film adapts from previous comic book material). He lives with his ailing mother, played by Frances Conroy, whom he devotedly cares for. This is 1981, the era before a dozen late-night hosts, and so they almost religiously watch the late-night comedy of Murray Franklin, played by Robert De Niro. Arthur literally dreams of being on Murray's show.

A plot such as this does not lend itself to much alien fighting or saving the world in implausible fashion. A lot of the word of mouth about Joker has been that it's not really a comic book movie. Batman is not in this film (though there are several too-cute-to-spoil Batman Easter Eggs sprinkled throughout), and instead of being an action-packed CGI fest like Man of Steel or Suicide Squad, Joker channels notable influences from gritty Martin Scorsese-directed films from the 1970s and 1980s; Gotham feels like the New York City of Taxi Driver, and it's only when we get a few verbal reminders that it's Gotham that we remember we're viewing a comic book film. Other elements from the Batman universe here include Arkham Hospital and the character of Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father, played here in one of the film's best performances by Thomas Cullen. He's still a billionaire in this film, but also an insufferable plutocrat, smugly describing those struggling to get by in Gotham as clowns. Joker is surprisingly interested in classism and literal class warfare, and depending on your perspective, you will likely come away with different conclusions.

This is all fine, but it comes at a cost. A little bit of the Joker goes a long way (see all the other portrayals of him, particularly Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight). But having him in literally every scene is borderline taxing. Defenders of Joker might note that for most of the film, he's not the Joker, but Arthur Fleck. But it doesn't matter, for Fleck isn't all that interesting. Call my taste stale if you must, but I was so much more invested in watching Phoenix as the Joker than I was watching him as Arthur. It's hard to compare Phoenix to the other Jokers because to me he basically wasn't the Joker. When he is, it seems like it's over in a flash. One can tell the amount of thought and tribulations that went into his performance of Arthur; as the Joker, some of his choices are more perplexing. There was so much more potential there, and yet it seems like they ran out of time. But it's still the most interesting part of the movie; I think they were the only scenes when I wasn't looking at my watch.

The movie itself really wants to shout that it has little to do with comic books, but its best parts embrace it. Director Todd Phillips put it this way: "We're gonna take $55 million from Warner Bros. and do whatever the hell we want." Who could blame him for taking that attitude? This movie craves Oscar attention, and truth be told, Phoenix and cinematographer Lawrence Sher likely will (and should) be nominated during the awards season. But comic book movies rarely are rewarded with trophies, especially when articles gush about Leonardo DiCaprio being a global movie star without appearing in a superhero movie and iconic directors decry comic book movies as "not cinema". Joker wants to be "cinema", not "not cinema". You therefore have to put up with a lot of exigent Arthur stuff just to get to the Joker (even though the Joker is the reason why most audience members are actually going to see the movie), and then, like me, you might like those latter moments while still being befuddled by them.

Perhaps I was disappointed in Joker because I thought the film (especially the first half) engages in far too much bully porn. Arthur is attacked by a group of cruel kids who beat him mercilessly; not long after, practically the same thing happens to him by a trio of Wall Street jerks. The other for-hire clowns find him creepy. At one point, he's even hit by a car. Another reason why I believe this movie is not so great is that, as I predicted in April, the sympathy granted to such a maliciously evil character is unpalatable. There's a fine line between producing a portrait of a bullied, lonely man and producing a portrait that comes across as sympathizing with a mass murderer. The concern, written about ad nauseam by now, is that there are some young white men out there who feel like this story really speaks to them, and that is an alarming thing. We've all been reminded that the Aurora, Colorado shooter was dressed as the Joker and murdered audience members watching The Dark Knight Rises. (Joker has not been screened in Aurora.) And so, as is often the case with policy towards violence in the United States, we've all just been holding our breaths and keeping our fingers crossed.

Besides Taxi Driver, Joker is heavily inspired by The King of Comedy, the dark comedy directed by Scorsese from 1982 starring Robert De Niro as a terribly unfunny comedian-wannabe who kidnaps a late-night host played by Jerry Lewis. Having De Niro here as Murray Franklin, a Johnny Carson-esque late-night host similar to Lewis' character, adds extra weight. Arthur idolizes Murray, up until Arthur's stand-up makes him a comedic punching bag on Murray's show. It's rather surreal watching Arthur awkwardly on the Murray show, given that one of the most notable moments in Phoenix's career is the famous prank (if that's the right word) interview he did with David Letterman in 2010, which is still one of the most incredible interviews you can see.

One bright spot in this morbid film is Phoenix, who's fantastic. It's a showy performance, to be sure. He cries, he screams, he dances (and boy, can he dance). But the metamorphosis he went through for Joker is almost unparalleled. Even without the severe weight decrease and that unforgettable laugh, the minute details of his performance will stay with you, whether you know it or not, like the way his mouth shifts ever so slightly when he asks "what?", with just a hint of a slightly emphasized occlusive. Should he win an Oscar for his performance (an award long overdue), it would be only the second time two actors have won for playing the same character, with the other two being De Niro and Marlon Brando, who both played Vito Corleone in The Godfather films. I hope he wins, even if he's in an unremarkable movie that really wants you to believe is something more profound than it actually is.

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Rocketman (And a List of the 50 Best Elton John Songs)

"I've always wanted to smash a guitar over someone's head. You just can't do that with a piano."
-Elton John

Rocketman, the biographical musical about Elton John from his childhood until the 1980s, is yet another rags-to-riches tale of a rock star who flew a little close to the sun. Fortunately, Rocketman, though not the best, is less dull than last year's similar film. It might be unfair to do so, but I do not know how to view this film and reflect on it without comparing it to Bohemian Rhapsody, the Oscar-winning biographical film on Queen singer Freddie Mercury. Both were directed by Dexter Fletcher (though he didn't receive credit for Bohemian Rhapsody because he replaced ousted Bryan Singer), both deal with real-life queer artists, and both, obviously, portray iconic British rock stars. But the similarities don't stop there. Both feature the manager John Reid, who is played here by Richard Madden. (Reid was portrayed, a bit more sympathetically, by Aiden Gillen in Bohemian Rhapsody.)

Rocketman is undeniably better than Bohemian Rhapsody. For one, it's far less stale (though inevitably at least a little too similar to all the other biographical films of famous musicians over the years). Bohemian Rhapsody was a realistic musical from the very beginnings of Queen until the famous Live Aid concert less than a decade before Mercury died. The songs you heard in that film largely showed the behind-the-scenes drama in making them. In Rocketman, the famous Elton John songs serve as impetuses for set pieces, often with energetic choreography to back them up. They are placed as if they would be in a Broadway musical, driving the narrative and that sort of thing. At the beginning of the film, for example, John shows up in one of his elaborate, camp show costumes to an addicts meeting. He's a smart aleck in his response to the leader's questions, shrugging them off with a joke that falls flat about how his dealer was out of town so the meeting seemed like the next best thing. But then he sees an image of his younger self (played by Matthew Illesley), and because one of his most famous songs contains the opening lyrics of "I was justified when I was five, raisin' Cain, I spit in your eye," the opening number is "The Bitch Is Back," one of his most beloved.

A better example of this is its use of "Crocodile Rock", which we see him play during his U.S. debut at the Troubadour in 1970. (Fact check: Elton John didn't play "Crocodile Rock" at the Troubadour in 1970 because the song wasn't released until 1972.) In a fantastical style, Fletcher and his crew channel the famous photo of John hovering in air to temporarily turn the film into a fantasy, before bringing it back down to earth for the fun we expect. Outside of the musical numbers, though, the fun lacks, perhaps justifiably. There's a serious amount of attention to the depiction of Elton John's parents (Bryce Dallas Howard as his mother and Steve Mackintosh as his father) as being unsupportive to one degree or another. And a biographical film about a famous musician (particularly a rock and roller) is not complete without a rock-bottom fall induced by drugs. The film more or less accurately depicts John swallowing a bunch of pills and nearly drowning in his pool a few days before playing to an enormous crowd at Dodger Stadium in LA.

But probably the most emotionally moving aspect of this film is the relationship between John and his long-time lyricist, Bernie Taupin, played here by Jamie Bell. John has claimed in interviews that the two of them have never argued about music, and in fact have likely never argued about anything. There is an argument depicted here in the film, though. Elton is dressed in another splendidly outrageous costume before heading out on stage, and Bernie questions why is behaving so. Elton blows up at him and marches past, but just before appearing in front of the adoring fans, he slightly turns back, places his hand on Bernie's arm, and quickly apologizes. Much attention has been given to the sex scene in Rocketman (not between John and Taupin), but the most moving love is the platonic relationship of these two musical geniuses.

Before concluding, it must be said that Taron Egerton is incredible as Elton John. That is all of him singing, and it's a performance in which an actor commits as much as is possible. To say he is impressive and among the best performers of the year is a severely gross understatement.

The Best Elton John Songs

Honorable Mentions: Holiday Inn, Tonight, Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Bite Your Lip (Get Up and Dance!), Mellow, Passengers, Believe, El Dorado

50. Ballad of a Well-Known Gun
49. The Greatest Discovery
48. The King Must Die
47. Razor Face
46. Grey Seal
45. Bad Side of the Moon
44. Ballad of Danny Bailey (1903-34)
43. The Nasties
42. Can I Put You On?
41. Lady Samantha
40. Carla/Etude
39. Teacher, I Need You
38. Sixty Years On
37. Electricity
36. I Guess That's Why They Call Them the Blues
35. Sweet Painted Lady
34. Country Comfort
33. Don't Go Breaking My Heart
32. Elderberry Wine
31. The Cage
30. Rock and Roll Madonna
29. Border Song
28. Take Me to the Pilot
27. Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock and Roll)
26. Step Into Christmas
25. Can You Feel the Love Tonight?
24. I Just Can't Wait to Be King
23. Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters
22. Empty Gardens (Hey Hey Johnny)
21. Funeral For a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding
20. I'm Still Standing
19. Are You Ready for Love?
18. The Circle of Life
17. Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
16. Your Song
15. Daniel
14. Benny and the Jets
13. Levon
12. The Bitch Is Back
11. Someone Saved My Life Tonight
10. Curtains
9. Better Off Dead
8. Philadelphia Freedom
7. Crocodile Rock
6. Honky Cat
5. Tiny Dancer
4. Candle in the Wind
3. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
2. Rocket Man
1. Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)

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It Chapter Two

Twenty-seven years have passed since the events of It, when a malicious clown-monster named Pennywise emerged from the sewers to feast on people. Michael (played in adult form by Isaiah Mustafa and as a teenager by Chosen Jacobs) is the only member of the group of outcast kids called the Losers Club to have stayed in Derry, a sleepy yet picturesque town in Maine where adults seem to be oblivious to the fact that every thirty years or so numerous people end up missing and body parts are found. Michael, though, has kept a watchful eye, and it's time to warn his former friends of It's return.

Michael has no choice but to call them and remind them of the promise they made as children to return and defeat It, also known as Pennywise the Dancing Clown (Bill Skarsgard). But Michael's friends have all moved on. Bill (James McAvoy as the adult Bill and Jaeden Martell as the young one) is a successful writer, Beverly (Jessica Chastain/Sophia Lillis) is married to an abusive man not too dissimilar from her father, and Richie (Bill Hader/Finn Wolfhard) is a stand-up comedian. The remaining members are Ben (Jay Ryan/Jeremy Ray Taylor), Eddie (James Ransone/Jack Dylan Grazer), and Stanley (Andy Bean/Wyatt Oleff). By the way, if you watched Wolfhard in Stanger Things 3 and/or Grazer in Shazam! this year and noticed that they've been growing up, you can now know that de-aging works on children, too. Incidentally, Lillis and Wolfhard both publicly stated two years ago that they wanted Chastain and Hader, respectively, to play the characters in their adult forms. Their wishes were granted.

Once Michael does make clear to the group that It has returned and again is consuming the people of Derry, the Losers Club members are reluctant to fight back. It's only when they are each individually tormented by Pennywise, who is terrifically delighted to see them return. These moments are either the best or the worst part of the film; it's difficult to say which. Some (like Beverly's) take place entirely in the adult form, as she returns to her childhood home and discovers that some things are not as they seem. Others (like Ben's) only take place when he's a child, being chased by Pennywise in his school. And some (like Richie's and Eddie's) show Pennywise's acts of malice against them both as children and adults. These scenes mostly work, but it takes up a lot of time (like the entire second act).

It Chapter Two, directed by Andy Muschietti and based on the 1986 novel by Stephen King, doesn't necessarily feel like an overly cumbersome horror film, but it is more than most. What ultimately harms it to the point rendering it mostly forgettable is how it adds nothing new from the previous film. It made perfect sense to adapt Stephen King's 1,138-page novel into two films, but the result is a sequel that feels less fresh. The climax especially feels like a simple repeat of the previous film. Even by deleting the infamous orgy scene from the adaption, the story can seem bloated at times (especially that dull ending). There's certainly no reason to extend this story into a third film, as some have suggested.

That being said, the cast here carries a lot of the weight (more on that later), but the production value of It Chapter Two really goes a long way. Horror films usually are among the highest (if not the highest) in terms of return on investment (ROI) largely because they are relatively inexpensive to make. The Devil Inside, for example, was made on a budget of about a million dollars, and yet it made over $100 million at the box office. It and It: Chapter Two take a different approach, not afraid to pour in loads of money. (It was made for $35 million and made of $700 million at the box office; that's a ROI of 1,900%.) The money poured into a movie like this works. The visual effects provided by Atomic Arts and Method Studios are stellar, Benjamin Wallfisch's score is alluring, and the production design by Paul D. Austerberry is haunting.

Chastain gives a stellar performance, as expected, and McAvoy also does well. But Hader's performance appears to be the most impressive to audiences, given that we haven't seen something like this from him. He's as funny and snarky as many of his screen performances have been, but he also has mastered the "shocked fish" look, as is when Pennywise haunts him in broad daylight. His paring with Ransone often works as comic relief, though sometimes it's oddly placed. Still, my favorite performance is Skarsgard's. Even without the ostentatious makeup, it's impossible not to be mesmerized by what he presents. It Chapter Two is even less scary than It (that may be a good or bad thing for you), and part of this is because all of Pennywise's tricks have already been revealed. Beyond that, the usual notes are followed: the music features a crescendo, and then there's silence. The clown might not be in front of you, but surely he's right behind you. Even with these flaws and that fact that Pennywise himself doesn't pack the cinematic thrill he did two years ago, it's still a masterful performance by Skarsgard. Clowns are scary (apparently even scarier than terrorism, death, and climate change), but a man dressed as a clown is not all that is required. Skarsgard commits, and should be rewarded.

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Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

In 1969, Hollywood legend Judy Garland died of an accidental barbiturate overdose. With her death and with Midnight Cowboy soon becoming the first X-rated film to win Best Picture, it was the end of the so-called Golden Age of Hollywood and the birth of a new, less innocent era. A new, edgier actor named Al Pacino, who appears in this film as a Hollywood agent, made his debut that same year. And Sharon Tate, the actress and model who was married to Roman Polanski, was murdered (along with her unborn baby and guests) in her home by the Charles Manson gang.

This is the setting for the newest film written and directed by Quentin Tarantino, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. It is quite unlike his previous films. Controversial and a little goofy, sure, but fantastically acted and more or less engaging.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt are the two main stars here, and they are the best part. DiCaprio is Rick Dalton, a fictitious actor going through a bit of a midlife crisis as he realizes he might have peaked and his acting talent might actually be minimal. He's got a slick leather jacket and a cool necklace, but he's a mess, constantly drinking, smoking, and married to the idea that he's a has-been. Pitt is Cliff Booth, his stunt double who these days essentially makes his living by driving Dalton around and taking care of his other errands. While they live in different economic worlds, they rely on each other and have tremendous loyalty. Their stories essentially split into two as Dalton goes to film a guest appearance on a pilot as the heavy opposite real-life James Stacey, who is played here by Timothy Olyphant. In this sequence, which some might find superfluous, DiCaprio screams, weeps, and seems to be having as much fun as he ever has had as an actor.

While Rick is busy filming, his old buddy Cliff is roaming around the streets of Hollywood, where he runs across a young cohort of followers of the real-lie Charles Manson, who appears briefly here stumbling on Polanski's property. (Manson is played by Australian actor Damon Herriman.) This real-life event--the murders at the hands of the Manson Gang--looms large over the entire story, though the film itself is essentially Tarantino's love letter to the movie business.

One undeniably positive aspect of Once Upon A Time in Hollywood is the cast. DiCaprio and Pitt are fantastic together. They both essentially came of cinematic age around the same time, and it's nice that they work so well together. Accents are not DiCaprio's strong suit, but it doesn't matter. His work here is among his finest. Robbie hits all the right notes as Tate, although there has been considerable criticism about her lack of screen time and how much she is given to do. The appearances of veterans like Pacino, Bruce Dern, and Kurt Russell are also enjoyable. But the breakout star is Mike Moh, who portrays Bruce Lee. Lee is rather braggadocios on set, and Cliff, who finally gets some work as a stunt man on the set, is not impressed in the slightest. A fight breaks out between the two, and it's one of the best parts of the film. (It should be noted, however, that Lee's daughter has strongly objected to the way her father was portrayed.)

Other conflicts appear throughout, particularly in what is likely its most notable (and perhaps controversial) scene. It shoots out of nowhere and feels like Tarantino being Tarantino but for all the wrong reasons. But it is Tanatino, and it's also a fairy tale, one that drags on too long. It's his first post-Weinstein film, and part of the deal he negotiated with Sony was to have final cut over the finished product. That was unfortunate, because a lot of what's included has no place being there. We've seen a lot of this stuff before from this director; do we really need to see it all again?

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Where the Wild Things Are

We all know that many great works deal with the courage of children. Maurice Sendak's Max in Where the Wild Things Are is the personification of a couragous young boy. But courage is not limited to Max. Max, played by Max Records, is not an ordinary boy. He is loud, curious, sad, and angry. Bored in science class, he is suddenly struck by the sad realization that nothing, not even the sun, will last forever. Mortality can indeed be frightening. He is about to enter adolescence, his mother is dating, and his sister does not protect him. "Max, go play with your friends," he is told. He has probably been told this frequently, and it's also likely that he doesn't have many friends, other than his potent imagination.

Max is a raconteur, and he takes pleasure in entertaining his mother (Catherine Keaner) with his wonderful stories. But like any son, he seeks frequent attention and adulation, and when he does not receive it, he becomes angry. But instead of going to bed without eating and finding his bedroom turned into a forest, Max bites his mother, who is on a date, and he runs away. There he finds a small boat, and sets sail. He gets lost, until he finds an island, occupied by other wild things. Max must put his wit to good use, because these wild things are about to eat him. Soon, they become impressed. He tells them that he has a "double re-cracker" and that his magical abilities can "keep out all of the sadness." These seven creatures quickly make him their king because they have forgotten how to have fun. Max must live up to these very high expectation, and Carol (James Gandolfini) in particular is impatient with the lack of results, and he becomes angry. The similarities between Carol and Max are obvious.

There's a really interesting interview Bill Moyers conducted with Sendak about his famous book. Moyers explained how Joseph Campbell used Sendak's book to discuss how humans need to conquer their inner demons. Max does this when he tames the wild things with his magic trick. Sendak mentioned that he hadn't thought of it that way, but that it is an interesting thought. At the very least, he mentioned, it's a reminder that often there's a "right way" and a "wrong way" of doing things, and that children sometimes simply don't know any better. "What a monstrous confusion," he said. I think understanding this quote is essential to appreciate this story. There are many things children go through expressed here, from anger to alienation to adventure. Despite being a fantasy film, it often comes across as a rather accurate depiction of a child coming of age.

Director Spike Jonze has wild things in this film that roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth. There is a sense of wonder, adventure, and melancholy he and his team project in the film that perfectly suits the environment originally created by Sendak. And Jonze and his team did not acquiescence to the march towards universal computer-generated imagery. There are actual performers on sets and in costumers, and their faces were digitized only when it became evident that the masks to animate their facial expressions were far too heavy for the actors, so a compromise was made. The forest created here is one of the most beautiful in the history of cinema. And the actors playing the wild things (Gandolfini, Paul Dano, Catherine O'Hara, Forest Whitaker, Chris Cooper, Michael Berry, Jr., and Lauren Ambrose) are a perfect ensemble. Records should have been nominated for an Oscar. Jonze himself deserves much praise; there is a passion for imagination here, both in Max and Jonze.

One would be forgiven for not thinking of this film adaptation as being a kids' movie. One way or the other, children will likely enjoy it. The film was released ten years ago, a year that presented moviegoers with a dilemma of how a children's film is define. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, another movie from 2009, was almost unrecognizable compared to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, the first film of that franchise. Caroline and Up, two animated films from that year, were more mature than many previous animated films. Where the Wild Things Are is not as unforgettable as those other films, and it is not as essential to culture as the original book is, but it still a unique cinematic experience, for children and adults alike.

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Deadwood: The Movie

"Welcome to fucking Deadwood."
-Al Swearengen

Calamity Jane is as drunk as ever, missing her lover and still idolizing Wild Bill Hickock, the legendary cowboy shot and killed in the first season of HBO's Deadwood. Jane is so intoxicated that it is rather difficult to comprehend anything in her series of unusual inaudibility. According to series creator David Milch, Jane was a historical figure known for being too offensive, even for the men of the famous camp. In the film, as she mumbles on about Bill, that almost uncanny yet undeniably pleasant tune from a long-ago cancelled series begins. We're back in Deadwood, a town of saloons, muddy roads, and hungry pigs.

HBO has a long list of iconic shows, some more divisive than others, to be sure. But for about three decades, they have been a powerhouse of television art. Ask someone to name an HBO show, and surely you will hear The Sopranos, The Wire, Sex and the City, Game of Thrones, Girls, and Boardwalk Empire, among others. But Deadwood, which first aired in 2004, was abruptly cancelled after three seasons. Despite fans' hopes, the show's return never materialized. "Deadwood is dead," actor Ian McShane told Jon Stewart in 2006. It was dead, that is, until now in the form of a nearly two-hour made-for-television film to update audiences on the (at times) appalling characters of the show.

It's 1889, and South Dakota is celebrating statehood. The celebration includes the lawless town of Deadwood, the real-life mining camp of the 19th century. One by one, familiar characters walk back onto the screen, most of them rather unostentaciously. They're all grayer and greyer, as it were. An unmistakable example of the former is Doc Cochran, played by Brad Dourif in one of his best roles. His hair is now completely white. Of the former, there is McShane as Al Swearengen (himself a real-life figure), the saloon owner with terrible disposition and a pin-striped suit, now suffering from years of abusing his body with too much alcohol. The back and forth between Doc and Al during the medical examination if full of archaic language that Milch strives to resurrect from the past. It can be quite challenging to follow at times, so pay close attention and bring your dictionary. It's like Shakespeare but with the word "cocksucker" muttered every paragraph.

It's kind of remarkable that HBO was able to reunite nearly the entire ensemble, but most of them are here, including Anna Gunn, Molly Parker, Dayton Callie, John Hawkes, Paula Malcolmson, Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane, Jeffrey Jones, Keone Young, and others. My favorite is William Sanderson as E.B. Farnum, the scheming yet honest hotel manager and titular mayor of the town. E.B. must have moved up at least slightly in the world by 1889, and yet he's still costumed, well, modestly, to say the least. He has a humorous scene attempting to use a public telephone, whispering asides to himself about how he must act while switching to a thespian's projection of his voice to the "person" in the telephone box. Also returning to Deadwood for the celebration is George Hearst (Gerald McRaney), the real-life figure who at this point in the story is a U.S. senator (and father of William Randolph). His antagonist, Sheriff Seth Bullock (yet another figure from history and played by Timothy Olyphant), is there to make sure Hearst doesn't make too much trouble. Bullock still more or less has that cool strut, the one in which his arms are still and legs barely seem to move. He's a family man now, and an older one.

The film's story features essentially low stakes. Hearst wants to buy land belonging to Charlie Utter (Callie). Utter declines. And that's about it. Unfortunately for Hearst, everyone in town seems to hate him, with some wanting revenge for his past actions. They'll team up against him, and that includes the unique alliance between Bullock and Swearengen, who at one time had much more animosity towards each other.

For me, I was never quite as in love with Deadwood the series as much as everyone else was. I thought the first season was mostly fine, but I simply couldn't get past the first half of the second season. Fortunately for me, there are numerous flashback scenes from the show sprinkled about, bringing me up to speed. Deadwood the movie is very much like the show: quite interesting at first but requiring more and more patience as it moves along. There is certainly a lot more talking than your average Western, but that helps make it unique. The acting, though, is top notch, particularly Olyphant and McShane. The film itself is what it is, but that's probably what the fans want, providing as much closure as they will likely ever get.

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Prediction: Few Will Like Joker

Heath Ledger's verison of Bob Kane's famous Batman villain the Joker took some large leaps away from the days of Caesar Romero, Jack Nicholson, and Mark Hamill, in which the character had been compared to a crazy uncle with a knack for pranks. Ledger's Joker was a genuine terrorist, totally devoid of empathy and thus a very un-sympathetic man. It was a performance that won him an Oscar.

In Joker, the standalone comic book origin story centering on the famous antagonist and directed by Todd Phillips, Joaquin Phoenix takes over the role. Phoenix, one of the most admired actors around, will most likely be more appreciated than Jared Leto's divisive performance in Suicide Squad. Phoenix, from what we can tell from the recent trailer, seems to divert from the Ledger take in that it appears we are to sympathize with him and understand his transformation from God's lonely man to Batman villain. That might have worked twenty years ago, but these days, audiences will likely have problems with it. We live in an era of constant mass shootings, most of which are committed by white men. The Joker, or Arthur (as he's initially called in this film), is a white man who, certainly from the looks of the trailer and the canon, does terrible things (often with a gun). After gun shootings happen, the media, politicians, and the public are encouraged to avoid spreading the killer's name to prevent any glorification they might have been seeking. I'm worried this movie about a loser whom society hates will inspire others to commit mass shootings; recall that the Aurora, Colorado mass shooter was dressed as the Joker.

Joker's storytelling angle might have worked a few decades ago. Robert De Niro will appear in Joker as a late-night TV show host, and the implications are that Arthur, a struggling comedian, admires this host and might even try to forcibly take his show from him. Sound familiar? It should, because it's very reminiscent of The King of Comedy, the 1982 dark comedy directed by Martin Scorsese about an unfunny comedian (played by De Niro) who sabotages the life of his idol, a late-night comedian played by Jerry Lewis. There are also hints in the trailer of homages to Taxi Driver, the 1976 collaboration between De Niro and Scorsese. The delusions of grandeur of The King of Comedy and the loneliness and violence of Taxi Driver seem to heavily influence Joker. Indeed, Scorsese was at one point an executive producer on the film before departing due to a busy schedule. But the 1970s and 80s are over, and audiences are more skeptical of films that want viewers to feel pity for violent (often white) men.

Even with audiences who are willing to overlook the fact that we're told to watch the making of a terrorist, the movie is taking a big risk in showing the genesis of an iconic character that most don't want. Other than Alan Moore's influential The Killing Joke, origin storytelling of the Joker has made fans groan. The most famous example is in the 1989 blockbuster directed by Tim Burton, in which Nicholson's Joker was depicted as the murderer of Bruce Wayne's parents. (A young Bruce Wayne will appear in Joker, and I think he's the kid who Arthur is creepily forcing to smile at the 1:47 mark in the trailer.) In The Dark Knight, Ledger's Joker often asks his victims if they want to know how he got those terrible scars on his face. The first time, the explanation involves his drunk father and victim mother. Some audience members rolled their eyes. But later, he asks the same question, but this time there's a different story. It was further evidence of the character's embrace of chaos and unpredictability, and it worked. It worked because there was no origin. In Joker, it seems that's all we'll get.

Despite audience's complaints of the film, Phoenix will likely be universally praised. He's got the laugh down, and the way he uses his face and voice is unlike virtually any other actor these days. There are many actors who have never won an Oscar, and one thinks how this could be possible. Phoenix is one of the best examples of this. Other than Marlon Brando and De Niro, who both won Oscars for playing the character Vito Corleone, no other two actors have won for playing the same character. Perhaps Phoenix will help change this.

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Roma

From the very beginning of Roma, we are witness to a young domestic worker taking care of a family and cleaning up the house. This woman is Cleo, and she's played by Yalitza Aparicio. A large part of Cleo's duties is to clean up after the dog. It's Mexico City in the early 1970s, and one thing that hasn't changed is the omnipresence of barking dogs, one of the very worst things about that city. Cleo is also sort of a guardian angel of four young children, no small task. The house they live in is a tidy, upper-middle class house owned by a doctor and his wife. The family of six live there with a grandmother, a dog, and two domestic workers, one of whom is Cleo. The house wouldn't be quite as remarkable if not for the gorgeous black-and-white cinematography of director Alfonso Cuaron, who won three Oscars last week for his work. Cuaron had hired his collaborator Emmanuel Lubezki, but Lubezki had to depart from the project after the schedule had augmented. Thus, Lubezki practically trained him.

Cuaron, whose most famous Mexican film up to this point has been Y Tu Mama Tambien and whose most famous English-language films are probably Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Children of Men, and Gravity (for which he previously won an Oscar for Best Director), has decided to make a film honoring his childhood nanny, Liboria Rodriguez (Libo). Roma has a certain tremendous, palpable feeling of guilt throughout this film, which will likely endure as one of his best.

The parents (played by Marina de Tavira and Fernando Grediaga) do not always come across in the best light. The father is unfaithful and abandons his family, while the mother is concerned about her daughter getting fat and sometimes lashes out at Cleo. In one scene, she strikes one of the boys, quickly apologizes while weeping, and then blames Cleo. The children seem to not notice this cruelty; this youthful ignorance likely is what sparked the film's conception. (Cuaron is not making things up. Domestic workers around the world are undoubtedly mistreated.) In Cleo's case, she is not an authoritarian figure to the children, probably because it's not in her nature and probably because she knows it might cost her her job. Because she's so kind to the children, they really adore her. Her adult employers, maybe not.

Aparicio, whose father is Mixtec and whose mother is Triqui, made her debut performance in Roma, and she was nominated for Best Actress at the Academy Awards, making her the first indigenous actor to do so. She hasn't decided if she will continue acting or not, but I hope she does. De Tavira was also nominated, and her performance is terrific as well. There's a lot to read in between the lines with her performance. In the scene where she takes Cleo to the hospital, for example, she practically destroys her husband's car as she squeezes it between two trucks. She either has too much on her mind due to his abandonment, or she just wants revenge, or perhaps it's both. There's complexity to her. This makes sense, as Cuaron has stated that the film is a tribute to both his mother and his nanny.

Cuaron's cinematography, which won him one of his Oscars last week, is remarkable, at times helping him to visualize a marriage of realism and surrealism. Some might find it to be kind of smug filmmaking, and that's fair, I guess, but it does demonstrate his dedication and creativity. The dog heads as decoration and the shooting spree in the woods come to mind as examples, as does the forest fire scene, in which everyone drunkenly tries to extinguish a fire, all while a man dressed as...something...decides to stand around singing. There's also a martial arts scene that most likely be unlike anything you've seen in a movie. Aparicio's acting during this scene, I think, helped secure her nomination. She says everything with just a few looks, most of which express a feeling of bemusement and kind quasi-toleration for another's unique behavior. Unique would be a kind word for this character, Fermin, played by Jorge Antonio Guerrero, one of the most detestable characters in recent memory.

Needless to say, Roma does require some patience, but the payoff is worth it. There's so much calm in the filmmaking here, and it's also proof that it's usually in everyone's best interest to give the film makers as much freedom as possible. After all, this is a black-and-white film from Netflix staring mostly non-actors. I do hope we see more like this. 

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