Green Lantern

Green Lantern (2011) by Martin Campbell

Green Lantern was a letdown, but I'm interested in the sequel. There is no other way to describe this film, an adaptation of the long-running B-List DC Comics cosmic superhero. There was so much potential with this film, so much for it to get right (an epic cosmic setting; a likable---if somewhat miscast---leading man; some decent-to-good supporting actors; the potential for images and set-pieces that go beyond anything that has so far been shown in comic book films; a director who knows how to stage exciting action as well as introduce audiences to action characters), but in the end it felt too much like a half-assed attempt to create a lower-budgeted, slightly less-charming, DC-version of Iron Man. DC's track history of adapting their characters into successful films seems to begin and end with Superman and Batman, and even then with mixed results.

The film introduces us to Hal Jordan (a charismatic yet miscast Ryan Reynolds), a hotshot test pilot working with Carol Ferris (a vapid Blake Lively), another test pilot whose father, Carl (Jay O. Sanders) owns the prestigious Ferris Aircraft company, and whose government contracts Hal jeopardizes during a test run of their drone fighter jets. Following his test flight, Hal encounters the purple-skinned alien, Abin Sur (Temura Morrison), who has crashed-landed off a beach in Coast City following an encounter with the fear-fueled entity Parallax. Hal, it is explained, has been chosen to be a member of the intergalactic Green Lantern Corps, essentially a galactic police force. Abin Sur's ring, powered by a central battery on the ancient planet Oa, chose Hal for his courage, spirit, and responsibility, features which he and his friends fail to see. Meanwhile, Professor Hector Hammond (the severely underused Peter Sarsgaard), having been hired by Amanda Waller (Angela Bassett) to perform a postmortem on Abin Sur, contacts a minuscule amount of yellow energy, which is what powers Parallax, and begins a bizarre transformation into a deformed, telekinetic villain.

Now, that might make it seem like the movie has some interesting points, and, to its credit, I loved the parts that were set in space. The Hal Jordan incarnation of the Green Lantern is a cosmic science fiction story, set in space and encountering aliens and bizarre forms of life. It's like a 1950's sci-fi serial, but with a superhero angle to it, and the potential for exciting, cosmic derring-do on the big screen (and in 3D!) were apparent. Sadly, though, this film feels like a bipolar patient: should it be big and swooping and grand and epic, or should it spend most of its runtime in an apartment spouting exposition? Should we see the character create matter out of pure thought and will, things that boggle the imagination and are limited only by the boundaries of human imagination, or should we continue to make the audience endure a trite love story involving two characters who have no chemistry and nothing in common aside from us being told that they grew up together and they're both attractive so...why the fuck not?! Should we show Kilowog for the briefest of scenes, and waste Mark Strong, perfectly cast as Sinestro, or should we allow Peter Sarsgaard ham it up in a role that was obviously edited down to something much more goofy and silly and nonthreatening? Should we show all the cool, kick-ass cosmic adventures, or should we, once again (***yawn***) have the characters just sit in an apartment and talk?

I mention the apartments because 1/3 of the movie is set in apartments; either Hal's or Hector's. And...it's unexplainable. One of the clearest examples of how convoluted this film is occurs late in the second act (**SPOILER ALERT...I GUESS**): Hector Hammond has broken out of being strapped to an examination table, and has threatened to kill his own father, Senator Hammond (Tim Robbins). Hector now exhibits telekinetic powers and is a viable threat to Hal Jordan. Jordan appears, the two fight each other briefly (Hector getting melted fucking glass thrown in his face), and then Hector disappears as Jordan remains, disturbed and dispirited by his failure to capture Hector. In the NEXT SHOT, Hector Hammond is in his apartment, writhing on his bed, and Jordan, too, returns to HIS apartment, and immediately sits down to feel sorry for himself. Next scene? Carol is giving Jordan a pep talk in his very apartment, telling him to get off his ass and use his crazy-ass space ring to save the world. The film went from telekinetic action fight scene, to both characters just wasting time at home. Again, it doesn't make a lick of sense, and tonally it's just bizarre.

The film suffers from an almost palpable sense of lack of self-confidence, and seems to be unable to decide whether it should go for the scope it deserves, or if it should just save that for the sequel. Hopefully, the inevitable sequel (it's already in the works by WB, which is desperate for a new, post-Harry Potter franchise) goes bigger and better and more fantastic.

Despite its lack of scale and cosmic scope, the two lead roles (Ryan Reynolds, and Peter Sarsgaard) do their absolute best to make the material work. Reynolds (while not my first choice; Nathan Fillion, despite his age, would have made the perfect Hal) is likable and charming enough to pull off the cockiness of Hal, and seems fit enough to pull off the physicality of the role, despite his range being slightly stunted (Hal is either doubtful of himself, or self-assured. That's about the range of his emotions. There is nothing else to him).I was never bored with Hal, but felt that he was sometimes a bit to hung up with the "I'm not good enough for the Corps" lamentation, nor could I stand the fact that it took his girlfriend to snap him out of his funk and make him man up and embrace his cosmic role.

Peter Sarsgaard, on the other hand, hams it up (after a build-up), offering a thankfully lively role to contrast against Blake Lively, who is beyond cardboard thin, and miscast as a test pilot herself. Sarsgaard's Hammond---a dweebish college science professor (who works in a building labeled “Science Building”)---plays the villainous role as broadly as a mustache-twirling mad scientist, and seems to be enjoying the change of pace, rather than continually playing psychologically heavy, flawed characters. Here, Hammond's biggest trait (aside from his grotesquely huge forehead and telekinetic power), is being a disappointment to his father, and Sarsgaard manages to portray this inner turmoil in a surprisingly nuanced manner (up until the point where he hams it up entirely in the aforementioned telekinetic fight scene). Knowing little about the comic incarnation of the character, I don't know how faithful Sarsgaard's interpretation truly is, and while there were a few abrupt scene transitions and motivations in his character, I attribute that more to the editing of the film rather than the script itself.

The script itself isn't as bad as others might make it out to be. In fact, again, I felt that all of the cosmic, space-set scenes worked perfectly. I imagine that the prospect of introducing a B-list comic character, one based in science fiction and with a villain none might not recognize outside of the hardcore fans, would have been an incredibly hard sell. That is the only reason I can imagine for the film's insistence on staying in Coast City, in Hal's apartment cracking wise and continually doubting his worthiness of being a Lantern: we can all relate to someone just sitting around an apartment, as opposed to someone with a cosmic space ring. Sure, it's easy to relate, but it makes for lackluster storytelling.

Green Lantern is another example of DC's inability to allow its loftiest characters truly bloom into the epic adventures they deserve (just look at Superman Returns for another recent example). It has a very checkered history of success, with its best recent films (the rebooted Batman series; Constantine, and even the flawed if incredibly ambitious Watchmen) being based mainly on its Vertigo line, or in its animated features. DC, as opposed to Marvel, is and has always been in the nature of creating gods, beings from other worlds with incredible super powers. Green Lantern's main flaws, again, is in failing to trust its own strengths, its own mythology, and in assuming the audience wouldn't want to care about anything set in space. The set pieces seem sadly sedate (Hal embraces his role as Green Lantern following a lackluster helicopter near-crash), except, of course, when set in space (Hal's training on Oa is probably the best part of the whole film, but even then it feels like a few scenes were cut for brevity's sake, since Hal quits the Corps after only about a day of training).

A sequel is already greenlit, and hopefully this time around, the filmmakers will allow Green Lantern to truly soar to the heights only hinted at here. This is an epic, grand, cosmic world with an immense scale...surely, audiences would rather see Hal and Sinestro duking it out in deep space, rather than some brown cloud floating in and gobbling up nameless people running around in a city. Despite its flaws, I'm hoping that since all the mythology introduction is out of the way and the character established, we can move on to the grander scales. If Thor (a cosmic/science fiction/action/comic book/fantasy film) could be entertaining, despite featuring a character few non-comic fans can even mention, then there's no reason why a Green Lantern sequel has to suck. And for God's sake, cut out the post-converted 3D...it's distracting. Some scenes were slightly out-of-focus, or suffered from a ghosting of the images on screen. And, ultimately, it didn't add anything to the film (aside from another $5 to the ticket price).

Tron: Legacy

Tron: Legacy (2010) Joseph Kosinski

I fucking hate this movie. Alright, so I never saw the original Tron, Disney's 1982 psuedo-experimental sci-fi film starring Jeff Bridges, but I understand enough of the plot to appreciate it for its stylistic approach: Jeff Bridges' Kevin Flynn gets sucked into a computer program he's created, and must survive long enough to find a way to escape. The film was the first to make extensive use of computer effects and is largely memorable for that (the effects which were used for the Disc Games: competitions where two people must fight for survival in a variety of lethal games, including the ever-popular light-cycle race), and for its visual style (characters are shot in video, with their faces filmed in black-and-white film. Looks great...but apparently has a plodding, slow-as-molasses plot and is revered as a cult classic merely for the sense of nostalgia it imparts. But it looks like this:



However, Disney still has yet to make it available for purchase. After this sequel, I can imagine why.

I had hope that knowing nothing about the previous film would make me impartial, and I had hoped that this film would also fill in all the blanks that I would inevitably have. The film does answer some questions, but not in any way that is exciting; the characters talk about the events in the previous film, and occasionally there is a flashback. But a lot of the time the characters just talk. They just fucking talk. They sit and talk. Like it was the fucking Star Wars prequels they sit down and talk.

I'll actually talk about the stuff I like first. This movie showcases Daft Punk and it really is their movie (even throwing them in for a cameo); if it weren't for their incredible score, I would have completely hated the film. The score was hypnotic, and almost constantly played in the background, and for that reason alone I found something to enjoy. Second, I also admired the production design of the Grid (the world of Tron): the cold, mechanical whites, blacks, oranges and blues were beautiful, and in 3D, really were an impressive sight (although it got a bit tired near the third act). The updating of the Games (3-dimensional multi-level light-cycle races; anti-gravity disc combat) were fun and exciting to watch. Um...Olivia Wilde was attractive...I guess? Now, on to all the stuff that made this film an agonizing ordeal. First off: what I can only jokingly call the plot.

The film opens with Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund)---the 27-year-old son of the long-lost Encom founder and computer wizard Kevin Flynn---breaking into Encom headquarters and leaking a copy of its latest operating program (which, the corporate head explains, was designed with flaws purposely built in). He gets cornered by security, and, right when he is about to be captured, jumps off the roof and parachutes to safety, and then drives off to his home (which happens to be a renovated storage container...it actually looked pretty cozy). Right off the bat, I had problems with this scene. The Encom executives react to the leaking of the software as if it would legitimately destroy their very existence; movies have yet to truly grasp the fact that leaking software (even operating software) really doesn't affect profit margin for computer companies, at least not in a crushingly catastrophic way. It happens literally every day. I'll let that one slide though, since I feel that most movie writers are still playing catch-up with the increasing rate of technological evolution. So, that being said, the scene also establishes Sam as being reckless, brash, and carrying a chip on his shoulder. That also wouldn't be a problem, except that is all he is. There is no more development to his character after this opening scene: he is established as an Archetype. You know, the reluctant hero! Joseph Campbell stuff! (WRITER: "You know, reckless! Like, he rides a motorcycle, and is angry with authority and fucks stuff up just because! An adrenaline junkie!" PRODUCER: "But...who is he? You're just saying adjectives, but not really telling me who this person is as a person." WRITER: "....a who?") This film has no less than FOUR credited writers, and has had 28 years to develop a story with relateable, interesting characters (fuck, I'm not looking for Sam Lowman or Charles Foster Kane...fucking R2D2 is more interesting than anyone in this film. At least give me a mobile, whistling garbage can), instead the main character is Reluctant Hero Version 2.

Now, through a series of events, Sam gets summoned to his father's abandoned Arcade, where the Tron game resides. He activates his father's old computer, and gets sucked into the Grid. Once there, he gets captured by a security program, and thrown into the Disc War games, where he must fight for survival. He undergoes the hand-to-hand disc game, and the multi-level light cycle race. These were easily the best scenes of the entire film. The film's villain, CLU (also played by Jeff Bridges, horribly rendered to look 28 years younger) is made aware of Sam's capture, and personally tries his hand at trying to kill him during the light cycle race after Rinzler (the star performer in the Disc War games) fails to do him in.

Then, Sam is saved by Quorra (Olivia Wilde), and eventually brought to Kevin Flynn, who is living in the outskirts of the Grid (off the grid. Clever.), apparently meditating or some shit for nearly 30 years. Through a series of events so boring I can't even really describe them because it's such a jumbled mess I can't remember what scenes happened in what order, Kevin gets his identity disc stolen, and this is a big deal because with the identity disc, CLU can leave the Grid and enter the real world, along with an army of programs designed to...do...stuff? Also, Quorra is a program who may or may not aid mankind somehow. Then the movie ends. Oh, and at some point Rinzler switches allegiances and helps the Flynns after a change of heart that is never-the-fuck explained.

Okay, so that's the story. I gave it away, and I don't give a shit. There's a lot there that doesn't make any sense. First off, CLU is horribly rendered, and it wouldn't be a problem (or so creepy in an uncanny valley sort of way) if the film didn't go out of its way to place him in the most brightly-lit scenes, thus accentuating how dead-eyed and fucking creepy he is (which may be the point? Since CLU is an un-aging program based on Kevin Flynn's younger self? And he should look like a program? Even though all the other programs---essentially everyone else in the movie---are played by normal human beings?) Anyway, the creepy-eyed CLU needs to find Kevin, and to do this he sucks Sam into the Grid in the hopes that Sam's appearance will cause Kevin to reveal himself. That makes sense...but then CLU actively tries to knowingly kill Sam during the Disc War games. In fact, it is literally the first thing he does, literally going out of his way to do so. CLU even explains how important both Kevin AND Sam are, to their faces...so why the fuck try to kill them the second they show up? Yeah, it makes for an exciting scene (the best, actually. Too bad they're all within the first 30 minutes of the film), but it doesn't make any fucking sense.

Next up: the ISOs. Isomorphic something-or-others. Essentially, they're living, self-conscious, aware programs that are basically living beings in a purely digital realm. Kevin explains their origins, and then goes on to explain how important they are. I'm paraphrasing, but he says they'll change religion, biology, medicine, etc. Except...we don't really know how. The ISOs don't really do anything, even within the context of the Grid. He just says they'll change the world.

The Grid: is it a city or an entire world? If it's a city, why is it always empty, except for security ships hovering around capturing rogue programs (who are basically just ISOs hunted for extermination)? There is NO ONE in any of the scenes set in the city streets, yet when Sam and Quorra go to see Zuse (an obnoxiously flamboyant Michael Sheen) in his club (club? Right? It was a club?), the place is packed, and when CLU needs to reveal his "army", there are fucking millions of them. From the few scenes I could piece together of the original Tron, the programs were like people, and had foibles and personalities. Here, the few programs we do meet are set up with the most basic of characterizations and show up only as needed by the plot.

What is CLU's intention? I understand that CLU wants to leave the Grid and get into the real world and continue his stated goal of ridding the world of what he sees as imperfections (in essence, wipe out humanity). But once in the real world, he ceases to be a threat. His army is armed with discs and poles. They wouldn't be able to do much damage to anyone out here in the world of guns and knives and nails-in-wooden-boards. And the mechanics of escaping the Grid aren't entirely clear...Sam and Quorra escape by standing on a tiny platform and holding onto each other as they are sucked up into the portal leading to the real world. Would CLU's army have to hold his hand and stand on the tiny platform too? Would they even be able to leave because they're not the fuck real people, but programs (Quorra could leave because she's an ISO and thus, effectively, a living creature)?

TRON. The original Tron was called Tron because it featured a character named Tron, who was apparently a pretty important character in that film. Tron is not in this movie. At all. (Rinzler is apparently Tron...but it is never explicitly stated, merely implied, and I think that's why Rinzler suddenly decides in the middle of a fucking mid-air dogfight to change sides...but I don't know. I'm just the audience member who didn't see the original film because it's not available on DVD or VHS. The characters never go out and say, "Hey! Rinzler is definitely Tron! And remember all that shit Tron did that was a big deal? Man, we need to get him back to our side! That'd be exciting and add some emotional weight to our adventure!...eh, fuck it. Let's do that in part 3.")

I understand and appreciate the subtext of the film: CLU represents the hacker ethos of free information; Sam and Kevin represent privatization and the desire for privacy and an identity that is unique, and how the contradiction of unfettered information and privacy leads to conflict. CLU can't even really be considered a true villain, since he is merely fulfilling the parameters of his programming, and once Kevin leaves the Grid...which is an active choice fueled by the realization that by creating CLU, he'd unleashed an unintentionally aggressive aspect of his personality, one fueled by the quest for all knowledge...and it's only when he and Kevin merge into one being that either of them can be at peace. In an age of an internet where one can literally get any piece of entertainment or knowledge or program right now, this is a pretty topical discussion to throw into a blockbuster film. For approaching that touchy subject, I give the film props. However, the film fails as a film, with too many plot holes and lapses in logic (even by its own standards) to really be purely entertaining. When the action kicks in, the film is delicious to look at, but when it comes to adding weight, pathos, and personality to the characters (or even originality or interest), director Kosinski fails. It's almost as if he can't be bothered, not when there's light cycles and light-sails and Olivia Wilde to look at!

It's a shame, because I went from being indifferent prior to the film's release, to being excited to see it, to being horribly disappointed in it (and actually pissed that it's taken up so much time for me to write this). There was so much that this film had going for it to make it great, and it looked great, and had an amazing score and utilized 3-D extremely well. But it had a shit story that killed all that potential. And that's the real pain of it all. This is another 3-D special effects extravaganza released in December that hopes audiences will be blown away by the effects to not notice that there is nothing at stake for any of the characters.

Look, I can enjoy a shitty movie just for fun (I gave Punisher:War Zone a glowing review, remember?) But that doesn't mean that I should have to shut my mind off completely just for the sake of bright lights and pretty production design. Even shitty movies I enjoy (Punisher: War Zone. Billy Madison. The Musketeer. Live Free Or Die Hard) have stakes and have a plot and have a story that push the characters and forces them to experience some sort of change. There are clear stakes, and there is a logic at play that is upheld throughout the film's runtime. I can get behind a bad movie if there is a story that makes sense, and if it is at least fun. Here, the characters are archetypes, pure and simple (Sam especially. It doesn't help that Garrett Hedlund didn't really do much with what he was given), and the plot doesn't make a lick of sense, and it is unashamed about that fact. The movie is lights and sounds and an incredible score and Jeff Bridges, dead-eyed Jeff Bridges, Olivia Wilde, and Jesus-Michael-Sheen!-What-are-you-doing?

I wanted to get behind this film, but couldn't. Four writers and nearly three decades should have done something to make this better than what it was, or at least original (even Tron, as plodding and boring as it apparently is, is still remembered and original and at least tried something new, even if it did apparently fail). And it's a shame.

Oh, and one last thing: the use of hallucinogenic substances made this film (and the score, especially) bearable.

P.S. - in the theatre there were teenagers on their phones, talking loudly and fucking taking pictures. One teenager was apparently completely perplexed as to why Kevin Flynn didn't wear shoes at his home, and talked loudly about that fact for FIVE MINUTES. I fucking hate going to the movies sometimes.

Avatar (FINALLY)

Avatar (2009), by James Cameron

Avatar was okay. Good, not great, and definitely a film that deserved to be seen on the format for which it was designed (3D-IMAX). Director James Cameron's first film since 1997's Titanic was released and eventually became the highest-grossing film (until his subsequent film, this one, which doubled Titanic's $1.4 billion gross. DOUBLED IT. THAT'S NEARLY $3 BILLION FOR ONE MOVIE.) The film is set in the year 2154, when Earth's resources have been depleted and the resources of the lush moon Pandora (home to the indigenous, blue-skinned Na'vi) are being mined and shipped back to Earth. Space marine and newly paraplegic Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) is shipped to Pandora to replace his brother, Tommy, who died and was previously part of the Avatar program, in which specially-designed human/Na'vi hybrids are mentally controlled through the aid of MRI-like machines. Jake is sent to accompany the Avatar program leader, Grace (Sigourney Weaver), in studying and trying to gain the trust of the Na'vi, as well as secretly gather intel for Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang), who is in the employ of corporate leader Parker Selfridge (Giovanni Ribisi) to help gather the valuable resource unobtainium. Jake then gets lost and it is only with the aid of Na'vi princess Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) that he is able to survive the harsh jungle environment of Pandora. Eventually, Jake is forced to prove his worth as one of the Na'vi, and must choose between helping Quaritch, or helping the Na'vi.

That is the entire plot. There was very little to surprise me the first time I saw the film. Technically, the film is absolutely perfect: the CGI and motion capture are extremely well done (although not as ground-breaking as either Jar Jar Binks was back in 1999, or the quantum leap that was Gollum in 2002), and the utilization of the 3D effects was used less as a gimmick and more as a natural extension of the cinematic world that was created. The effect actually added to the depth-of-field of the screen (the first shot of Jake Sully ---bathed in blue light and floating in zero-gravity and pointing towards the screen, where a single drop of water floats--- immediately impressed me), and provided a sense of interaction with the screen that became more and more natural as the film progressed. Weta Workshop's engineers (they're the same team that pioneered Gollum eight years ago) have finally managed to perfect computer-generated fire, smoke and (perhaps the most difficult) water (there is a scene where Jake's avatar climbs out of a river after being chased by some panther-like alien, and the effect of his CGI clothing sticking to him and appearing wet actually impressed me more than anything else in the movie...I'm not kidding. Rendering realistic water effects is fucking hard). The effects work and cinematographer Mauro Fiore's lush photography were impeccable, technically perfect, and absolutely beautiful. If every 3D movie were shot with this amount of care and attention paid to the effects work, and if every science fiction film were this beautiful, going to the cinema would return to being an Event. However technically beautiful and perfect the film looks, nearly everything other than the effects work suffers from almost fundamental flaws that ultimately hampered my enjoying the film.

First off, the characters are entirely one-dimensional. Entirely. Quaritch's personality trait is Evil-Army-Colonel. Selfridge's personality trait is Selfish-Corporate-Yuppie. Grace is Jaded-Open-Minded-Scientist. Jake is Gone-Native-Man. At the end of the film, they are exactly the same. The simplicity of each character undermined the overall richness of the visuals and of the social strata developed for the Na'vi. Neytiri and the other Na'vi (Mo'at, Tsu'tey, and Eytukan) have a rich and fully developed cultural history that is hinted at, but those dynamics sadly never add up to, once again, character tropes: the Na'vi are too perfect and so pefectly balanced with their environment to ever really become too interesting; half the time it seemed as if we were observing a diorama of what a civilization such as the Na'vi would have appeared as to our untrained and ignorant eyes, than as if we were truly observing the continued existence of a race that has existed for hundreds if not thousands of years. The film was plagued horrendously with the “white guilt”, and as a result everything about it seemed trite and heavy-handed.

Having said all that, I still admire and respect the film, but merely on a technical level. The script was horrible, with one dimensional characters, predictable plotting, some slight pacing problems, and (despite all the technical innovations that would make the rendering of any thing ever IMAGINABLE possible) rather limited character design. While the overall message of the film was commendable, it still suffered from being entirely pedestrian in its telling, without any real level of suspense or surprise, and the death of one of the major characters added nothing to the story, except to incite Jake into finally acting out against the military (which I guess qualifies as his character arc). The culture of the Na'vi, while rich and dense, seemed too much a metaphor for Native Americans for me to identify with the Na'vi on their own terms; it seemed as if this film were James Cameron trying to present a message with the subtlety of a wrecking ball, where a scalpel would have been the only tool needed to get the job done; had he given the Na'vi a culture that identified them as something unique rather than merely being a tool for pedestrian messaging, I would have found them to be more appealing. However, since he didn't, I was able to make my own guess as to where the story would go...and failed to be surprised when it progressed exactly as I'd predicted.

Science fiction has often been used as a means of expressing or redirecting the concerns or fears of modern culture: Star Trek used aliens to shine a light on race relations, and the Cold War; Star Wars (the first one) seemingly reinvented the mythic hero style of storytelling, while conforming entirely to that paradigm; and so forth. Name a science fiction television show or movie made since The Forbidden Planet (and you can include Metropolis in there too), and chances are there is a plethora of subtext to be examined (hell, even B-movies like Starship Troopers could be examined in like). Even Cameron's own Terminator 2 and The Abyss (still my favorite film by him) could be be examined under several pretenses (which I might elaborate on in future articles. But with most of these films, the metaphor is subtle and told in a precise way, and it feels organic to the story and to the characters. With Avatar, the message seems so sloppily presented that it came across as feeling a bit weird (the scene where Grace is presented to the Tree of Souls, to become one with Ey'wa, always, always, makes me feel uncomfortable, and I'm not entirely sure why), and, at worst, perverts the characters (who become mechanisms in service of the plot). I feel as if there was a point during the making of the film where Cameron forgot how to write the way he used to, or to direct action scenes in a way that raises the stakes considerably.

Comparing the finished film to the original treatment, Project 880, which was considerably more dense and detailed, makes me think that I would have preferred to watch the original vision for this film than what ultimately feels like a CliffNotes version of it. Despite its runtime, Avatar still feels rushed and cramped, with none of the characters taking any time to develop emotionally, or with any sort of real connection to the audience. The audience feels for Jake Sully because he is the one who has the most screen time, not necessarily because he is interesting, or likeable, or played by an actor who has any chemistry (sorry, Worthington...you've still not grown on me as an actor). For a movie that promised (and delivered) so much in terms of special effects and the movie-going experience, it is such a shame that Cameron chose to display all this prowess on such an empty film.

The epic score by James Horner coupled perfectly with the visuals to create an epic, heroic swell to the film, and may have actually been the second-most-enjoyable aspect of the film (number one being, of course, the visuals). Mauro Fiore's lush cinematography (despite most of the visuals being computer-generated) still added a lovely feel of the exotic to the proceedings. The fact that motion-capture has progressed as far as it has since 2002's The Two Towers (or even The Phantom Menace back in 1999, when it really hit the public consciousness) is impressive, and what Cameron managed to do with the technology is worthy of praise. But, again, it boils down to one simple thing that made this film work as a story....

...the plot just sucked. It was awful. None of the character beats were surprising, and the fact that it was so predictable and rote made the characters that much less interesting; half the time I was waiting for the inevitable plot twist which would cause the character to change. The characters' decisions failed to feel real, as if service was being paid to the characters as people, and not as plot mechanisms, and for that reason I just couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone. And when you think about the ending of the film, it narrows down to a human coming to an alien world and showing the aliens how to navigate their own culture, tame their own world, and become better warriors than they ever could aspire to be (only after he'd learned everything there was to learn about them), and be the only hope to band them all together in order to rid their world of other humans (whose victory at the Hometree was guaranteed by....the same human outdoing them at everything). Also, once the technologically-superior humans are beaten and sent off Pandora, what's to stop them from just sending more ships, more men, and larger weapons? It seems a rather hollow victory in the long-run.

Avatar is a visually beautiful, lush film that fully utilizes the technical potential of 3D, motion-capture, and computer-generated imagery. As a story and a film, it falls apart, and in a few years, when this very pioneering filmmaking technique is used in every blockbuster film, it'll be sidled alongside films like The Jazz Singer or The Birth Of A Nation: very finely-crafted films that are important on a historical sense, but don't really add up to all that much when you finally get around to seeing them (I've gotta say, for a talkie, The Jazz Singer has an awful lot of inter-title sequences). It's the technical achievement and talent brought aboard that matters, but it's merely to inspire the newer generation of filmmakers to take those tools and use them in more interesting ways. How Avatar, a film that was expressly designed for 3D IMAX viewing, will play on a 2D home-theater system is another question entirely: does it live up to repeat home viewings?

Avatar, for the time being, is a beautiful time and a fun ride, like a roller coaster: exciting, fun, and a true experience, but you can see all the twists and turns a mile away, and you're stuck in a chair full of people you'll never think about again in your life.

Toy Story 3

Toy Story 3 (2010), Lee Unkrich

Toy Story 3 is impossibly close to being a truly perfect film; but the minor quibbles I hold for it do not prevent it from being yet another amazing achievement from the ever-impressive Pixar. Director Lee Unkrich, along with fellow writers and Pixar veterans John Lasseter and Andrew Stanton, have crafted a surprisingly dense closing to one of the more consistently satisfying film series (and also a pretty dense one, for a kid's film).

With an explosive, kinetic opening in which Sheriff Woody (Tom Hanks), with the help of Jessie (Joan Cusack), Bullseye the horse, and Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) are engaged in a Western-style chase involving runaway trains, exploding bridges, a pig-shaped spaceship, and death by monkeys, that closely follows the opening (pretend) scene in the 1995 original. Alas, as it was then, this scene is all a scenario concocted by the hyperactive imagination of Andy (Charlie Bright as a child; John Morris as a teenager). We then watch Andy grow up via his mother's video recordings, the hero toys in tow. In seemingly no time at all, though, Andy has grown into a 17-year-old ready to head off to college and consistently being hassled by his mother not only to pack up, but also to decide which of his toys he wants to throw out, which will be stored in the attic, which are going to be donated to the local Sunnyside Day Care, and which will be going with him to college. Through a mix-up, the hero toys (sans Woody, who was chosen to be taken to college) wind up on the curb to be thrown out. After a close call with a trash compactor, the hero toys then wind up being donated to Sunnyside Day Care and greeted by the multitude of toys there, led by the genteel, Southern-lulling Lotso-Huggin' Bear (played fittingly by Ned Beatty), where the plot takes on a decidedly darker tone.

That's not to imply the film is too dark to enjoy, as its darkness is balanced out by its affable and buoyant charm and mostly genuine emotion. And, for the most part, the darkness present is not so much out of a desire to purely raise the stakes for the sake of raising them (again, for the most part), but instead to illustrate many of the resonant themes present therein. The film is "dark" due to its honesty and openness in regards to certain unavoidable and inevitable aspects of life. Some friends grow apart. Others, for one reason or another, leave forever. Children move out...and on. For whatever reason, one way or another, we may be forgotten by those we once loved. Faith can be lost. Change is painful and unavoidable and necessary; but sometimes, it can also be a beautiful thing. That's a lot for a children's summer movie to ask its mostly young audience to consider.

The theme of faith, however, remains the most prominent in the film, and there are three main instances in which it shines brightest. Early in the film, Woody and the gang concoct a scheme to get Andy to play with them: they steal his cell phone and store it in the toy chest (where they are kept), and then call it using the house phone; when he comes to retrieve it, they hope he'll remember to play with them upon seeing them. Instead, he simply pulls Rex off the cell phone and walks away. Alone again, the toys are excited that he at least looked at them, and Rex is beyond ecstatic to have been picked up by him. Here, the act of just being looked at and picked up (even momentarily) is a joyous, exciting event (which makes the final scene that much more poignant).

Lotso's back-story, meanwhile, is rooted in the idea of loss of faith, and a resentment towards a world in which that loss is permitted. His history reflects Jessie's back-story, but whereas she remains (initially) broken, Lostso turns that pain inward, becoming a menacing force of control and dictation, overbearing and resentful. When he tells Woody, "We're just pieces of plastic. We're meant to be thrown out," he speaks not just about the plight of fictional toys: the world is not governed by kind, benevolent masters, but rather is a cold, methodical system (much like the ojne he created in Sunnyside) that objectifies every single person. In such a place, everyone and everything is easily replaceable, and the kind, benevolent master is an easily-destroyed illusion. In the end, everything is just a thing.

(***SPOILER***) Which leads to the final set-piece. Whoa. With a single motion (all the hero toys holding hands), the film forced the audience to confront the very motion of mortality. Without getting into the specifics as to how, the hero toys eventually find themselves at a landfill incinerator and without any way of escaping. And in a silent instant, just looking at each other, they decided to actively accept their fates. Perhaps they are just pieces of plastic, and perhaps that's all they've ever been, but there's still no avoiding the unavoidable. Fighting the inevitable is a far less brave notion than facing up to it. Sure, there is a literal deus ex machina that emerges at the nick of time ("The Claw!"), but it is still a scene in which the heroes lose faith and instead accept their fates, even if their fate is death (***NO MORE SPOILER!***)

It is through that trust in faith, ultimately, that reunites them with Andy. The reunion is brief, as Andy ultimately gives the toys to Bonnie, a young neighbor who briefly had Woody in her possession following his escape from Sunnyside. When Andy introduces Bonnie to each of his toys, highlighting their personalities, and ultimately playing with them one last time before driving off to college, it's clear that beyond the frozen stares and blank faces, the toys are beyond ecstatic, but will never be able to tell him that. As much as the toys and Andy need each other, they'll never be able to truly connect in the ways that each needed, nor to communicate that need. Even Andy's final goodbye ("Thanks, guys.") is whispered as he's already in his car. The closest the toys ever get to actually communicating with Andy is when Woody writes Bonnie's name and address on a post-it note for Andy to see. The reliance each feels for the other can never be communicated, but in the end, once change truly occurs and the toys find a new home, everyone is able to move on. Change occurs, and then life goes on. C'est la vie.

Technically, the film is beautiful, with rich, lush colors and impressive use of lighting and depth of field for an animated film (a bit more impressive in 3D). The entire voice cast was great, with Beatty's Lotso emulating Strother Martin or a lucid Slim Pickens, among others, for a decidedly grandfatherly, droll performance. Bonnie's toy, though appearing only briefly, were great fun, with what I felt was a decidedly meta casting choice in Timothy Dalton as the thespian, always-in-character stuffed porcupine, Mr. Pricklepants. The action in this film was also pretty inspired, from the opening Western action scene, to Woody's escape from Sunnyside, to Mr. Potato Head's surreal escape from a sandbox, to Woody and Slinky Dog's battle with the watch-guard,

My minor quibbles with the film involve Andy, for the most part. First off, for three full films the toys get lost or otherwise disappear, only to wind up in the most obvious place possible, despite us seeing Andy and his mother having looked all over multiple times. Hey! The toys happened to be in this box we just happened to have finished packing this second, and neither of us can remember putting them in there! Isn't that weird? Ah, screw it! Something should have given away the fact that something...weird...has been going on this whole time. I mean, really, who else could have written Bonnie's name and address on the box if the only three people in the house were all in the hallway? Second, it appears Andy has no friends at all, which makes him kind of...creepy. In the "growing up" montage, Andy is shown with his toys only....watching movies. Having a birthday party. Having a slumber party. There is no other child present. The absolute pristine quality of all the hero toys (no smudges, cracks, chipped paint, faded stickers, etc.) suggests Andy has WAAAAAYYYY too much time on his hands.

But, now that I think of it, Andy comes from a single-parent home. There is no father in any of the films. Perhaps the hero toys (the ones to survive this installment, with the exception of Bullseye, Mrs. Potato Head, the Pizza Planet aliens, Buzz, and Jessie) were given to him by his father, and that is why they mean so much to him (especially Woody. If Toy Story 2 is to be taken into account, it makes sense that Woody belonged to Andy's father and was passed down to his son: what boy in 1995 would own the last surviving Sheriff Woody doll from the 1950's, unless it was owned by someone close?) Actually, looking at it that way, it makes sense.

But I wasn't too much of a fan of Randy Newman's score, which seemed too sickly, syrupy sweet. (*SPOILER*) And the near-death of the toys just slightly felt tacked on to make the final denouement that much more satisfying, but just felt like too much unneeded melodrama for the characters to face (and how could Slinky drop down from the magnet on the conveyor? His entire middle section is still metal, and the magnet wasn't turned off, as the toys actively jumped down...whatever (*END SPOILERY PART*)

Anyway, the point is, this film is a fitting finale to a great series (if finale it indeed be). While this summer has been mostly dreary and full of comparatively dismal excuses for films (Hello Eclipse and Marmaduke! I see you!), this truly is one of the best films out this summer, and near the top for the year. Pixar just keeps on doing it, and God bless them, I hope they never stop.

If you do see this, see it in 3D. This time, the 3D is worth it.