Dune - "Fear the Moment."

When Dune was revealed to actually be Dune: Part One, I was a bit disappointed. If it was a Lord of the Rings situation in which it was all already filmed and Part Two would be coming out a year later or something, it wouldn’t have bummed me out. But Part Two wasn’t even greenlit until after Part One was released, meaning I was in for a years long wait. Because of this, my reaction to the first film was a tempered, “That was great, but I can’t wait to see the full story.” It felt like a great introduction with all the truly amazing stuff yet to come. This meant my expectations for the sequel were somehow even higher than they were for the first film. So perhaps it’s not that surprising that my reaction to Part Two is just, “That was pretty good.”

This is similar to my experience with Oppenheimer last year. I watched it and liked it, but when I saw other reactions to the film, I wondered what I had missed (with Oppenheimer, I came around with multiple viewings and now consider it amazing). I keep seeing terms like “masterpiece” and “achievement” being tossed around in regards to Part Two along with some high profile names like Christopher Nolan calling it Denis Villeneuve’s Empire Strikes Back. Now, I liked both of these films, but I did not come away thinking it was a masterpiece.

Rather than get into problems I had with the movie (which are vague, anyway, along the lines of, “I wanted to be blown away, but instead I just liked it a lot”), I wanted to focus instead on the moment created by the film. This is a moment a dork like me fears when something weird I like is embraced by the mainstream. Dune should be something I’m kind of embarrassed to like; instead I’m seeing sites like Barstool Sports posting about digging it unironically. 

I should be embracing non-dorks liking a movie that features an extended black and white gladiator arena sequence on Giedi Prime that even features weird Harkonnen fireworks. I can, and will, get past that just as I have with every other dorky property that achieves massive mainstream success. What’s harder to get past, as a writer of movie stuff, is critical hyperbole.  

Despite the stereotypical reputation of critics and dorks being stubborn pop culture elitists, I constantly second-guess myself. When I walked out of Oppenheimer last year, my thoughts weren’t, “Why did everybody like that movie so much more than me?” Instead, I wondered what I had missed. What was wrong with me if I couldn’t recognize the genius of that film?

Dune: Part Two made me feel like the northern Fremen compared to the southern fundamentalist Fremen in regards to Paul. The northerners were impressed with his abilities, but he wasn’t a god to them…yet, while the southerners were all-in immediately. I’m like Chani, but I want to be Stilgar, using even discouraging examples as evidence of the film’s greatness.

Sometimes I need multiple viewings for a film to win me over, which is why this isn’t a review of Dune: Part Two. I don’t feel comfortable judging it until I’ve been able to watch it at least one more time. That’s just me; it’s perfectly fine to not be in love with a movie after one viewing, and then just move on. But when people are calling this one of the best science fiction films of all time, I can’t just move on when my response isn’t on the same level. 

While there are moments in Part Two that I love (the aforementioned Giedi Prime sequence, Paul riding a worm the first time, the realistic depiction of religion), overall it didn’t feel as momentous as I thought it should. I’m hoping that another viewing will have the same effect of Paul addressing the elders, or better yet, I want another viewing to use the voice and shout “Silence!” at me when I start to doubt its greatness. 

Until then, unfortunately, I’m Chani riding away on a sandworm with a tear in my eye while seemingly the rest of the world has chosen to believe something I still have doubts about.

"Blade Runner 2049" - More "Blade Runner" Than "Blade Runner"

Blade Runner 2049

(This site is supposed to be about movies I own, but I'm making an exception for this Blade Runner 2049 review since I will own it when it is released on blu ray.)

Returning to beloved films from decades ago usually results in disappointment. But thanks to a recent influx of new films that continue the franchise (Star Wars, Alien) rather than reboot it, the results have been a bit more satisfying. Still, revisiting Blade Runner seemed like a bad idea. There's not much to the original film that begs for a sequel. In fact, one of the most interesting aspects of the film is the unanswered question of whether Deckard (Harrison Ford) was a replicant. It seems like a sequel featuring Ford would be problematic for that question. Also, the first Blade Runner was not an action movie. It was a moody noir set in a dystopian future. Would Hollywood allow a sequel to be made without turning it into an action film?

Thankfully, the filmmakers (director Denis Villeneuve, producer [original director] Ridley Scott, and writers Hampton Fancher [original] and Michael Green) handled things beautifully. They do not answer the question of Deckard. In fact, they add more to the debate for both sides of the argument. And, more importantly, Blade Runner 2049 is nowhere near an action film.

The plot, which I'll be vague about since the studio left it very vague in the promotional materials, is in the same vein as the original, playing out as a simple detective story in a complex, visually stunning setting. While the plot does add plenty of questions to the series and brings up plenty of existential themes concerning humanity and technology, the true appeal of the film is its style.

Director Denis Villeneuve (Arrival, Sicario) was the perfect choice to succeed Scott in the director's chair. He has proven himself a master of tension and mood already, so it was great to see him set loose with a large budget in an already richly designed world. I rewatch the original Blade Runner on a yearly basis because of the world of the film. Blade Runner 2049 takes that bleak future and turns into perhaps the bleakest future in a film that isn't post-apocalyptic; perhaps it could be described as pre-apocalyptic. It's interesting that such an ugly moral world can be so beautiful. Villeneuve and director of photography Roger Deakins take massive landfills, radioactive cities, and bleak farmlands and turn them into cinematic wonders. 

The visuals, which are a perfect blend of CG and practical effects, are amazing on their own, and the nearly oppressive score (which rattled the speakers of my theater regularly) is the finishing touch. A world is only beautiful if you get to spend plenty of time in it, though. This is where critics (and Blade Runner fans) and a typical audience member might differ in opinion. Blade Runner 2049 gives you over two and a half hours in its bleak world, with many sequences consisting solely of Ryan Gosling walking slowly. I see that and can't take my eyes away because I want to examine and enjoy every frame of the film. Others might see that and want to yell, "Do something!" 

Perhaps the best way I can describe how interesting I found this arguably "boring" film is this: I went to see this after working a twelve hour night shift. I went to the earliest show I could, which allowed me to get two hours of sleep beforehand. I've done this with other movies and could barely keep my eyes open no matter the type of movie I was watching. Yet with Blade Runner 2049, I didn't so much as yawn a single time. I was truly worried I would fall asleep when I first planned to watch this lengthy film under those conditions. When I walked out of the theater feeling completely awake, I knew I had seen something special. 

Although the visuals, pacing, and music were the stars of the film for me, that does not mean the performances were lacking. Gosling is perfectly cast in the lead role. Harrison Ford is fine as the aged Deckard (though it seems like he's just being Harrison Ford instead of the actual characters he's returning too). Jared Leto was oddly zen-like in a villainous role, but he was underused. The standouts are the female performers. Robin Wright turns what could have been a one-note boss character into fully realized character. Sylvia Hoeks provides quiet menace as Leto's muscle. And Ana de Armas gives possibly the best performance as Joi, an AI girlfriend. 

With all of this praise I'm giving Blade Runner 2049, you might think it's obvious that I prefer it to the original film, but I'm not sure yet. My impulse is to declare this the better film, but it will take time to truly tell which film has the more lasting effect. The original Blade Runner didn't catch on for years. So maybe my opinion of this film will change over the years, as well. I doubt it, though. Like most films that I love, my immediate thought as I walked out of the theater was, "I can't wait to see this again." I think my yearly viewings of Blade Runner just became a double feature, and Blade Runner 2049 is definitely one of my favorite films of the year.

Random Thoughts (SPOILERS)

Unfortunately, this is probably the last Blade Runner for a while since it's underperforming at the box office, but I'm okay with where it ended. It definitely felt like a few things were set up for future installments, but it didn't end on a cliffhanger or anything. You can imagine where things go from that ending. But I do wonder if they ignored Leto's character at the end in hope of a sequel. Or maybe they introduced that replicant underground group to be expanded upon in the future. Either way, it stands on its own as a great movie.

Gosling was meant to play a Pinocchio-like replicant.

The Joi character reminded me of Her quite a bit. It's still an interesting plotline. At times you're watching a robot interact with a hologram. The fact that these two "lifeless" characters make up a big portion of the films says something about the overall question the film posits: What is humanity?

Man, Los Angeles is bleaker than ever. You can imagine if most people had moved off-world back in 2019 how bad it must be by 2049. 

Glad to see Edward James Olmos return, still making that origami.

So is Deckard a replicant? I think he's human at this point, though I thought he was a replicant after watching the original. It's not the aging that makes me thing he's human; it was the scene with him in the car as it submerged. If he was a replicant, he would have easily gotten out of the handcuffs. Of course, Tyrell could have made him pretty much identical to a human in all aspects if he was capable of making a replicant able to procreate. Perhaps Deckard and Rachel were his replicant Adam and Eve... Okay, maybe Deckard is a replicant after all. 

The Mixed Bag of Sci-Fi Nostalgia: Star Wars, Alien, and Blade Runner

(NewsRadio was originally going to be my next post, but I decided to postpone that and write something a bit more relevant since Blade Runner 2049 is coming out this week. NewsRadio is written and will be posted in a week or so.)

Nostalgia seems to be fueling the biggest movies and TV shows recently, and that is not going to change anytime soon thanks to the popularity of Star Wars returning to the original trilogy characters. Star Wars didn't start this trend or anything, but the massive success likely led to the greenlighting of new entries in other older properties. I can't help but think that Alien: Covenant was able to be made because of a promise to be more like the original Alien than the recent, divisive Prometheus. And based on the previews of Blade Runner 2049, it looks like the studio provided a huge budget; it's not a stretch to assume this is because of the Star Wars effect. While I love the resurgence of all these films I loved growing up, the nostalgia factor makes it a mixed bag (though I'm crazy optimistic for Blade Runner 2049). So is nostalgia helping or hurting the integrity of these franchises? Let's start with Star Wars.

The Force Awakens, many claim, gave the fans what they wanted whereas the prequels gave them what they didn't want. Not to get into a prequel vs. original trilogy debate, but one thing that can be said for the prequels is that they are different. For a lot of fans, that means they're terrible (I happen to hold them in the same regard as the original trilogy, but that's not the point). So when The Force Awakens came out, there was this collective sigh of relief: Star Wars was truly back. 

I enjoyed The Force Awakens, but the more I watched it, the more the nostalgia wore off. I still like it, but I also realize that it is an unapologetic rehash of A New Hope. People have pointed this out, but it seems like most give the film a pass. "Yeah, it's basically a remake, but, man, it really felt like Star Wars!" In other words, "Yeah, I've seen this movie before, but, man, it's a really good movie!" 

This is where I disagree with fans of The Force Awakens. Nostalgia is all about feeling, but I didn't think The Force Awakens felt like a Star Wars movie. It had all the right parts and whatnot, but it felt different. Not bad, just different. It's to the point now that I don't even consider that film's success the product of nostalgia; it was successful simply because of recognition. 

This is where the Alien and Blade Runner franchises come into play. Obviously nostalgia and recognition are part of the appeal (hell, Harrison Ford returns in Blade Runner, just like he did in Star Wars [PS - it's my theory that Ford is going through his most iconic characters and killing them off one by one; Deckard is probably going to die in the new Blade Runner, and he could also kill off Indiana Jones in the announced fifth film]), but one major difference with these two properties is that the original director, Ridley Scott, is heavily involved. Meanwhile, George Lucas, to the delight of most fans, has almost nothing to do with the new films. 

Scott's involvement is so important because he's not a fan. Everyone working on the new Star Wars films are fans, so, in essence, all the new stuff is fan fiction. Fan fiction can be good, but it will always feel a step removed. Just like Lucas was willing to do something vastly different (even if a lot of fans hated it), Scott can do whatever he wants with Alien and Blade Runner.

This has happened a bit already. The Alien prequel Prometheus, while certified fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, received a lot of negative blowback online. The film, in my opinion, has been nitpicked excessively possibly because it didn't deliver enough answers and/or the same experience of the first Alien film. The issue here is that Scott didn't set out to do either. Prometheus is not technically an Alien film as Scott has been following a multi-film plan to lead up to the original Alien. That's why there isn't a proper xenomorph in the film, and it's also why there are plenty of unanswered questions.

The more recent Alien: Covenant is different. It's as if Scott listened to the upset fans of Prometheus and tried to do two separate things: continue his multi-film plan and give the audience something very similar to the original Alien. I think the film accomplishes that, but that makes it the lesser of the two new films. I enjoyed the xenomorph sequence at the end of Covenant, but I was much more interested in the continued story from Prometheus. Pleasing fans is important, but when you give into them, it's like giving into a child who wants candy for dinner. Sure, the child will be full, but it's empty nourishment. Here's hoping that the next Alien film leans more towards Prometheus than Covenant. (To be clear, though, I really liked both movies.)

One thing that is undeniable about the Alien prequels is that Scott is still able to create the Alien atmosphere. Rewatching Alien recently, I realized that the atmosphere is why I love that first film more than Aliens. It's slow and brooding and effective. It also took what the original Star Wars presented (a futuristic sci-fi that looks lived rather than shiny and new) and perfected it. I recall Alien being described as truckers in space, and that's exactly what it is. This is best exemplified by the great Yaphet Kotto and Harry Dean Stanton (R.I.P.). How often in a film set on a spaceship do you have characters arguing about wages? All of these elements add up to a nearly perfect film. A film that could not be replicated today because of pacing alone. Look at Covenant; they essentially remade Alien in the last twenty minutes. Audiences don't have time for slow burn tension these days.

Perhaps Blade Runner 2049 will prove me wrong, though. With a running time nearing three hours and a director (Denis Villeneuve) who specializes in mood, this could be the film that gets it right. Blade Runner 2049 could placate fans and retain the atmospheric feeling of the original. 

Blade Runner 2049 may have found the perfect formula for nostalgic filmmaking. Rather than shutting out the original director, allow him to be involved in the process (as Scott is on 2049 as a producer) without giving him total control. Star Wars could benefit from George Lucas's input, as blasphemous as that might seem to certain fans. Don't let him go full prequel with it, but let him in on the process. The guy who started it all just might have a few ideas for where the story can go.

Back to Blade Runner, what made me fall in love with this film over the years was the mood and atmosphere. Judging it on face value, it's a boring film. (SPOILERS throughout the rest of this paragraph.) Deckard is very low energy and is no match against a replicant in a fight, and he only survives at the end because Batty lets him. It's not meant to be much of an action film, though. It's an atmospheric consideration of what life is, especially in a technologically advanced world. It's slow and beautiful. I don't rewatch it at least once a year for the badass action sequences; I watch it because I want to revisit the world of the film.

Of course, simply wanting to revisit the world of a film is what led to some of the problems with nostalgic filmmaking in the first place. I guess the best way to describe it is that The Force Awakens felt like I was looking at a picture of the Star Wars universe, and I hope that Blade Runner 2049 feels more like a return to the world. 

Based on early reviews for 2049, it appears that they got it right with this one. I hope so. Because nostalgia will continue to drive the content of Hollywood as long as it's profitable. Nostalgia doesn't have to be a bad thing. When done right, filmmakers might be able to recreate the magic of the past. I'll find out this weekend when I watch Blade Runner 2049.

"Sicario" Is the Dark, Tense Film the Drug War Deserves.

Sicario

Director Dennis Villeneuve has recently established himself as a master of tension, mood, and atmosphere. His two most recent films, Prisoners and Enemy set the tone for what to expect from his latest film, Sicario. Villeneuve’s ability to take basic establishing shots of arguably mundane settings and make them foreboding and intense is impressive. It’s a way of creating an effective style without calling too much attention to itself.

With Sicario, Villeneuve has the deserts of Mexico and the American southwest to play with. Lengthy establishing shots (renowned director of photography Roger Deakins impresses yet again) paired with a menacing score (by Johann Johannsson) let us know that this film about the drug war is going to be dark, intense, and disturbing. Mood isn’t everything in a film, but it certainly helps draw the viewer in. Working with a script from Taylor Sheridan (best known as an actor from Sons of Anarchy), Villeneuve is able to take what could have been a cookie-cutter action-thriller and make it into something special.

A movie about the drug war needs to be elevated because this is a story that has been told before, in a way. There have been movies about the drug war in Mexico for decades, but Sicario rises above the rest thanks to Villeneuve’s direction. That is not to say Sheridan’s script is weak. It is not terribly original, but it is interesting thanks to the perspective Sheridan chose.

The story is told from FBI agent Kate Macer’s perspective. Macer (Emily Blunt) is asked to join a joint task force made up of vague government types including Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro. Neither one wants to tell Macer much, so we do not know much. The most Macer, and the audience, is told is that the mission is to shake things up for the cartel and “dramatically overreact.” There is more to it, of course, which is the mystery of the film. The title itself is a bit of a mystery as “sicario” means “hitman” in Spanish, but we are not told who the hitman is. Having the main character be the new member of a group is a standard ploy of screenwriting to give the viewer someone to empathize with, but it is interesting here when you consider that Macer may represent the typical American’s reaction to the drug war. Not to get into spoilers, but Macer’s story arc is much more powerful when you view her as a representation of America in general.

While the character of Macer may be a bit plain, Blunt is still able to show her impressive range. Even though she plays a successful FBI agent, this is not your typical strong independent female role. Normally, a female character like this would be shown overpowering every man in her way, but Sicario takes a more realistic route. Macer can hold her own in a raid, but in a hand to hand fight with a man who has fifty pounds on her, things do not go so smoothly. While Macer is physically capable of her job, she struggles with the moral implications of her work with the task force. It is a role that requires Blunt to show equal parts strength and weakness, and she is great at both.

Brolin gives a fun performance in his supporting role, providing some much needed comedic relief to an otherwise joyless film. But it’s Del Toro who steals the film. As Alejandro, a mysterious and deadly soldier, he is able to make a menacing character surprisingly sympathetic. Del Toro comes across as the true star of the film. And Macer (and we the audience) are just there to watch him work.

Since this is a film about the drug war, there is a bit of action, as well. Villneuve does not glorify any of the violence, instead making most of the action scenes quick and brutal, showcasing how savage the situation has become. Each “action” scene is an incredibly tense moment that is much more effective than anything you will find in traditional action films of late.

Every positive element of the film is amplified by the style Villeneuve infuses into the film. Perhaps this is giving him too much credit, but mood and atmosphere cannot be undervalued when it comes to films about serious topics. Villeneuve’s style demands your close attention. And your close attention is rewarded with a tense, atmospheric “action” film that will have you contemplating a real world issue. In short, Sicario is what every serious film should be.

Sicario receives a:

Random Thoughts (SPOILERS)

I really liked the dark ending of the film, with the whole mission being about supporting one cartel to take over the entire drug trade. It's hard to fault Brolin's reasoning, especially when he points out the impossibility of getting Americans to stop using drugs. It's not a nice solution, but maybe it's a realistic one. 

I liked Sicario quite a bit because of my interpretation of Macer's character. By the end of the film, I saw her as representative of America in general because of her inability to bring real change to the situation. When Alejandro visits her at the end to coerce a signature that will legalize all the illegal things they did, he tells her she isn't strong enough for the war. She is not a wolf. So she should move away from it. I feel like that sums up most of America's citizens in regard to the drug war. Most people can't handle the brutality of what's going on, but their drug use or lack of attention allows it to continue. We are not wolves, so rather than do something about it, we "move" out attention elsewhere, hoping someone else fixes it. This interpretation was solidified for me when Macer retrieved her gun, aimed it at Alejandro, but was not able to pull the trigger. She was left on the balcony, powerless. That symbolizes the typical American regarding the drug war. We're above it on the balcony in America, and we have the power to stop it, but we can't pull the trigger. I really wish the film had ended there, rather than ending up at the kids' soccer game in Juarez. The ending makes a powerful point (that was also made in Traffic, by the way), but the theme of the film would have been more evident if the film had ended with Alejandro walking away as a powerless Macer stands, defeated, on the balcony.

After watching this, it is clear why Villeneuve is directing the next Blade Runner. This film is actually quite similar, stylistically. Blade Runner featured lengthy establishing shots set to a unique score that solidified the mood and atmosphere of the film constantly. I am not officially excited for what I previously thought of as a needless sequel. I know Villeneuve will keep the new Blade Runner just as dark as the original.

Finally, hats off to Sicario for that brutal dinner scene at the end. For a second, I thought Alejandro would prove to be sympathetic to the innocent woman and children at the table, but he turned out to be just as brutal as he had been the entire film. He was truly a man on a mission. I have not found Del Toro this interesting in years. Hopefully he keeps this up with his role in the next Star Wars film.