#10 — Inside Out (review by: Joe Jodoin)
This Pixar masterpiece is not just the best kid’s film of the past few years, but it managed to draw a large adult audience as well.
What’s shocking about this film is that it has a really clever and high-concept story that is still engaging for children. Arguably, making great films that are equally loved by children and adults is one of the hardest things for a filmmaker to achieve. Michael Giacchino’s score is also beautiful and unique, and works perfectly to make every important moment of the film more powerful and memorable.
More than anything, Inside Out deserves recognition because it represents the height of what modern filmmaking can achieve: it’s funny, emotional, powerful, re-watchable, and original, with great animation and a deep message.
#9 — Straight Outta Compton (review by: Hess Sahlollbey)
A biopic recounting the career of the N.W.A. on the rap music charts of the early 90s, Straight Outta Compton was the sleeper hit of the summer. Directed by F. Gary Gray with Dr. Dre and Ice Cube as producers, the film recounts the rise and fall of five friends from the eponymous neighborhood in California that popularized gangster rap. The artists in the film base their music on their emotions towards the injustices and discriminations that black Americans suffered in the 80s. Yet the film still functions as an effective commentary on not just black history and American history, but on contemporary race relations, issues and social change that is still relevant today. The film stars O’Shea Jackson, Jr. as his father Ice Cube, Corey Hawkins as Dr. Dre, Jason Mitchell as the late Eazy-E, and Paul Giamatti as their manipulative manager. The film can best be summed with that famous line from their debut album: “You are now about to witness the strength of street knowledge.”
#8 — Star Wars: The Force Awakens (review by: Trisha Gregorio)
Considering the significance of its release late in 2015, it feels wrong not to include Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Taking over George Lucas’ brainchild in this seventh installment, J.J. Abrams recaptures the action and charm that has long defined the Star Wars film franchise, and makes it into something exclusively his.
The Force Awakens achieves a careful balance between old and new, whether that be in its storyline or the interweaving of both familiar and fresh new faces. Most notable, however, is its accessibility to a generation that grew up on everything space and sci-fi, as well as a generation that has only passively heard of it, heralding an era of much promise for the future of the Star Wars series.
#7 — Sicario (review by: Joe Jodoin)
Sicario is an incredibly tense morality tale about a young up-and-coming FBI agent thrust into a world of hitmen, assassins, drugs, and lies, where she is forced to confront serious ethical questions about the lengths one should go to protect their nation’s security.
Not only is the plot of this movie incredibly interesting, but the cast including Emily Blunt, Benicio del Toro, and Josh Brolin makes up one of the best ensembles of the year.
What Sicario excels at most, however, is building up incredible tension that keeps the viewers on the edge of their seats, clenching their fists for minutes on end, with each scene progressively becoming tenser than the next. This is action-packed and thought-provoking filmmaking at its finest.
#6 — The Hateful Eight (review by: Joe Jodoin)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnRbXn4-Yis
Those who are familiar with Quentin Tarantino are also familiar with the writer/director’s signature style: brilliantly crafted characters, hilariously memorable dialogue, non-linear narrative and a sprinkling of over-the-top violence that’s not for the faint of heart. The Hateful Eight delivers all of this and more, in a nearly three-hour long thriller that keeps viewers on the edge of their seat. The interesting aspects of this movie’s plot are that it takes place mainly in one setting, and that no character can really be described as “the good guy.”
Although this could have easily been a play, Tarantino brings such a wonderfully cinematic style, making the movie feel like a classic western from the 60s era. The film never gets boring either, as the violence and verbal sparring between all the despicable characters means there is never a dull moment.
#5 — Mad Max: Fury Road (review by: Vannessa Barnier)
This is perhaps the most talked about film of the year and I somewhat agree with the hype. I would recommend this movie to people who enjoy going to monster-truck events and punching. It’s incredible how nothing actually happens in the span of two hours. Mad Max, the namesake of the film, goes from prisoner to liberator, and drives a large rig back and forth across a great span of wasteland. He doesn’t do this alone, of course. One of Mad Max’s major assets is the strong female lead of Furiosa, played by Charlize Theron. I commend them on the cast, but they left out any people of colour – even if one of Immortan Joe’s wives were a woman of colour, that would have been nice. If you want to watch people drive around barren land for two hours while yelling, watch Mad Max.
#4 — Spotlight (review by: Tomi Milos)
Spotlight was the most self-righteously idealistic movie of the year, and such unapologetic belief in its own morals made it one of the most enjoyable watches of the year.
The film centers around the Boston Globe’s “Spotlight” team of journalists who unearthed a systemic pattern of child sex abuse by Catholic priests in the Boston Archdiocese.
Marty Baron’s (Liev Schrieber) first instructions to Spotlight as the newly-inducted editor of the newspaper is to speed up its research on locally-sourced stories.
Baron’s encouragement goads the quartet headed by Robby (Michael Keaton) into a fierce investigation. The ensuing probe into one of the Church’s closely guarded-secrets is thrilling despite the obvious ending and leaves one with the sort of heavy-handed inspiration that probably incited you to crack open a book after watching Dead Poets Society.
Props if you can recognize an unlikely McMaster landmark in a scene that was shot in Hamilton in 2014.
#3 — The Revenant (review by: Joe Jodoin)
Not many filmmakers have as much passion for the art of filmmaking as Alejandro G. Inarritu, and The Revenant is a clear example of film as a work of art. Every single shot looks like a painting thanks to award-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, and every scene is choreographed perfectly to juxtapose the beauty and grit of nature. Inarritu was able to make the film simultaneously beautiful and brutal for the entire two and a half hour run time, and has truly created a visual masterpiece. The film is incredibly made in every other way too, and the acting of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy especially elevate this film even higher. While not an easy film to watch due to its graphic and realistic violence, even those who don’t enjoy the film will admit to being blown away by the spectacle. This film is truly the definition of epic entertainment, and seeing it in theatres is highly recommended.
#2 — Carol (review by: Bahar Orang)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4z7Px68ywk
Carol — Carol — icy blue eyes, red-hot-livid-lips, porcelain skin, predatorial in that oversized mink coat and then small and timid as precocious prey with that terrified exhale of ‘I-love-you’. She is motherly, goddess-like, fierce and afraid, graceful and stumbling, large and lean, deep voice and heavy gaze, in awe, in despair, in heaven and in hell. And Carol’s sweet, solemn lover: Therese Belevit — ‘flung-out-of-space’ — is equally rife with complexity, contradiction, silence and stammer. She is child-like and vulnerable, but strong and complete and falling, unfaltering, forth into that woman, that person, that courageous, calm, clear-eyed, uncloaked, uncraven Carol. And between them: car windows, glass panes, December fog, large mirrors, a camera lens. But through it all their gazes remain on each other, vital and potent and precious and powerful.
The film centers desire: to respect your desires, to listen and tend to your desires is dignified, unshameful, crucial and brave. The film centres women: sometimes, men are dispensable, blundering, tepid and cruel. And finally, the film is a gorgeous relief from that history of fictional gay couples who suffer many a calamity in their pursuit of each other. For two women can indeed fall in love and stay together, dodge tragedy, and imagine a way of being where neither marriage nor age nor dread nor social disdain can define the limits or the levity of love.
Carol will leave you breathless and breathing, fulfilled and voracious; it is cold winter and hot touch; it is stunning, essential cinematographic poetry.
Directed by the masterful Paulo Sorrentino, Youth tells a deeply-affecting story about self-reflection and the yearning for more out of life as it steadily ebbs away.
#1 — Youth (review by: Michelle Yeung)
The film circles around Fred Bellinger (Michael Caine) and Mick Boyle (Harvey Keitel), two best friends who find themselves among the visitors of a lavish spa nestled in the Swiss Alps. Fred, a renowned and now retired composer, has vacationed here for over 20 years. Mick, on the other hand, steadfastedly works away with a group of young screenwriters to contrive his “final testament.” While Fred is alarmingly apathetic, Mick – not yet ready to let go of his past – continues to blaze towards a perilous dream. The other guests at the resort also seem to be cocooned in their own worlds. Everybody is doing their own thing, but nobody is really doing anything.
The exquisite marriage between the talents of Italian cinematographer Luca Bigazzi and contemporary composer David Lang catapults Youth to another stratosphere of cinematic brilliance. Bigazzi’s lensing is evocative, poignant and a marvel to behold. His compositions are impossibly striking; each shot could be framed and exhibited at a world-class art gallery.
In Youth, the sense of idleness and alienation is eerily compelling. Caine appears in one of the most tender and moving performances of his career, embodying a weathered and guarded man with reservoirs of harbored sentiment he was never able to express.
In the way he crafts his films, Sorrentino is similar to Fred in that he is also a composer himself. There is an eloquent, musical quality to his directing that, when combined with outstanding actors, makes watching his works both an immersive pleasure and a transcendent experience. Youth is cinema at its apex. It is poignant, ravishing and will engulf you like a dream.
Photo Credit: Diane Arbus
By: Hayley Regis
So the Oscar nominations are out, in case you haven’t heard. Despite this being a landmark year for women of colour achieving amazing things — Viola Davis’ Emmy, Serena Williams as Sportsperson of the Year — we are once again reminded that white people are just better at this ‘acting thing’ than we are. I don’t believe that is the case. Lest someone decry me as a reverse racist, let us delve further into this land of celebrating white mediocrity and the black actors who are typecast and fall by the wayside.
Hattie McDaniel was the first black person to win an award for supporting actress. In 1939 she played a character named ‘Mammy’ in Gone with the Wind, a character so laden with racist stereotypes that “problematic” doesn’t begin to cover it. The first time a woman of colour won an award for best actress was Halle Berry, in 2001. The movie Monster’s Ball was about a poor southern woman who falls in love with the prison guard who executed her husband. The movie is described as an “erotic romantic drama,” despite the first sex scene being drunken (i.e. without proper consent) “grief sex.” Despite Berry being fetishized and portrayed as a sex object, her performance was still the only time a woman of colour has ever won best actress.
We are no stranger to all-white nominees, especially women, but this year with movies like Straight Outta Compton and Creed, you’d think we would see some recognition for the acting of people of colour, especially considering the success of the films. Creed’s black writer-director Ryan Coogler, and black star Michael B. Jordan, were passed over, while Sylvester Stallone managed to get a nomination for best supporting. Compton didn’t get a nod from the academy, but the Screen Actors and Producers guilds nominated it for best picture. Needless to say this is a problem. We have actors like Idris Elba, Samuel L. Jackson and Will Smith, doing amazing work and someone drags the proverbial white carpet over them.
This year with movies like Straight Outta Compton and Creed, you’d think we would see some recognition for the acting of people of colour.
As Viola Davis said in her Emmy acceptance speech, “you can’t win an award for roles that are simply not there.” How are we supposed to fix the problems with representation, recognition, and general celebrations of people that may or may not be natural blondes? I grew up idolizing Michael Clarke Duncan, and Samuel L. Jackson because they were the only black people I saw in movies growing up. I’ve seen Snakes on a Plane more times than I care to admit, just because he’s in it. He doesn’t look like me, but he reminds me of my dad and his family. That’s the take-what-representation-you-can get mentality I grew up with. I am overwhelmingly saddened by the lack of diversity in this year’s nominations; it seems as if those wishing for a white Christmas had their wishes granted a little bit later this year.
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When I first heard that a movie called The End of The Tour was in the works about American author, David Foster Wallace, I was very cynical. When I found out that Jason Segel was being cast as the recently deceased literary genius, my worries were not alleviated. With Segel being paired with Jesse Eisenberg as David Lipsky, I was bracing myself for disaster considering the dissonance of their personalities.
The tour referenced in the title refers to how the film tells the story of the five-day interview Lipsky did with Wallace for Rolling Stone at the peak of Wallace’s career, following the publication of his novel, Infinite Jest. The interview between the two strangers morphs into a sort of lengthy first date, where the two discuss the ups and downs of life, and attempt to find truth in each other and themselves. Lipsky turned this interview into a memoir in 2010, after it wasn’t featured in Rolling Stone in 2006 as intended. The memoir in turn inspired the making of The End of the Tour.
After avoiding it for some time, I finally gave into my curiosity and watched the movie. Running one hour and 46 minutes, the movie was long, but it rewarded those who stuck with it until the end with a hefty dose of inspiration and much to ponder. The movie echoes what Lipsky did in his own book, Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, in its heavy reliance on using Wallace’s own quotes, rather than trying to speak for him. There is, of course, the other aspect of speaking on his behalf, with the film crew being left to devise their own interpretation of Wallace’s actions, behaviours, speech patterns, but they do so with care. There was nothing outlandish about Segel’s portrayal of Wallace, and that has to be respected.
There was one part, however, that was a little off-putting. About three-fourths of the way through, conversation between the two men felt rushed — it seemed as though they were trying to jam in as many quotes as they could before their time ran out. The shift starts just after a tense moment of jealousy between the two men over a woman. This inspires a heated conversation in Wallace’s living room, and continues into the night, when Wallace enters Lipsky’s bedroom to ask if he’s awake. Given that Lipsky is, and he says so, Wallace stands in the doorway and spouts lines about depression and an over-analysis of the self. It seemed like they needed to invent more ways and places for the two to converse, and this is just an attempt at a new, creative setting. The slate is wiped clean between the two in the morning after Lipsky tearfully writes down notes from what Wallace had said that night.
The movie largely focuses on the secondary character, Lipsky, almost making him the main character. Eisenberg is essentially used as a vehicle to express Wallace’s ideas, to be a prompt. The focus on Lipsky is also an attempt to talk about what it’s like to meet and talk with someone you admire, a mentor of sorts. Lipsky expresses his own feelings of inadequacy and adoration for Wallace, through both saying it and directing a prolonged, mesmerized look at him. This tactic makes the movie more palpable and accessible to an audience, where you can find some of yourself in the Lipsky character. The sentiments quoted in this film are universal. It’s a truly pleasurable experience consuming something that resonates with you, and this film fits easily into that category.
I could not rave about this film enough. Both Segel and Eisenberg deliver performances that echo two great men in a way that is poignant and memorable — I was wrong about my initial objection about their casting. I would easily recommend this movie to both fans of David Foster Wallace and strangers to his incredible written works. At the very least, The End of The Tour brings viewers into the world of a brilliant writer where they can find the little sparks of life that still keep Wallace alive in his interviews, short stories, and critically acclaimed novels.
Photo Credit: Rolling Stone
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By: Trisha Gregorio/ANDY Writer
This year’s scary movie season oversees the release of two very distinctive horror films with the influences of H.P Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and Stanley Kubrick all clashing together in the newly released Crimson Peak (directed by Guillermo del Toro), and the upcoming Victor Frankenstein (directed by Paul McGuigan).
Standard horror movie storylines of the past few years have transversed the spectrum of horror movie tropes. Both Del Toro and McGuigan take their films away from these archetypal horror elements to explore a category that has been distant from the spotlight in recent years: Gothic horror.
While many contemporary directors have interwoven Gothic elements into more modern storylines (a shining example of which is Kubrick’s The Shining,) the true core of the genre lies in its Romantic origins: damsels in distress, mysterious Victorian mansions, vampires and the mist-covered countryside. Romanticism was about stimulating its audience with something different, something wildly bizarre in comparison to the rigid Classical norms of the time. Rather than idealize fear, as is the common misconception, the Romantic and Gothic genres instead redesigned it in such a way that it could be embraced.
Crimson Peak perfectly encapsulates this aformentioned “nitty gritty” feel. Del Toro’s film, starring Tom Hiddleston and Mia Wasikowska in the lead roles, combines all of those aforementioned elements and is rounded off with dark colour schemes and elaborate costumes to take the genre back to its roots. The same goes for the highly anticipated Victor Frankenstein, set for release late this November. Despite the fact that it’s yet another contemporary interpretations of Mary Shelley’s classic story, it’s looking like it will stay faithful to its stylistic roots and impress viewers with its visual elements.
Though Crimson Peak has come under fire for becoming more style than substance in its determination to stay loyal to its Gothic sensibilities, one thing no one can deny Del Toro does exceptionally well is put elements of traditional Gothic films back into the spotlight, and challenge the norms of today’s horror movie scene. The movie boldly asks what made the Gothic horror film genre so distinct from the horror movies we know today, all while simultaneously responding with its own undermining twist on the classic factors distinctive of the genre.
And the answer? Sure, the Gothic genre doesn’t quite employ the same techniques we are now used to in horror. There are not quite so many jump-worthy scares or possessions. Exorcisms aren’t as likely to happen and scenes of violence and gore are few and far between. But the true horror of the genre, Del Toro reminds us, lies in a much more realistic source.
Instead of restless poltergeists and summoned demons, the Gothic genre entertains the notion of less palpable fears: death, guilt, and for most, the dangers that come with the unknown. Gothic elements stand out in a category of their own, and though Gothic horror doesn’t offer the same rush of adrenaline that movies like The Conjuring do, Del Toro and McGuigan seem keen to prove that the core of the genre is in itself a visual kind of poetry that still somehow manages to highlight fear as the most ancient and most human of emotions.
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By: Sunanna Bhasin/Opinions Columnist
Still Alice is a critically acclaimed 2014 film about a middle-aged linguistics professor, Alice (Julianne Moore), who is diagnosed with a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. Her life had always been about words and communication, and for it to become about remembering how to articulate basic sentences to a classroom full of students is a frightening new reality. One can only imagine how devastating it is to lose one’s language. While the symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease are widely known — extreme memory loss, disorientation, and loss of speech — Still Alice provides the perspectives of the afflicted individual as well as her family and friends and the difficult decisions both parties have to make after the diagnosis.
The movie goes a step further and recognizes the stigma that still exists in regards to neurodegenerative disorders by using brutally honest dialogue. After getting her official diagnosis, Alice says that she wishes she had cancer. At first, this may seem a shock to the audience considering the severe nature of the sickness, but when Alice explains that cancer victims are not looked on as social outcasts and that they receive support in multitudes, the viewer can sympathize and realize the indescribable isolation Alzheimer’s patients feel.
Having a family member with dementia myself, this film really opened my eyes as to how quick the progression of the disease is and how people beyond the patient are affected to a degree that truly tests their love in immeasurable ways.
In the film, Alice’s husband (Alec Baldwin) has to make the heart wrenching decision to leave his wife for an incredible work opportunity in a different city. On the surface, this seems like a selfish thing to do — to choose work over family is hard to understand as a viewer. Yet, the movie succeeds in keeping the audience from picking sides. Rather than see it as a one-dimensional, straightforward situation in which the husband should obviously stay, take care of his wife, and sacrifice everything else in the process, Still Alice challenges viewers to appreciate the complexities presented by Alzheimer’s. While watching the film, one begins to wonder if it matters who the caretaker is if the one being cared for cannot recognize his or her surroundings or family anymore. If the breadwinner in the family must leave to provide financial support, is he or she being selfish or simply doing his or her best to keep the sufferers comfortable? Being in our own bubble and having no experience taking care of someone with Alzheimer’s, it is very easy to judge families that fall apart when a member is afflicted. Still Alice dares viewers to take on the role of a significant other or a child of an Alzheimer’s patient to truly see what the everyday reality is for a family dealing with it.
Despite the depressing, tear-jerking nature of the film, it ends on a hopeful and positive note. Yes, memories do comprise a large part of our lives. Think about how many times we reminisce with our loved ones. However, there’s one thing that comes out ahead — memories or not, recognition or not. At the end of the film, Alice’s daughter (Kristen Stewart) reads her a story and asks her ailing mother what it was about. At this stage of the disease, Alice is hardly able to speak, but she is able to get one word out even as she struggles: love.
Still Alice teaches us that while not everyone is dealt the greatest cards, love is enough to make life worth living even when it becomes hellish. Even throughout the movie, Alice would say how she’s had a great life, full of language and teaching, which she would never trade. Being diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s may have been a horrific shock, but it didn’t change the amazing life that she was able to live in the years leading up to it. In this way, Still Alice does not sugarcoat or romanticize the devastating reality of Alzheimer’s; rather, it reminds us all to live in the moment and love deeply because we never know when we could lose everything that matters most.
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Aaron Sorkin must have salivated when he was asked to write the Steve Jobs biopic, but the result will leave those who pay to see it with a dry taste in their mouths.
Following the heels of The Social Network, Sorkin was on top of the world and he tries to replicate the same magic with Danny Boyle (127 Hours, Trainspotting) directing instead of David Fincher. Much of the equation remains the same in Steve Jobs: the focus is still an ornery male “genius” who manages to alienate those around him, but the great man-history building feels stale this time around.
Renowned as the prodigal son that returned to helm Apple during the glory years when the company churned out the iMac, iPod, Macbook, iPhone and iPad, Jobs’ penchant for success seems unrivalled, but so was his capacity for hurting people to get what he wanted.
All this and more was already known to those who read Walter Issacson’s biography of the late Jobs, but here we find it overwrought in typical Sorkin manner. If it weren’t for Michael Fassbender’s intense display as the titular character and Kate Winslet’s captivating transformation into Joanna Hoffman, the film would have little to be proud of.
Famed for his work on shows like The West Wing and The Newsroom, Sorkin has a penchant for tightly wound characters and dialogue that leave actors and audience alike very little time to breathe. Such verbal acrobatics are seen here, but they are incredibly dizzying within the confines of a two-hour movie. Whether it was Sorkin’s intent for such quick-fire interactions to emulate what it was to work with Jobs, I don’t know, but something tells me it’s just Sorkin deriving pleasure from cringe-worthy one-liners from the film, like: “Musicians play their instruments. I play the orchestra,” and “If a fire causes a stampede to the unmarked exits, it’ll have been well worth it for those who survive.”
The claustrophobic effect is emphasized by how the movie is divided into three acts, all taking place in the forty minute-span before Jobs is to introduce a new product, and all involving the same rotating cast of characters: his daughter Lisa, her mother Chrisann, Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak, right-hand woman Joanna Hoffman, Apple developer Andy Hertzfeld and former Apple CEO John Sculley. The focus on the film is not so much on the products — Boyle and Sorkin are content to cut immediately and flash ahead whenever Jobs actually sets foot on stage. Instead of the products, the focus remains on Jobs and the conflicts that exist between him and his close acquaintances, and this tension is manipulated to the fullest. Too often, like when the camera flashes back and forth from Jobs to John Sculley (played by Sorkin favourite, Jeff Daniels) prior to the launch of the NeXT computer, this manipulation can prove to be too heavy-handed and leaves the viewer feeling as if they’re having their arm twisted.
The attitude that films like Steve Jobs and The Social Network propagate is that “changing the world” is more important than having the basic decency to value the lives of those around you. While the events in the film are heavily fictionalized, events like Jobs purporting that 28 percent of the American male population could have fathered his daughter Lisa with his girlfriend at the time, Chrisann Brennan, are true and pretty damning on their own. The fact that events like Jobs denying paternity and refusing to offer any monetary support are tempered by Sorkin one-liners rub further salt to the already gaping wound.
The only positive I can point to in Sorkin’s treatment of women is the fact that they are actually given screen time for once. Jobs’ head of marketing Joanna Hoffman (Winslet), mockingly referred to as his “work-wife,” is always on hand to berate Jobs to “make things right with Lisa,” but that just renders Jobs’ eventual attempt at reconciliation all the more laughable. That a man so endowed with the drive to succeed couldn’t bring himself to repair the bridges he had personally razed to the ground speaks to his character. While Hoffman admirably stands up to him throughout the film, she is only condescendingly asked to use a vague Eastern European wisdom to help fix Jobs’ relationship with Lisa.
The only moment where Boyle gets a chance to capture a genuine moment is in the final scene between Jobs and Lisa. But even then, the script falls flat in an attempt to wrap things together too neatly. Instead of letting the rawness of the scene carry it, Sorkin sneaks in a premature reference to the iPod that brings everything crashing back down to Earth. Then comes an embrace scored by The Maccabees’ “Grew Up At Midnight,” the type of indie-rock song that weaker films drift to when they want to evoke the sort of emotion that their own work lacks. In the end, the catharthis that the film peddles is shallow.
Save your money and try to “think different”-ly than Jobs. Don’t be an asshole.
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Xavier Dolan’s Mommy follows Diane “Die” Despres (Anne Dorval), a single mother trying to make ends meet. Her teenage son, Steve (Antoine Olivier Pilon), has ADHD and is emotionally unstable; one moment he is sweet-natured and the next he is violent. Along with Kyla (Susanne Clément), a quiet neighbour with an idiopathic stutter and her own troubles, the three form an unusual friendship in hopes that their broken pieces will somehow form a whole.
The performances of Dorval, Pilon, and Clément are operatic in scale, with all three turning in tremendous work. The decision to shoot the film in a 1:1 aspect ratio also augments the film, emphasizing how characters in the story are all confined to some form of a boundary.
Mommy is raw, carnal, and positively engrossing. Like Steve, the film is menacingly incandescent, with heavy scenes of violence and grief punctuated by bursts of humour and the warmth of a mother’s irrefutable, almost desperate, love. Equal measures heartfelt and heartbreaking, Mommy is one of the dearest films in 2014, and will tug at your heartstrings without remorse.
The blunt, raunchy, but insightful nature of Chris Rock’s stand-up lends itself brilliantly to Top Five, arguably Rock’s smartest feature to date. The semi-autobiographical film follows Andre Allen (Rock), a sell-out comedian hoping to be taken seriously, and Chelsea Brown (Rosario Dawson), a Times reporter, through a day of self-discovery wrapped up in not-so-subtle chemistry that ultimately satisfies. During the day-long interview, the pair pose the question, “who are your top five all-time favourite rappers” repeatedly to those Allen interacts with. Allen is reminiscent of comedians like Adam Sandler, who once made genuinely funny movies only to fall from grace and continuously make offensively bad movies.
Top Five allows for the exploration into the precariousness of celebrity, selling out, family, and comedy. The movie, which features cameos from Hollywood’s top comedians, strays from the formulaic nature of the modern blockbuster and ostensibly takes us back to a time where movies attempted, not only to entertain, but to also say something.
A star-studded cast, brilliant cinematography, a script that allows for both unforgettable monologues and snappy back-and-forth dialogue across nearly any combination of characters involved, and a total package of a film that demands repeat watches all make for what could very well be the ceiling of what modern cinema is capable of.
Riggan, played by Michael Keaton, is a washed up actor who used to play in a series of superhero movies. His attempt to reclaim legitimacy comes in the form of a stage production of Raymond Carver’s short story “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” This short plot description does not do the film nearly enough justice given the complexity of Riggan’s situation and mental state, how well developed all of the secondary characters are as individuals, and the vastly different relationships that each of these characters have with one another.
Much of the preview and basic media coverage revolves around how the film is set up to look like one long-take, basically that it has minimal cuts or transitions, that most film fan boys enjoy in any usage for how well these shots are usually framed, what climax or point they attempt to build up to, and the requirements and complexity required by the actors in the scene. While Birdman does follow these conventions, the main purpose is to add emphasis to the parallels between the main characters and their roles within the play performed within the movie – this also spills over with the script in self-referential elements such as Michael Keaton’s own experiences with the Batman franchise or Edward Norton being notoriously difficult to work with on set. While the fine line between losing yourself within the universe of the story and these meta components of reminding the watcher of real life events could very easily backfire, it works for the most part in continuing to blur lines between who they are in real life, who they are in the movie, and the parts they play within the play in the movie.
Everything in the film leads itself to brisk, constant action and sensory overload by constantly switching your expectations for the upcoming scene. Every moment is memorable and unique from every other in the film. This is a must-watch.
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Short, punchy, and at times anxiety-inducing, Whiplash is not a typical film. It centers on an aspiring jazz band drummer and the teacher who pushes him to the brink of insanity. J.K. Simmons is perfectly cast as the loud, abusive conductor, and in a much more subtle way, Miles Teller’s portrayal of the young drummer is just as well cast. From the film’s opening to its climax, their complex relationship plays out in a horrifyingly magnetic performance that stays with the audience hours after the film ends. The finale is satisfying, but unapologetically ambiguous in a way that respects the audience’s ability to imagine what could potentially follow the bizarre “happily ever after.”
Perhaps the most impressive element of the film is its runtime. Part of its effectiveness comes from the fact that an entire tumultuous year in the lives of the characters is played out in just over 100 minutes, leaving the viewer with the concise but undeniably disturbing feeling of whiplash.
While Boyhood got all the credit this year, another coming-of-age film didn’t get the attention it deserved. We Are The Best! is a Swedish movie whose small release and the fact that it wasn’t shot over the span of 12 years probably worked against it. Lukas Moodysson focuses his astute lens on three pre-teen girls who make change rather than a fairly typical boy who passively watches as change sweeps him off his feet.
Bobo and Klara are two best friends who still cling to the notion that punk is not dead in 1980s Stockholm. Frustrated by their tumultuous home life, the two retreat to the community centre to do their homework but are stymied by the noise made by the loud (and horrible) practice of a band called Iron Fist.
Despite their lack of instruments, the two conspire to keep the disrespectful boys from practicing by reserving their own timeslot; thus, their own band is born. What follows is a heart-warming/breaking tale that sees them absorb another lonely girl into their midst and become a full-fledged badass punk unit.
When I first saw the trailers for Guardians of the Galaxy I admit, I wasn’t very impressed. It looked like a rushed, cheesy film that would soon become indistinguishable from the countless other superhero movies that seem to be flooding movie theatres in the last five years. Worse still, I couldn’t help but question the fact that it had a talking raccoon, which – even now – is pretty damn weird.
Instead I found a movie with deep compelling characters, stunning visual effects, and witty dialogue at every turn that proved just how wrong my impressions were. While Guardians of the Galaxy may not be the movie of the year, it possesses a charm that left me laughing even after my first viewing, and is one superhero movie you just can’t miss.
The first thing you notice is the colours. Next, the gorgeous set design begins to permeate the senses. Long before you begin to even fathom the plot or the acting, Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel already has you under his spell.
In a year where cinema seemed to be drowning in superheroes and dark storylines, Anderson’s witty and stylish film is a breath of fresh air reminding us that there’s more to the movies than just explosions and fight sequences. Beyond the vibrant plums and the electrifying fuchsias, Anderson weaves an elaborate cat-and-mouse tale that manages to explore the themes of love and unlikely friendships without ever taking itself too seriously.
Newcomer Tony Revolori holds his own as Zero Moustafa, and Ralph Fiennes’ shines as Monsieur Gustav H. (who knew Voldemort could be so adorable?) That said, the film is a constellation where all the stars create a spectacle much bigger than the individual parts.
The year is young and I’m sure you’ve made plenty of resolutions, but let me tell you something: The gym can wait, this film cannot. Make sure you see for yourself what all the buzz around Wes Anderson’s most recent masterpiece is before it gets buried in all of the treasures (fingers-crossed) 2015 has to offer.
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Film awards have been, and probably always will be, rooted in Hollywood politics. From snubs to last-minute bidding, it seems as though the merit of individual films are often overlooked in favour of marketability.
The 2015 Oscar nominations were recently announced and have resulted in many discussions about race relations in Hollywood. Not only were the acting categories all white, many have begun to examine why certain films were absent from the Best Director categories.
Intersectionality is always important, but when examining the lack of Best Director nominations for Selma, a film portraying the Martin Luther King Selma march, intersectionality is of the utmost importance. Ava DuVernay was the first black female to be nominated for Best Director in the Golden Globes’ 77-year tenure.
Despite having a 99 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, higher than the critically acclaimed and widely-nominated Boyhood, the film was glaringly absent from the British Academy of Film and Television Arts, Producers Guild of America Awards, Directors Guild of America Awards, and Screen Actors Guild Awards nominations, and was snubbed in the Best Director category for the Academy Awards.
Only four women have ever been nominated in the Best Director category, while only one, Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker has won. Comparatively, only three Black men have ever been nominated for Best Director in the Academy Awards 87-year history. Had Ava DuVernay found her way into the category, she would have been the first Black female to ever have a place in the category.
In popular culture, movies and television often reinforce values commonly held in society and overlooking talented black women should remind us that sexism and racism, especially in Hollywood, are still highly prevalent. In 2014, 17 of the 250 top selling films were directed by women, and three of those were Black female directors.
In a 2012 survey, the L.A. Times found that 94 percent of Oscar voters are white, and 77 percent are male. How can Black women expect fairness when their voices are overwhelmingly absent from the voting process? While it is important to note that Selma received nominations for Best Picture and Best Original Song (“Glory” by Common and John Legend), we do a disservice by admitting that “at least we have those.” It is not a matter of charity, and it’s not enough to get crumbs; it should be about fairness.
No, Selma would not have won every award category it was nominated in, but that does not mean that we should overlook the lack of nominations. Black women have continued to prove that they are talented enough and it is time that we, and the film industry, recognized this.
Six blockbusters, 13 years, and 1031 minutes of accrued running time later, Peter Jackson has concluded his adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s original works with The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. We bid a melancholy farewell to Bilbo, the little hobbit with a big taste for adventure, through a variety of spectacular action sequences throughout the film. Unfortunately, these action sequences do not distract from the lack of character development and powerful emotion that fans expected in the concluding chapter of a gargantuan franchise that has become dear to audiences’ hearts across the globe and through generations.
If you have yet to see the past two films in The Hobbit trilogy, Five Armies is not for you. The film picks up right where it left off in the last movie, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, where the dragon Smaug (Benedict Cumberbatch) has awoken from his slumber and is unleashed upon the civilians of Laketown. What follows is an epic action sequence of fire-breathing and arrow-wielding as Bard the Bowman (Luke Evans) slays Smaug, opening a window of opportunity for dwarves, elves, and men alike to siege Lonely Mountain and the treasures it holds. The dwarves, led by a greed-driven Lord Thorin (Richard Armitage), claim the mountain as their own, setting stage for an epic battle that will determine the fates of many beloved Hobbit characters, and of Middle-earth itself. But when the Orcs, warrior goblins known to be ruthless in battle, are summoned, elves, dwarves, and men must decide between uniting to fight against their common enemy, or perish alongside each other.
While much of this sounds exciting, the Achilles’ heel of Five Armies is probably its emphasis on spectacle as opposed to context. The film is a cavalcade of action scenes, sparsely dotted with sequences that shine light onto character plot lines. The character-driven drama that made The Lord of the Rings series so incredible seems lost, with these moments replaced by the brute force of swords clashing in battle. So many loud things are happening simultaneously that even our main character, Bilbo, is cast to the side. There is also an ill-advised attempt at humour in the form of Alfrid (Ryan Gage), a minor character from Laketown, whose cheesy quips and unappealing personality takes up time that could be spent creating more emotionally powerful scenes – or, really, just time spent on anything else but him.
Still, the action sequences are undoubtedly spectacular. Even if you have not seen the previous films, watching the ultimate battle of Middle-earth will send chills down your spine. Armies that were initially in opposition come together to protect each other from the Orcs. Many main characters, such as Thorin and Legolas (Orlando Bloom), also get their chances to shine as the focus shifts to one-on-one battles and more emotionally driven scenes. The film redeems itself in intermittent touches of emotion, including the forbidden romance between elf warrior Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly) and Kili (Aidan Turner), and when Thorin comes to his senses and decides to fight with his fellow dwarves.
The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies may not be groundbreaking, but is nevertheless a fitting conclusion to the prequel trilogy. Though lacking in character development and flawed in various plot lines, it is a spectacular box-office supernova that is charged and action-packed from start to finish. Despite not focusing on harvesting the emotional potential seen in the earlier series, there will be moments to laugh, moments to cry, and moments to fondly remember Bilbo’s adventures through the three films.
Perhaps it is slightly unfair as The Hobbit trilogy will always be compared to The Lord of the Rings series and, as a result, will live in its shadow. Regardless, audiences of Five Armies will become travelling companions on the final leg of Bilbo’s odyssey, and though the film is not quite a momentous masterpiece, it is a satisfying adieu to our good friend from Middle-earth.
