The thrilling Into Darkness proves that J.J. Abrams is the right director to helm this franchise (as well as his recently assigned takeover of Star Wars). This is a big, overly complicated popcorn movie-a well-deserved action thriller with some of pop culture’s most beloved characters.
Kirk (Pine) and Spock (Quinto) are still trying to sort out their relationship when a rogue terrorist (Cumberbatch) attacks Star Fleet. The USS Enterprise crew is dispatched to kill the evildoer, but, of course, Kirk and Spock never strictly follow orders. Kirk and Spock battle over protocol and procedure while trying to bring the superhuman super-villain to justice.
In the meantime, some spectacular special effects fill the screen, and terrible secrets come to light. It’s all in the name of overblown fun.
Abrams still seems comfortable with the characters and their humor. Here he shows more of a propensity for the melodrama the original Star Trek often espoused. Perhaps the theme and plot aren’t quite as unified as in the 2009 re-launch, but most audiences aren’t going to notice.
What viewers probably will note are some serious gaps in logic-like if one villain can hide some major, grandiose works, why is disposing of some evidence so difficult? Why does it have to be so elaborate?
I think Abram’s second film is supposed to be more fun and less uptight. It commits to breaking the rules, just like Enterprise’s beloved crew.
Baz Luhrmann’s uneven version of Gatsby-like all other film versions-will never be as engaging as the novel. What Luhrmann at first offers is the caffeinated opulence and modern music he brought to Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge. By the end, the whole enterprise completely sinks into bipolar moroseness.
For those of you who didn’t have to read the novel in junior high, it’s 1922-the height of Prohibition-and novelist Nick (Maguire) has moved to NYC to try his hand at stocks and bonds. His cousin Daisy (Mulligan) already lives there with her rich, caddish husband Tom (Edgerton), whose family has old money. Across the bay from their mansion is Gatsby (DiCaprio), who’s hoping his newly acquired riches will lure Daisy away from Tom. Nick basically only narrates and helps facilitate the infidelity.
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel posited powerful things about jazz, the emergence of Industrialism and stock capitalism, and the power of American optimism. Luhrmann skips most of that. Instead, he starts by tweaking the plot, frontloading the film like a glittery, ADHD Cliffs Notes. The second half-like in many of the other Gatsby versions-is windless, wordy, and lugubrious.
As a final note, this film is offered in 3D. What’s the point? The 3D glasses make Luhrmann’s luridness dimmer and grimier. Also, do we really need to see glitter, fireworks and sequins in three dimensions to get that Gatsby’s world is grandiloquent?
Epic is oak-solid animation for the kids, but it may leave the adults wanting more from this miniature world. The visuals are vibrant, and the voice talent is varied and strong. It’s just that this film is so very G-rated that it’s a little boring.
Seyfried’s character has to live with her dad after her mother dies of some terrible disease (which is never named and the death occurs off-screen). Dad is a bit of a scatterbrain, a scientist who insists that “little people” are in a grand battle to save the forests of the world. He wants to capture them on camera, so this divorcee ignores his daughter. Just as she wants to run away from Dad’s craziness, though, Seyfried gets sucked into the little world, which may or may not be on the brink of extinction.
The world itself is cool. Knowles is Mother Nature, and fighters Hutcherson and Farrell ride around on hummingbirds, all decked out in Celtic scrollwork and greenery.
The story is about how we’re all connected in this battle of birth and decay. The problem is that things and people die, but it’s handled in such a gentle way that all we sense is birth. Huge battles seem to have nothing really at stake. Seyfried’s mother’s death is never plumbed, and other characters face demise and grief in a way that would scarcely cause a four-year-old to bat an eyelash.
You must be logged in to post a comment.