American Hustle

On the outside, American Hustle looks like a dramatic (yet light-hearted) send-up of 70’s culture, clothes, and personalities, which added to my extreme surprise that the film isn’t what I expected when I walked into the theater. In some ways, it’s good, in others, not-so-good, but I can definitely say that it’s absolutely hilarious and the best comedy-not-strictly-labeled-a-comedy I’ve seen in a long time.

Gathering actors from his past films (Christian Bale, Amy Adams in The Fighter and Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper in Silver Linings Playbook), David O. Russell, before you even see the film, promises a great cast of characters. Thankfully, the promise is fulfilled.

Hustle begins with an opening scene with (protagonist? antagonist? As one of the characters points out, the morals of the characters is a very grey area) Irving Rosenfeld (played by a fantastic Christian Bale) meticulously adjusting his elaborate comb-over. Though there’s no doubt that it’s one of the comedic high points of its almost too long two-plus hour runtime, it could easily sum up the entire film: altering appearances and personalities in order to survive; putting on a show, in a sense, by being somebody else that’s better looking, or more adventurous, etc. and adapting to life before it runs you down.

With it’s opening, the film immediately lets the audience know that this is going to be a hilariously wacky, character-driven film. And that couldn’t be any closer to the truth. From Bale’s Irving to Amy Adams’ seductive yet vulnerable Sydney Prosser (or as she’s known to the victims of her scams, “Lady Edith Greensly”), to Jennifer Lawrence’s engagingly unhinged Roslyn Rosenfeld (yup, Irving’s wife), the film offers a glimpse into the lives of characters who are complete characters. And the hilarity that ensues is due both to a witty screenplay in addition to the fact that none of these characters—not Irving, not Sydney, not anyone—fully realizes how neurotic and un-self-aware they are. Their interactions with each other and constant “plans” to hustle one another to get out on top are comedic in themselves, but it’s in the way that each character speaks to each other and really believes that they’re sensible (especially in the case of Rosyln, arguing that their microwave, or “science oven,” takes all the nutrition out of their food) that it’s showed just how unaware they are. None of the characters in such scenes are laughing, but we are because they don’t see it themselves.

Thanks to a cast that meshes extremely well, there’s no weak link in the acting. Everyone (regardless of the amount of screen time) holds up their end and is a treat to watch. Louis C.K. as Bradley Cooper’s FBI boss is particularly hilarious.

At times, Hustle does ramble a bit, getting caught up (and a little self-indulgent) in its own cleverness, and the plot gets a little difficult to follow as the “plan” develops and the hustlers hustle the ones they’re supposed to be helping (see? Told you.). And while I wish the plot would’ve been as fantastically developed and energetic as the characters involved in it, you end up not caring in the end because the characters are so well developed that the plot becomes secondary. Though, for the most part the characters are the plot and with a film full of ‘em, they’re too shady, sly, energetic, and exciting to watch to not walk away feeling satisfied.

8/10

Carrie (2013)

Look familiar?

Whenever I hear that another Stephen King adaptation has been green-lit, I cringe. Because, let’s face it, most adaptations of King’s works (and novels in general) are less-than-stellar. So when a new adaptation of Carrie was announced (reported to be a more faithful retelling of the novel rather than a remake of the 1976 film), I was cautious. Cautious, but optimistic.

Directed by Kimberly Peirce (Stop-Loss, Boys Don’t Cry), there’s an obvious personal connection between Peirce and the material. That, combined with putting an updated (yet novel-faithful) spin on the material, results in a fantastic first half that, surprisingly, gives the original a run for its money (which is not to say that De Palma’s film doesn’t have anything worthwhile to offer). Everything flows seamlessly and the film does an exceptional job at following the pacing and plot of the novel while giving us a tense and emotional character-driven precursor of things to come.

The performances from Chloe Grace Moretz and Julianne Moore are particularly exceptional throughout and both actresses play off of each other in a way that elevates the mother-daughter relationship of Carrie and Margaret to new levels of tension, fear, and heartbreak. (The opening scene of the film adds a layer to Margaret from the novel that is spellbindingly chilling.) While much younger than Sissy Spacek was in filming the 1976 adaptation, Moretz’s performance successfully captures the same mix of child- and adult-like emotions that the role of Carrie requires: fear, shame, love, hate, rebellion. Moretz makes you feel sorry for Carrie through her humanization of the character. She’s a helpless victim, but at the same time, she’s all too aware of her desire to be like the girls that have tortured her for so many years. All it takes is a slight flick of the eyes or a downturned head in shame for us to really feel the emotion that Moretz’s Carrie carries (no pun intended) within. It’s also a testament to the film that they didn’t prettify Moore for her role. The glazed eyes and unkempt hair and haggard face transforms her into a Margaret that is recognizable, yet unique enough that it’s distanced from Piper Laurie’s performance.

With its focused beginning and expert balancing of staying true to the novel and a re-imagining of King’s source material, the first half of the film should be a reasonable example of what the second half has to offer.

And then, however, we get to Prom.

It’s almost as if all of the film’s painstaking efforts to make Carrie a multilayered, developed character are forgotten. While the first half concentrates on character development and cleverly building tension, the second the bucket of blood falls from the gym rafters in a ribbon of red, the film turns into a special effects show, turning Carrie’s telekinetic ability into the star rather than Carrie herself. Like the novel, Carrie’s retaliation should be thoughtful, methodical, a slow emotional buildup of using her powers to jump-start the destruction and letting the chaos of fire and human panic do the rest. Here, however, her rampage—again, we’re cheated out of the destruction of the entire town in favor for a more localized devastation—begins almost immediately following the iconic Blood Dump (a scene which is unfortunately cheapened by showing it three different times from three different angles. It’s almost as if Peirce couldn’t make up her mind as to which way to show it) and the intended high point of the film ends up being reduced from a multi-layered climax to an all-or-nothing destruction scene. The school is blown apart, tables are thrown through the air, fire and debris rain from the ceiling, and Carrie’s at the center of it all. While that’s true of both the novel and its 1976 adaptation, the unfortunate issue is that there’s no tension here, no progressively tense emotional build-up that really earns the destruction and subsequent horror of Carrie’s revenge.

The result is a rushed climax that, while no-doubt exciting, plays it a little too close to De Palma’s 1976 film (Margaret’s death is almost an exact replica). In a film that’s clearly trying to be its own entity, it almost makes me wonder why Peirce felt the need to use De Palma’s vision as a crutch. Because, as the first half of Peirce’s film proves, it didn’t need one.

While Carrie certainly has its fair number of things going for it, it’s special-effects-focused second half mixed with its too-close replication of the 1976 film keep it from being truly elevated to the great status that the first half promised (and the novel deserves). If Carrie does anything, however, it serves as a prime example that a good adaptation can be made from its source material…it just may take a couple more tries to get it right.

7.5/10

Gravity

When I first saw the trailer for Gravity back in May, I laughed. Out loud. In the theater. The much-tread subject of space exploration combined with Sandra Bullock screaming and flailing her arms and spinning around in zero gravity looked, to put it plainly, like a joke. I thought, okay, she’s trapped in space. Where can it possibly go from there? Judging by my own preconceived notions about the “trapped in space” subgenre of Sci-Fi films, my immediate thought was that she encounters an alien planet or alien race because, of course, what else could happen? She’s floating around in space, after all. And besides, isn’t that how it always works in space-set films? However, the way Gravity ignores the ground tread by its predecessors and becomes something original is what makes it so captivatingly brilliant. It challenges you to predict its course and, in turn, shatters your expectations. Because mine were wrong, so very wrong.

The film’s plot is as basic as it gets in its human vs. nature set-up—and yet, it’s so much more. Sandra Bullock plays space newbie Ryan Stone on a mission with veteran astronaut Matt Kowalski (the juxtaposition of the film being Stone’s first mission and Kowalski’s last is notable in its significance). One misfortune leads to another and before either character knows it, anything that can go wrong does.

But Gravity isn’t the film that its marketing campaign portrays it to be. While there are breathtaking action-packed scenes, at its core Gravity is a film about more than just eye-popping visuals: loss, rebirth, the will to live, redemption. More importantly, none of these themes are displayed to the audience in an obnoxious, obvious way. They’re clearly there, but lovingly weaved into the film so that the themes are a part of the film itself rather than clumsily disjointedly from the plot with a neon sign advertising: “THEME HERE!” during scenes of emotional significance.

The execution of such is no-doubt attributed to the co-writing and masterful directing of Alfonso Cuarón, but a good chunk of it also has to be attributed to Bullock’s performance. As Stone, she’s mentally stripped-down, weary, and vulnerable, such a raw performance allowing the film to convey a higher level of realism and emotional weight. While Bullock’s performance is nothing to criticize, the writing for her character needed a little sharpening. Stone’s a strong (yet, at the same time, weak) individual, but the script seems to have her waver back and forth between the two. Though, among a sea of so many things the film does right (dare I say, perfect?), it almost doesn’t seem to matter.

While there’s no sound in space, Gravity wouldn’t be the same without its spectacular usage of sound—or its absence. With a score by Steven Price that is both amazingly assaulting and emotionally nuanced, the film has music that—no matter the tone—is matched perfectly to whatever is happening on screen.

Along with its score, stunning cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki leaves Gravity’s end result as not merely a film but a rich cinematic experience that offers the clearest, breathtaking visuals and a sensory experience that gives the viewer the feeling of actually being in space along with Stone and Kowalski. While I’m not a supporter of the seemingly endless strain of post-production 3D conversion, Gravity’s 3D is utilized at a near-flawless level. Here, it’s used for depth and conveying the beauty, mystery and yes, horror, of space rather than for cheap shots. To put it plainly, there are no asteroids flying at your face half-way through the movie. The picture is crystal clear, there’s no graininess of the film (maybe partially because I saw it in IMAX 3D) and no shaky shots or any of the usual pitfalls of 3D viewing.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such an intense, gripping, emotionally draining film like Gravity and hope I won’t have to wait as long to see another of its caliber. Until then, I can only describe the film itself as Clooney’s Matt Kowalski describes the view of Earth from space: “beautiful.”

9/10

The Lords of Salem

I had been looking forward to Rob Zombie’s fifth feature film since I heard that it was going to be coming out a couple of years ago. This is my third Zombie film that I’ve seen now, so I’m more aware of and in-tune with his filmmaking style since I first saw House of 1,000 Corpses (which I’m not a fan of).

Release Date: April 19, 2013 Runtime: 101 minutes

The premise of Lords is that Heidi, a radio DJ for a Salem-based rock station, receives a record oddly left for her specifically. The only identifier is that it’s from “The Lords”, which the DJs refer to as the titular “Lords of Salem”. As they play the music, though, it has an odd effect on some listeners. What’s the mystery behind the music, and why is it so unsettling? Who sent it? Is it a harmless record as it seems, or something with a more supernatural link?

That’s the central mystery behind the film. And it’s a good one. The beginning third of the movie had a really great buildup and overall felt a lot more focused than I’ve noticed Zombie to be in the past (for the record, The Devil’s Rejects is my favorite).  However, the clever plot build-up and sprinkling of unsettling, genuine horror throughout disappears soon after. What follows plays like a series of good ideas thrown together onto the screen with only the barest of commonalities linking them together. The end result is, unfortunately, a fairly disjointed film.

Judging by the beginning of the film, The Lords of Salem had potential to be one of Zombie’s best. Although his restraint is sporadic at best, it’s noticeable that he’s really learned to reign in the “crazy” of his films, so to speak, and produce compelling horror with a clear beginning, middle, and end.

Though, that’s not to say that The Lords of Salem doesn’t have its share of weird. Because believe me, it does. I don’t mind crudeness in films, especially horror (it’s almost to be expected nowadays), and have seen my fair share of weirdness in films; but, at times, in true Rob Zombie fashion, the weirdness comes at such times and places where it just seems like the weirdness is injected solely for the sake of being weird. “Hey! This looks a little too normal,” you can almost hear Zombie saying in the director’s chair. “Let’s weird it up!”

In the end, while I appreciated the focused beginning of the film, not even the intriguing plot, enticing mystery, or cameos from horror icons such as Dee Wallace and Patricia Quinn can save it from being a bit of a mess. Rather, the film’s strange imagery and plot points seem to be masking the lack of cohesiveness of the film’s plot.

While I probably won’t be giving this a second watch any time soon, I can say that I will be back for the next Rob Zombie film, whenever that may be. If there’s one thing you can say about Zombie as a director, though, it’s this: his movies are (unapologetically) weird, the imagery surreal, and the semblances of plot, creative. Regardless of whatever the pros and cons of this film and his films in general may be, there’s just enough intrigue to draw me back to the next one.

5.5/10

Man of Steel

In a summer already filled with superhero sequels, prequels, reboots, and remakes, is there room for one more? Whether the casual viewer thinks so or not is irrelevant, because Zack Snyder’s Superman reimagining, Man of Steel, zoomed—faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive!—into theaters this summer.

The film revolves around Clark Kent’s (Henry Cavill) learning about—and later coming to terms with—his Kryptonian past before embracing it to become the Superman we all know. In other words, as Clark’s Earth father—played by Kevin Costner in an honestly genuine performance relays to his son—he’s not from here. The film cleverly gives us glimpses into Clark’s past via Lost-style flashbacks using events in Clark’s present to serve as a window back into his past.

Introduce Lois Lane, a feisty, independent news reporter who stumbles onto Clark’s secret. Will she expose Clark’s otherworldly nature? Or will she keep the knowledge—that an alien has inhabited Earth for 33 years—to herself? Adams is great in the role, portraying a Lois with surety, confidence, and a touch of wonderment but unfortunately, she’s not given much to do in the film. As we follow her throughout Metropolis, it seems as if Lois is basically there to remind viewers that: Hey! Look! Someone knows Clark’s secret, and… And what? That’s just it; we never feel anything in all the mayhem—in the way of worry, fear, or wonder—as to what Lois’s actions will be—and where they’ll lead.

Produced by Christopher Nolan, it’s difficult not to compare the film to Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy—a trilogy praised for its grounded take on a superhero origin story complete with its own moody cityscapes and brooding hero. And , for the most part, those hallmarks are definitely present in Man of Steel. It’s dark and brooding (and yet ever-realistic) nature continues throughout the film reminding the viewer that—even when Kryptonian ships descend from the sky to make contact with Earth—this is not your grandma’s feel-good superhero romp. Furthermore, not once do the “becoming Superman” portions of the film become boring or cheesy—they feel real, almost as if it would be perfectly acceptable to look outside and see a red caped-man flying around the sky while shooting laser beams from his eyes and defeating alien invaders.

Though the script isn’t as tight as it no-doubt could’ve been, for the most part, the cast is great to watch with no weak performances (aside from the occasional woody Cavill). Michael Shannon is especially brilliant as General Zod, a Kryptonian military leader hell-bent on destroying Superman. Shannon plays the roll with terrifying menace and makes it clear early on that Zod is not a guy you want to meet at night in a dark Smallville alley.

Regardless of its flaws, one thing that Man of Steel gets spot-on is its breathtakingly seamless visuals. Whether in the sci-fi spectacle of the destruction of Krypton or the collapsing of Smallville, the GCI is top notch, enough so that you don’t even think of GCI. Though for as much as the GCI helps the film, Man of Steel also falls too much into that all-familiar superhero-norm of too much of a good thing: lavish set pieces—buildings, city streets, alien space crafts—for the sole purpose of destruction. Unlike Christopher Nolan’s Gotham City, we never feel anything relating to loss or heartbreak when destruction falls upon Smallville. And because of such a crutch on the big destruction scenes, it’s difficult to tell just where the climax lies. The scenes surrounding it are a feast for the eyes, but you can’t help to wonder: wait, what’s happening now?

But in a world with too many half-hearted and rushed films attempting to bring in audiences (and, let’s face it, cash) to the theater, Man of Steel provides a film that overall succeeds in storytelling and impressive visuals; and though it no doubt had potential for more character development, the film earns its status as a summer blockbuster. Not every superhero film is going to be a Dark Knight, but as Man of Steel does, they can try. And if that’s the future of comic book movies (and superhero movies in general), then I’m okay with that.

8/10

Suspect Zero

There are some films that when I’m halfway through I ask myself, why am I still watching this? Suspect Zero is one of those films. While this 2004 release boasts itself as a “thriller”, it plays as anything but.

The premise of the film is intriguing enough and revolves around a serial killer (hunted down by Aaron Eckhart’s particularly dull Thomas Mackelway) who has an unusual MO: his targets are other serial killers—an interesting twist in a pre-Dexter era.

That certainly sounds thrilling, right? There’s no way that a movie about a killer targeting other killers could be dull (the action! The suspense!)! Well, think again. It is; it’s boring and confusing (and not in a good way) and it only gets more and more convoluted as it inches along at a snail’s pace through its 100-minute runtime.

Though Suspect Zero’s central premise is a good one, it’s executed extremely poorly. This failing, among others, goes to show that the duration of Suspect Zero is a strand of really good ideas but when joined together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that just don’t fit, they destroy whatever shred of genius that they had by themselves to begin with. To put it simply: it’s a mess (and apparently the people of 2004 thought the same thing, since the film didn’t even recoup half of its budget).

The only saving graces here are the Breaking Bad-esque Albuquerque landscape (though BB’s cinematography is better) and the moody, almost Saw-like atmosphere of the FBI scenes peppered throughout the film that give it a jolt of some much-needed tension. But in a film with so many faults, it’s a case of too little, too late.

4.5/10

(For anyone that’s interested in how Suspect Zero COULD have been, take a look at this article:

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/004/595hsjaq.asp?pag

6 Souls

What do Julianne Moore, cursed souls, and some really bad mountain-people juju have in common? What, you don’t know? Yeah, well after watching 6 Souls, neither do I.

6 Souls—originally released under the title of Shelter—was first released in 2010 and just hit DVD this past April after spending a good three years in DVD release purgatory. The film stars the ever-dependable Julianne Moore as a…wait, did the film ever make that clear? Suffice it to say that she works to help patients unravel (and manage) their mental disorders. One day she comes across a patient (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) who appears to be faking a multiple personality “disorder”. But here’s the kicker: he takes on the personalities of previous murder victims. Is he faking? Or is there something more to the story?

The first half-hour or so that revolves around this premise is quite good—moody, intriguing, with just enough questions and hints to keep the audience guessing. Sadly, after that, it just kind of plummets from a genuinely interesting psychological thriller into one of the lamely supernatural.

The two saving graces here are Julianne Moore and Jonathan Rhys Meyers, both playing their respective roles with passion and elevating the mind-numbingly confusing script into something more accessible. The real highlight of the film is seeing Meyers’ play multiple “personalities”, each different—yet equally tantalizing and masterfully acted—from the rest.

Unfortunately, the end product is a film that, while trying, ends up being a bit—okay, a lot—of a mess. Which is a shame because there are some really good concepts/ideas (the validity of psychological tests and religion, among others) and scenes peppered throughout the near-two hour runtime.

Once you can get past its faults (and there are a lot), 6 Souls ends up being a fun movie…even if, at times, I had no idea what was going on.

5.5/10

The Collection

I usually judge whether a movie is good or not based on two main criteria: one, would I pay to see this (if I haven’t already); and two, would I watch this again? For The Collection, my answers are: maybe, but I’m glad I didn’t; and yes, I probably would. See what I’m getting at here?

Writing duo Patrick Melton and Marcus Dunstan’s follow-up to 2009’s The Collector is like the jumbo-sized box of candy or popcorn you probably ate while watching: junk food. And like junk food, you know it’s not perfect, and it’s definitely not good for you, but you keep eating because it’s good.

Release date: Nov 30, 2012
Runtime: 81 minutes

There’s nothing about the movie that’s Oscar-worthy, that’s for sure, but it fills a void for someone looking for a fun horror film (did I just call torture fun? I think I did). The plot is formulaic, the characters generic, but it’s still entertaining to watch Arkin (our surviving protagonist from the last film) lead a group through the Collector’s house of traps to locate his latest victim (Emma Fitzpatrick) while attempting to evade theCollector and becoming a part of his collection.

As some viewers have noted, it’s definitely totally different than The Collector. Where The Collector was dark and brooding, more careful at building suspense, The Collection is like its predecessor on speed. Everything is –er: faster, bloodier, darker, implausible-er (okay, not a word but you get the idea). It’s almost as if the film is made up of remnants from the editing room floor of the Saw franchise, minus the character development and clever writing: helpless people in life-or-death traps, dark, claustrophobic locations, inept cops, and music-video style death sequences and scene transitions. Throw in a score by Charlie Clouser and bam! There you have it. (I propose that anytime someone in the film shouts, “help!” or “it’s a trap!”, you take a shot. Of what, that’s up to you.)

The varying set pieces offer promise of good things to come, but when you start off a movie with a roomful of people getting mowed down by rows of rotating blades descending from the ceiling, how do you top that? That’s one of the film’s biggest problems: there’s no real build-up to a climax; rather, each scene is its own climax—which keeps the film as action-packed as possible, but also backs away from providing any big payoff.

The Collection isn’t a perfect film by far, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be; it’s fun, entertaining, and really suspenseful when it wants to be and sometimes, in a world filled with enough cheap horror films, that’s enough.

6.0/10

Sound of My Voice

Brit Marling as enigmatic cult leader Maggie in “Sound of My Voice”

In her second run tackling the dual role of screenwriter and actor, Brit Marling follows up the 2011 sci-fi tale, Another Earth, with the equally mind-bending, speculative film, Sound of My Voice.

The film follows a couple, Peter and Lorna (Christopher Denham and Nicole Vicius, respectively) as they attempt to infiltrate and expose a mysterious cult leader, Maggie, as the fraud they belief she is. But who is Maggie exactly? Is she from the future as she claims? Or is she a delusional woman with a Jim Jones complex, gathering followers to drink her Kool-Aid? As Peter and Lorna struggle with their teeter-tottering beliefs regarding the truth, so does the audience. We never know who (or what) to believe, and just as a clue to the truth is dangled in front of us like the metaphorical carrot and you think you know where the story will go next, bam! The rug is swiftly pulled from beneath your feet, a true testament to the finely crafted suspense and what’s-going-on-here? feeling that the film boasts.

To put it simply, Sound of My Voice is minimalist filmmaking at its finest. Gone are the flashy set pieces, big-name actors, and million-dollar special effects of big-budget Hollywood blockbusters; instead, director Zal Batmanglij chooses to focus on the small, the quiet, and the intimate. The majority of the film takes place in a plain, near-colorless basement, cult members decked in white as they sit in silent reverence of Maggie herself. However, this stylistic move is a far cry from a failure; in doing so, the film manages to give off feelings of both claustrophobic sterility as well as intimate comfort.

The acting here, especially from Marling, is a pleasure to watch, Denham and Vicius playing off the psychological nuances of their characters well on-screen, while nonverbally communicating their thoughts to the viewer. The real highlight of the film, however, is Marling’s performance as Maggie, able to completely captivate the viewer using the delivery of her words and slight mannerisms. For every scene of Maggie as a soothing, calm, nurturing figure, there’s one displaying her as a harsh and defensive woman. Whatever side of Maggie we get, the one constant is her intriguing nature. And it is in these switches that Marling not only shows off her acting shops, but paints the picture of an incredibly interesting (if not totally reliable), multi-faceted character.

The film is a pleasure to watch as it unfolds but could have certainly benefited from a slightly longer runtime (clocking in at just under an hour and a half) to expand on some scenes and a more fleshed-out, less abrupt ending. But for every scene or character action or bit of dialogue that is left unexplained, I can’t help but going back to everything that the film did right (which is a lot) and in the end, the lack of total decisiveness of the film’s ending in general serves to mirror the characters’ similar uncertainty of what’s going on, while allowing viewers to go back to watch and contemplate the film again and again.

Marling’s next project is entitled The East, and while details are scarce and the question remains of what questions will and will not be answered, I can’t wait to find out.

8/10

Oz the Great and Powerful

We all know the story: young Dorothy Gale whisked away from the bland plains of Kansas to the colorful, yet perilous city of Oz. And now, seventy years after MGM first released The Wizard of Oz, comes Oz the Great and Powerful, set roughly twenty years before the original. If you’ve seen the fantastical trailers with their explosive CGI and familiar-looking characters and places, you’re probably aware that the film serves as an origin story of shorts, showing how conniving sideshow magician Oscar Diggs became Oz (played by a surprisingly delightful James Franco). Franco is obviously comfortable in the role, managing to be humorous, entertaining, and just plain fun to watch as he adjusts to the world that so many viewers have known for years.

Due to MGM copyright issues, Disney legally couldn’t use some of the crucial aspects of the original: the ruby slippers, Dorothy’s trio of friends, even the shade of green of the Wicked Witch of the West (but there are a few Wizard of Oz nods that fans will pick up along the way). However, director Sam Raimi & Co. don’t treat it as an impediment, instead using the opportunity for some creative reimagining. Oz is still Oz (magical and unpredictable) and Emerald City is still Emerald City: it’s green and glamorous and big, but structurally different, while adding elements from L. Frank Baum’s original novel (China Country, Winkies, Quadlings, to name a few).

Raimi’s vision of Oz is a feast for the eyes, though as positively satisfying and showy as the CGI is, at times, its downfall is just that: it’s showy. It’s a case of style over substance, and the heavily computer-generated landscape has the ability to take the viewer out of the land that Raimi has so painstakingly created, reminding the viewer that it’s not real. But once the film gets past the initial immersion of the audience into the re-imagined Oz and lets the story come to the forefront, the ball gets rolling.

The film’s opening mirrors that of The Wizard of Oz, in that it starts in that tonal mixture of black-white-brown to introduce us to a familiar-looking dusty, barren Kansas. The decision could’ve easily felt like a gimmick—and at times you’re wondering if it’s going to one-handedly undermine the deftness of the original—but there are no gimmicks here. It feels true, genuine, as if Dorothy Gale herself could show up at any minute (Michelle Williams as a plain-Jane farm girl and Oscar’s love-interest makes me think how good of a Dorothy she’d be) with Toto running at her heels.

Oz’s first third is slow, but not boring, due to a bit of lack of direction. Are we focusing on the hunt to kill a Wicked Witch? Or the dangerousness of the Dark Forest? Or the spectacle of Oz itself? There’s enough information and scenery to present early on that the film seems to get lost in itself at times and lose its cohesiveness, something that could’ve been fixed with tighter, more focused writing and editing. Regardless of its small shortcomings, the story is engaging and exciting to watch as it unfolds, never feeling like an adrenaline-shot rehash of The Wizard of Oz. The three witches are captivating as well with Mila Kunis, unfortunately, being the weakest of the three (she’s not terrible,but her flat performance in early scenes make it feel as though she was miscast; she just doesn’t synch with her character as much as the others do).

For a PG film, Oz features some pretty dark scenes, which helps to balance the often-upbeat imagery of Oz itself. While it’s great to see that Disney isn’t afraid to shy away from that territory with visuals of explosions, a Witch hell-bent on revenge, and hoards of sharp-toothed flying monkeys, it also makes me wish that they’d pushed the envelope a little more. The darkness of the film was effective, though it would’ve been nice to see the full height of the Wicked Witch’s evil to really up the ante.

Overall, Oz is as great as its title suggests, a strong film that succeeds in being its own entity, a clever prequel tale instead of some cheap reimagining of the original, while never forgetting the film that precedes it. And while the visuals are, at times, style over substance, Oz the Great and Powerful remains a creative, satisfying origin story that’s far from disappointing as we learn more about the enigmatic-no-more Man Behind the Curtain.

(A very solid) 7.5/10