Deliver Us from Evil

The movements of a plush owl is one of the creepiest things that the film has to offer.

Whenever a horror film boasts that its plot was “BASED ON (or INSPIRED BY) TRUE EVENTS”, it’s usually used as a device to entice prospective viewers and get butts into theater seats. While the connection between the supposed true events and the film’s content is usually quite loose, it doesn’t seem to matter much as long as its plot is satisfying. Unfortunately, the plot of the based-on-true-events crime thriller-horror hybrid, Deliver Us from Evil, isn’t.

In the film, Eric Bana plays real-life Bronx cop Ralph Sarchie who begins investigating a series of seemingly interconnected crimes. When confronted by a priest (Édgar Ramírez) who warns him that the crimes may be demonic in nature rather than mere human criminal activity, Bana’s skeptic cop and Ramírez’s open-minded priest team together to figure out what’s going on.

It’s here’s where the film hits its biggest problem: it never seems to know what it wants to be. Is it a cop-propelled crime thriller, or a horror with a goal to scare? It blends elements of both but the results are uneven at best. The film has a lot on its mind and throws it all at the audience—a decent family man haunted by his job (and past demons), a tale of possession, the unraveling of a mystery that may be more than it seems, commentary on religion, and various other plot threads—so that we’re never quite sure of its focus. For the most part, Deliver Us from Evil has a lot of good pieces, but when put together create more confusion than anything else.

The characters’ motives and actions are not as clear as they should be as you find yourself thinking things like: What are they doing now? or Hey, why are they at this abandoned building? As a result, you’re never quite sure where the plot’s going or what harrowing climax to look forward to later on. And when the film’s climax does come, you can’t help but feel unaffected by its significance.

Although Evil boasts an occasionally creepy atmosphere and a few shocks, there’s more jump scares utilized than anything else which is disappointing because there’s more than enough opportunities in its ample runtime to feature a slow build-up of genuine atmospheric scares. On that same note, the film is just too long. Clocking in just two minutes under two hours, having a large amount of content isn’t its problem; rather, it never seems to know what to do with it. It tries to sustain a sense of suspense and terror but ends up becoming unfocused instead, allowing itself to meander back and forth from plot point to plot point, unaware that the viewer may be getting lost along the way.

Deliver Us from Evil doesn’t offer anything incredibly new or groundbreaking to the genre. It has good ideas, but just doesn’t know what to do with them.

6/10

Godzilla (2014)

I’ve never seen a Godzilla movie. That may be hard to believe, but it’s true. I know the basic pop-culture knowledge about the creature and its film legacy, but not much more. But the marketing campaign and teasers (that showed just enough intrigue and monster-induced havoc) for Gareth Edwards’s reboot of the classic franchise made me think to change that.

Release Date: May 16, 2014 Runtime: 123 minutes

In a suspenseful prologue, two scientists (played by Ken Watanabe and Sally Hawkins) are called to investigate a giant skeleton and two (related?) egg-shaped pods, while a nearby nuclear plant experiencing seismic activity collapses. While it’s publicized that the disaster was attributed to an earthquake, plant supervisor Joe Brody (played by a fully-committed Bryan Cranston) is convinced that something else, something bigger, is to blame.

15 years later, it seems as if whatever caused the seismic activity is about to emerge again, and in addition to Cranston’s determined, truth-seeking Joe, we’re introduced to his military son, Ford (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), and his wife, Elle (Elizabeth Olson), who, while great in her role, isn’t given much to do. Taylor-Johnson’s Ford is good in small doses—playing the concerned son or the contented husband—but just doesn’t have the charisma (or character development) for him to become the film’s main protagonist. This could have been remedied by switching Cranston’s position in the film with Taylor-Johnson’s. We sympathize much more with Cranston than the stone-faced military husband. Such a reversal of focus would have made for a more intrigue-based film (while also giving us more of an emotional attachment to the character and his successes and failures in unraveling the mystery and attempting to prevent disaster) rather than a military-focused one. After all, wouldn’t we rather learn about and revel in the unfolding history of the iconic beast, rather than inside information about the military’s plan to destroy it?

To see whether or not these characters are working is to ask ourselves: would we care if any of them met their demise in the film? Probably. But not for the right reasons. When they’re put in actual danger we find ourselves thinking, Aw, she’s such a good wife! or But he loves her! or Aw, what a cute kid! rather than having real, emotional ties to the characters like we do with Cranston’s Joe Brody.

Godzilla’s first half is an interesting, character-driven creature film giving us a chance to discover and wonder and fear along with the characters. Then, however, in a strange twist of events, Godzilla is usurped in his own movie—and he (and the filmmakers) don’t seem to care. Rather than honing in on his origins and the threat that he poses to the world (after all, multiple countries are affected), all sense of a mystery unraveling is abandoned in favor of the appearance of the MUTOS (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms). Following their arrival, the film’s second half, though considerably more action-packed, is also, ironically, considerably less thrilling. When the MUTOs are on screen, the CGI is impressive and visually immersive, but the creatures as a whole are kind of silly (they look like metal-plated bat-crickets). They don’t evoke the same sense of intrigue that we have for the titular creature, and their presence seems justified to give Godzilla something to fight, providing epic battle sequences and the destruction of entire cities that the filmmakers believe the audience craves. As the minutes tick by, their time on screen lengthens which instead should be focused on the creature for which the movie is titled. (Some possible alternate titles for the movie: Where’s Godzilla?, Find the Nuke!, MUTOS: The Movie, How to Reunite with Loved Ones in the Midst of Disaster with No Trouble at All.)

My familiarity with the source material isn’t too extensive, but I’m not sure how I feel about Godzilla’s involvement in the film’s climax—and the film as a whole. Should we be rooting for the mysterious creature? Or should we be as terrified as the movie’s characters, fearing destruction, the loss of lives, and all that he is capable of?

Despite its flaws, Godzilla boasts an incredibly well-made, focused, and dramatized first half. The music—composed by Alexandre Desplat—is fantastic, doing exactly what a film’s soundtrack should do in this type of film: setting the scene and heightening our sense of intrigue while hinting at things to come. The film overall hits a lot of good points, but it’s also missing a crucial one: letting Godzilla—and the intrigue surrounding him and his history—be the focus of his own movie.

7/10

 

Divergent

Release Date: March 21, 2014 Runtime: 140 minutes

On the tail of successful film franchises (Twilight and The Hunger Games) and some not-so-successful ones (The Moral Instruments and Vampire Academy) comes Divergent, the newest addition to the young adult book-turned-movie sub-genre, based on the best seller by Veronica Roth.

Despite their differences, a comparison to The Hunger Games is inevitable. Both feature young female heroines in a dystopic future, rebelling against some kind of government control. Though, Divergent avoids beings a mere carbon copy of The Hunger Games; it offers enough originality for it to stand on its own.

In the world of Divergent, a future Chicago is divided into five factions—Candor, Amity, Dauntless, Erudite, and Abnegation—and, on their sixteenth birthday, each resident gets to choose which faction they will enter for the rest of their lives. Will they remain in the faction they’ve been in since birth and, by extension, remain with their families? Or will they instead pick a new faction, one that they feel better suits their personality, and risk never seeing their families again?

But it’s not that easy for Beatrice ‘Tris’ Prior (Shailene Woodley) who is ‘Divergent’; rather than fitting into one particular faction, she fits into many—she has the selflessness of Abnegation, the bravery of Dauntless, and the knowledge of Erudite. The film revolves around her faction choice and the repercussions and discoveries that result from it, in addition to a relationship with Four (Theo James), an enigmatic Dauntless leader.

While some fans of the book will no-doubt be upset at the changes from page to screen, Divergent takes the occasionally episodic nature of the book and makes it more fluid. Some scenes are added, spliced, or omitted altogether to effectively streamline and cover the book’s 400+ page count in just under a two and a half hour runtime. But for all the good things from the book that the film is faithful to, it’s also faithful to the bad as well. At times, there’s too much exposition, too much downtime in between pivotal scenes, and not enough supporting character development.

Much like Jennifer Lawrence in The Hunger Games (see, it’s inevitable), Divergent is Shailene Woodley’s film. She plays Tris with a cautious bravery and inner strength that really allows you to get inside her head. And it’s telling that in a pivotal scene, Woodley injects it with such raw emotion that it blows its source material out of the water. It’s also a plus that director Neil Burger allows Tris to narrate the film’s opening minutes. It’s a short time, but the addition of the first person narration gives us a deeper connection to Tris in an addition that The Hunger Games (unfortunately) decided to omit.

Despite the inevitable changes from book to film, Divergent ends up being an otherwise faithful adaptation. It may be too heavy on exposition at times, but its unique twist on dystopia drew me into its unique world enough for me to anticipate the next one.

8/10

 

Bad Words

Jason Bateman both directs and stars in “Bad Words”

What if an adult entered a children’s spelling bee? That’s the central premise behind Jason Bateman’s directorial debut, Bad Words, and it answers the question…and then some.

Pulling double duty, Bateman also stars in the film as Guy Trilby, a forty-year-old warranty proofreader—could a job get any more exciting?—who’s recently set out on a journey of spelling bee victories leading to the Golden Quill tournament. Like the many ticked off parents, the audience, too, is wondering how this man could possibly enter a contest clearly meant for children. Well, he can—he’s found a loophole in the rulebook. Although the Bee only allows competitors under eighth grade, Guy can technically compete since he never graduated eighth grade.

This sense of sliminess is our first of many insights into Guy’s character. He’s inappropriate, crude, and unapologetic, generally all characteristics of an unsympathetic character. However, Bateman plays him with a certain sense of compassion (is it possible for there to be kindness behind the R-rated insults?) that we can almost see the hurt and disappointed inner child behind the barrage of f-bombs and racial slurs.

At an incredibly short runtime of 88 minutes, it almost seems like the film is advertising itself as a dirty-joke-a-minute film where raunchiness substitutes for humor. Surprisingly, not a moment is wasted here. The script is tight, and the jokes—as often as they come—are genuinely funny rather than throwaway jokes just for the point of adding in humor.

This is especially true in scenes with Chaitanya Chopra (Rohan Chand), Guy’s competition and tagalong. He follows him around like a puppy, wants to study his Spelling Bee binder together (which he names Todd, his only friend), get ice cream, and other innocent things. Then, however, Guy introduces him to the wild world of cars, women, and cursing. The clash of Guy’s inappropriateness with Chaitanya’s innocence really amps up the film’s comedy and is especially funny since he, in the end, isn’t corrupted by Guy. If anything, he admires him. That the film has such raunchy comedy while allowing its child character to stay a child—uncorrupted, but more worldly—is commendable.

Some of the film’s best scenes take place at the Golden Quill tournament. Though fictional, it can easily seem based on real-life Bees like the Scripps and perfectly captures their perceived blandness, arrogance, and the parents that take it so seriously. Everything from clothes to furniture to lighting is done in a palette of browns, grays, and whites; adults wear big, itchy sweaters and have mousy hairdos; there’s a sense of stuffiness in the air. And it’s funny. It’s an exaggeration of spelling bees, but is hilarious in its intelligent and well thought-out parody.

The film also stars Allison Janney as the director of the Bee and Kathryn Hahn as Jenny Widgeon, the online reporter/casual lover who sponsors and follows Guy from Bee to Bee in hopes of getting a good story out of his endeavors. Both characters are interesting enough that you want to spend a little more time with them than what we’re given, so it’s disappointing that they’re not given more to do. Hahn has a little more screen time than Janney, but you can’t help but feel that there was more potential for development that wasn’t present on screen.

Throughout the film we know how Guy enters the Bee and while we’re curious as to why, any explanations that follow are just an added bonus to the already compelling (and hilarious) story and antics. And when his actual reasoning is revealed, it gives another layer to Guy’s hardened exterior, showing that the mix of smart comedy and heart is what makes Bad Words so good.

9/10

Philomena

Judi Dench plays the hilarious and heartbreaking Philomena Lee in an adaptation of the true story

Films that are character pieces usually deliver on their promise: introducing a character, completely fleshing them out, and giving us reasons to care for the emotional ringer that they’re put through over the course of the film’s runtime. All, however, at the expense of an engaging or fully developed plot. Surprisingly, Philomena doesn’t fall into this category. It’s a character piece but the plot that accompanies it is just as engaging as the characters themselves. And it’s a real treat.

Directed and co-written by Steve Coogan, the film follows BBC reporter Martin Sixsmith as he travels with elderly Irishwoman Philomena Lee in search of her long-lost son that was separated from her when she was younger. Philomena’s hoping to reconnect with him after years of guilt and shame, while Martin sees the story as more of a journalistic opportunity. What follows, surprisingly, is more than the stereotypical “I gave up my baby for adoption and now I feel bad” story.

Philomena is a typical old lady: she loves all-you-can-eat buffets, carries snacks in her purse, and excites at anything free—in one funny scene on an airplane, Philomena denies a beverage but when Martin tells her they’re included with the fare, she beams with delight. She’s a humble person, reads cheap romance novels (and describes the plots in detail to Martin), and enjoys the simple pleasures of life, while Coogan’s Martin, well…doesn’t. And a lot of the film’s humor comes from the gentle colliding (not quite crashing) of their classes. Philomena’s trip with Martin is her first visit to America, so it’s both telling of her perspective and hilarious when she expresses that one of her worries about her son is that he turned out to be obese. “Because of the portions!” she says, explaining her concern.

But for all the times that she fills the typical old lady stereotype, there are also moments where she’s timid, moments where she’s afraid, shameful, even, at the thought that her son might’ve thought that she didn’t love him. After all, she’s kept the secret of her child—Anthony—for fifty years, spending every day mulling the situation over in her head.

In lesser hands, the portrayal of Philomena could have gone one of two ways: either the extremely crotchety route, or the cute-little-old-lady route. Judi Dench blends and balances the two perfectly in such a well-crafted performance so that we’re not actively noticing what characteristics constitute Philomena; rather, she just is Philomena. Dench manages to make her both a complex and sympathetic character.

Coogan also gives a great performance in the film. Though he originally agrees to hear Philomena’s story because of its journalistic potential, he comes to care for her on a personal level, too. Coogan’s balance of seriousness and humor plays nicely off of Dench’s Philomena and the two characters couldn’t work any better together.

I won’t spoil it here, but the result of their search comes fairly early in the film and is fairly shocking in its early reveal. Though, this allows the viewer to mirror and share in Philomena’s shock and range of emotions. It’s also a bold choice because at that point, you begin to wonder: where can the story possibly go from here—and still manage to be entertaining—now that we know the end  result? Any worries or concerns are quickly swept aside because what follows in the second half of the film is captivating, emotional, and filled with such character-driven and –focused drama and humor that you can’t imagine it being any other way. It’s also a testament to the script just how deeply engaging it is without being overly comedic or melodramatic.

“We’ve come full circle,” says Philomena at the end of her and Martin’s journey together. And they have. They physically end at the location that they started, not just for the sake of wrapping up the story in a neat bow, but to highlight and reflect upon the levels of emotion that the film that painted throughout the journey: apprehension, fear, surprise, and finally, acceptance. It could’ve used another scene or two to wrap up, but the film’s sense of completion is satisfactory.

Walking in to it, I wasn’t expecting to like Philomena as much as I did and the fact that it’s so good is a surprise because it’s unassuming. It’s a modest tale of a modest woman and that, like Philomena itself, is part of its charm.

9/10

The Wolf of Wall Street

There’s been a lot of talk over the past few months revolving around the runtime of Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street. Is it too long? Do the scenes of debauchery and corruption dominate (and cause boredom over) the three hour runtime? Ironically, I felt it could have been longer. Sure, scenes of depravity take up a good chunk of the film’s runtime (though they don’t feel nearly repetitive as some viewers claim), but the real reason it needs to be longer is to make room for scenes of non­-depravity.

Release Date: Dec 25, 2013 Runtime: 179 minutes

Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort and his band of law-breaking stockbrokers are loud, rambunctious, and in more cases than not, hysterical. Most of them, like Jordan, have ascended the economic ladder from the middle-class to the uber rich. They take drugs, have wild parties, buy cars, clothes, and women, and can’t believe their luck. Their wide-eyed incomprehension of their wealth makes for some funny moments on screen (namely, Jordan crumpling and chucking hundred dollar bills into a trashcan). They can engage in whatever bad behaviors they want, but while they’re doing them, there’s no reason for the audience to care about the characters behind them. We don’t praise them, we don’t condemn them; without any great amount of character development, they’re just corrupt people doing corrupt things.

Though, Wolf isn’t totally devoid of character development. Jordan’s scenes with Kyle Chandler’s FBI agent Patrick Denham are one of the highlights of the film. Both characters’ contempt for (and jabs at) each other fills the screen with such a tension, that it’s a shame there are only a handful of scenes like it over the three-hour runtime. Where Wolf focuses on the great differences between the wealthy one percent and the lower-middle class do-gooders (firemen, teachers, and law enforcement officers, like Denham), the film really sizzles, showing how much more interesting it could’ve been if it had turned itself into a socioeconomic critique of money and class in today’s society—or the consequences of greed (an intensely captivating argument between Jordan and his second wife, Naomi (Morgot Robbie), comes to mind). And to a point—with Jordan’s vast excess, careless behaviors, and big-spender-from-humble-beginnings attitude—it does. However, the time spent waiting for these gems are too few and far between.

In addition to DiCaprio’s wild turn as Jordan Belfort, co-stars Jonah Hill, Matthew McConaughey, and Rob Reiner (as Jordan’s hilariously hot-tempered father) are a real treat to watch, Hill especially, whose quirky performance as Jordan’s awkward right-hand man is arguably the highlight of the film. With such energetic characters, the main problem with the film isn’t the excessive scenes of chaos, drugs, and sex, nor the performances. That’s the curse of Wolf: it’s got so many interesting characters, but when they actually go somewhere, it’s not very far. In a way, money, not Jordan, is the main character.

The Wolf of Wall Street has a lot going for it: it’s entertaining, funny, thought-provoking, and its tight editing keeps the runtime from feeling like a chore, but despite these features, it’s hard not to think that it could’ve been much more.

7.5/10

Dallas Buyers Club

“Welcome to the Dallas Buyers Club.”

In Dallas Buyers Club, Matthew McConaughey plays real-life figure Ron Woodroof, a straight man disgusted to discover that he’s been infected with HIV. Woodroof considers himself to be the epitome of masculinity (he drinks beer, rides bulls, and curses like a sailor) and refuses to accept his diagnosis, consistently appealing to his friends and doctors that he couldn’t be further from the stereotypical HIV patient.

After coming to terms with (and seeking treatment for) his condition—eventually finding something that works to alleviate the symptoms of HIV, but not get rid of it completely—he recognizes that there are other HIV-positive people who would no doubt pay for the drugs he’s taking. And so he sets up what he deems the ‘Dallas Buyers Club,’ where a four hundred dollar a month buy-in gets you membership access the drugs needed to keep the full effects of HIV at bay.

The beginnings of Woodroof’s business are interesting, but the transformative performances from McConaughey and Jared Leto (as Woodroof’s business partner, Rayon) totally steal the film. When the pair are on screen, either together or apart, everything else becomes secondary and you become totally transfixed by their honest portrayals of these two characters facing their own personal adversities, brought together by chance to fight them. There’s not one moment in the film where you’re seeing McConaughey or Leto, or being consciously aware of their acting. Like Cate Blanchett in this year’s Blue Jasmine, they become the characters, solidifying 2013 as the year of the actor.

Woodroof’s journey from intolerant homophobe to socially aware and caring activist is a slow-moving, yet rewarding one. And as his attitude shifts throughout the film, the social aspects surrounding it are interesting to consider. Does he only have concern for the HIV community now that he, too, has the virus? Woodroof and Rayon’s relationship plays off of this in interesting ways. Though, for a film with quite a few scenes that pack an emotional punch, the biggest, seemingly intended blow to our emotions (I won’t spoil it here) doesn’t linger long enough to be as emotional as it could’ve (and probably should’ve) been.

The story’s plot does seem to suffer from a wavering focus at times. At the beginning, it zones in on Woodroof’s fight to survive. From there, though, is its intent to focus on Woodroof’s desire to help other patients? Or does he just want to make money, unconcerned for social stigma of HIV and the plight of those associated with it? The answer becomes increasingly clearer, but it isn’t until the end of the film that it’s really solidified. In the latter half of the film, the focus seems to shift again, this time on the unethical aspects of Big Pharma. It’s obvious that the film wants to shed some light on multiple economic and social issues (and there’s nothing wrong with that); I just wish it would’ve been done in a more seamless way.

There’s a point in the film that finds Woodroof—and, consequently, the audience—so caught up in his Club and trying to buy time that he’s not really doing anything with the time that he’s bought himself. “Sometimes I think I’m fighting for a life I ain’t got time to live,” he says. And it’s true. He’s not living. And though he first sets up the Club for the money, by walking in the footsteps of those who he’s mocked and ridiculed for so long, by coming to a place of understanding and love, then he’s truly living.

8/10

Captain Phillips

Tom Hanks gives an Oscar-worthy performance as Captain Richard Phillips

Take a cargo ship, a crew manned by a no-nonsense captain, and an approaching boat of armed Somali pirates, and what do you have? For the most part, the plot of such a movie would be predictable (obviously the crew would overcome the pirates using their bravery and technology and resources, right?), but Captain Phillips—although we already know the outcome of the real-life 2009 event—does a fantastic job of keeping you guessing and making you think that anything could happen.

Tom Hanks plays Captain Richard Phillips. He’s smart, resourceful, and quick-thinking, and it’s refreshing to have a protagonist that makes good decisions. There’s no dumb decision-making to make for interesting plot shake-ups here. When the pirates board the ship, he’s calm and quick to ensure the safety of his crew, but at the same time we can almost feel him rapidly run through possible scenarios and analyze the various possible outcomes in his head. It’s also worth mentioning Hanks’ acting. Seeing his role as Rich Phillips makes the Oscar snub hurt that much more, and his final thirty minutes on screen are some of the most powerful in the film and, quite possibly, the most powerful in his career.

As the action leads to suspense (and vice versa), the surprising nature of the film continues. The pirates are unpredictable and as the minutes tick past, they become unhinged, never really letting the viewer in on what they’re going to do. Will they follow the orders of their leader, Muse (played by first-time actor Barkhad Abdi), or will they rebel against his orders and kill Captain Phillips to end the situation without any complications? Early in the film Muse says that the hijacking is just about money, that they’ll get the ship’s money and be on their way. But as the film progresses, it’s clear that the mission isn’t just about money. There’s a certain level of thrill in the pirates’ hijacking of the ship, an empowerment in holding power over Americans whom, the Somalians feel, are partially to blame for their country’s financial difficulties.

In high-tension scenes like these, Captain Phillips asserts itself as both an engaging drama and thriller, not the generic bad-guy-keeps-good-guy-hostage situation that I was expecting. Part of this is because the film never stays put for too long (whether on the various levels of the ship, the lifeboat, the SEAL’s mission center, etc.), which instills a sense of frenetic energy into the plot. And when paired with the sharp editing, the film feels like a series of long shots and doesn’t let the action let up—though I do wish that a little more of the film’s runtime to took place on the ship (the plot moves to the lifeboat fairly quickly).

For the most part, the two-hour runtime flies by and, like any good film should, ties up the story while also leaving you wanting more. Also, bonus points for ending on a high-note and not a drawn-out, sappy one. I will say that it could have benefitted from an additional ending scene, though, to make it not feel so abrupt.

It would’ve been extremely easy for Captain Phillips to succumb to the pitfalls of generic action filmmaking and, while it does have action, there’s also many other layers to it. And while there’s been some talk about whether or not the film portrays the actual situation authentically, who cares? It’s a movie, and they did it damn well.

9/10

Blue Jasmine

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding his personal life, it’s remarkable that Woody Allen, now seventy eight, still manages to churn out quality films year after year. Blue Jasmine is Allen’s newest offering, and it doesn’t disappoint.

Cate Blanchett plays Jasmine who, after her millionaire husband, Hal (Alec Baldwin), is arrested for fraud, loses her lush lifestyle in New York and reluctantly moves in with her sister in San Francisco. Though, she doesn’t just lose her money. She loses her status. (And, later, her mind. Shortly after her husband’s arrest, Jasmine is found wandering the streets talking to herself.)

Jasmine is self-absorbed, but also kind of pathetic in a way because she’s always had someone to provide for her and when that’s taken away from her, she’s helpless. As the audience, we’re constantly switching back and forth between pitying the child-like woman who legitimately (it seems) doesn’t know how to live without her husband and the wealth, material goods, and comfortable lifestyle that he provided, and the classist who, at least a little bit, deserves her current situation.

As the film progresses and Jasmine finds herself in situations with different people, you never really know where the film—or its characters—is headed. And that’s part of the fun. Like his 2011 Midnight in Paris, Blue Jasmine’s screenplay is a smart mix of character-driven drama and comedic dialogue.

Though the film’s supporting characters account for many of the comedic scenes, it’s Jasmine herself that is the main source because we get the feeling that she’s not one hundred percent aware of how outrageous some of the things coming out of her mouth are. Following an exhaustive party, as she soaks in a bubble bath, Jasmine insists that she needs to take the next day off: a day off from shopping and yoga and pilates. She needs a vacation from vacation. In scenes like these, it’s easy to forget that Blanchett is acting, because she becomes Jasmine. Her face, her mannerisms, her body language are so transformed that for an hour and a half, you’re watching Jasmine—in all her delusional glory—not Blanchett.

Part of what makes Blue Jasmine work so well is its supporting characters. Ranging from husband Hal, to Jasmine’s adopted sister, Ginger (who insists that Jasmine “got the good genes,” and whose working middle-class lifestyle appalls Jasmine) and her good-hearted husband, Augie, each character is delicately crafted into their own person and is not only completely memorable, but serves to provide insight into Jasmine’s character.

The film’s narrative is a balance of the present and flashbacks from Jasmine’s life pre-crisis. Though the flashbacks are engaging and offer further enlightenment into the film’s characters, there’s a certain degree of choppiness in how the film switches back and forth between past and present. At times early in the film, I wasn’t completely aware that it was flashing back. However, the transitions become increasingly smoother and more identifiable as the film progresses.

While Jasmine clearly believes (or tells herself that she does, at least) that she’s not to blame for her unfortunate reversal of  fortune, in the end the film makes us question if she’s inherently self-centered and delusional, or merely a product of her environment (and, by extension, society). And as much as the film paints Jasmine as a sympathetic character who we want to see free herself from the deep hole she’s fallen into, we also get the sense that she’s made her bed; now she has to lie in it.

9/10

Her

In the future, everyone wears high-waisted wool pants and has the capability (and, arguably, desire) to fall in love with their cell phones. At least, they do in Spike Jonze’s version of the future.

Such is the plot of Her that finds a lonely man, Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix), still reeling from his divorce from his wife, Catherine (Rooney Mara). He lives alone, eats alone, and sleeps alone, going so far as to instruct his phone to play “melancholy songs” on his way to work, Theodore fully immersed in loneliness and gloom.

That is, until he purchases a new Operating System for his phone which sounds and emotes like a real human being (Siri, anyone?). The presence of Samantha, as she calls herself (after comically claiming that, in a fraction of a second, she looked through a book of baby names and picked the one that she liked best), offers Theodore the possibility of a romantic relationship, but just how real is it? This is one of the central questions that that the characters (and Jonze) raise and make us ponder throughout the film. Does having only a verbal relationship with someone make the relationship any easier, or painless, or any less real? In a way, it seems like everything is peaches and cream for Theodore since, as Catherine points out, he doesn’t have to do the work that a “real” relationship would require. But as he comes to find, Samantha is more complicated than he expected and it’s with her constantly evolving personality and emoting that she complicates what we think of their relationship, too.

Does Theodore take advantage of the fact that Samantha might accommodate him, to be what he wants when he wants it? In some instances, this is arguably the case. But there are numerous scenes to counter this that show his genuine love for her as well. (Touchingly, for the duration of the film, Theodore clips a pin to his shirt pocket to elevate it so Samantha can view the world from his pocket.)

For a film devoid of action or big-budget set pieces, the film’s weight falls to the shoulders of its characters and, by extension, its actors. Both Phoenix and Johansson carry the film with such captivating grace and raw emotion that you don’t care where the plot goes; seeing (and in some cases, just hearing) them interact with each other is pure magic. Amy Adams as Theodore’s friend and neighbor—her washed-out color palette matching her personality, and a stark contrast to her role in American Hustle—is a welcome addition as well.

Phoenix totally transforms himself into the melancholy Theodore and it’s a real treat to watch as his emotions range from despair to exultant, and everything in between. Meanwhile, Johansson, in just a vocal role, is equally mesmerizing. With a tone of honesty and excitement, Johansson makes us care for Samantha as if she were an actual person. We know she’s not real, but because the emotions are so authentic, by the end of the film, she becomes real to us. It’s a testament to the screenplay and Johansson herself that this is possible.

The film does have several portions where it drags itself down—a comic (then sad) but unnecessary scene where Samantha hires a sex surrogate, among others—and the pacing seems a bit off at times, but for the most part the two hour runtime flies by, captivating the viewer with scene after scene of character-driven storytelling.

In the end, Her is a touching, often hilarious, sometimes sad look at love and loss. While it may seem like the film’s commentary is that we may be too dependent on technology, the dominant message is a more personal one: that loss is always difficult, but that maybe we’re better people for surviving through it.

8/10