MOVIE REVIEW

Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix

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Right from its beginning, as dark clouds swirl around the Warner Brothers logo and the fanfare takes on an ominous tone, it's clear that Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix has left the dewy-eyed awe of childhood magic and entered the brooding angst of adolescent powerlessness.

Over the last four films Harry has grown from an insecure neophyte marveling at the wonder of magic into a focused young man who has come to understand that sorcery is something dangerous and to be feared. Director David Yates underlines this realization by delivering the gloomiest installment in the Potter series yet.

Embracing the essential Englishness of Rowling's stories and evoking the angry young men of late 60s British cinema, Harry is depicted as alienated and exhausted. The unrelenting attacks and loss of family and friends have taken a profound emotional toll. Depressed by schoolmate Diggory's death at the end of The Goblet Of Fire, Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) now finds himself accused by the Ministry of Magic of lying about his confrontation with Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes). Though his friends stand by him, the adults refuse to believe and the students at Hogwarts' treat him like a leper. If that weren't bad enough, the Minister, paranoid Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) is after his job, sends Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) to the school as its Homeland Security director… er…Grand Inquisitor.

Before long creepy but prim Dolores wrests control of Hogwarts from Dumbledore and trains her sights on marginalizing Harry. But Voldemort and his legion of Death Eaters are on the move and Harry must teach his fellow students to defend themselves against the gathering dark forces. Unfortunately, Umbridge is determined to put an end to his secret magic lessons while Voldemort seeks the prophecy that may end Harry's life.

Clearly a transitional work, Order of the Phoenix masterfully unspools miles of exposition but suffers from an episodic narrative that suggests many of the 800+ page book's subplots and flourishes had to be jettisoned to bring things in under 2 and 1/2 hours. Still, while this may be the first Harry Potter movie unable to stand on its own –there are too many references to earlier characters and situations— it’s also the first to truly feel epic in scope. There's a gathering storm quality to the events that suggests a monstrous confrontation looms on the horizon and Michael Goldenberg’s lucid and fleet-footed adaptation (the first in the series not scripted by Steve Kloves) unfolds with terrifying momentum, resulting in a compelling and emotionally resonant film.

Still, by their very nature, the Harry Potter films are constrained by compromise. Because of the book's unprecedented popularity, each film comes to a predictable and, often, upbeat conclusion. It's to Yates and Goldenberg's considerable credit this installment leaves you with a feeling of loss and isolation long after the screen goes dark.

And just as the characters in Harry Potter have matured in age, the films have matured in depth and style. With each new movie the directors seem less intimidated by the books and freer to impose their own artistic sensibilities. Alfonso Cuaron (The Prisoner of Azkaban) could probably be credited with giving the series a stylistic kick in the pants and Yates is clearly building on that freedom. He may not have Cuaron's filmmaking prowess but he gives Order Of The Phoenix greater substance, deepening the characters' relationships and emotions. Visually, he finds his perfect match with Polish cinematographer Slawomir Idziak (Blue, The Double Life of Veronique), who paints every scene in malevolently lush palette of grays and blues, providing yet another layer of subtext.

Equally impressive is Yates' supporting cast. A veritable who's who of great British actors --Emma Thompson, Maggie Smith, Robbie Coltraine, Brendan Gleeson, Helena Bonham Carter, David Thewles, Alan Rickman and Gary Oldman-- add spice and color as they expertly walk the line between camp and conviction. Fiennes, as the face of evil, chews the scenery with depraved glee, creating a monster with real weight. Meanwhile Staunton's pink-suited Dolores Umbridge is exquisitely tyrannical as a bureaucratic sadist.

The younger stars have matured over the last six years and Radcliffe and Rupert Grint (as Ron Weasley) have developed into skillful performers. While Emma Watson (as Hermione) never rises above adequate, she has, at least, stopped acting with her eyebrows.

Unlike this summer's other blockbusters, Order Of The Phoenix won't necessarily blow you away you with bombast and spectacle, though there are moments --particularly a sorcerous showdown between Dumbledore and Voldemort-- that are impressively exciting. Instead, the film's careful attention to drama proves very satisfying. Something the other blockbusters have failed to do. More importantly, this chapter in the Harry Potter series finally leaves you hungering for the next installment.

MOVIE REVIEW

Sicko

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The argument usually goes that the right has Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter, Bill O’Reilly, etc, etc and the left has Al Franken, Keith Olbermann, and Michael Moore. Now, there’s a case to be made for Franken and Olbermann but for Moore, not so much.

Though his politics are unmistakably left, the documentarian’s targets are almost exclusively the powerful and his work is fueled by optimism rather than cynicism. That last comment may be hard to swallow for many who bristle at his manipulative tactics, but the truth is Moore, like many muckrakers before him, tirelessly defends the little guy while speaking truth to power. Sure, he’s about as “fair and balanced” as Fox News, but his eternal hopefulness that America, once confronted with the truth, will do what is necessary to change things for the better, is rather refreshing.

No place is this sentiment more clear than his latest documentary, Sicko. Heartfelt, entertaining and, often eye-opening, this blistering but scattershot portrait of the corrupt, cruel and crazy US health care system demonstrates the obscene challenges to getting basic health coverage while presenting an engaging argument for universal care.

As Moore makes clear in his opening, Sicko isn’t training it sites on the policies that have left 50 million Americans uninsured but rather on the many people who dutiful pay their premiums each month only to enter a bureaucratic hell of insurance pre-approvals, denials of care, and contractual ‘gotchas’. Whether it’s the unconscious car accident victim who was told her ambulance ride wasn’t pre-approved or the woman denied care because she didn’t disclose a common yeast infection many years earlier, these Kafkaesque scenarios earn both our disgust and uncomfortable laughter in equal doses.

Smartly, Moore keeps himself off screen for Sicko’s first 40 minutes, letting ordinary Americans relate how they or family members have been abused, cheated and even killed by a system that puts profits before care. In fact, in one of the film’s more revelatory moments, Moore plays a tape recording of Richard Nixon cutting the deal that allows Edgar Kaiser to systematically provide less health care for more money. More damning is Nixon’s cynically press conference the very next day, heralding the policy as a path to universal health coverage. Worse, we are introduced to physicians who are paid big bucks to concoct reasons to deny large claims –labeling a procedure experimental is a popular choice-- and bean counters who comb through policy applications and medical records to find mistakes they can call fraud.

Having demonstrated the profound failings of our system, Sicko then heads to Canada, England, France and Cuba to see how their methods fare in comparison and ends up debunking many of the partisan myths about “socialized medicine.” With more than a bit of irony, he goes after claims about the evils of socialism by demonstrating how Americans benefit every day from “socialized” institutions like police stations, fire departments, libraries, schools and post offices. While it’s fair to say Moore presents an overly rosy view of the foreign healthcare systems (especially Cuba’s), he asks a profoundly important question: “If they can do it, why can’t we?”

The film comes close to an answer in an interview with a former member of the British Parliament, Tony Benn. Benn claims that the UK overhauled health care in response to the devastation of World War II. Bankrupt and demoralized, the country’s leaders saw a commitment to socialized care as demonstration of unity and compassion. Though I’m paraphrasing, the rationale was that Britain should invest at least as much in the well-being of its citizens as it does in the killing of enemies.

In contrast, Moore suggests that the US government refused such a commitment out of communist paranoia and a desire to maintain power. Benn posits that democracy works best when governments fear their people rather than the other way around. This is why we see regular mass demonstrations in England and France while Americans are either too afraid or complacent to protest our nation’s most egregious offenses. It’s this commentary that elevates Sicko past Moor’s trademark populist shenanigans and into the realm of serious discourse.

Unfortunately, Moore is still his own worst enemy. Too often he asks questions he clearly knows the answer to and engages in questionable theatrics. The worst of these is when he brings forsaken 9-11 responders to Cuba for care the US has shamefully refused to provide. While his bigger point about how we treat our heroes is well taken, the stunt is shamelessly crass and glosses over a multitude of important issues. Given how important and insightful much of Sicko is, it’s frustrating to see the filmmaker provide his critics with such obvious ammunition.

Though the partisan will dismiss Moore’s film as more leftwing propaganda, there’s no denying the endlessly heartbreaking examples of American citizens brutally abused by our country’s health care system. When visiting Canadians feel obliged to take out insurance because they fear they’ll end up caught in our system, you know something is very very wrong. If only for the conversations it will provoke, Sicko is essential viewing and not to be missed.

MOVIE REVIEW

Ratatouille

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There are so many reasons why Pixar has become the gold standard for CG animation it’s probably more instructive to examine why pretenders to the throne fail so miserably. Take Dreamworks, for instance. They struggle to imitate Pixar’s successes by creating sly alternative realities where zoo animals or sharks or fairy tale monsters crack wise in thinly veiled spoofs of our own world. But capping on Starbucks or mocking The Dating Game is cheap and easy, resulting in laughs that have a six-month half-life. Films like Shrek 3 and A Shark's Tale endlessly remind you of their satirical ‘wit’ because the truth is they have nothing else to offer. Worse, these kid’s flicks are treated like bloated commercials for merchandise tie-ins and pop music soundtracks. The story, the characters, the setting – nothing is organic. Product “synergy” is the reason Smashmouth’s top 40 hit became the anthem for a fairy tale ogre, not art.


Which is why writer/director Brad Bird’s Ratatouille is so sublimely inspirational. With its underlying message of savoring the unknown, following your passion and striving for excellence, it’s difficult to imagine his characters peddling Happy Meals. In fact, this tale of a rat who yearns to be a chef pointedly criticizes the crass exploitation of personality and talent. And above all its other achievements, this is what Pixar does best: presenting complicated themes and emotions into a children’s film. The company trusts its audience to follow along; challenging them to embrace ideas most adult films won’t touch with a ten-foot pole.


Bird, in particular, excels at this. His first foray into animated features was the overlooked masterpiece, The Iron Giant, an exciting and affecting tale of a weapon that refuses to accept its reason for being and instead embraces humanity and friendship. The Incredibles, Bird’s follow up, used its superhero trappings to examine what it means to be special and how that impacts society. What makes these and all of Pixar’s films (with the possible exception of Cars) stand out is the belief that story matters as much as the animation.


Remy (voiced by Patton Oswald) is a country rat living in France who longs to escape a life of garbage picking and dumpster diving. Inspired by the French Chef Gusteau (Brad Garrett), he takes to heart the famous cook’s rallying cry: “Anyone Can Cook!” and pines for the day he can put his palette and talent for flavor to work, creating culinary masterpieces. Ah, cruel fate, to be a great chef trapped in a rat’s body! Luckily, fate reconsiders Remy’s plight and separates him from his father (Brian Dennehy) and brother (Peter Sohn), depositing him on the doorstep of his hero’s 3-star (formerly 5-star) bistro. It turns out, infamous food critic, Anton Ego (Peter O’Toole), savaged Gusteau’s reputation in a review and the chef died of a broken heart. Now, run by his tyrannical and exploitative assistant, Skinner (Ian Holm), the restaurant has become the uninspired flagship for a line of tacky frozen microwave dinners. Enter garbage-boy Linguini (Lou Romano) who is rescued from unemployment when Remy salvages the soup he’s accidentally ruined. A partnership is struck: using the boy as his marionette, Remy will cook and Linguini will keep his job and, maybe, win the love of no-nonsense female chef, Colette (a shockingly good Janeane Garofalo).


Once again Pixar drops you into a beautifully realized universe that is as familiar as it is fantastical. The breathtaking animation is so good you can be forgiven for taking it for granted as clever plot twists, expert voice work and incisive wit pull you in. Ratatouille’s lush Paris locales are remarkably detailed and wholly convincing while its exaggerated characters burst with personality and life. Remy is so convincingly rendered you can see his tiny heart beating beneath his blue-furred chest. Heck, even the computer-animated food looks delicious.


Thankfully, Ratatouille never relies on pop culture references or crass satire to get its laughs. It creates comedy on its own terms. Each character has humor and heart, demonstrating unexpected flaws and emotional depth, surprising us with their insecurities and overreactions. Remy and the gang are certainly more real than anyone in Pirates Of The Caribbean or Fantastic Four and there are times when you simply forget you’re watching computer-animated characters.


Though it probably won’t rate for kids as one of Pixar’s best (unless you've got a budding foodie in your house), Ratatouille features enough ingeniously choreographed chases and slapstick gags to keep their eyes glued to the screen. But what makes Bird’s efforts so special –almost subversive-- is the way he demonstrates the way passions blossom. When’s the last time you saw a film convey to kids that life is to be experienced and that there is pleasure in that experience? He dares his audience to stop shoveling food into their mouths and actually savor what theyre eating. Whether it’s food or music or books, these things feed our souls and that’s what Ratatouille boasts: real soul.

all reviews first appeared in Detroit's Metro Times

BLADE RUNNER

Those who love the sci-fi noir Blade Runner are probably more film fans than sci fi geeks (luckily, I'm both). Either way, Ridley Scott's movie is pure cinema, an arthouse fantasy filled with astounding visuals, slow motion drama and one of Rutger Hauer's most impressive (and loony) performances. As a cinematic vision of the dystopian future it is unmatched.

To many Blade Runner is a masterpiece, to others a frustratingly ambitious failure. Needless to say I fall in with the first camp.

For those who care, the film has generated more than a few heated discussions about whether Dekkard (Harrison Ford's character) was a human or an android (called a replicant in the film). The version of the film that was released in theaters in 1982 makes it impossible to know but suggests he's human. The director's version, released on DVD with reinserted scenes made things more ambiguous, but hinted that he was a replicant (something I always suspected).

The biggest difference between the two versions of the film, however, was the studio-inserted voice-over that both director Ridley Scott and star Ford hated. Rumor has it that Ford was so angry that he was required to provide narration that he delivered it with as little emotion as possible, hoping it would be dropped. Strangely, in my opinion, the narration kind of works (though is poorly written), giving Blade Runner even more of a retro-noir feel. Unfortunately, the studio-mandated "happy" ending is a colossal and insulting blunder. It's a true testament to Scott's vision as a director (and the really strong script) that even with these changes the film is both compelling and revolutionary.

The strangest fumble in this big budget, amazingly shot film is one particularly bad stunt sequence where in Dekkard kills a renegade android played by Joanna Cassidy. As her character falls through a series of plate glass windows it's clear that a stuntman in drag is executing the stunt. He's built like a truck and sporting a wig that doesn't even come close to approximating Cassidy's hair. It's a laughably bad moment, temporarily pulling the viewer out of the film's carefully constructed world. Supposedly, a remastered DVD is going to be released with the stunt sequence reshot. Remarkably, Joanna Cassidy has returned to help make it happen. I'm not only excited to see the disc, I'll undoubtedly buy it..

Below, through the magic of YouTube, is a British documentary called ON THE EDGE OF BLADE RUNNER that is a really good chronicle of the process and struggles to get Ridley Scott's film made. Never shown in the US, the doc includes a scene that was left on the cutting room floor (which was probably a good idea). More importantly, Scott reveals at the very end of the doc whether Dekkard was or wasn't a replicant. Watch it and find out!

PART ONE



PART TWO



PART THREE



PART FOUR



PART FIVE



PART SIX