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dir. Claire Denis
writ. Claire Denis and Jean-Pol Fargeau
feat. Alex Descas, Mati Diop, Nicole Dog, Grégoire Colin
Lionel (Descas) and Joséphine (Diop) live quiet, busy lives, a father and daughter who have carved out a shared existence of love and support in the absence of other family. But hints of change and rebellion are in the air, and a man lurks outside the door of their apartment, a suitor with the filmmaker's suggestion of a home invader.
In Claire Denis' beautiful and tender tribute to Ozu, we find Descas in the traditional Chishu Ryu role as the aging parent and Diop filling in for Setsuko Hara, the devoted daughter who yearns for an independent life yet doesn't wish to abandon her lonely father. The film elegantly courts the threats of everyday life, two deaths haunting the story while little harm comes directly to our leads. Instead, intimate details shape and propel the tale: Joséphine's stumbling progress with Noé (the lurking suitor,) Lionel's harrowing vision of his future through a retired coworker, a visit to Joséphine's aunt that vaguely answers a few questions of family history.
The conflicts go unspoken, playing out in richly textured scenes of motion and emotion. As the substitute family of Lionel, Joséphine, Noé, and Gabrielle (Dogue as the unrequited lover of Lionel) get caught in the rain and take shelter in a cafe, the caged feelings escape. Noé makes his move on Joséphine, taking the daughter from the awkward father, pressing him to demonstrate his still thriving manhood with the cafe owner, and thus leaving Gabrielle out in the cold. In the time it takes to play "Night Shift" by the Commodores, the dynamic has changed forever, inevitable and irreversible shifts in these lives taking place in a moment out of time, in a placed they would have never visited if not for car trouble and bad weather.
It is this combination of the incessant flow of life and good intentions of the characters that imbue the film with such charm and power. Lives will move onward, but the love between father and daughter will remain.
dir. Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders
writ. Dean DeBlois, Chris Sanders, and William Davies, novel by Cressida Cowell
feat. Jay Baruchel, Gerard Butler, Craig Ferguson, America Ferrera
What a delightful surprise this film turned out to be. I knew it was a good sign when one article cited its lack of broad humor and pop culture references as the reason it didn't blow out the box office initially. Thankfully, it found an audience as one of the biggest sleepers of the year, holding rank for weeks. As one who can't count on his taste being easily transferable, I'll rarely raise the flag for a film. But for this one, I tell everyone to see it.
In this case, the trick is in telling a coming-of-age tale with an unusual setting and a unique spin on what makes the main character special. Hiccup (Baruchel) is a young Viking who yearns to slay dragons just like his Pop (Butler). Unfortunately, he's a pipsqueak who shows little promise and as we eventually find out, doesn't have the killer's instinct necessary to do the job. In first hitting, then learning to love the injured dragon, he finds false success as a master of dragons, for understanding instead of violence. This leads to some powerful conflict between father and son, a rift both distressing and plausible within the context of the world. It also sets up Hiccup as a great savior for his people and gives him room to save their way of life and mend things with Pop.
This plot summary doesn't do the story justice. Just as that initial backhanded compliment indicated, the clever writing and very human sensibility of the film and its characters keep it aloft and entertaining. When Hiccup learns to fly the dragon, we experience something utterly lacking in Avatar which, despite its astounding budget and frequent flying effects, never offered the same gasping sense of freefall that grips the viewer as Hiccup dives toward uncertainty. This has as much to do with the attachment to the character as it does with the animation or 3-D effects (can you name one notable characteristic of the main dude in Avatar? me neither). You are along for the ride, sympathetic to both the adorable dragon and the troubled Hiccup.
All of this while surrounded by stunning visuals, created with the support of none other than Roger Deakins, cinematographer for the Coen Brothers films, The Reader, Doubt, and many more, who consulted to bring greater depth to the lighting. And as a last note, the story is well rounded with a budding romance between Hiccup and Astrid, a sly diversion complete with digs about love feeling like a simultaneous kiss and a punch in the face.
dir. Lee Unkrich
writ. Michael Arndt, story by John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, and Lee Unkrich
feat. Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Joan Cusack, Ned Beatty, Don Rickles, Michael Keaton, Wallace Shawn, John Ratzenberger
I'll admit I was afraid when I heard there was a third installment of Toy Story coming down the pipe. Sure, I'd been thrilled by the second one (after similar fears) and pleased by the bulk of Pixar's films, even stunned by many. Yet, Up lost it's momentum despite a strong start and Cars ran out of gas before it even got rolling. Plus, the tiresome push for more 3-D content loomed as a potential excuse to dance the toys across the screen one last time for a big show of unnecessary added dimension. Thankfully, the wizards of Pixar not only protected the property, but turned out what might be the best of the three, an unprecedented feat in movie threedom.
At their best, the Pixar gang get that great storytelling isn't just dynamic, packing in almost constant movement and frequent action set pieces, but also probes deeply, exploring multiple psychological levels and complicated relationships. Their utmost genius is demonstrated in their ability to combine these aspects in such a way that a child might appreciate an adventure about living toys struggling for survival while an adult will enjoy a tale about growing up, the fear of abandonment, and parting ways with loved ones. All of this is packed into a seamless, riveting story that weaves its way through a variety of movie genres and subgenres that include a ditzy cheesy romance and a film noir jailbreak.
Through all the riotous and outlandishly inventive moments (Mr. Tortilla Head ranks highly among the funniest things I've ever seen in my life,) they never let go of the heartfelt story, each character pulling its weight, facing up to its decisions, and dealing with consequences. And through the highs and lows, they never let the enthusiasm and pacing drop for a moment. On top of that, there are none of the easy solutions common to such stories. Just when you expect a villain to show he's a good soul after all, he's just as rotten as before. Just when you know how the gang will get out of a dicey situation, that escape hatch closes. And just when you think you've seen it all, there is a moment that makes you believe the impossible could happen, that seems shockingly adult and frighteningly human for any age group and which sets the filmmakers so far apart from the rest of the pack that they seem to belong to another galaxy. And as you gasp and the tears come, another turn arrives, one so uplifting, so surprising yet so inevitable, and so perfect that it ties the whole world together and confirms (quite precisely) what you thought a moment ago about those talented folks behind the scenes.
Hell, that's not even the end. It's as though the toys had the allegorical coming-of-age experience that we will never see Andy, their owner, have as he heads off to college. Their separation and the accompanying anxiety follow, a denouement that crystallizes the heart of the story, a gentle and emotional summing up after the exciting heavy lifting. And maybe just here, there is a touch of indulgence in the happy ending, the toys finding renewed love and joy in a new owner and together.
