Seven Years Ago, Abrams and Co. Did the Impossible and Revived a Franchise

It is rare in these times to find a trilogy of films that hit the 5-star mark, that so exemplify the best their genre, series, IP, or whatever cultural grouping and cataloging system you prefer, can attain.

When I give a film five stars, it is not always because it is a "perfect" film. It's because that film is an example of the best any particular style, genre, etc can be. So when I dole out five stars to films in the Star Wars series, it does not mean I think them to be Great Films as compared to, say, LAWRENCE OF ARABIA or 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. It's because I feel they represent all the best a Star Wars film can or should be.

In THE FORCE AWAKENS, then, we catch up with characters once familiar but now shadows of their former selves, a new crop of players soon to join the fray, and a galaxy of boundless possibilities.

In spite of all these possibilities, we also find that - even in a galaxy far, far away - time is unkind and the plans of mice, men, Heroes, and Jedi often go awry. Despite all Leiah Organa has done to shepherd in a new Senate, the cancerous growth borne of the ashes of the Empire, a sect called The First Order, has arisen.

Is this perhaps also a commentary that all systems tend towards chaos and disorder? I can spend my time deconstructing the arguments against this film (and the Sequel Trilogy in general) but doing so would give the butthurt crybaby fanboi incels free rent in my head. Instead I choose to focus on the positives.

Except to point out that Rey is anything but a "Mary Sue". For those that don't know, a Mary Sue is a type of character prevalent in fan-fiction who typically exists as an avatar, a self-insert fantasy fulfillment trope/stand-in for the author, who is instantly loved by all the characters they encounter, are perfect in all they do, and have mastery of their new-found abilities almost instantly.

While it is true that Rey is a Force-sensitive who has an uncanny grasp of Force abilities without training, and yeah Han Solo and Chewie like her almost immediately, she is anything but perfect.

She routinely fucks up, whether it's dragging the hull of the Millennium Falcon across the desert sands of Jakku, or releasing a bunch of rathtars (nasty creatures all tentacles and teeth) on Han's freighter. She isn't immediately able to fly the Falcon, there is a learning curve to it and she is good at electronics but more often than not ends up tripping the wrong fuse.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about. What I would like to do is praise this film as not only a great start to a grandly entertaining trilogy, but the reflection of those that came before it, rivaling its forebears in cinematic acumen. There is just enough similarity to the original STAR WARS to feel firmly entrenched in its universe, but enough originality to set it apart. Director JJ Abrams constructs some powerhouse set pieces here, which have the look and feel of a Spielberg or Lucas joint.

Even so, the mark of the maker is upon it and a number of elements - sure to perturb OG SW fans to no end - are never explained such as who made the map which serves as the film's Maguffin, or how was the Skywalker Light Saber retrieved from the bowels of the Cloud City Bespin after Vader relieved Luke of both hand and weapon?

The short response is, the answers to these questions simply don't matter. Not every mystery needs to be explained, not every riddle needs to be solved. The most important part of this movie is that Mr. Abrams provided a wild ride that somehow becomes more exhilarating (especially that opening sequence!) the more I see it.

Christopher Nolan and the Art of the Ever-Rising Narrative

THE DARK KNIGHT RISES film has got to be my favorite of the acclaimed Nolan Trilogy, blemishes and all.

In his interview series with French director Francois Truffaut, legendary British director Alfred Hitchcock stated that critics are far too concerned with concepts like plausibility and realism. It does not matter if the series of events is plausible, he argues, or that the authorities might not act in a realistic way. What is of utmost importance in crafting a narrative is not filling in plot holes, but entertaining the audience. If you can thrill the people enough, they won't worry about plausibility or plot holes, all they will remember is the experience.

Many great films are built on foundations of implausibility, from THE THIN MAN to INDIANA JONES. The discourse revolving around this drive for films to always make sense or not have plot holes has surged exponentially since Hitchcock's time, and really started to come to a head when THE MATRIX REVOLUTIONS came out in the early 2000's.

Many have derided THE DARK KNIGHT RISES since its release in 2012, lamenting that it's not as good as 2008's THE DARK KNIGHT, that the writing falls short, that Batman acts out of character.

Perhaps its worst offense, according to Bat-fans, is the fact that Batman does not appear until about the 50-minute mark (in a nearly three-hour-long movie), and that after that re-emergence, he spends another 30 minutes or so entrapped by Bane in an underground prison.

As is so often the case, the very thing that critics see as the film's weakness, is the thing I see as it's greatest strength.

This goes along with my love for IRON MAN 3 as the greatest Marvel film: Both narratives represent the perfect culmination of a trilogy, one where the main character who has been having an identity crisis throughout the preceding films finally attains a balance, a synthesis between the dueling personas, where they realize that the raiment they wear is meaningless without the man inside.

Throughout the first two films, there is an ongoing discussion between Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, his steadfast butler and father-figure, that The Batman is a symbol. A man can be corrupted but a symbol, an icon, remains regardless of the man inside. There is the idea brought up that others may take on the mantle with the proper training and ideological drive.

And although at the end of RISES, Batman does pass the torch in a sense, it comes only after Wayne's realization that no one can do it quite like him, that he is the only one who could save a city in crisis.

The threat level in this film is also off the charts compared to just about any other Batman film before it (and indeed 2022's THE BATMAN, which is essentially a year-two tale where the character experiences growing pains and wrestles with his shortcomings and inner demons, is one of the few films in this cycle that even comes close).

THE DARK KNIGHT RISES has some of the best action sequences out of the Nolan trilogy, and although there is a messier narrative with myriad disparate elements, it is edited and presented in almost a constant montage, cross-cutting between about four or five different threads which culminate in a blowout finale.

It's often said that one should not have more than three separate storylines or events occurring in a film narrative, because most audiences lose track of what is going on. But this one is made in the editing. Nolan cross-cuts and time-jumps the narrative with ease and grace, making the entire story (even with some disjointed aspects) thrive and build in momentum, sustaining the rising tension throughout the entire film.

Like Bruce Wayne as The Batman, no other director could have done it quite this way.

Who Watches the Watcher: Media and Violence in THE WATCHMEN and Beyond

It is often seen as a negative for films to use TV programs to fill in exposition. It's thought of as lazy and not very creative. But WATCHMEN (and DC movies in general) utilizes this trope effectively. It is a device often used in the comic books these pictures are based on, and a visual one that carries over well between mediums.

Part of the reason it works so well is that - whether intended or not when employed - there is a subtextual commentary regarding mass media's role in communication and how we learn and share information. In a way this is a commentary on the human condition and a consistent thread throughout DC movies (one of the few consistencies they share).

Both THE BATMAN and WATCHMEN open with a scene wherein a character watches a news program for an extended length. It is fantastic world-building that draws you in and establishes a status quo, but is made even more effective when the scene performs several functions at once. For in both sequences the person watching television is the one whose death also incites the events about to commence.

Perhaps there is a subtle suggestion here that being passive and simply watching TV is dangerous to one' s health...?

In the case of WATCHMEN, it is an almost panel-for-panel recreation of the graphic novel. Using Dave Gibbons' art as a storyboard is kind of brilliant. The story is already there but there is still room for Zack Snyder to expand a bit and infuse his own visual flair, an opportunity never missed by the director.

In regards to violence, I feel that the nature of the media commentary runs parallel to the commentary on violence. The film opens with a brutal, desperate fist-fight, yet climaxes with a self-sacrifice (of sorts) instead of a bombastic finale. Media plays a significant role in all of this, from a TV program playing in the background during the prologue's fisticuffs, to a comic book being read throughout the movie's run by a kid hanging out at a newsstand the main characters frequent, to the bank of televisions Ozymandias has in his Antarctic hideaway.

When watching or reading media, we are voyeurs, in a sense. We are glancing into the lives of others and seeing how their struggles and conflicts affect one another. In the world of WATCHMEN, violence is almost always seen as an acceptable response, whether it is The Comedian blasting American protestors with gas grenades or Dr. Manhattan exploding perpetrators from within during a routine bust.

And why should they worry about repercussions when war is so frequently and easily used by the power structure in this alternate reality where Nixon was elected for four terms instead of caught at Watergate?

I have said before that I feel Snyder's use of violence is not to be cool and dynamic (although it is often seen as such). Instead there is a meta level at play in how Snyder presents violent images, whether it's the uber-pumped action of a young girl's fantasy life in SUCKER PUNCH or the world-shaking powers on display in MAN OF STEEL and BATMAN V SUPERMAN.

The action and violence in these films is almost always accompanied by an unsettling, gut-churning feeling, as well it should be.

Sure, it's cool as fuck to see Night Owl hit a man's arm so hard that splinters of bone poke through the skin, bringing with it a spray of blood. Or for a thug to cut through his compatriot's arms with an electric handsaw in order to get to Rorschach during a prison riot.

But what does it really mean when we cheer these things on? Have we really progressed that far since early man first struck an enemy down using a bone as an improvised weapon? Or do we use violent images in movies and video games to sublimate those primitave urges and thus keep up a veneer that society deems we must?

In interviews Zack Snyder often appears to be exuberant about the action and violence of his films, insisting that it's part of what the audience comes to see. But when you look at these sequences in any of his movies, there is quite often a balance of long, quiet stretches preceding the moment of action. Characters interact, discuss, learn and share things about and with each other.

As we should do with each other. Violence erupts in Snyder movies when there is a lack of communication and understanding, or as a ruse to obscure the truth. Media is supposedly a tool that can be used to bring the world together and help us understand and communicate with each other. Quite frequently, mass media only makes the message muddier, obscures the truth behind what they think the audience wants to hear, or what the purveyors of said media think is good for the masses.

The main characters of WATCHMEN use media in a variety of ways to promote their "version" of the truth or to convince people what is right.

And, in the end, the masses become reliant on the media to show them what to think, how to feel, and when to become violent and outraged.

WATCHMEN was written in 1985, and the film made in 2009 years before Trump, "fake news," and Covid. In 1985 it predicted a 9/11-type situation and in 2009 warned about the surveillance state we were becoming. And just like the question of, "Who watches The Watchmen" is one that looms over both the comic book and celluloid-bound stories, "Who controls the media?" is one we should be asking every day.

Straight Outta Context: The Art of Building a Hip-Hop Empire

STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON is a fine example of how experiencing art can be deepened and expanded with context.

When songs like "Fuck the Police" and "Cop Killer" stoked media controversy in the late 80s and early 90s, much of America was unfamiliar with the harassment young men from areas like LA/Compton, or Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York et. al. truly faced on a regular basis.

With the recent and ongoing increase in (reported) incidents of police brutality and overreach of authority in recent years, it becomes increasingly understandable, from events leading up to the Rodney King riots to the lyrics of said songs to see why these artists felt the way they did at that time and in that place.

In the last seven+ years living with my girlfriend, who grew up in a small Midwestern town and who has told me about some very traumatic events in her youth which are quite similar to a number of run-ins with the police depicted in this film, it becomes clear that whether it's a big city or a small, semi-rural town, there is a thread of systemic racism skewed against black people across many levels in American institutions.

I say this not to stoke an argument or to bring politics into an artistic discussion (although the socio-political landscape is a necessary element of this biopic). I don't think racial relations in America is something that should be political. I don't even like to think of people as being separated by race. We're all humans, all of one race. Yes, there are ethnic groups that have important traditions and history. It is indeed vital that we celebrate all those differences, just as it is important to come together in the realization that we all share this world and we all want to live free.

There is a saying, "Universal law is for lackeys, context is for kings." It basically means that those who serve only need to be given and subsequently follow directions, while only those who lead need to know the reasons for those directions. It is a principle that much of society appears to be based upon. For instance, when the police are executing a traffic stop, it is socially expected that one complies with all directions - even those that are illegal or contradictory. That if there is an illegal act on the part of the police, one will report it and prosecute later.

The problem with this is, it flies in the face of principles the country was built upon, as well as the lessons of the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. As Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote in his Letter from an Alabama Jail, explaining the ideology behind the civil disobedience campaign, "One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws."

When the masses begin to gain context, there is a distinct possibility that civil unrest will follow and that the "lackeys" will try to rise up against the king(s).

This is why music like the hip-hop songs and albums of the N.W.A. are relevant, even today. N.W.A. received threats from the FBI that songs like "Fuck the Police" might spark discontent and violence against law enforcement. From the beginning, the media (comprised of older white men - respected in their field though they may be - who either didn't have proper context or purposely withheld it to spin the story to middle-American sensibilities) was against them, selling a disingenuous narrative that the music was violent and dangerous.

Are the words of Easy-E and Ice Cube any more dangerous than the writings of Thomas Jefferson which sparked the American Revolution, or the plethora of folk, Soul, R&B, and rock bands of the 1960s whose music was the backdrop of and context for the Civil Rights and Viet Nam war protests?

I came of age in the 1990s and from my perspective in a small-town predominantly white American community I felt that things were getting better from economics to politics, to so-called "race relations" in America. From what my girlfriend tells me, it was a much different story in her part of the world. Context matters.

When one gets past the title, the lyrics of the song "Fuck the Police" tell a story of a youth beset by institutional racism, where they can't stand on the corner outside their recording studio in Torrance without being harassed (by a black police officer, no less) because they look like gangsters: 

Fuck the police comin' straight from the underground

A Young nigga got it bad 'cause I'm brown

And not the other color so police think

They have the authority to kill a minority

Fuck that shit, 'cause I ain't the one

For a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun

To be beatin' on, and thrown in jail

We can go toe-to-toe in the middle of a cell

Fuckin with me 'cause I'm a teenager

With a little bit of gold and a pager

Searchin' my car, lookin' for the product

Thinkin' every nigga is sellin' narcotics

You'd rather see me in the pen

Than me and Lorenzo rollin' in the Benzo

This part is the set-up, like in a movie where you have the first act which provides context for the character and a situation where their everyday life is interrupted by the circumstances conflict being introduced into the story. Another section, which I'm guessing is what the law enforcement community took umbrage to, reads:

Beat a police outta shape

And when I'm finished, bring the yellow tape

To tape off the scene of the slaughter

Still getting swole off bread and water

This is artistic expression, pure and simple. It is a fantasy of tearing down the system which they see as keeping them down. It is not advocating for people to kill police officers, because even the last line warns of the consequences for following through with that desire, as "getting swole off bread and water" is a reference to the jail time you get. These are the words they use but the subtext is a yearning for change and acceptance. Change can be a scary concept to those for whom the status quo works. But the status quo should not leave a segment of society behind and what they want is a new system that works for all, not just for some.

It is a common principle of criticism to base one's opinion on the piece of work as-is, without explanation or contextualization, that a work of art should speak for itself. I, too, believe that art should stand on its own and that the first mistake any artist makes is to explain their work.

That being said, I often find that when I see a director lay out their vision or goal for a movie in an interview, that deepens my appreciation of that work.

There is a lot going on in this movie. There are a lot of little personal dramas and the film forms a picture of a group of friends who fall apart because "business" got in the way.

But at the heart of it all is the creation of art. Each main character is developed well as they split off into three factions and spin off new worlds in the burgeoning hip-hop era, giving voice to such talents as Snoop Dogg, Tupac, and beyond. Each of them remain in the game, able to create their art despite the interpersonal troubles and hardships. Such that a theme of the film can be seen as persevering in the face of adversity.

Many will say hardcore rap isn't art. That it's not really music. I once felt that beats were just created on a computer for the rapper to spit lyrics. This picture has opened my eyes, showing the true artistry present in the process of producing a hip-hop record. It's given me context.

Context is important for many things in this life. It allows us to reach an understanding between friends even when they stand on opposite sides of an issue. It allows us to understand why large segments of the black community still feel held back within society even today. It enhances one's experience of and interaction with art when one knows what went on behind the scenes, and STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON is all about context.

Unbroken: M. Knight Shyamalan and the Persistence of the Artist

UNBREAKABLE is a stirring film that just gets better with each viewing. The 4K is absolutely on point and the use of colors is amazing.

It really does take multiple viewings to appreciate the nuances on display in this and most of Shyamalan's work. And his love of Hitchcock shows in how finely crafted each edit and camera movement is.

One of the best things about M. Knight's camera placement is the idea of perspective and character point of view. Almost every shot in this film is of one character or another's viewpoint, or an omniscient overhead view, placed high up and looking down on the characters, sometimes drawing in closer at the height of emotional intensity. It's a rather subjective approach, and the visual storytelling is part of what drives the plot and character development.

Shyamalon is famously inspired by Hitchcock, and while the great masters are great simply because they were masters of their craft, each new generation, it follows, must also have their masters. It is arrogant, possibly, to say that one of the new generation may have outdone those of the old school, and while it may be pointed out that M. Knight has directed his share of stinkers, he has also crested the heights of filmmaking during his early creative period. But in this regard, Shyamalan may just have iutdone ol' Hitch: he manages to raise emotional and personal stakes, create tension, and tell a compelling, driven story, all without a MacGuffin.

(Those familiar with Hitchcock's theories of film will recall that a MacGuffin is an item or person - often ultimately meaningless - which drives the central character's quest and without which the integral series of events never would have occurred.)

Like Hitch, Shyamalan has been critically hounded and maligned, as each new film was set up to be the next THE SIXTH SENSE. But in being mired in the disappointment of what they wanted and did not get, audiences and critics alike have often overlooked the fact that each of his films - save for maybe THE LAST AIRBENDER and AFTER EARTH - achieved their artistic goals.

And in UNBREAKABLE we have what might just be M. Knight Shyamalan's mission statement for his artistic career. In an early scene we are introduced to Mr. Glass (played eloquently by Samuel L. Jackson) in an art gallery, about to make a sale of a nearly priceless piece of line art. This is a unique gallery, as the primary focus is vintage comic book aesthetic, dealing mostly in original, penciled line art.

The man buying the artwork reveals that his four-year-old son will love it. Glass immediately tells the buyer off and kicks him out of the gallery, his premise being that a mere child cannot appreciate the artistic merit and quality of the piece.

In a way, that seems to be Shayamalan's outlook throughout his career. He is not only inspired by Hitchcock, but by other, more pulpy forms of entertainment. UNBREAKABLE is, quite obviously, an ode and love letter to comic books. LADY IN THE WATER (although I've not seen it yet) appears to be a hybrid homage to noir and LA fantasies of several stripes. THE HAPPENING is meant (despite its naysayers) to evoke 50s-era Cold War thrillers and monster/disaster B-movies. And so on, and so forth.

So, with this scene, M. Knight Shyamalan seems to be saying that his films will not be meant for those that expect the typically-structured popcorn blockbuster, that most of what he will do is not for kids or "normies". He is creating art that makes a statment, even if it is not what you are prepared to see or hear, that he will create art that will last and be talked about for generations to come.

And perhaps that is Shyamalan's greatest triumph, that people discuss and review his films even still. To this day THE SIXTH SENSE, UNBREAKABLE, and SIGNS, his first three picures, are endlessly discussed, dissected, and debated. And the worst sin a film can commit is to be boring. M. Knight's films are anything but. I think ol' Hitch would be proud.

When the Mirror is too Insightful: BASIC INSTINCT and the Modern Action-Thriller

BASIC INSTINCT arrived in 1992, at the start of one of the most interesting times in Hollywood, as it began to embrace both the independent film movement with Cannes festival entries like PULP FICTION becoming box office and home video hits, as well as a surge in the blockbuster arena.

Critics accused this film as being overly salacious and unnecessarily provocative as well as slow and boring. In a famous incident, one critic even went so far as to provide a huge spoiler in the form of a sort of anagram: the first letter of each paragraph spelled out the identity of the killer.

Director Paul Verhoeven has a track record of making films that are satirical side glances at our society. SHOWGIRLS and STARSHIP TROOPERS were both misunderstood classics, only appreciated years after their initial release. BASIC INSTINCT is no different.

It must first be stated, this picture absolutely is satire, which is why it's built on cliches just like the afore-mentioned works. Verhoeven uses nudity and sex the same way Zack Snyder uses violence, not to be prurient but to challenge the audience as to why they enjoy gratuitous nudity. (My thoughts and theories on Snyder's use of violence as a thought-provoking device through which the audience should question why they enjoy violence will be explored further when I drop my WATCHMEN review). With that being said the sex scenes in this film actually do serve a purpose for character and plot advancement, which is rare in these sort of films.

When the detectives lean forward to see up Sharon Stone's skirt during that famous scene, it is the audience leaning in for a peak. And I think that is part of why viewers (critics, in particular) are put off by this film, because the mirror it turns on them is so effective. It blurs the line between the actors and the roles, and the audience is complicit with their actions. It's a moral quandary to empathize with these characters because they are so sleazy.

But that's the entire point of noir, and this is a neo-noir film. The story is so well-told, painting with shades of noir and giallo, that the audience can identify with the central characters. At the time this came out that was an uncomfortable thought for many. When noir was at its height in the mid-late 40s and early 50s, audiences were used to that, but when this came out, it was not a trope inherent to thrillers, despite the popular works of De Palma being released around the same period. Sleazy characters, whether protagonist or otherwise, were not people one rooted for in this era. '80s DTV action movies were often done with full knowledge that no one would actually like their shitbag detective. They cranked out the stuff with gleeful knowledge of such.

BASIC INSTINCT was a bit of a throwback to what was becoming a bygone era of Direct-to-Video, cheap action films built on similar cliches and tropes. Van Damme and Seagal would soon graduated from B action fare to blockbusters (and would more quickly return to form when their bigger movies didn't take with audiences). It seems fitting that I recently watched BLACK RAIN and THE LAST BOY SCOUT, as this film lies somewhere between the two.

Where BLACK RAIN was directed by Ridley Scott and THE LAST BOY SCOUT by brother Tony, they do represent an interesting dichotomy in the evolution of the "buddy-cop"/noir-ish/serio-comic detective story. BLACK RAIN is an engaging story and I enjoyed it immensely, but is bogged down by being too dark and serious for its own good. Meanwhile THE LAST BOY SCOUT, penned by Shane Black, is more humorous and tongue-in-cheek. The hallmark of Shane Black's style is to employ humor that is both irreverent and situationally inappropriate. In this as well as its visual aesthetic and editing technique, the film represents an early entry in the Jan deBont/Bruckheimer/Bay style that has dominated action films since the mid-90s and continues to this day.

It is interesting to note here that Jan deBont was DP on both this and BLACK RAIN, as well as directing POINT BREAK and SPEED - two movies that kick-started the modern action movement. The reason I digress here is to illustrate that BASIC INSTINCT, although released a year after BOY SCOUT, acts as a sort of bridge between the two styles. It is more serious like RAIN, but also strikes a playful and humorous tone like BOY SCOUT.

The director himself is a superlative talent. He cuts dialogue and large group scenes like Hitchcock, he can masterfully film a one-shot tracking sequence with motivation and purpose, and like Hitch also knows when to place an insert into the master take. And, also like Hitch, he has been harried by the critics. In short, Paul Verhoeven is a master craftsman, inspired by the old masters.

On top of being a social satire and not taking itself too too seriously, BASIC INSTINCT is a densely-layered psychological thriller. The investigation itself has plenty of twists, turns, and blind alleys. It has a meta-textual element in that the script plays out much like a novel, while Stone's character is herself a writer. It ends with a delicious twist. There are several moments where characters discuss the fact that someone always dies in these types of stories. The same goes double for motion pictures: the audience is thirsty and it just won't sell (or get asses in the seat) if there isn't blood on the marquee.

I have seen this movie once before, and was struck by just how good it was in spite of all the bad I had heard about it. The 4K remaster presents it as it deserves: A Hitchcock-inspired thriller done in Verhoeven's distinct style. He uses the full 2.39:1 scope, paints with characters and scenery, tells the story visually, and engages the audience. This film is a masterpiece and deserves a place in the pantheon of the Great Films.