Oppenheimer (2023)

/ B. P. Morrison / Leave a comment

I had a lot of reservations going into this film. For one, director Christopher Nolan himself said it was like a horror movie that people would walk out of devastated. Additionally, I had heard the sound levels were considered to be painful by some viewers. Also, I am of the belief that cinema is supposed to be the people’s medium. It is supposed to be accessible, so if you are designing a film where the best way to view it is in a format only 30 theaters in the world can show, I bluntly think that’s pretentious. And finally, knowing that the film was 180 minutes long, I thought I would be suffering by the end.

Fortunately, having sat through three of the fastest hours of my life, I can say that Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer is a masterpiece, even more developed a work than his legendary films, The Dark Knight and Inception. There are two narratives that help achieve this, one in black-and-white and the other in color, telling different parts of the timeline and from different perspectives, and I’m not kidding when I say it was done so flawlessly that I barely felt the time going by. Don’t take for granted how hard that is to do.

To summarize public facts, J. Robert Oppenheimer was instrumental in the development of the atomic bombs that were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, ending World War II while also starting the Cold War with Soviet Russia. His loyalty to the United States, however, was doubted as anti-Communist movements became more prominent in the late 1940s and 1950s, given that he’d led unionization efforts in the past, had strong liberal views, and most significantly, had several friends with ties to the Communist party. His “trial” to this regard forms the structure of one of the two narratives, with most of the film being told in flashback, as Lewis Strauss’s Senate confirmation hearing forms the other half. There is very little action in this film, and yet I found myself riveted through almost 95% of it. If I ever found my mind wandering, the scene changed shortly after, and it takes true skill to make that much of a film matter. Few, if any, beats were wasted, and it never outstayed its welcome.

There is no mistaking this as a Christopher Nolan film, though. From the Hoyte Van Hoytema cinematography looking crisp and modern to the Hans Zimmer-esque score from Ludwig Göranssan (which, by the way, was as effective and engaging as John Williams’ score for Jaws), it distinctly felt like the expression of a filmmaker who understands intellectuals far better than he understands average human emotions. You feel like a genius for even kind of understanding what these people are talking about. Additionally, every single performance bringing these people to life is top-notch, certainly including Cillian Murphy’s as Oppenheimer himself, Robert Downey Jr’s as Lewis Strauss, and Emily Blunt as Kitty Oppenheimer. Each performer owned the role they were given, even down to what could be considered cameos, and I still feel an hour after the film finished that I saw a momentous work of art. Everything worked, and magnificently so.

Well… almost everything. I understand Christopher Nolan couldn’t detonate a nuclear bomb, but after so much build-up, I didn’t expect it to be so abstract when it happened. Still, though, I came to realize this was not a film about the bomb. It’s a film about who made it, why they made it, and why humanity is the worst thing to ever happen to planet Earth, full stop.

I have heard stories of people walking out of the film suffering mental breakdowns, so maybe I’m the one that’s messed up for walking out of it in a state of awe. It could have exhausted me with its length like the latest Mission: Impossible, but it felt like it was an hour shorter than it really was. It could have ended with the bomb, but it had so much more to say than that. It could have played it safe, but instead it revealed the depth of the human condition through one of its most significant figures. It was the complete, definitive take on J. Robert Oppenheimer.

Wow.

I’m glad I didn’t see this the same day as Barbie, or that well-executed film would have come off as seeming wholly insufficient. I can’t wait until the existential dread sinks in!

Oppenheimer is in theaters now.

Barbie (2023)

/ B. P. Morrison / 1 Comment

This film certainly needs no introduction. After one of the most effective marketing campaigns in recent memory, which included ultra-viral memes, Barbie getting tied into every product you could imagine, and the now-famous Barbenheimer movement of seeing this and Oppenheimer in the same day, Barbie has raked in over $150 million domestically in its opening weekend, and looks to be for theaters what Top Gun: Maverick was last summer.

Needless to say, I got caught up in the hype. But while virtually everyone I know was seeing this as a big social occasion, I saw it by myself, hoping to create a private connection to Greta Gerwig’s latest masterpiece—I saw her Little Women five times in theaters, and Lady Bird at least twice. She’s brilliant.

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Spoilers follow…

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What the posters and products and trailers don’t tell you is that this film has a thoroughly modern message, and it’s all the more effective because of it. Barbie lives in Barbie Land, where thanks to the invention of Barbie dolls, sexism and racism and the patriarchy have been completely dismantled; and they think that in the real world, everything is exactly the same. What the dolls don’t know is that, as the narrator sarcastically delivers, it obviously hasn’t changed that much. When Barbie starts to exhibit some non-perfect behaviors (like thinking of death), she has to go to the real world and fix it. Ken comes with her, as is shown in the trailers, and that’s where the true message begins.

Ken, living in Barbie Land, had no idea that in the real world, men run everything, even when they aren’t necessarily qualified. He soaks up this newfangled, blessed upon him at birth power, and when he takes it back to Barbie Land, he ruins it. The Barbies become subservient, the men make everything about bro culture and horses, and it’s just a mess—one that only Barbie and some women from the real world can save.

Frankly, I cannot believe that a studio film was so bold. This is a movie that could have played it safe, but instead it essentially parodies our patriarchal society without even a smidge of regret. America Ferrera has an iconic rant about this that you just might adore. I’ve never been one for satire, just because I literally don’t find it amusing, but even the more subtle jabs here were impressive and entertaining. Is it high art? No. But it almost kind of… is? (It is? It is!)

I never played with Barbie dolls as a child, and in my screening there were a lot of women that started conversations with, “I never really played with them as a kid”; but everybody has some degree of emotional attachment to them nonetheless. Barbie means something, whether it’s female empowerment or excessive capitalism or reinforcing gender roles in children or making a better society, and it’s kind of a miracle that the film manages to address all those things at the same time—while still managing to have a touching story about mothers and daughters, mind you. Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling, and the entire supporting cast are excellent, even more so than I expected.

Is this film perfect? No. But what film can appeal to everyone and still be perfect? It is, however, a strikingly original story with so very much to say, so whether you are wearing your best Barbie outfit and seeing this with a group of friends, seeing it by yourself because Greta Gerwig made it, or just seeing it because it’s so hot and you want to cool off for a couple of hours, you just might leave having learned something vital about the human race. I sure did.

Barbie tried to be about everything, which was kind of the whole point, and I’m relieved to say it pretty much pulled it off. See it if you somehow haven’t already.

Barbie is in theaters now.

Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One

/ B. P. Morrison / 1 Comment

Ask me my opinion of the greatest action film franchise of the 2010s, and I won’t tell you James Bond. I won’t tell you the Marvel films or the Star Wars films. I have been a strong supporter of the Tom Cruise-led Mission: Impossible films since the fourth entry, Ghost Protocol. The first three films in the series had their merits, and two of them are commonly accepted as good films, but there was something about seeing Ghost Protocol in IMAX that made it really special (if I had to be specific, I’d say it was when the aspect ratio expanding as Ethan Hunt looked out the window of the tallest building in the world).

The next film Rogue Nation, ignited my imagination with its spectacular views, the addition of Rebecca Ferguson to the cast, and The Usual Suspects writer Christopher McQuarrie as the co-writer and director. It was really becoming a special franchise, even if the box office figures didn’t match what it deserved. The sixth film, Fallout, was the first one to reuse a director, since the previous ones all had different visions behind the camera, but again, the magnificent entertainment didn’t make nearly as much money as it deserved.

So, I’m sure you could guess that I was as excited for the seventh film, Dead Reckoning Part One, as a person could be. And you’d be correct. What would it be like to see Tom Cruise drive a motorcycle off a cliff? What other death-defying stunts would he attempt? Would anything be able to top that?

I saw the new film last night in Dolby, and I have to say… I wish it had been shorter.

This is a good example of why I rate my films the way I do. I did not love this film. The series is known for its unbelievably complicated plots, and that trend continued. The series is known for Tom Cruise trying to see how he can kill himself on camera, and that trend continued, admittedly to spectacular effect. The series is known for having beautiful women try to survive being around Ethan Hunt (Cruise) for more than a single film, and that trend continued. This is why it’s so hard for say what I’m saying, because Dead Reckoning gave me more of everything I’ve ever loved about this series, from the stunts to the casting to the perfectly timed comedic relief, but it was just so much. This film was too much of a good thing, to the point where when I finally thought it was going to literally end on a cliffhanger to set up the next film, ending the film with anticipation, I realized there was still an additional fifteen minutes of content before the credits.

Please, Hollywood studios, I’m begging you: stop making your blockbusters so long. We’re approaching the point where we’re going to require intermissions again, and while the timeless classics that used to use them will never grow old, when you have to sit through over two and a half hours before the credits start, even the best film can wear out its welcome.

I wanted to love this film with all my heart, I really did. The action set pieces are all brilliantly done, and masters were clearly at work in the making of this film. Christopher McQuarrie and Tom Cruise deserve the credit for making something so visually spectacular that it could “save theaters” again—and I do firmly believe that if you’re going to see this, it should be on as massive a screen as you can find. But by the end, I was worn out. Fallout ended right when it needed to, leaving me feeling full but not overstuffed, and that was 16 minutes shorter than this one. Top Gun: Maverick, truly one of the most perfect sequels I think I will ever see, wowed me, moved me, and wowed me again to the same effect, but still managed to come in 33 minutes shorter. Rogue Nation and Ghost Protocol? They were about the same length as Maverick.

Sitting through this film was grueling at times, no matter how well-done it was. Let it be proof that the most important person on any film is the one editing it. The writer tells the tightest story possible, saving time and money before the production begins. The director, producer, and creative teams work efficiently to create only what is needed, saving time and money during the production itself. The editor slaves away in front of a screen somewhere, preserving pacing, sanity, and bladders around the world. Editors truly make the films great, using their magical gifts to ensure the audience stays engaged until the very end.

I wish they’d found a way to trim this one down. Instead of being excited for the finale next year, I kind of dread Reckoning Part Two. To quote Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights, “Help me, Tom Cruise!”

Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One is in theaters now.

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020)

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Oh, boy. Let me provide you with some context before I go into this review.

This past May, I traveled to Europe for the first time in nearly seven years. While I was in Berlin, all I wanted to do was watch some news at the end of my day, but even channels marked with English names, such as BBC World News, were in German. The only programming I could find in English was the second semifinal of the Eurovision Song Contest, being held in Liverpool.

From the very moment I began watching, I was hooked. I bought the album of this year’s songs, which became the soundtrack to the rest of my trip. When I got home, I realized I had a couple other friends who were obsessed (though only a couple; most still hadn’t heard of it). My roommate, who was skeptical before I introduced him to it, became obsessed with it as quickly as I did, and literally for the last month and a half, we’ve been devouring Eurovision content like there’s no tomorrow.

Still, just like he was skeptical of the contest itself, we were both worried about this film. I had heard of it, but seeing as it came out when the world was shut down for Covid, I had a few other things on my mind. I had also seen reviews of it, and American critics just didn’t take it seriously.

Don’t take this movie seriously. That’s what makes it so incredibly fun.

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is a Netflix film starring Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams, who play Icelandic people who may or may not be siblings, yet dream of being the Iceland entry for Eurovision. If you don’t know what Eurovision is, for the last 60+ years, it’s been an outlandish competition where European countries submit original songs and try to win a crystal microphone trophy for their home country. Abba got their start on Eurovision, and Celine Dion is famous for participating as well, so it’s certifiably a big deal.

Lars (Ferrell) wants more than anything to compete in Eurovision, but he first has to win the Iceland competition. When certain circumstances allow that, he moves on to the International Semifinal round, where he faces stiff competition from other magnificently bonkers contestants (including Dan Stevens, of Downton Abbey fame, playing a Russian oligarch). The plot is not supposed to be high art, and is very much in line with the comedic styles of other Will Ferrell comedies, so you know what to expect. But the songs? Oh, I can’t get them out of my head. They are fantastic. There is definitely a way to make a song seem “like Eurovision,” and the songwriting team, led by music producer Savan Kotecha, made some that fit in perfectly with ones in the real-life contest—a great compliment, I assure you.

If you’ve never been exposed to the Eurovision Song Contest before, you might not get this film. You will likely think it’s strange, unfunny, and typical Will Ferrell humor. But if you follow Eurovision, this is about as much a love letter as you’ll get from a Hollywood studio. There’s even a sing-along with real Eurovision stars, and even though I found that bit to be too “add something to make this movie go viral,” it’s still an entertaining game of who’s who. The Story of Fire Saga is campy, fun, and strangely magnificent, the perfect way to keep me entertained until next year’s songs start releasing in February.

NOW PLAY “JAJA DING DONG”! PLAY IT!!

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga is on Netflix.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023)

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I didn’t think an Indiana Jones movie would have so many spoilers to carefully avoid.

I will cut to the chase here, though, and without spoiling anything, say that this film did not go the way I expected. And yet, strangely, as outlandish as some of the developments were, I felt like they made sense for the character—which compels me to forgive them.

Again, I will not spoil them here, don’t worry.

Moving on. Much ado has been made about the opening sequence, which de-ages Harrison Ford, but seeing this in Dolby, I had the same reaction to seeing Tarkin and Leia in IMAX for Rogue One. When his face was standing still, it looked amazing. When he was in motion, however, he was clearly animated, which also reminded me how many computer-generated effects were in this film. Seriously. The action-writing was phenomenal, and in many of the sequences I couldn’t believe how well everything came together, but so much of it seemed artificial in the ways old practical effects did not. Many of these things looked impossible… because they are. You couldn’t actually film things like that. A lot of it was nevertheless stunning, though, don’t get me wrong—it takes talent to write, choreograph, and direct sequences like the biggest ones here. I’m just saying.

On to other positive aspects, the production design was outstanding, Harrison Ford embodies Jones like no other ever could, and when it is not so satisfying to see Nazis getting punched, shot, and forced off moving vehicles? Mads Mikkelsen isn’t quite as comically evil as previous villains, but he truly sells his performance as you’d expect him to. Cameos add a touch of heart and nostalgia to the film, Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a worthy goddaughter to Harrison Ford, and I did walk away feeling satisfied.

To conclude, out of the five Indiana Jones films, I’d place this in the middle. It’s technically in the top three, but it’s also in the bottom three. It’s technically excellent, but it doesn’t have a real spark to it like Raiders and Last Crusade did. For every great set piece, expect some wild, Crystal Skull-level madness too. A lot of bows are tied up nicely, but the path they take to get there can be considered insane. If you’re okay with all of that, as I ultimately was, then this is a rip-roaring good time at the movies.

Thanks, Indy.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is in theaters now.

Past Lives (2023)

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There is a scene on Matt Smith’s Doctor Who where a giant entity feeds on people’s stories, and the Doctor feeds it a specific leaf containing an unlimited about of what if’s. The weight of this infinitely dense meal causes the entity to implode.

Such weight can also be felt throughout the masterful new film, Past Lives, in theaters now. It starts at a bar, where two people are talking and another is sitting to the side. Strangers are in voiceover, conversing as they try to figure out how the three know each other. Flashback to 24 years before in Korea, where two teenagers are walking home after school. They clearly share a connection, but when the girl moves to North America, they don’t talk for 12 years. They reconnect, clearly happy to see each other, but that falls apart. When they meet again in the present day, where the bulk of the film takes place, she’s married and he is coming to New York City for a visit.

While there are many theories about what makes a film great, one I’ve always clung to is how a story handles silence. There is so much left unspoken in this film, and even those possibilities which are verbalized have been given enough context that you feel the true weight of them. There is the life they’re living, the past lives they could have shared, as well as the current life they could be living. A particular shot at the end feels like it goes on for an eternity, even though it probably only lasts for a minute, but their emotions and thoughts and desires are swirling around them like a hurricane. You think you understand what Nora is feeling, but like so many of us, she’s just trying to justify to herself that she made the right decision. It was so powerful that when I left the theater, I was shocked to see the rest of the world simply carrying on, as if what I had just experienced was solely contained within my own internal reality.

Past Lives will be nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars, and depending on how the field shapes out, it has a fair chance of winning. Far more surprising is the fact that this film is Celine Song’s feature debut.

This story will linger in my mind for ages.

P.S. If you take a look at the categories, you’ll notice I added a new one, Films I Accidentally Fell Asleep During. Cold, dark rooms really do it for me; what can I say? Going to be including Elemental in this category now too, by the way. The best part is when I have to figure out what happened in the five to 20 minutes I missed—that keeps me awake on its own.

Past Lives is in theaters now.

The Flash (2023)

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I have complicated feelings about Andy Muschietti’s The Flash. I have admired every film of his that I’ve seen (Mama and the two It films), but this movie ultimately felt like such a corporate product that I can’t truly recommend it—and that’s not even considering the extensive baggage tied to it, thanks to controversial star Ezra Miller (The Perks of Being a Wallflower).

The simple setup is this: Barry Allen/The Flash (Miller) lost his mother to homicide when he was a child, and he’s been trying to prove his father’s innocence ever since. When he discovers that he can run so quickly that he can go back in time and change history, he finds a way to prevent her death. From there, I don’t want to spoil anything, but it does involve a lot of multiverse-hopping, recognizable cameos (both well-received and not), and some general messaging about how changing the past can destroy the future—we’ve heard it all before. The reason that the film still got released, despite Miller being arrested on a lot of troubling charges, was because the corporate entities in charge of distributing the film were so amazed by test screenings that they simply had to put it out. Get the actor to apologize, arrange for them to have mental health treatment, and everything will blow over. The initial hype surrounding the film was that it could potentially be the greatest superhero film of all time, hence the Miller-related cleanups, marketed within an inch of its life as having multiple Batmen and major consequences for the DCEU. Only now, the brilliant James Gunn is controlling the DCU, and everything that came before it is pretty much rendered obsolete. I feel like they wanted to release it to make money, even though it isn’t really relevant to their future plans.

The film is decent, at the end of the day, even if the primary ingredient in its plotting is nostalgia. Man, oh man, is it nostalgic. Ezra Miller is a really engaging performer, but even putting the controversies aside, I don’t think they were given much to work with aside from entertaining scenes and a plot that in many ways has been done before (Spider-Man: No Way Home did it much better).

I wish I liked this film more, but as it stands, it was the perfect representative of the pre-James Gunn DCEU films: big, messy money pits that don’t really compete with the cohesive structure of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As that one comes undone, though, which it does seem to be doing, I think the next few years are either going to make or break the superhero box office dominance we’ve come to expect. Let this one go. We live in James Gunn’s world now (thank goodness).

The Flash is in theaters now.

Elemental (2023)

/ B. P. Morrison / 1 Comment

I had the good fortune a few days ago of seeing Disney-Pixar’s Elemental, and although it didn’t do very well at the box office, it touched my heart in that trademark Pixar way. On the surface, it centers around borderline combustible Ember, a girl literally made of fire in a city where the residents are either made of fire, water, air, or land/earth. Her whole life, she’s desperately been trying to earn the approval of her father, in the hopes that she will one day be able to take over his store. Complicating this plan, though, is the relationship she accidentally forms with Wade Ripple, a water-resident working for the city inspection department. He is the complete foil to Ember: while she is tightly wound and really to explode most of the time, he cries a river at the slightest cause for empathy.

There is a whole storyline about how they have to save her father’s business from being closed/destroyed, and Ember really wants to focus on this for much of the movie, but the real narrative is in overcoming the belief that fire and water cannot coexist. This is where the Pixar magic lies, and because the marketing for this film tried to hide the reason why, I’m going to go ahead and say that this film is a allegory for immigration and specifically anti-Asian racism. Ember’s parents came from a far-away land trying to find a better life, and they were continuously met with discrimination at every turn, even though over time they did find and build their own community. Ember’s parents sacrificed so much to give her a better life, and she doesn’t know if she is worthy of succeeding him, which is why she always feels like a pressure cooker about to explode. Adding to it, society tells her that she can’t be with a water-resident, but the old adage of “elements don’t mix” simply doesn’t make sense to her. Nobody ever seems to have the courage to try it and see, they just assume. In my opinion, the very human emotions in this film were incredible to witness, and in their own animated way, were distinctly authentic.

Frankly, I don’t know why this film didn’t do well at the box office. While some of the romantic elements (no pun intended) were a bit on the nose, sure, the originality on display here, as well as the deeply-felt truths the filmmakers brought to life, were more than enough to make this film a hit. I loved it, in the sense that I know it’s imperfect, but I give it my whole heart anyway. I truly loved it, and I look forward to seeing it again soon.

Go.

Elemental is in theaters now.

The Motivational Force Awakens

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I have not posted on this blog for almost six and a half years.

As I tend to do with writing projects, I overwhelmed myself and finally had to quit—pretty reasonable when you consider this site reviewed 145 films in 36 weeks, all without being paid and mostly by myself (I did feature a few guest reviews). I can sustain that level of work for maybe three months if I’m writing a book, but any more than that can burn me out completely. It felt like an obligation to post, instead of a fun place to share my thoughts, and I ultimately gave up (ironically with a post on Bright Lights, a documentary about Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds and the struggles they faced in their creative careers).

But… I never stopped thinking about the blog. I still love the thought that a movie can be technically excellent, but still one I hated (The Revenant is the movie that fits this description best). A film can be pretty bad, but I can love it nonetheless (Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is no Godfather, but man, love it).

Or, you know, I’m just not sure how I feel about a film, but can still review it as a piece of art.

Green for Liked. Yellow for Mixed Opinion. Red for Disliked.

So here I am, bringing it back. I think I’ll adopt a more sustainable approach this time and also maybe limit my posts to 100 words or so, just so you don’t get sick of it, either.

A stoplight can tell you to go, use caution, or stop, but you’re also only at a stoplight for a couple minutes max. Why not make it short enough that you could read it in a couple minutes?

I’m excited to try again. Let’s do this!

Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds (2016)

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We are blessed.

The world lost two very bright lights at the tail end of last year, and there is no way to watch this without thinking of that. Debbie Reynolds and Carrie Fisher, mother and daughter, were involved in some of the most important films in the history of cinema, and their passing within a day of each other is already a legend in itself. But still, even in this loss, we are blessed.

The documentary, Bright Lights, is a glimpse into their day-to-day, living next to each other in California. As a film, it’s charming, if not meandering, but as a document of these two vibrant personalities, few shine brighter. Debbie tried for years to make a Hollywood museum and Carrie was an icon of mental health awareness, and the filmmakers touch on both of those. Perhaps unsurprisingly, though, the best moments of the film are the ones between them—the real, human exchanges—as well as the old home videos. The moments where we get a glimpse of how wonderful these humans really were together.

This film will give you a sense of what their loved ones are missing. Carrie’s wicked sense of humor. Debbie’s seemingly unsinkable optimism. Their literal presence.

I didn’t know them personally, and the odds are you didn’t either, and that is why I say we are blessed. We connected to these individuals through their work, through their films and writings and public appearances. And those will last forever. In a way, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds will always be available to the world exactly as they were. We are blessed to receive them in this way, and blessed to have had them in the first place.

Many of us will not sense a physical void where Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds used to be, although I have the deepest sympathies for those who will. I hope the world will give back to them what their loved ones gave the world.

This film is one final gift, sent with love from Carrie and Debbie.

3.5 Green

Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds is available on HBO Go.