movie-review | Mohammad Moshtaghi

Dan in Real Life

Sat, 21 Mar 2020 12:00:00 -0700

Dan in Real Life is about Dan Burns, a newspaper columnist that writes about his life as a widow and father to three daughters. During their annual vacation at his parent’s cabin, he meets a woman (Marie) in a bookstore that he instantly connects with. But she’s already in a relationship — with Dan’s brother Mitch, as it turns out. Just as there seems to be no place for Dan in Marie’s love life, the entire film explores Dan’s lack of place in his family: all the couples sleep in rooms while he is relegated to the basement cot; his relationship with his daughters strains as he struggles with their growing independence; his ability to connect with his nieces and nephews is burdened by his swing-and-a-miss attempts to take them to fun places. Throughout, he tries and fails to ignore his feelings for Marie, the woman in the bookstore.

Despite Marie showing a marked lack of agency in the first half of the film, Dan in Real Life manages to avoid the tropes of a feel-good family film. Dan’s loss of his wife feels real and complicated, not just something stopping him from “true love” with Marie. He struggles to connect with everyone around him, seeming to exist on a different plane and acting out as part of it. And the only person to see through his estrangement is his youngest daughter, who he increasingly ignores when he needs her most.

The film’s end seems to fumble its emotional gravitas as everything falls neatly and abruptly into place. Right as I was convinced it could say something serious, it took shortcuts to thoughtful answers and wrapped it up with music and smiles. Perhaps there’s a place for that, but watching Steve Carell bring real depth to his character only to get swept into a campy happily-ever-after certainly felt dissatisfying.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Sun, 19 Jan 2020 12:00:00 -0700

It really isn’t fair to watch an early Extended Universe entry like Star Wars: The Clone Wars in 2020 after we’ve been given the gift of the Abrams-Johnson sequel trilogy. If modern Star Wars were to be described developmentally, then the original trilogy is its stellar parents, the prequel trilogy is its stumbling childhood, and this movie is its awkward pre-teen years.

The Clone Wars kicks off in the thick of a broader conflict set in the Outer Rim. The Hutts control the trade routes and thus the supply lines in the area. The Separatists, led by Count Dooku (and Palpatine, of course, on the down low), hatch a plan to kidnap Jabba the Hutt’s son and frame the Jedi for it. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Anakin’s new Padawan Ahsoka set out to save Jabba’s son. And… that’s pretty much it. 80% of this movie is repetitive clone-droid battles, another 10% is lightsaber battles, and in the last 10% you get heavy-handed “banter” dressed up as character development.

Star Wars mainstays are a crutch this film leans far too heavily on, refusing to take risks with its narrative. The Clone Wars serves up a buffet of Jawas, a brief C-3PO cameo, Tatooine, the Mos Eisley jazz band, Obi-Wan’s circle light speed ship thing, lots of holographic intercoms, etc. all trying to hide the obvious: the world didn’t ask for an animated Star Wars movie. Only two years after Revenge of the Sith, it’s hard to even say this strategy wins any points in the nostalgia category. Instead, we’re left with a whole lot of nothing dressed up in royal clothes. It almost feels like sacrilege to hear the Skywalker theme played as often as it is here.

That’s not to say there aren’t good moments. This is the first entry in the Star Wars universe to have the droids talk as far as I remember, and it makes for some self-aware humor that the later movies definitely iterated on.

Droid 1: “Concentrate fire on Sector 11374265!”

Droid 2: “1137— what was that again?”

Droid 1, grabbing the other one’s head and pointing: “Just fire right there!”

— Star Wars: The Clone Wars, 34:32

The relationship between Anakin and Ahsoka is also nice, when it’s not corny. Anakin even shows some level-headed maturity and humility in reminding Ahsoka that she doesn’t have to prove herself to anyone. There’s a nice touch of psychological safety and assurance there (though it seems totally constructed when compared to his raging tantrums in Episodes II and III).

It’s also worth mentioning that the portrayal of women in this movie is painful (though it was 2007). At one point, a droid addressing Ventress — Count Dooku’s apprentice — accidentally salutes her as “sir” and then stumbles to correct itself, only to again call her “sir.” Obi-Wan condescendingly refers to her as “darling” in his British accent during a lightsaber duel, to which she just responds by clenching her teeth and growling. Anakin gets to play the aloof and displeased male around the baby Huttlet; Ahsoka does most of the caretaking and connecting with it. The Huttlet’s mom/Jabba’s partner, who you’d think would be concerned with this whole kidnapping situation, is not even present as a background character.

So, was this a good movie? Not really. But I’m interested to see how the TV series evolved over the next decade, and especially how it matures into the backdrop for Rise of Skywalker that it so clearly is today.

Isle of Dogs

Sun, 17 Jun 2018 12:00:00 -0700

In Isle of Dogs, Wes Anderson brings all the style, heart, and wit of Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009) to a story of his own. This story is told by means of a prologue and four (very clearly labeled) acts following a young boy and a pack of dogs as they struggle against a geopolitical scheme to try and rid their home city of its canine friends.

Isle of Dogs plays with language extensively, and uses the quirks of its world to its advantage. Dog barks are “translated” into English for the viewer’s pleasure, while the humans speak their native tongue (Japanese, occasionally translated by a literal translator). There’s low-hanging fruit, like when the lead dog Chief (Bryan Cranston) tells another to pass on a message to a “bitch you’ll find there”, as well as light social commentary, like when Chief asks to see showdog Nutmeg’s (Scarlett Johansson) “tricks” but she refuses, or when Chief tries to reckon with his own nature and violent responses (“I bite, but I don’t know why.").

But as important as dog-to-dog and human-to-human dialogue is in furthering plot points and poking fun at the absurdity of the film, some of the most profound moments occur in the space between humans and their best friends, where actions and emotions establish connections where words cannot. In particular, watching the relationships between Atari (Koyu Rankin) and the main pack of dogs unfold is satisfying, endearing, and at times hilarious.

The winsome, charming world of tactile materials in stop-motion style doesn’t bar the film from diving into more gruesome scenes, like killing live sea creatures to prepare sushi or performing a kidney surgery. It also gives a platform to build up caricatures of relevant issues, like political leaders ignoring scientific findings, youth protesting against the powers at be, and marginalized populations being abused and mistreated for the betterment of the majority. That being said, this is a Wes Anderson film, so it certainly comes complete with its problematic blind spots.

This film was thoroughly enjoyable and another wonderful addition to the Anderson filmography. Smart, touching, beautiful, and odd, it seems to both exist in another world and yet feel deeply personal, a whimsical analogy to a human’s relationship with our four-legged friends.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Tue, 20 Feb 2018 12:24:36 -0700

I decided to watch Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (and even convinced my sister and aunt to join me) because I was looking for something firmly in the thriller category and I’d heard it was good. What I got instead was a movie with an initially inscrutable plot and a star-studded cast of exclusively white men (Gary Oldman, Colin Ferth, Tom Hardy, Benedict Cumberbatch, etc.) whose acting was as dull and bleak as the color tones the film is washed in. Don’t get me wrong — the greys, blues, and browns were probably the right artistic choice for a spy film set in the Cold War — but there was no help coming in the form of visual effects when the rest of the plot, acting, and music were lacking.

The movie follows a retired MI6 veteran George Smiley as he tries to uncover the truth about a possible Soviet double agent within the agency. He and four other agents worked directly under “Control,” who in the years before his (natural) death became obsessed with a “mole” theory. But when Control sends an agent to Budapest to uncover the truth, the agent goes missing and is presumed dead.

The setup is clear enough, looking back on it, but the film’s exposition does very little to explain itself. There’s a natural learning curve with any spy story — the cloak-and-dagger secrecy of any good spy isn’t all too conducive to laying out details plainly — but the issue with Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is this: as the fog begins to clear and the secrets of the clandestine become known, you realize the truth wasn’t worth the intrigue. There is no twist. It feels as if the story becomes softer as it goes (with the exception of a particularly brutal pair of torture and murder scenes in Soviet Russia).

Perhaps my view is too uncharitable, or this film wasn’t my taste. But in my mind, the value of this film seemed hidden away, its existence known but always out of reach, just as a spy would prefer to keep information and leave the rest of us dissatisfied.

Thor: Ragnarok

Tue, 21 Nov 2017 12:00:00 -0700

Thor: Ragnarok came to finish what both Guardians of the Galaxy films started. Instead of honing in on one hero’s dramatic story arc, Ragnarok stars a group of them. The action takes us from planet to planet across all the known galaxy by spaceship and ~~wormhole~~ anus. But most importantly, Ragnarok acknowledges what we’ve known from the beginning: superheroes are absurd and should be just as ridiculous as they are strong, smart, determined, and attractive. Play is woven into the fabric of the film, from Thor and Loki’s “Get Help” fighting routine to Dr. Strange providing Thor a golden, bottomless beer fit for the Norse god (as promised to us at the end of the sorcerer’s own film). Even more serious topics, like Bannon and Hulk’s brain vs. brawn identity crisis and villain Hela’s description of executioners in Asgard are treated with a jesting lightness.

Ragnarok neatly sidesteps two pitfalls common to recent team-up superhero films: lack of screentime for its individual characters and weakening plot substance for the sake of comedy. In fact, some of the film’s most hysterical moments impressively include dialogue from three or more main characters while simultaneously advancing the story. When Thor, Bannon, and Valkerie discuss Loki’s past mischief while he remains chained but chuckling at their recounting of his past antics, the stratified ages of each character’s relationship with Loki shine: Thor and Loki’s escalating and ongoing brotherly conflict has existed as long as we’ve known them, Bannon last remembers Loki as an alien invader that needed smashing in the first Avengers, and Valkerie — while having as close as possible to a clean slate with Loki — generally mistrusts everyone. This lends itself perfectly to punchlines contrasting Bannon’s concerns with Loki’s murderous moods with Thor’s fond memories of being stabbed by Loki after thinking he was a snake.

The film’s more serious moments feel all the more poignant and starkly emotional against the backdrop of fun and games that dominate most of the dialogue. Watching the Hulk transform back into Bannon after being overcome with rage and grief on seeing Natasha is heartbreaking, and reminds us that the Hulk isn’t the only side of Bannon who carries the weight of his emotions. Heimdall inspires hope in an equally powerful way, and was an unmistakable Jesus figure to me. The way he sees all who are in need and fights for them — often alone in standing against evil and doing so without bravado or recognition — is exactly the kind of hero that inspires me.

So after yet another Marvel movie, what makes Ragnarok stand out? We need look no further than the wonderfully quotable one-liners which litter its script, the well-developed and colorful cast of characters which populate its worlds, the perfected formula of self-aware superhero melodrama that guide its structure, and the underlying lessons of true heroism which are embodied by every main character, major and minor alike. If this is the direction Marvel is taking even a fraction of its future movies, I’m very excited to see what comes next.