On Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes builds of the characters created in the 2011 reboot, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (forgetting the Tim Burton film from 2001 and presumably leading up to where Franklin J. Schaffner’s 1968 film begins). What is different about both these films, Rise and Dawn, is that despite the excellent actors, both films have the apes as the central character, Dawn even more so. And this leads to Andy Serkis and his motion capture performance as Caesar.

In Rise the special effects are impressive, but Dawn takes them to a new level and Serkis, as Caesar is incredible; he is the lead character and this is his movie, which could be a first for motion capture in a real world setting. In just a few years the technology has evolved to a point where Gollum or Kong (again, both Serkis) could soon start to look shaky. This focus on the apes is interesting for those of us who know where the films are heading. Sympathy with the apes is well established throughout Rise and Dawn, which will mean if the franchise continues to a remake of the 1968 Planet of the Apes, movement will have to be made away from the bombastic patriarchy.

The Charlton Heston film is undeniably misogynistic. Heston’s protagonist looks on at the gorgeous sleeping crew member and then dismisses her when she dies; later when he’s locked up by the apes he sensually strokes the hair of the woman he is to mate with, again dismissing her when escape beckons. This Vietnam era film feels outdated now, despite the punchy ending, whereas Dawn feels fresh while still offering a clear message against animal testing as well as the segregation metaphor. This is a character driven film, emotional and engaging and one of the more interesting summer franchises. 

On New Cinema in Boyhood

The hyperbole around some films is pure marketing, but in the case of Boyhood, the claim it makes – being unlike other pieces of cinema – may in fact be true. Although, avoiding the C work is always good practice (classic). That takes time.

However, Boyhood is a remarkable achievement. Filmed over twelve years, around a week a year, with the same cast is unlike anything attempted before. For the actors to be able to come in and out of their characters for such a long period astonishes, for director and writer Richard Linklater to piece together a coherent narrative, while at the same time making other features such as School of Rock (2003), Bernie (2011) and Before Midnight (2013) speaks of inimitability as a director. For what must have been 100s of hours of footage, editor Sandra Adair has pieced together a story of growing up that never feels rushed.

It is this sense of completeness that has surely led to the almost perfect reviews. Regardless of age, gender or status (parent, child, teenager) there is an element of Boyhood that is relatable and leads to an inescapable smile, permanently fixed to your face as you watch Mason’s life unfold. This is a life played out in as realistic a manner as possible. Big life moments or self-realisations are brushed aside as we move to the next moment, highlighting the ephemeral nature of life, especially when viewed through the eyes of a child or teenager. Mason’s mother, as he is leaving for college, laments that this is the penultimate great moment of her life. The next is her funeral. In typical teenager style Mason cannot respond and Linklater cuts to Mason at college; his mother’s issues left disregarded. In this way, Boyhood shares commonalities with Margaret (2011), also told through the self-centred perspective of a teenager. 

Linklater employs the unobtrusive camera work that makes his Before trilogy so believable. The camera remains still, always watching, allowing the actors the room to ‘be’, in a very thespian sense, but in a film like Boyhood and the Before films, essential. And here, Linklater’s adult actors, Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke, shine. The child actors are harder to assess. It may in fact be that they are fantastic, as they are, especially when young, not acting. There are some fantastic moments of pure joy where the young Mason is teased or is teasing his sister. Boyhood is new cinema, but there is no trend here to catch on. Linklater’s achievement here is exceptional, perhaps not one of a kind, but don’t expect another twelve-year commitment to come along for a while. 

On Discovering the Opera in American Cinema with Margaret

“This is not an opera”, screams Jeannie Berlin’s Emily to Anna Paquin’s Lisa as the latter turns the death of the former’s close friend into a moment of personal transcendence. Only, Margaret is an opera and Lisa is the self appointed star, to whom all else are players in this egocentric tragic tale unfolding on the grandest of America stages, New York City.

Operatic music swells from the opening slow motion shot of New Yorkers going about their daily lives. Writer, director Kenneth Lonergan stating from the start, this is a film about observing the lives of ordinary people. And, with the exception of the horrific accident that forms the spine of Margaret, the film (especially the first half of this three hour opera) pays close attention to the mundanity of Lisa’s teenage life; the boyfriends, the drugs, the holiday plans, the crushes, the arguments, the class debates, the familial and so on. Lonergan draws all this from Paquin in a remarkable performance that is delicately complex, bringing forth her sexually, naivety and selfishness.

Margaret is an original screenplay by Lonergan, yet feels literary, or perhaps that should be theatrical. This is a film of talking, too much talking, with great impact. Characters all have a distinctive voice and are not afraid to share it, often over the top of others, adding a great sense of naturalism to Margaret. Much of the camera framing is still or slow moving, with careful framing emphasising the actors more than the setting (the exception to this being Lonergan’s slow cinematic sweeping shots of the cityscape). This feels less like contemporary American cinema that pays much attention to affected cinematography. This is not a criticism, just a sign of changing fashions, but seeing Lonergan’s film now, with his focus on cinematography and direction on character, provides the effect of watching a American classic.

It is possible that Margaret will become an American classic. That it has even seen the screen is a testament to its fighting spirit. Filmed in 2005 and released in 2011 the delay was legal and only now on DVD can Lonergan’s 180 minute final cut be appreciated. Although reviews of the 160 minute cut were mostly fantastic. The title is taken from a Gerard Manley Hopkins poem, Spring and Fall To a Young Child, a poem about being unable to express oneself as a child and age altering innocence. Lisa speaks and acts with the air of a genuine teenager who cannot believe a world outside of what little she can imagine exists. This is cinematic opera and appropriately ends with Lisa and her mother finding each other, while at the opera.  

On a Curious Sensation with Cold in July

It is simplistic to say that film is about sensation, but what when that sensation leaves you confused? Then the sensation becomes more interesting. Cold in July, a documentary style title for the UK, but more evocative in America, creates such sensation.

This is a contemporary film. It stars Michael C. Hall of Dexter (2006 – 2013) fame and makes Tarantino like references with its casting (Don Johnson) and use of violence, even offering a blood red drenched scene in the style of Scorsese or Powell & Pressburger, depending on how far you want to go back. Yet the film itself is set in the 1980s and the mise en scene is complete, offering an encompassing sense of the decade. The genres and sub genres are multiple: action, thriller, gothic, horror, revenge and so on (depending on your leaning towards genre theorists).

An 80s action film, complete with the dialogue that became synonymous with the style mixed with horror conventions shouldn’t work. Even while watching Cold in July, as Johnson and Shepard exchange quips and walk in slow motion, there is a very definite sense that what we’re watching shouldn’t work. But it does and director/writer Jim Mickle and writer Nick Damici keep Cold in July firmly away from pastiche and instead create a tense narrative that moves its characters in unexpected ways. Most recently Cold in July is, at the start, reminiscent of Blue Ruin as its everyman is thrown into a murderous revenge thriller. Yet, it transforms into more involved sensation, less cinematic than Blue Ruin, but more entertaining. As Johnson said, “If the material is inspiring and motivates you, then it doesn’t really matter what it is”. 

On Fighting Back with Fruitvale Station

Cinema is at its best when entertaining, demanding and explorative. If a film can do this, and force an audience to question their ideology then, whether they agree or not the film has found a place and served a purpose. If it can do this on a grand scale, then all the better. After all, cinema is perceived to be a medium that, when on a large scale is purely dedicated to entertainment. Michael Moore was often criticised for his entirely one sided documentaries and aggressive ‘all about me’ style of reporting, but he got mass American audiences into cinemas and if some left questioning an issue they previously hadn’t, then a benefit is gained.

Fruitvale Station, written and directed by Ryan Coogler and produced by Forest Whitaker is a dramatisation of the death of Oscar Grant in January 2009 by police officers. The police officer was sentenced to two years and served eleven months. This is only one example of many around the world where police officers escape punishment relative to the crimes they have committed. It is a closed organisation and historically has a reputation of protecting its own, even when its own are guilty. In the UK during the G20 protests, Ian Tomlinson was pushed to the ground by a police officer and later died. The police officer was found not guilty. When first accused the police closed ranks and claimed Tomlinson had fallen and died of natural causes, yet a contemporary phenomenon changed this and Fruitvale Station makes clear this profound shift in public power. Social networking. Here social networking is being used as an umbrella term for all the technology that comes with smart phones. As in the case of Ian Tomlinson, bystanders recorded the death of Oscar Grant and deprived the police force the opportunity of covering up. Fruitvale Station uses some of this mobile phone footage, which shocks and legitimises the films, which was surely Coogler’s intention. None of this prevents the criminality, conspiracy and corruption that exist, but what Coogler does is give Grant and his family (the powerless) an opportunity to fight back against the police and legal system (the powerful). And, with amateur footage, fight back against the media (the larger power) that is mostly owned by the powerful.

The film refuses to paint anyone as a stereotypical thug or aggressor. Grant’s relationship with his daughter is the heart of the film and what remains the most lasting image of him is Coogler’s representation of two of them, especially when he employs the tools of filmmaking to enhance the shot. This is a touching piece of storytelling from Coogler considering the circumstances; he makes it clear that Grant was no saint, but is attempting balance with a slant towards the thoughtful. The film also refuses to be a grim portrait of a young man tragically killed. Here we have shots of real beauty and genuine humour and this brings more life to the film.

As in many cases involving police corruption (you could replace police with financial or political) there is no social justice here, but Coogler and Whitaker find the emotion and find a voice. The hope is that more filmmakers are drawn to such issues and raise the inequality and more audiences are drawn to seek them out. 

On Time Travel (briefly) with X-Men Days of Future Past and Edge of Tomorrow

Time travel has become its own sub genre of the larger science fiction genre. At its best it is hugely entertaining and if you care to look hard enough, always flawed. At its worst it’s Timeline (2003).

The flaws will always be there in time travel; there’s simply too much to consider, making continuity a nightmare. Even those that keep locations fairly locked down, like Source Code (2011) can’t quite manage it (the ending raised a lot of question). But the best advice is to not look too closely, or you might spoil the fun, especially when it comes to two time travel films of last month: X-Men Days of Future Past and Edge of Tomorrow.

Days of Future Past goes back to the 1970s and takes with it its most enduring character and the one character that makes the franchise as enduring as it is, Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine. Edge of Tomorrow proves Tom Cruise can still do it after 20 years of blockbusters with a premise taken from Source Code and extended into a wider historical context. Both are entertaining, both of funny, both are well acted, directed and written and both are what you want from a summer blockbuster. Forget any films with Transformers in the title; these are what you want for the summer.