starring Mia Wasikowska, Johnny Depp, and Helena Bonham Carter
written by Linda Woolverton & directed by Tim Burton
Rated PG for fantasy action/violence involving scary images and situations, and for a smoking caterpillar.
52%

For thirteen years, 19-year old Alice Kingsleigh (Wasikowska) has been haunted by a nightmare about a strange world full of weird creatures. But Alice is about to learn that this other place is more than just a dream; she actually visited Underland as a little girl. Now, her old friends need her to return to fulfill a prophecy that shows her defeating the Jabberwocky and saving Underland from the tyranny of the evil Red Queen (Bonham Carter).

Tim Burton needs to have his creative license revoked until such time as he can demonstrate that he is able to use it responsibly. There is so much that is wrong with Burton’s Alice in Wonderland (a grossly-misleading misnomer, as the entire film takes place in “Underland” and a single throwaway line of dialogue near the end explains the discrepancy) that it is difficult to notice the brief flashes of things that are right. Most of these come courtesy of the cast, which is surely one of the most notable assemblies since, well, the last Harry Potter movie.

I am not primarily referring to the heavily-marketed and wildly-uneven Depp, here doing his best Carrot Top impression as the Mad Hatter. Wasikowska, still a relative unknown if not a newcomer, does a good job with a flatly-written character whose development never makes any sense, and Bonham Carter and Hathaway are delightfully broad in their depictions of royal sisters, the Red Queen and the White Queen. Best of all, though, are the actors whose faces we never see, like Alan Rickman’s all-too-brief scenes as the Caterpillar and Stephen Fry as the Cheshire Cat.

There ought to be something positive to say about the film’s visuals, as Burton is perhaps best known for his unique aesthetic. There are certainly some striking concepts in play at various points, but Alice in Wonderland is perhaps the most distractingly rendered movie I have ever seen. Virtually every frame seizes you by the lapels and screams, “I am a computer-generated image!” in your face.

With films like District 9 and Avatar bringing us real and CG images which convincingly inhabit the same space, the garish artificiality of Alice, in which none of the actors in any given scene appear to be performing in front of the same camera, looks primitive and lazy. The creature design runs the gamut from nearly realistic to totally cartoonish, while the human and human-like characters in the movie wander aimlessly through the uncanny valley. Their appearances are marked by an off-putting grotesqueness and their movements impaired by an odd, stop-motion jerkiness. Nothing ever looks quite right, and your eyes know it, even if your mind can’t quite process what the problem is.

None of this would matter a great deal if the film’s story weren’t the worst sort of disaster imaginable. Aside from the occasional laugh, screenwriter Woolverton has failed in nearly every way that it is possible to fail. The attempts to reference the original source are perfunctory and haphazard, but its very essence is sacrificed for a flavor-of-the-month, cookie-cutter fantasy quest involving the recovery of a special sword, the slaying of a terrible monster, the fulfilling of an ancient prophecy, and the salvation of an imaginary kingdom. The whole business is obviously meant to be some sort of sequel, as it repeatedly refers to Alice’s first visit, but it seems to be cherry-picking elements from Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass, and Disney’s 1951 animated classic completely at random. In short, it is a follow-up to a story that does not exist.

Finally, after a titanic but pointless battle between the Red Queen’s cards and the White Queen’s chessmen, the movie stops pretending and just jumps the shark. The Mad Hatter does an appallingly stupid victory dance to some upbeat pseudo-pop dreck, then Alice heads back to rejoin the framing story so she can apply the lessons of Underland to her own life. What that amounts to, in this case, is showing her new “empowered Victorian woman” chops by turning down the stuffy British lord she is supposed to marry. She then wows her father’s old business partner with a radical new idea: Why not be the first English company to open up trade with China? It’s so crazy that it just might work!

The absurdity of this proposition beggars the imagination. Leaving aside, if one even can, the fact that, by the time Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland was published in 1865, England had been trading with China for centuries, the implications of this development are almost too embarrassing to point out. After her transformation from eccentric, weak-willed girl to proto-feminist warrior woman, Alice’s first move is to open new frontiers in colonial imperialism. This exemplifies perfectly the inept, clueless inanity that seems to have informed nearly every filmmaking decision behind Burton’s Alice in Wonderland.

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starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, and Ben Kingsley
written by Laeta Kalogridis & directed by Martin Scorsese
Rated R for disturbing violent content, language and some nudity.
97%

It is 1954, and U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio), along with his new partner Chuck (Ruffalo), has been summoned to an asylum for the criminally insane located on a remote island to look into the mysterious disappearance of one of the patients. Soon after their arrival, a violent storm cuts them off from civilization, and as the investigation continues it becomes increasingly obvious that nothing on Shutter Island is as it seems.

From the very first shot, Shutter Island sucks you completely into its world and never lets go. The cinematography, the setting, the costumes, the dialog; everything about this film is flawlessly crafted to create a perfect mood and then to sustain it. Meanwhile, the audience struggles in vain to piece together a carefully-rationed series of clues and avoid entrapment in the weird web that seems to have ensnared the characters. I cannot remember the last time I had a chance to see a suspense-thriller of this caliber.

As with all great examples of the genre, watching this film is not a passive experience. The movie demands that the audience grapple with its mysteries. Of course, being a genre piece, Scorsese is dealing with certain expectations and tropes. The dark, Gothic mood of the film which appealed to me may strike some viewers as totally overblown. Scorsese is hitting a lot of broad, familiar notes, certainly, but in a way that feels natural and justified (I’ll say no more lest I spoil the ending). Besides, anyone anyone who complains about the lengths this film goes to for the sake of atmosphere has forgotten what makes a thriller tick, or never knew in the first place.

Best of all, though, it never feels as though the movie is “cheating” or withholding vital information. Certainly a great deal of faith is required from the audience that all of the disparate elements floating around will eventually come together in a way that makes sense. However, all of the necessary clues are presented (in fact, virtually everything is a clue of some kind); the challenge is to piece them together for yourself before everything is revealed. This is not a film which requires a second viewing in order to make sense (although it would certainly be rewarding), but it does demand full attention the first time through. Hours later, small pieces are still be clicking into place in my mind as I continue to realize just how perfectly constructed the whole thing is.

Although Shutter Island is obviously being billed as yet another Scorsese/DiCaprio vehicle, it has an amazing ensemble cast. Basically every significant speaking role (however small) is filled by a performer that I am delighted to see. I should particularly note how nice it is to see Sir Ben Kingsley, the four-time Oscar nominee and Shakespearean thespian extraordinaire, for once taking on a project that is worthy of his immense talent (having appeared most recently as Guru Tugginmypudha in Mike Myers’ abominable The Love Guru).

In addition to Kingsley (and, of course, Ruffalo), there are also welcome appearances by Max von Sydow, Emily Mortimer, Patricia Clarkson, Ted Levine, and Jackie Earle Haley. I don’t want to downplay DiCaprio’s performance, however. Actually, that is hardly possible, as the nature of the narrative demands that he appear in every single scene. This places enormous weight on his performance, and it is only after the story has fully played out that it becomes clear what a subtle, delicate balancing act he has managed to carry off.

When I was a teenager, my favorite movie experiences took place in front of a tense thriller, watched late at night with my brother or a friend. I actively craved, and constantly sought, films that would keep both my mind and my heart racing frantically. These could be difficult to come by with any regularity (particularly in a foreign country), and that often meant relying on Alfred Hitchcock for my fix. I can think of no higher compliment to pay Scorsese’s latest film than to say that it carried me back to that earlier time, and conjured up all of the reasons why I loved the genre so much in the first place.

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starring Benicio Del Toro, Emily Blunt, and Anthony Hopkins
written by Andrew Kevin Walker and David Self & directed by Joe Johnston
Rated R for bloody horror violence and gore.
67%

After many years in America, Lawrence Talbot (Del Toro) returns to the family estate in rural England in response to a frantic letter about his brother’s mysterious disappearance from Gwen Conliffe (Blunt), his brother’s fiancee. Shortly after his arrival, his brother’s mutilated body is discovered, and panic sweeps through the small village as rumors circulate of a man who turns into a ravenous beast whenever the moon is full.

Top marks to the various ways in which The Wolfman pays homage to the classic 1941 The Wolf Man while trying to take the material in a new direction. For anyone who has seen the original (as I have just recently), it is fascinating to see how it has been reworked in surprising and (sometimes) clever ways. The first obvious change is the period setting; while the 1941 film was decidedly contemporary, the remake turns the clock back an additional half-century to cash in on our associations with a creepy, Victorian ambiance.

In some ways, this seems like the only smart move to make. Updating the story to the 21st-century would have been nearly impossible, and leaving it in the 1940s would appear almost as baffling. In any case, the filmmakers skillfully milk their chosen era for whatever they can; everything from making Talbot’s father, Sir John (Hopkins), an exotic big-game hunter with a mysterious Indian servant, to a brief but bizarre sequence in a 19th-century insane asylum. All of this, though almost totally reliant on cliches, works really well in building a mood around a solid aesthetic.

The Wolfman also throws in an A-list cast, which certainly isn’t common for a horror movie with somewhat disreputable (read: non-literary) origins. Del Toro is an excellent choice as the title character (which, I suppose, technically constitutes a spoiler), even though I was never remotely convinced that he was Hopkins’ son. Hopkins, of course, does very well in a role that ranges from subtle touches to over-the-top excess. Hugo Weaving (whom I can’t recall having seen in anything for some years) plays such a sympathetic antagonist that he threatens to shift audience loyalties. Meanwhile, Emily Blunt, enormously talented as she is, feels utterly wasted in her role. She is given virtually nothing to do, and (in the spirit of the period) even less to say.

Actually, the cast is so good that one almost doesn’t notice the movie wandering leisurely off the rails partway through (during the aforementioned asylum sequence), despite a sudden (though hardly unforeseen) twist in the plot. At this point, the remainder of the story unfolds with complete clarity before the viewer, and it simply becomes a question of how long it will take to play out. The answer, unfortunately, is “far too long.” I am not so easily bored that I felt that the movie had outstayed its welcome, but once the events that must transpire in the climax become obvious, it is generally time for the story to carry us there as swiftly as possible. As much as horror audiences appreciate thrilling action scenes involving buckets of stomach-churning gore, a few less guts and a few more cuts might have been in order here.

Then again, perhaps I wouldn’t have minded the longer journey as much if the ending hadn’t been so jaw-droppingly stupid, for reasons which were completely unnecessary. The writers managed to betray what had seemed like a very carefully-laid foundation of foreshadowing in a way that almost seemed as though they had forgotten about it entirely. In its place was the obligatory open-ended conclusion, brought about by the most implausible sequence of events imaginable. Actually, the most frustrating thing about the movie’s final moments is that they hit what would have been the perfect note, if only everything leading up to them hadn’t been so needlessly counter-intuitive.

The Wolfman is at its most entertaining when it is riffing on elements from the 1941 film, a pleasure that will be entirely lost on audiences that haven’t seen the original. Independent from that source, it offers very little to justify its existence. It is by no means a painful viewing experience; the worst that can be said about it is that it is quite forgettable. What it has to offer is some lightweight fun to carry audiences through the studio dumping ground of January and February, but (unsurprisingly) I do not think it will still be inspiring filmmakers and horror fans alike some 70 years after its release.

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starring Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, and Sigourney Weaver
written & directed by James Cameron
Rated PG-13 for intense epic battle sequences and warfare, sensuality, language and some smoking.
94%

Paraplegic former marine Jake Sully (Worthington) arrives on the alien world of Pandora to join an ongoing military/industrial operation. As a genetic match for his dead twin’s “avatar,” a genetically-created alien body remotely controlled by a human operator, Jake will be part of a team of scientists, led by Dr. Grace Augustine (Weaver), whose task is to learn about the native Na’vi race inhabiting the planet. Secretly recruited by the ruthless Colonel Quaritch to spy on the aliens, Jake’s loyalties are soon divided after he is saved by Neytiri (Saldana), the daughter of a Na’vi clan leader, and begins to gain acceptance in the alien society.

To call Avatar a thinly-veiled parable about European exploitation of Native Americans, told by way of movies like Disney’s Pocahontas, would be misleading; the word “veiled” implies a cover-up, while Avatar wears its allusions (cliches?) proudly and openly (even as it subtly rewrites a few). Anyone who has seen a historical film involving Native Americans in the last twenty years will immediately recognize that Avatar isn’t going to win any awards for telling an original or unpredictable story. Nevertheless, this is arguably the most epic and immersive big-budget attempt at world-building since the final installment of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy was released six years ago, and it compellingly demonstrates a large step forward for digital filmmaking technology. And it’s pretty darned entertaining, to boot.

There are plenty of complaints one could register about this film. In some ways it even invites them. But all of them miss the point. Picking on this movie’s thin plotting and flat character development is kind of like being a passenger on the first commercial airplane flight and complaining that the seats are too hard and the in-flight peanuts are too salty. You’re flying through the air in a giant man-made bird. How about taking a look out the window? James Cameron has literally dreamed up an entire planet, populated with fully-realized landscapes, flora, and fauna out of his imagination, and then invented the technology that would allow him to take the rest of us for a visit. I’m willing to forgive him for skimping a little on the story he tells us when we get there.

One of the amazing things about Avatar is its self-confidence and its complete commitment to the world of Pandora. A lesser artist, or one intent on cutting corners, would cover up imperfections with shadows, long shots, and quick cuts. Cameron, however, allows us time and time again to examine Pandora’s exotic inhabitants in well-lit, tight close-ups, and sometimes even in slow-motion. This is the work of a director who has nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. He knows that audiences will want a good look, and he is more than happy to oblige. Similarly, Jake Sully, unlike many fantasy and science fiction heroes who find themselves in strange and unusual environments, doesn’t take his surroundings for granted. He gawks and gapes, and exhibits an infectious joy in the environment surrounding him. Pandora is unlike anything he has ever seen or experienced, and the same goes for the audience.

These scenes are the film’s greatest strength, fitting right in with other memorable moments of technologically-created wonders like the first glimpse of Steven Spielberg’s digitally-created dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, bullet-time in The Matrix, and the giant clashing armies of Lord of the Rings. To that list I would add Jake’s first flight on his “Banshee” mount, a scene that is glorious, exhilarating, and totally convincing. The high-flying action in Avatar is so immersive, especially in 3D, that it may invoke mild cases of acrophobia.

By the time Avatar moves into its third act, the storytelling is on autopilot. The movie delivers an action-packed final battle that perfunctorily hits all of the notes I came in expecting it to hit. But, if there are no surprises to be had in the final hour, it still can’t be denied that the movie delivered exactly what I paid to see. The finale is no less thrilling for being predictable. In fact, that description sums up perfectly my oxymoronic take-home feeling about this film as a whole.

Yet, despite the shallowness of the storytelling, audiences attuned to theological concepts will note a strange affinity between Avatar and the writings of the Apostle Paul. It would be a mistake to read too deeply, but as Jake slowly begins to put aside his old, crippled human body and take on the form of the graceful, athletic Na’vi, he also begins to reject his human vices (selfishness, dishonesty, pride) in favor of Na’vi virtues (compassion, respect, community). All of this puts me in mind of Paul’s advice to the early church to “put off the old self” and “put on the new self” (Ephesians 4:22-24, Colossians 3:9-10). Audiences will come to Avatar to experience the adventure and the excitement of visiting another world, but they may just leave with more than they expected.

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