Frankenweenie (2012)

In this recycled review, I spend a lot of time complaining about Tim Burton recycling material...("...the nerve!")

Speaking of nerves and things, this was written at the time of the film's exhumation....

Recycled Material From the Grave
or
"I Can Fix This..."

Really, it's a little soon for Tim Burton to be re-making one of his own films—albeit his first live-action short for Disney. One worries that maybe he's run out of ideas, or that he's simply doing what he's always done—take a property and combine it with that goofy blend of the kinky and ghoulish that he has made his own...it's just that this time the property is his...and he's already made it his own once. Maybe, he looked at this product of his younger self with limited resources and thought "I can do better. I can do more." Or along the lines of young Victor Frankenstein, he looked at it his earlier creation and vowed "I can fix this."

At the time of the live-action short, Disney looked at the product of their young animator...and promptly dumped it...only acknowledging it when Burton became an A-list director (with some studio hesitancy) with the first "Batman" film.* Now, Disney is crowing about its brand new Burton movie, and one can only imagine the wry smile that must produce for the director. It was natural for Disney to want an expansion—they owned the property—and although this new version of Frankenweenie has a lot of (dare I say) re-animation of material, it did give Burton a chance to give it a little more depth and play around without the inhibitions of live action.

I say inhibitions rather than limitations because the differences are exhibited in a weird and rather contrary way, given that the film is done with puppet figures: emotion. The character of Sparky exhibits a far greater depth of moods than a trained pit-bull terrier could exhibit in live action, not only in its darker moments, but especially in moments of joy—the animation of the dog running elicits fond feelings immediately, as the puppet is rarely touching the ground in motion, not unlike Charles Schulz's "Peanuts" kids who hover over the ground in transit. And although the human figures are Burton cyphers (resembling the human character designs of his first film Vincent) they are still soulful, their eyes expressing more emotions than their faces will betray.

Given that the subject matter is about a mad scientist of a little boy who runs the parallel path of his literary namesake to re-animate his beloved dog, killed in a traffic mishap, there's a lot of room for high emotion there, and far more than in the motivations of the original story.

But, Burton takes it further and makes it more than about young Victor. Taking pages from The Nightmare Before Christmas and Batman Returns, he stages the denouement at a city festival that brings all parties together in one spot, the communal experience gone awry.

Seems that Victor's work has attracted a lot of attention among his classmates, and as there's a science fair going on, all the kid's are doing the same thing—literally, the same thing, bringing to life their dead pets with very mixed results, and providing Burton a chance to explore other species of monster movies (and recreating scenes from them) than just the one, paying tribute to each, just as he does by including a scene from friend Christopher Lee's turn as "Dracula."

Like Victor's experiment, this is a labor of love as Burton—just as with the earlier short—resurrects the movies he loved as a kid, long-buried memories that never really leave, and have influenced Burton throughout his career. It's a fun, resonant electrification of his earlier work, with just enough fresh in it to make it worth the effort and bring it back to new life in leeched black-and-white (which Burton always manages to make look sumptuous). Now, if only we could see something wholly new and original from him, that would be some experiment.

The original Frankenweenie

Brad Bird's "Family Dog" (from Steven Spielberg's "Amazing Stories") based on animation designs by Tim Burton

* It did find it's way to Paul Reubens who'd been trying to find a suitable director to collaborate on his long-in-the planning Pee-Wee Herman movie he'd been dreaming about.  Frankenweenie convinced him to contact Burton.

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom

Put a Hook In It!

or

Basting Away Again in Peter-Jackson-ville
 

"Everybody's good at something," Arthur (Aquaman) Curry (Jason Momoa) exposits at the beginning of Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom. "Me, I talk to fish. Some people think that makes me a joke. But, I'm also good at something else. Busting heads."

 

Just what you want from the King of Atlantis. A lot has happened since the first Aquaman movie. Arthur is now the King of Atlantis and he's just managing to keep his head above water, finding that it requires more compromise with the multi-species Atlantean Council than merely busting their heads. He has now "put a ring on it" (and not one of his telekinesis rings) and is married to Mera (Amber Heard—she's in this a lot more than people were gleefully speculating, proving once again that the Internet is a very fallible, mean-spirited place), and they have a son, Arthur Jr. (too many babies to mention), who is just starting to take on Dad's traits. The couple are living at the lighthouse of Arthur's Dad (Temuera Morrison, again) and Mom Atlanna (Nicole Kidman) stops by every so often to help manage the chaos.

But, these are troubling times: Arthur's mentor Vulko (Willem Dafoe, MIA) has died in "the plague" which is glossed over more than at Kennedy for President Headquarters. Half-brother Orm (Patrick Wilson) is in prison for his crimes while King of Atlantis (Hmph. Must be nice.) and the Black Manta (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) has skipped a couple steps of the grieving process and is still plotting revenge against the A-man for the death of his father and given to going around the lair muttering things like "Every day I don't fix my power-suit is another day Aquaman lives." That's not exactly a good morning affirmation and hints that not only the power-suit has a screw loose. He's aided and abetted by some disposable Manta-mob and Dr. Stephen Shin (Randall Park), one of those brilliant McGyver-esque scientists who can use alien technology on the first try but just not brilliant enough to get a legitimate job.* Dude can't even get a grant!

Anyway, the plot is some nonsense about Manta being so OCD avenging his Father that he puts the entire Earth at risk, seeking out a power source to revive Kordax (Pilou Asbæk), the frozen dead King of the Lost Kingdom of Nekrus, that was banished from the 7 Atlantean kingdoms a long time ago in a Peter Jackson-style flashback. Manta has a found a green-glowing trident (called "the Black trident") with which he can communicate with Kordax, but it's usually a one-sided conversation of Kordax telling him what to do.

So, Aquaman and Atlantis get wind (or current) of all this, and A-man decides that he needs to recruit some help, which he does by springing his brother Orm out of prison, with the help of a invisi-suit, and a stealth octopus by the name of Topo (which stands for Tactical Observation and Pursuit Operative) and, as Mom Atlanna explains he has a "genetically engineered intelligence for infiltration and espionage." "And," she explains further "he also plays a variety of musical instruments" (I only remember him playing drums in the comics, but it's been a while).

Orm and Arthur (of course) have "history" so they bicker and feud and bust each other's chops perpetually and it would get very tiresome if it weren't for Momoa's boisterousness and Wilson's acting response to him. Which (in its brilliant way) is to underplay to such a degree that one gets the impression that all of this mayhem and craziness is pretty much run-of-the-mill stuff and as real as clammy palms. I thought Wilson and his Orm character were the dullest part of the first Aquaman feature, but here, he's an absolute tonic of dead-pan stoniness and competence.**

It's needed. The surprise of him is needed because this one feels a bit rote. The first film had all the gee-whizzery of a new play-set, but this one seems to be missing a couple of necessary parts. Oh, it moves like anything, with whooshy, spinny, disorienting action sequences every ten minutes of so, but there are no great set-pieces like the first film's violent mad dash across Sicilian roof-tops. Nothing drops your jaw here.

Except for some of the special effects and not in a good way. The first film was a fun world-builder with its undersea kingdoms and giant seahorses and mounted sharks. But, you get the impression that since the first one was a hit the producers felt they could scrimp on the CGI budget and take full advantage of the murky, shimmery water overlays to hide some dodgy pixelation. There's one whole sequence where it feels like everybody's head is slightly askew of their bodies, and it's a bit of a relief when a sequence shows up with no digital effects at all. But, they're few...and far between.

It's a bit of a plunge from what the first one offered, even factoring in the "thrill of the new." This one feels clogged with recycled material--from The Lord of the Rings, Black Panther, even Iron Man. The comic book world is naturally self-reflexive and the same tidal forces apply to comic book movies. You have to do something different, risking the loyalty of fans, to reinvigorate a property, and that is something that producers are not brave and bold enough to do. It's a question of stemming the tide or just becoming back-wash. Forget about Lost Kingdoms. This should have been called Aquaman and the Lost Opportunity.

 Aquaman, Storm and Topo...together again.

* Imagine Shin's job interview with Black Manta: "Dr., what do you see as your five-year goals?" "Well, developing a more powerful energy source." "WRONG answer! It should be to KILL Aquaman!" "Uhhhh-huh! (uncomfortable pause)...Do you offer insurance?"

 

** Ya know who else is good in this movie that you'd never guess? Dolph Lundgren. He was very good in the first Aquaman, but here, he's given more to do and he's subtle and majestic. The man was born to play kings. 

Inherent Vice

Marijuana Jones and the Curse of the Golden Fang
or
"What's Up, Doc?" 

I've never smoked dope. Never been tempted and probably never will be (despite living in one of the—first—two states to legalize its recreational use). When asked why (usually by someone who has and is saying more about themselves than actually caring about the reason) my standard answer is: "The world doesn't need me any more paranoid."

It's a nice laugh line, but it's also true—the world doesn't necessarily need me any more paranoid, but I certainly don't need myself to be. I'm paranoid enough as it is.*

Which brings us to the central conceit of Inherent Vice—a film noir about a stoner detective.**  The thing about film noir (the term—meaning "black film"—coined by French film critics for the pulpy paranoid ambiguously moral post-war films that had a cynical edge to them) is that they're set in a Universe—ours, unfortunately—where unseen forces are in control of things to the detriment of the people too busy with their ordinary lives to notice something wrong.  The best description I've read of film noir is it depicts a world where "the streets are dark with something more than night."***

Precisely. There are things more black than night...especially when it comes to the motivations and the souls of men, the stuff of those "detective" stories with long shadows running through them that hide evil from detection and provide a cloak for those wanting to remain anonymous and invisible.

So, we have a stoner detective, already a little paranoid in how the world works under the influence, operating in the film noir world promoting paranoia on the not-so-grand scale. Seems a natural. ****  And Thomas Pynchon used it for "...Vice," his most accessible novel to date. Paul Thomas Anderson has made a film of it.

I'm not the biggest fan of Paul Thomas Anderson. He's a critical darling (like Quentin Tarantino, but at least P.T. isn't such a snorter of other people's material) which makes me suspicious of him. I rarely find him consistently entertaining, but his films are always interesting...well, filled with interesting ideas, bridged by some meandering sections and extended diversions that test the patience of the viewer. He is, however, never afraid to take on a challenge, even if the reach exceeds his grasp, which is always worth supporting. The works of Thomas Pynchon have never been filmed before...because they are nothing if not a challenge...and his novel of "Inherent Vice" is as close to being movie material as he has come.

It tells the story of LA P.I. Larry "Doc" Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) who is tasked by ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay Hepworth (Katherine Waterston) with the finding of her current lover Michael Wolfmann (Eric Roberts) who has gone missing. Shasta suspects foul play—not hard to figure out since Wolfmann's wife (Serena Scott Thomas) and her current lover have asked for her cooperation with the enticement of reward, and she's laying low—staying untraceable, just in case.

Doc is not exactly a high roller (although he could easily fit one of those terms separately), having his office in an L.A. free-clinic. Almost immediately, clues start coming in about Wolfmann and his disappearance, and Doc find life getting complicated. His first recce/sortie is to a future Wolfmann development site, which is currently the site for a double-wide "massage parlor" where Doc is knocked unconscious and awakens next to the dead body of Wolfmann's body-guard (or we should say former bodyguard), surrounded by squad cars and the loaded guns of their occupants, led by the humorless presence of Lt. Det. Christian F. "Bigfoot" Bjornsen (Josh Brolin), who, along with being a part-time actor, has a checkered history with Doc.

Doc is questioned as a key-witness to the murder, before his lawyer Sauncho Silax, Esq (Benicio Del Toro) shows up to advise (despite specializing in maritime law) and spring him. Doc drifts from person of interest to person of interest—a crack Mom (Jena Malone), her "disappeared" husband (played by Owen Wilson, so obviously he's not disappeared), former clients, white supremacist groups, black activists, a drug cartel called "The Golden Fang," and a society of dentists. Clearly, there's safety in numbers and it's tough out there for a lone wolf like Doc. With all the covert operations and secret societies, professional or otherwise, it only lends to the paranoia associated with the noir world, obscured in shadow and fog, but also by Doc's personal purple haze.

Another aspect of the noir that Pynchon has hit on is the unresolved loose threads of post-war versions. Ever since Chandler and Howard Hawks' presentation of The Big Sleep***** has been the apparent lack of attention to details. Mystery aficionados and fans of Dame Agatha do not appreciate the victims who fall through the cracks, and it can be frustrating for regular audiences, too ("Wait a minute...what happened to....?"). Few questions are answered in Inherent Vice to a consistent degree. This may mar any entertainment value for the casual viewer—you'll also find the tone of the thing different from the comedy tone of the trailer; it's more of a peculiarity than a comedy.

These guys should do a movie together...maybe with music.

Still, I took pleasure in the final shot where Doc is driving through the night, the headlights of the cars behind him illuminating the suspicious squint in his eyes—as fine a visual representation of the mood of noir as I've seen.

Inherent Vice is also the first movie that genuinely gave me the munchies.

* The oldest joke I remember on the subject is "It's a wonder I'm NOT paranoid, what with the whole world against me and everything..."

** Nope.  Don't bring up comparisons to The Big Lebowski, even though its plot resembles that of the Dean of detective novels, Raymond Chandler. Jeff Bridges' "Dude" is not a detective, so much as a righteous man seeking revenge.

*** Raymond Chandler, again, from 1950's "The Simple Art of Murder."

**** I've always wanted to see a production of "Harvey" updated so that Dowd, "Elwood P," doesn't see puca's because of booze, but because of hallucinogens.  I've always imagined Jack Nicholson as Dowd.

***** There is the story where Humphrey Bogart asked Hawks who killed the chauffeur and Hawks couldn't tell him, nor could the screenwriters.  They wired Chandler who claimed it was one character and Hawks remembered that character was someplace else.  "I don't know," said Chandler.