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‘Hamilton’ makes a satisfying leap to Disney+

Throughout the history of cinema, there’s always been an obsession with attempting to recapture the past. Whether it’s films like Ben-Hur, All the President’s Men, or even movies that twist history like Inglorious Basterds, these movies often try to contextualize their stories as being more than just the “true” stories they’re based on in order to draw eyes. They sometimes claim accuracy despite drastically altering history in the name of entertainment. However, in a time when we are actively reckoning with our history, it begs the question: how do we channel our feelings about this history and how do we react to what has come before?

‘Hamilton’ makes a satisfying leap to Disney+

by Trevor Sheffield Throughout the history of cinema, there’s always been an obsession with attempting to recapture the past. Whether it’s films like Ben-Hur, All the President’s Men, or even movies that twist history like Inglorious Basterds, these movies often try to contextualize their stories as being more than just the “true” stories they’re based on in order to draw eyes. They sometimes claim accuracy despite drastically altering history in the name of entertainment. However, in a time when we are actively reckoning with our history, it begs the question: how do we channel our feelings about this history and how do we react to what has come before? The subject in question is Hamilton, released this July 3rd on Disney+ (after initially being slated for a theatrical release in October 2021). Hamilton is a 2016 recording of the Broadway musical phenomenon written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, following the life and demise of the titular Alexander Hamilton (Lin-Manuel Miranda). Taking place during the American Revolution and continuing through Hamilton’s final fatal duel with Aaron Burr (Leslie Odom Jr.), we see the orphaned Alexander cross paths with George Washington (Christopher Jackson), make enemies with Thomas Jefferson (Daveed Diggs), and fall in love with Angelica Schulyer (Renée Elise Goldsberry) but marry her sister Eliza (Phillipa Soo), all the while contemplating his own legacy and reckoning with death itself. Liberty, hot rhymes, and shenanigans ensue. How the Sausage Gets Made Going into Hamilton on Disney+, the most experience I had had with the musical (aside from seeing Miranda perform cuts from the original concept album at a presidential dinner and watching the infamous “Hamilton Polka” later on) were a few of the big numbers from the show. In the immediate wake of Hamilton’s success on Broadway, I admit that my interest in the show was somewhat shallow, partially due to a relative lack of interest in the theater beyond high school productions I had participated in (and my own clearly unrefined tastes). Regardless of this, I can now say without hesitation that it lives up to all the hype. Every aspect of Hamilton, including the music, the performances, and the overall style of the show, absolutely works. Directed for the stage by Thomas Kail (who collaborated with Miranda prior to this on the musical In the Heights), the story is staged in such a way that the action feels up-close and personal to the audience along with the folks at home. The cinematography used to capture the show blurs the line between theater and film, often juxtaposing shots of the entire stage with close-up shots of the actors during the show’s more emotionally resonant moments. Speaking of the actors, the sheer amount of talent the cast displays is awe-inspiring. While Miranda does an excellent job as the titular character, the two performances that absolutely steal the show are Odom’s and Diggs’s. With Diggs as Jefferson, you get an enjoyably cartoonish foil to Alexander’s hubris. In turn, you get Odom as Burr, whose pseudo-narrator role elevates every single sequence he’s in. It’s hard to explain without giving away the highlights, but Hamilton goes to great lengths in giving depth to “the damn fool that shot him.” Ultimately, what ties the piece together is the sheer humanity on display, through numbers like “Satisfied” and (in the case of the aforementioned Burr) “Wait for It.” The ensemble cast is also incredible, managing to not only flesh out the interior world of the piece through movement and interaction with the main cast, but bring to it all a sense of life that is palpable throughout the show’s runtime. Saying No to This However, despite the piece’s dedication to portraying the key figures in play as flawed, human characters, there’s undoubtedly some blind spots that are especially apparent given the current national situation. The biggest issue at play here is ultimately in how Hamilton tries to humanize its core cast. Throughout the show, the biggest flaws these characters display concern things like pride, selfishness, and even adultery (I’m not lying when I say that The Greatest Showman, another historical musical that came after Hamilton, shares a practically identical turning point regarding the main character cheating on his wife). However, like the aforementioned Showman, Hamilton chooses to largely ignore arguably the biggest issue surrounding its entire cast of historical figures: slavery. Now, I’m not saying that Hamilton made this choice out of a place of malice (Miranda recently addressed this issue via Twitter, and the Disney+ release includes a roundtable discussion with the cast that touches on the racial aspect of the show), but speaking from a historical context, the choice to shy away from truly acknowledging it beyond a few barbs Hamilton spits at Thomas Jefferson mid-rap battle just feels off. It’s not so much a matter of negligence in that case, but rather a sense of willful side-stepping that comes off as the show trying to have its cake and eat it too—being able to tell the stories of “complicated” men without requiring the audience to truly question the irony of their complicity in slavery when conducting the American experiment. This is especially so considering the piece’s sense of patriotism and belief in the greater morals of the Founding Fathers. Overall, these portrayals are concerning in that they could be (given the show’s prominence in popular culture) used to brush off or otherwise ignore the genuinely terrible things some of these historical figures did, and justify it based on the show’s historical “accuracy.” Living, Dying, and Telling Stories All things considered, Hamilton is two things. On one hand, it’s an utterly astounding and ambitious piece of musical theater that attempts to reframe the kindling of our country in the voice of the then-voiceless. It’s an actively engaging piece whose greatest triumphs lie in its lyrics and performance, as well as the fact that it is willing to be more open about the faults of the figures metaphorically taking center stage. On the other hand, despite the problems it does acknowledge, it largely presents a rosy picture of the Founding Fathers, all but ignoring the issue of their relationship to slavery. Again, I wouldn’t claim this to be willful denial or ignorance on part of Mr. Miranda’s writing. However, it’s undeniable how people could see the show’s attitude toward our country’s founders (especially in 2020) as being almost naively optimistic toward the characters and intents of those in “The Room Where it Happens.” With that being said, I still wholly recommend giving Hamilton your time. Regardless of the rose-colored glasses it may wear regarding history, the musical is still a genuinely engrossing masterpiece of music and choreography that feels impossibly solid, presented in one of the best filmed theatrical pieces I’ve ever seen, if not the best. As historical theater, it is by no means perfect. However, as a musical, it is downright historic. Featured Image: IMDb Images: IMDb Sources: Bustle, YouTube

‘Onward’ conjures another mystifying masterpiece for Pixar

by Trevor Sheffield In the modern pop culture landscape, it would be a boldfaced lie to claim people aren’t obsessed with the fantastical. Whether it’s the longevity of the Lord of the Rings saga, the intense care people have for Harry Potter, or the many, many, many, shows on the Internet centered around the evergreen, tabletop favorite Dungeons & Dragons (or DnD), we live in an age where people care greatly about worlds of mirth and magicks, perhaps now more than ever.  However, this raises a thought: for all our modern world likes to pay tribute to days of swords and sorcery, what would happen if the two planes were to meet? It looks like Pixar may have found the answer.  Dungeons & Slacks Onward, directed by Monsters University head Dan Scanlon, takes place in a massive fantasy land of danger, wonder... and indoor plumbing. As the march of technological progress has gradually stripped his world of the magic that once defined it, all young Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) wants is a chance to finally connect with his father, who passed away before he was born. On the eve of his 16th birthday, Ian is finally granted that chance through a rare form of magic...and it does not go as planned. Now, with 24 hours on the clock and the lower half of his dad from beyond the grave in tow, Ian must work together with his older brother, Barley (Chris Pratt), to restore their father in full before he gets sent back to the afterlife for good. I think the first thing to say about this movie, especially considering Pixar’s other fare, is regarding whether or not you’re going to cry your eyeballs out over it. It’s practically a trademark of the company to make audiences around the globe weepy by the time the credits roll, and in a way, I’m genuinely happy to say this isn’t that kind of movie. Of course, the movie has an extremely strong emotional through line in the form of Ian’s angst and the journey he goes through with Barley (Pratt’s performance is an unexpected MVP, but more on that later). However, I’d say the movie is cut far more from the cloth of films like Monsters Inc. and, at times, The Incredibles than it is from films like Toy Story or Inside Out. It’s far more concerned with creating a unique, fleshed-out universe and allowing the conflict — and comedy — to simply flow forth from what we’re given. It allows for plenty of  room to riff on, in this case, long-standing fantasy tropes and creatures. In Onward, trolls run toll booths, centaurs drive squad cars, unicorns are effectively rats with (useless) wings, and that’s just the start of it. It’s that unique kind of wit you can only get from the house of Luxo Jr. By that same token, Onward does sometimes fall into the trap of repeating the same plot beats you’ve come to expect with Pixar — it's another “polar opposites go on a wacky/traumatic adventure of self-discovery” movie. In turn, it loses some sight of the initial “modern fantasy world” premise by the third act, and the less said of the current overall Disney trend to include LGBTQ+ characters in their films in such a way that they’re easily disposable for the foreign release, the better. However, for what flaws and simplicity the film has, it lends to a much greater meaning below the surface. Rolling for a Mid-Life Crisis It’s that conflict that lends Onward to tackle an idea that I feel is arguably underutilized in film: the extinction of fantasy by modernity. Now, when I say this, I mean it not in the sense of “co-option,” where something like Harry Potter smooshes together fantastical things like goblins and wizards and the like into a modern society. Nor do I mean it in the sense of your stereotypical apocalypse, signified by some needlessly abstract sky-hole/laser/machine our heroes need to destroy to earn their happy ending.  Onward’s greatest strength isn’t in its animation (which is nothing short of Pixar-perfect), its humor (which largely hits), or even the Simpsons short that plays before the movie (to which, at least it wasn’t the Frozen “short” that aired before Coco). It’s in the choices the film makes when it comes to characters like Corey (Octavia Spencer), a (formerly) legendary manticore warrior who — as a result of modernization — has bills to pay, lawsuits to avoid, and is stuck running what can only be described as a fantasy T.G.I. Friday’s/Chuck E. Cheese, where her “legend” is rendered through sanitized place mat doodles and a dopey-looking mascot suit. In turn, it’s the choices made when it comes to Barley: he’s obsessed with what the world used to be, spending his days trying to defend historical sites and meticulously plotting out campaigns for “Quests of Yore” — a “historically-accurate” tabletop game that is Dungeons and Dragons in all but name. It’s the choice, and a testament to the ability of the filmmakers, to be able to present us these characters and allow us to take their problems just as seriously as it can crack jokes about them. There’s an extremely subtle moment of acting done on the part of both Pratt and the animators near the end of the film that completely sells the true conflict of his character. It’s an action that, while minor, has drawn out feelings I haven’t truly experienced since initially seeing Edgar Wright’s The World’s End. I won’t spoil it here, but as goofy as the character comes across, Pratt and the animation team are able to sell you on the inherent tragedy behind both Barley — the juxtaposition of who people are before and after “their” time — and the premise as a whole — a world where genuine wonder has been rendered obsolete from convenience and bureaucracy. Both are entwined by a fear of moving on, a fear of stepping beyond the threshold into the unknown, a fear of going...insert the title of the film here. Spelling it Out I wholly realize that there are elements of this movie I’ve yet to properly touch upon — the full extent of the animation work, the film’s score, cinematography, etc. —  but with the pedigree in play, it’s only under rare circumstances that either element would be anything short of top-notch. Despite its shortcomings, this movie manages to do a lot with what it has in play. As a Pixar film, it’s a good stand-alone effort and a great opening act to Soul coming this summer. Otherwise? It’s likely the best DnD movie made thus far (without it actually being DnD). Either way, you’re in for one heck of a quest. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb

‘Sonic the Hedgehog’ barely breaks the speed limit

Once upon a time in 1991, the world was introduced to Sonic the Hedgehog. Created by Japanese video game developer Sega and debuting with a self-titled game on the Sega Genesis console, he was created to embody everything “cool” at the time. Through an extensive ad campaign promoting this radical new character and the mythical power of “Blast Processing,” Sonic made people go wild. He came to dominate the 90s, with multiple successful games, cartoons, merchandising opportunities, and even theme parks.

‘Sonic the Hedgehog’ barely breaks the speed limit

by Trevor Sheffield Once upon a time in 1991, the world was introduced to Sonic the Hedgehog. Created by Japanese video game developer Sega and debuting with a self-titled game on the Sega Genesis console, he was created to embody everything “cool” at the time. Through an extensive ad campaign promoting this radical new character and the mythical power of “Blast Processing,” Sonic made people go wild. He came to dominate the 90s, with multiple successful games, cartoons, merchandising opportunities, and even theme parks. Then came the new millennium, and it all went to Hell. In the aftermath of the franchise’s jump to 3D gameplay, the 2006 release of Sonic the Hedgehog (dubbed Sonic ‘06) sent the entire series back leaps and bounds both in terms of gameplay and in the eyes of the general public. Since then, the Sonic franchise has carried a massive chip on its shoulder, playing off its repeatedly low critical reception largely through making fun of itself, if the brand’s infamous Twitter account is anything to go by. With a hotly anticipated feature adaption on our hands, one must ask: Can Sonic still leave an impact with modern audiences, even in an age where the franchise’s legacy is seemingly built upon irony and its own missteps?  When you’re here, you’re family Sonic the Hedgehog, directed by Jeff Fowler in his directorial debut, dares to prove so. It tells the story of Sonic (Ben Schwartz), a teenage blue hedgehog with the amazing abilities of super speed, teleportation rings, and knowing what Uber is despite not having a cell phone. At the outset, our blue blur’s been hiding out on our planet in idyllic Green Hills, Montana, putzing around with the locals and trying to keep his sanity in a self-imposed exile. After a freak accident draws the wandering eye of one Dr. Ivo Robotnik (Jim Carrey), Sonic’s forced to go on the run and ultimately must embrace his developing powers to save the world...or so one would think. The movie’s actually about Sheriff Tom Wachowski (Jason Marsden) having to deal with feelings of insecurity over his small town life as he and his wife Rachel (Natasha Rothwell) bond over their mutual love of Olive Garden (which is a running gag) and the wonders of Zello, Speed, and The Naked Gun. Wachowski’s planning on moving to San Francisco to “see some action,” until he meets a weird blue hedgehog who’s been spying on him and his wife. He then unintentionally becomes a widely-known terrorist by escorting said hedgehog to San Francisco in his Toyota pick-up truck while also fighting off a psychopathic Jim Carrey who wants that hedgehog dead as dirt. Tom ultimately learns that small towns beat big towns, or how to be a good dad, or insert your Aesop moral of choice here. I’m going to cut the chase; fans young and old of the series are sure to get a kick out of Sonic the Hedgehog. It’s chock-full of references to the franchise’s tenured past and high-speed action that clearly draws from the Quicksilver sequences in Days of Future Past. However, if you barely know what a “Sonic” is, the movie only truly works if you view it as an 90s period piece, attempting to harken back to the days of movies like E.T. and its numerous copycats with all that would imply. It ticks off all the boxes. A wacky fantastical creature that shows up on Earth and doesn’t fit in? Check. A largely generic protagonist who has to help our title character and ends up learning something along the way? Check. Throw in an ungodly amount of pop culture references and attempts to relate to the adult audience a la The Smurfs and Hop, and you’ve got a bingo. However, regardless of the writing, it goes without saying how much Carrey and Schwartz carry this film with their performances alone. Schwartz as Sonic does an excellent job of capturing the character (or at least, what little character is there to capture), even if it does get somewhat overbearing at times. Carrey, meanwhile, literally loses his mind in front of a camera for 90 minutes, and it’s a performance for the ages. Everybody else gets little to do by comparison, with Marsden running through the motions of having another cartoon animal bum a ride off him to some exotic location. Except for the few times we actually get to see Sonic or Robotnik in action, you’ve very literally seen this all before.  Crunching hedgehogs It’s nearly impossible to talk about this film without acknowledging the infamous online backlash regarding Sonic’s original appearance. The public hated it, one of the lead programmers on the original Sonic game was befuddled by it, and Paramount executives literally came out saying that the initial design was solely in play because they thought it’d gel better with the live action nature of the film. Personally, I stand in the camp of supporting the original design, if partially out of an intrigue akin to my fond love of Tom Hooper’s Cats, and partially under the aforementioned 90s movie logic that (had this film been made back then), Sonic would have been a horrifying puppet monstrosity only the hellish fires of the Jim Henson Creature Shop could forge.  However, regardless of what this says about modern fandom entitlement in an age where people seemingly do nothing but whine about “Snyder Cut” this and “Duel of the Fates” that, Sonic is an oasis. Despite the odds being completely against them, the digital effects artists on this project did work that is commendable and applaudable. The revised design and animation, guided by longtime Sonic artist Tyson Hesse, is pitch perfect. It doesn’t change the fact that there was undoubtedly a good amount of crunch (needlessly long work hours) in play to rework all of the animation and design done prior, even with the film delayed, or the fact that the studio that worked on the rework, MPC, was closed down shortly before the film released, laying off roughly 800 people at the drop of a hat. It most certainly doesn’t change the fact that all of this fuss was raised to force people to spend time redeveloping the one thing that, compared to the rest of this movie’s issues, didn’t need to change one bit. It almost begs the question: is this how we value visual effects artists? Do they deserve this kind of treatment, this blame, even when you know for a fact that they had no say in what they had to render? Is Sonic the Hedgehog even worthy of being the hill to die on? With that being said, what’s more disappointing about Sonic than the mistreatment of its visual effects artists is undoubtedly the music. In a franchise almost universally known for how hard it goes in the soundtrack department (thanks in part to longtime series composer and Crush 40 frontman Jun Senoue), the movie’s soundtrack pales in comparison. Save for the occasional reprise of “Green Hill Zone” and other motifs from the Genesis days (originally composed by Masato Nakamura), it’s a shame that Sonic’s music, done by Fury Road and Deadpool veteran Junkie X.L., feels so derivative at times. Heck, the same could be said for the movie’s theme song. How we live in a world where this got chosen over this, I’ll never know. Running in circles Admittedly, I feel my disillusionment with Sonic the Hedgehog may just be the result of years upon years of not just disillusionment with the Sonic franchise, but perhaps overexposure to films of this ilk. As I was leaving the theater after watching this film, the kids in my audience were absolutely losing their minds in such a way I haven’t seen in some time. It was a pure, rapturous high in the aftermath of the movie they saw, untainted by years of cynicism and how the Internet has interpreted their hero over the years.  I can’t guarantee that you’ll like this movie, regardless of whether or not you’re a fan of the source material. However, in my tenure covering more family-oriented fare, I’ve never seen the intended audience for a film like Sonic the Hedgehog react the way they did. As much as I may complain on and on about this film, I won’t deny it. If this movie came out when I was their age, I probably would have been losing my mind too. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb

‘Cats’ is a traumatizing example of mankind’s hubris

Disclaimer: The following review of Cats is of the original release of the film. Current Cats screenings contain “enhanced special effects” which are not reflected upon in this review.

‘Playmobil: The Movie’ is a choking hazard for the senses

With 2019 starting to wind down and some of its final films coming to the big screen, it’s worth noting the various accomplishments mainstream cinema has managed to achieve over the course of these last few months. Disney and Marvel released Avengers: Endgame, which went on to become the highest grossing film of all time. Disney and Pixar released Toy Story 4 to great critical acclaim and capped off the Toy Story saga (for now). Perhaps most importantly, Disney acquired 20th Century Fox and all of its entertainment assets, assimilating studios like Blue Sky and Fox Searchlight into the fold. This also brought the not-so-quiet cracking down of repeat screenings of older Fox films to give more space to things like The Lion King (2019) and Aladdin (2019), to the detriment of non-chain theaters across the country.

‘Cats’ is a traumatizing example of mankind’s hubris

by Trevor Sheffield Disclaimer: The following review of Cats is of the original release of the film. Current Cats screenings contain “enhanced special effects” which are not reflected upon in this review. In 1982, a man named Andrew Lloyd Webber opened a musical called Cats on Broadway. Based on author T.S. Eliot’s poetry collection entitled Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, the show follows a gaggle of audacious felines as they effectively debate over who deserves reincarnation. It’s gone on to completely revolutionize musical theater as we know it, and became Webber’s most iconic work, which lives on in infamy to this day. In 2019, a man named Tom Hooper (of Les Misérables “fame”) directed a film adaptation of Mr. Webber’s production, and I’d dare argue that it is the single-most horrifying film this year has to offer—and it doesn’t even have a body count. Keeping up with the Jellicles To clarify, Cats, released December 20, is an adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s infamous Broadway production centered around a bunch of cats. More specifically, it's centered around the Jellicle cats and the induction of Victoria (newcomer Francesca Hayward) on the night of the Jellicle Ball—an opportunity where an extremely old cat named Old Deuteronomy (Dame Judy Dench) will make the Jellicle Choice. The cat chosen in the Jellicle Choice will be taken to the Heaviside Layer, and promptly be reborn into a new life...provided the nefarious Macavity (Idris Elba) doesn’t have his way. At least, that’s what I presume the story is. In all genuine honesty, Cats is roughly an hour and fifty minutes of characters introducing themselves, having extended musical numbers about themselves, and then either fading into the background or poofing into dust as a result of Macavity’s evil magic. With the exception of a single song written for the film (Taylor Swift’s “Beautiful Ghosts”), all of it is derived from the musical, and I don’t know whether to describe this film’s songs as playfully tone-deaf or beautifully insane. The orchestrations appear to be largely taken straight from the source as well, pattered out on what sounds like the combination of an eighty-piece orchestra and a CASIO keyboard. It’s as if you stretched the holographic gymnastics portion of the Star Wars Holiday Special to feature length—right down to the hellish circumstances that surround the show. Straight from sleep paralysis These choices ultimately translate over to the actual filmmaking itself, in every conceivable way. Out of the gate, Cats makes the choice as a live-action feature to shrink its actors down to the size of actual cats through oversized sets, and utilizes a combination of motion capture and “advanced digital fur technology” to paint them into “cats.” I use “cats” in quotation marks because at best, these are not cats. These are normal, human beings photoshopped in real time to vaguely resemble the idea of a cat. At worst, these are gremlin-like creatures with human faces, feet, and hands, all vaguely tied to naked, furry bodies that feel as if someone spent too much time modeling every crevasse on them. Sometimes, they’re buck naked except a fur coat or cat Nikes. Sometimes, they have full-on outfits. In the case of characters like Bustopher Jones (James Corden, at his most insufferable), his clothes are just “painted” onto the naked fur. Normally, I wouldn’t raise this much umbridge over such a choice (even as egregious as this), but that’s the problem. This movie is rated PG, and it’s arguably more horrifying than any horror film I’ve ever seen, solely on the value that all of this CGI work and weird, vaguely sexual choreography is meant to be “normal.” Contained within the disturbing pocket universe Cats takes place in, we’re wholly expected to take these moving Photoshop monstrosities as legitimate parts of this universe, and it creates an existentially terrifying reality amongst the abstracted events on display. I’m just saying, when you hint at the existence of other animals in this universe with cats, rats, and even cockroaches being size-accurate, human-animal monstrosities, it isn’t hard for the mind to wonder: “If this is what the cats look like...then what about people?” “It’s just cats…” I legitimately have no further words that can properly describe Tom Hooper’s Cats. In almost all ways, it embodies everything fundamentally wrong with the modern cinematic definition of “adaptation” and weaponizes the CGI we have taken for granted in countless large studio films for evil. Watching this film is akin to the scene from Raiders of the Lost Arc, where the villains stare into the Arc of the Covenant and have their faces melted off by the sheer unknowable power of the artifact in front of them. The only difference is that the Arc here is slathered in electronic fuzz and has an eight-minute tap number about a cat who really likes trains.  In many ways, I almost consider it to be the second coming of The Rocky Horror Picture Show; an audacious, unorthodox piece of cinema that dares to defy every convention in favor of a unique creative vision. It will last for years to come, the Jellicle Ball a future mainstay of raucous midnight movie masses ad infinitum. Theaters will be filled to the gills with audiences who will return to see who gets chosen yet again to go to the Heaviside Layer. It is pure anarchy, and it is the kind of anarchy we need right meow. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb

‘Playmobil: The Movie’ is a choking hazard for the senses

by Trevor Sheffield With 2019 starting to wind down and some of its final films coming to the big screen, it’s worth noting the various accomplishments mainstream cinema has managed to achieve over the course of these last few months. Disney and Marvel released Avengers: Endgame, which went on to become the highest grossing film of all time. Disney and Pixar released Toy Story 4 to great critical acclaim and capped off the Toy Story saga (for now). Perhaps most importantly, Disney acquired 20th Century Fox and all of its entertainment assets, assimilating studios like Blue Sky and Fox Searchlight into the fold. This also brought the not-so-quiet cracking down of repeat screenings of older Fox films to give more space to things like The Lion King (2019) and Aladdin (2019), to the detriment of non-chain theaters across the country. But for all the morally-questionable victories won this year, there’s another side of the coin. 2019 made itself home to four of the biggest bombs in cinematic history: Laika’s Missing Link, STX’s Uglydolls, and AMBI’s Arctic Dogs all made headlines for flopping in their widespread theatrical releases, each progressively worse than the last.  At least their U.S. releases weren’t delayed as a result of distributors going bankrupt, only for it to hit American theaters six months after being released overseas—at half the ticket price of their competitors. If I had to encapsulate everything wrong with the films I’ve seen this year into one neat, convenient package, it would be— without a doubt—Playmobil: The Movie. Homer’s Odyssey (for dummies) Playmobil: The Movie, directed by Lino DiSalvo, tells the “epic” story of Marla (Anya Taylor-Joy, in both live-action and animation) and her younger brother Charlie (Gabriel Bateman), who are sucked into a world of animated playthings in the extended aftermath of their parents’ sudden, off-screen car crash. When Charlie gets abducted by the buffoonish King Maximus (Adam Lambert) to participate in gladiatorial combat against a variety of archetypal characters, Marla is forced to assemble her own gang of generic goons to save her brother and learn a lesson (supposedly). Before I even get into the hard specifics of Playmobil, I just have to say one thing about it: there is no hook. This is the same, basic “odyssey” plot you’ve seen a million times over, albeit sometimes yanking elements from movies like Finding Nemo and even the original Star Wars, either to pad out the runtime or otherwise try to remind you of better flicks you could be watching instead of Playmobil: The Movie. One could perhaps argue that other films —namely, The LEGO Movie—do the same thing in turn, relying on your knowledge of pop culture and how “chosen one” narratives tend to go in order to subvert your expectations; however, here’s the catch: The LEGO Movie subverts your expectations to both comedic and dramatic effect. Everything in Playmobil is played completely straight. You know where the story’s headed from the outset. You know that the space bounty hunter is going to act like the space bounty hunter, the pirate voiced by Kenan Thompson is going to act like a pirate voiced by Kenan Thompson, and that the vaguely culturally insensitive “Amazonian” is going to be vaguely culturally insensitive. It’s all expected...right down to the musical numbers. By the way, if it wasn’t made obvious by the film’s marketing materials (which it wasn’t), Playmobil: The Movie is a musical, and not a very good one at that. On one hand, its music is comprised of narrative-heavy songwork, effectively setting dialogue to music and punctuating it with the occasional actual piece of musical theatre. On the other hand, Playmobil’s music is the same generic pop-electronic music that wouldn’t be out of place in a Disney Channel Original Movie. The only comparatively good song comes in the form of Maximus’s villain number, and even then, it’s just Adam Lambert ranting into a microphone and sounding like he’s auditioning for Joker 2: Joke Harder. More jelly than plastic The biggest problem at play is undoubtedly how the film looks visually. It’s not that the film looks bad in any way, mind you. The animated portion of the film looks crisp and clear, the colors are bright and vibrant, and the animation is professionally done. But that’s it. Like everything I’ve said prior, it’s wholly the base-level minimum amount of effort for a movie of this caliber, and even then it still manages to disappoint. Everything has this plastic-y sheen and texture to it (because, toys), but everything also moves how things normally would, in the real world. The same goes for the characters themselves. To clarify, an actual Playmobil figure only has six points of articulation: it can bend at the waist, move its arms up and down, turn its hands left and right, and spin its head 360 degrees in either direction. In any other circumstance, this would make animating the characters in the film (all meant to be Playmobil figures) an interesting, if not complex, challenge for the filmmakers. It’s with that said that, beyond a single scene at the start of the film’s animated portion, the film decides to completely forgo the toy’s actual limitations in favor of animating the figures like you would a regular animated person.  I wholly realize this may be coming off as a nitpick, and that actively trying to figure out how to make these characters move according to the limitations of the actual figures would be far more trouble than it’s worth for Playmobil: The Movie of all things. However, it’s details like this that beg the question: were the numerous artists, designers, and animators even in the room when these decisions were being made? Everything’s (not) awesome Playmobil: The Movie is a perfect summation of everything wrong with the American family film in 2019. It speaks to the audience in the way that a youth pastor would, trying its darndest to remain “cool” and “hip” to trends that have either long past or were never truly in vogue to begin with. The story, the general design aesthetic, and even the music, all work in incoherent harmony to service a commercial that doesn’t even know what the selling point of its product is. Playmobil: The Movie is just as bland as the toys it features, and doesn’t do anything to convince you that it’s anything more than another brand for you to consume, along with the fifty-million other brands fighting for your attention at the movie theater. At least the LEGO movies had the common decency to have a purpose before cutting checks. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb

‘Jedi: Fallen Order’ is a harsh, fascinating Star Wars escapade

Disclaimer: This review is of the PS4 version of the game and was played on an original PS4.

‘Jedi: Fallen Order’ is a harsh, fascinating Star Wars escapade

by Trevor Sheffield Disclaimer: This review is of the PS4 version of the game and was played on an original PS4. Arguably, one of the greatest losses the video game industry has suffered after Disney’s wholesale acquisition of the Star Wars franchise and George Lucas’ Lucasfilm was that of Lucasarts. Known for being the breeding ground for oddball adventure games like The Secret of Monkey Island, the Sam & Max series, and Tim Schafer’s Grim Fandango, the company also worked on a bevy of titles based on Lucas' works, from Star Wars to Indiana Jones… and mostly just those two. After Lucasarts was unceremoniously shut down in 2013, lingering only as a licensor with all staff fired and multiple in-development games stuck in Development Hell, Disney sought out third-party publishers to bring a galaxy far, far away to home consoles and ultimately gave the keys to a most unexpected successor.  Enter Electronic Arts (EA), a game distribution company known for two things: their heavy reliance on microtransactions and forcing developers to hit unreasonable deadlines, along with being voted one of the worst companies in America multiple times. Their first whack at Star Wars came in the form of DICE’s Star Wars Battlefront (a revival of Lucasarts’ own multiplayer shooter), where fans at launch derided the game’s severe lack of content. The second go-around, Star Wars Battlefront II, suffered the exact opposite problem. The game relied extensively (at launch) on microtransactions and glorified gambling through loot box mechanics to better oneself in the game or even unlock franchise mainstays like Darth Vader without needing to play for over 40 hours first. The situation was so extreme that it literally forced the hand of legislators across the globe to examine loot boxes as a whole and famously decry Battlefront II as a “Star Wars-themed online casino.” With a new Star Wars game having recently fallen into our laps, all of this begs the question: given EA’s exclusive rights to produce Star Wars games and the shadowy board of investors and stockholders that force EA’s hand into meddling with projects to “maximize” profits, is it possible for a Star Wars game in 2019 to avoid these missteps? Is there hope that it can actually be good? Sixty-six’ed Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, aside from being a fair contender for one of the jankier full titles in video game history, is a third-person action-adventure game from RESPAWN Entertainment, hot off the heels of the Titanfall franchise. Five years after the fallout of Revenge of the Sith and Order 66, former Jedi Padawan and walking sack of emotional baggage Cal Kestis has been hiding out from the insidious Empire as one of the last Jedi still in existence. However, after being outed and discovered by the Second Sister—a lightsaber-weilding savant in a dark helmet and slick cape who hunts Jedi alongside her band of like-minded Inquisitors—Cal goes on the run with Cere and Greez, a former Jedi and her wisecracking alien pilot, to find an artifact that could save the Jedi order… or lead to its’ very destruction.  To put it lightly, I genuinely didn’t expect myself to take to this game as much as I did on both a gameplay level—and a narrative level. Of course, this stuff isn’t Shakespeare, but it’s largely through dialogue and action how I gradually grew close to the rest of my motley crew and BD-1. BD-1 is, objectively, a glorified reason as to how you can regain health mid-fight. However, this little droid (that feels one-part shoulder parrot and one-part excited lapdog) genuinely grows on you, aside from the fact that it spends most of the game clinging to your back.  However, what astounded me about this Star Wars take was simply how groundedly dark it was. That’s not to suggest that the whole thing is a doom-and-gloom affair, no, but Jedi isn’t afraid to confront the true physical and emotional damage caused by George Lucas’s space wizard holocaust in a way that feels honest and unflinching for the most part. The ending does feel somewhat anticlimactic and sequel-bait-y, especially in comparison to the rest of the yarn, but I mean it when I say that this is the first Star Wars anything that genuinely moved me.  Using a little Force Let me get this out of the way first: Jedi is far more than your typical Souls-like RPG. I’d dare say that the Souls-like elements of the game (losing all your experience after you die and having to land a hit on the guy who whacked you to get it all back without dying) are the weakest at play. In all honesty, this game has more in common with games like The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker, Mass Effect, and Banjo-Kazooie of all things. The basic gameplay loop largely consists of going to a planet, fighting your way to an abandoned, dungeon-like temple, fighting off more guys, gaining a new ability, doing puzzles with said ability, and ultimately fighting your way back to the Mantis to shove off to another planet. Throw in a surprisingly large amount of platforming, mini-bosses, and backtracking, and that’s Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order.  However, Jedi is far more expansive than that. Fights in this game are just as many puzzles as they are life-or-death squabbles with bucket-headed goons. Especially earlier on in the game, you’re forced to rely on just your saber and your quick wits to make mincemeat of your foes. As you go on, you and BD gradually gain more and more power, and it just continues to spice up combat or exploration in new and satisfying ways. The Force powers you get in this game feel just as weighty and powerful as each swing of your lightsaber. By the end of the game, you’re practically a master without even thinking. Yet, just as much as the gameplay amplifies the experience, it’s the little things that truly sold me on this game. Every planet you visit is lush, stocked to the brim with detail and unique flora/fauna you can actually collect to plant on the Mantis’ miniature garden. The fact that you can fully customize your lightsaber down to the grips is a welcome touch, and I’m sure the people who dropped $200 to build a saber at Disneyland will be pleased to know that they can perfectly recreate their blade in-game—provided you find the parts, of course. The way BD-1 interacts with Cal’s body as he moves and oftentimes goes off on their own to scan things for your personal databank genuinely gives you the feeling that you aren’t alone on this journey as you face off against ever-increasing odds. Heck, you can customize everything down to the clothes on Cal’s back. The only minor gripe I have of the customization here is that you can’t switch Cal into anything besides his jumpsuit or his poncho. I fully realize that being chased down by space Nazi laser-swordsmen is no time to complain about fashion, but if I’m going to be gunned down a million times regardless, I’d at least like to look good while doing so. As much as the presentation elevates the material beyond its relative simplicity, it’s those very same bells and whistles that often bring the ship crashing down to Earth. While I didn’t experience these issues judging from the playback of Jedi on a PS4 Pro console, playing the game on a regular-degular PS4 led to graphical hiccups around most every corner. Rapidly running through levels led to multiple instances of graphical pop-in, especially if the screen was dotted with Stormtroopers. The physics regarding Cal’s poncho were wonky at worst and unrealistically clingy at best, sometimes clipping through his shoulder and always clipping through his chair on the Mantis. On one occasion, I literally clipped through almost the entire level and ended up on the ground floor.  However, even with the scrappier elements of my experience with the game (both as intended by the developers and wholly unintended), it all felt perfectly in-character with the ragtag band of goons and weirdos I gradually amassed over the course of my playthrough. Sure, they diminished the interior facade of this being “real,” but it’s this scrappiness that ultimately reinforced what I feel this game truly is. Truly, they were, a Star War Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order reminds me most of the movie tie-in games that plagued the early 2000’s gaming market. It’s akin to games like Ice Age 2: The Meltdown: The Video Game, The Ant Bully: The Video Game, and James Cameron’s Avatar: The Game, where the aim was to attach the iconography and branding onto a jumble of vaguely related game mechanics borrowed from big name titles, all in the hopes of taking advantage of kids and naive parents (while hitting close deadlines on shipping). However, whereas those games lacked budgets, development time, and ultimately identities of their own, Jedi has them all...for the most part.  I stand by this game being a genuinely fun (and oftentimes rewarding) experience with interesting characters and an emotional core that even the movies haven’t tapped into (if not properly). It’s the first piece of Star Wars media I have seen in a long time that has left me genuinely shocked and emotionally invested in its plot. While I had to deal with multiple glitches on the standard PS4 version, some obtrusive design choices (unskippable cutscenes, no New Game +), and ultimately unnecessary gameplay mechanics, it’s all sour grapes in comparison to the sheer care and effort on the part of the developers to deliver a definitive Star Wars experience anybody can enjoy. If anything, it’s one of the greatest expressions of the potential for this world I’ve seen. It commands with the heart of a fan, and the soul of a creator. The dark side, and light. Now, that’s podracing.  Image: Steam Featured Image: TechRadar

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Heartland Film Festival 2019: With ‘Waves,’ A24 has done it again

In the ever-shifting landscape of modern indie cinema, no  distributor has left a greater mark on the landscape than the infamous  A24. It struck out the box office with titles ranging from mind-benders  like Swiss Army Man and this past summer’s Midsommar, to deep psychological horror like It Comes at Night and the infamous Hereditary. It even goes on to Oscar contenders like The Florida Project and 2016 Best Picture Winner Moonlight, which shows the bench of hits under this no-longer-fledgling studio’s belt are insane achievements.

Heartland Film Festival 2019: ‘Guest Artist’ is an unrepentant, drunken mess

In my history of covering film, I’ve sometimes had to confront a  prominent subject of my past endeavors that always seems to catch up  with me: the theatre. Sure, I did my fair share of high school drama (I  was even a tree!), and in a way, that experience led me down the path to  where I am today. I’ve always had a sincere respect for the medium, if  only by the effort required to properly do it. However, we live in a  complicated age for the medium, where the internet and bootlegging make  it easier to actually see these shows… and harder for said shows to  actually make money on seats. Compound that with an increased presence  by licensed works and acts intending to capitalize on an emerging teen  market to get that sweet Hamilton/Be More Chill virality, and it could cause one to question: in 2019, what does it mean to make true theatre, let alone art?

Heartland Film Festival 2019: ‘Guest Artist’ is an unrepentant, drunken mess

by Trevor Sheffield In my history of covering film, I’ve sometimes had to confront a prominent subject of my past endeavors that always seems to catch up with me: the theatre. Sure, I did my fair share of high school drama (I was even a tree!), and in a way, that experience led me down the path to where I am today. I’ve always had a sincere respect for the medium, if only by the effort required to properly do it. However, we live in a complicated age for the medium, where the internet and bootlegging make it easier to actually see these shows… and harder for said shows to actually make money on seats. Compound that with an increased presence by licensed works and acts intending to capitalize on an emerging teen market to get that sweet Hamilton/Be More Chill virality, and it could cause one to question: in 2019, what does it mean to make true theatre, let alone art? Enter stage right, Guest Artist. Directed by Timothy Busfield and based off a true “incident,” it's an odd couple story taking place in a train station late one Christmas Eve. Joseph Harris (Jeff Daniels) is a has-been playwright, coasting off his own legacy and finding solace at the bottom of a flask. Kenneth Waters (Thomas Marcias, in his feature debut) is an overeager writer’s apprentice hoping to literally write the next great American play… and idolizes Joseph to no end. When Joseph begrudgingly decides to write a play for a no-name theatre company in the quaint town of Lima, Kenneth finally gets an opportunity to meet his hero. Getting off on the wrong foot, Kenneth now has to confront the real Joseph and convince him not to take the first train back to New York. Shenanigans and the ultimate debate as to what “art” and “theatre” ensue in the modern day.  Except, it’s none of that. While the premise I have just described to you may come off as a breeding ground for a unique back-and-forth between the old and new, filtered through a medium potentially as old as humanity itself, it simply isn’t. What Guest Artist truly amounts to is a needlessly cliche redemption story, scored entirely by public domain Christmas music and featuring two main performances that seemingly set out to create the gritty, “real” Rick and Morty episode no one wanted. Daniels’ performance is the best of the entire film, even if his character is all but entirely one note.  Meanwhile, Marcias, bless his heart, is stuck working with a script that casts him as a practically incompetent fanboy, doing a perpetual “Russel from Up” impression. He sucks up almost nothing but abuse from his counterpart’s drunken raging against how the people of today don’t understand true art. Speaking of, anybody in this film who doesn’t qualify for an AARP card is seemingly depicted as stoner-like and ignorant, either totally obsessed with their phones or being spooked at the very thought of theatre. In fact, the film’s only character of color literally remarks at how musicals “aren’t natural”, and Kenneth’s perfunctory love interest literally asks him if theatre is something she can get on her phone. I could tear further into some of the rather “ambitious” leaps in logic it takes when trying to accurately depict the current generation, but it’d take all day. All of that said, the most reprehensible moment of the film comes at the very end, where Kennith confronts Joseph about the secret play Joseph somehow conveniently had in his luggage the entire time, and Ken reads from it to inspire Joseph to not duck and run. Now, under normal circumstances, a moment like this could be a genuine culmination of narrative tension, allowing our characters to finally reconcile their thoughts in order to finally achieve enlightenment.  However, this is Guest Artist, and therefore the climax must include the reveal that Joseph’s greatest work was a play about how we deserved 9/11. As a sadly triumphant piano rendition of “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas” plinks along, Joseph cries as Kennith reads the elder’s thoughts threadbare, saying that he didn’t cry because of all the death and destruction that went down on that day but “because of how beautiful the art coming out of it would be.” So much could be said for the moral reprehensibility involved when we’re expected to sympathize with a drunken, morally questionable man who can’t get his play about how 9/11 was good for our country published because people would surely be so triggered at such a thought. Yet, this film was based on a true story, and if the end title cards are anything to go by, this godlike theatrical work was eventually published and staged regardless. So, effectively, all of this melodrama and raging against the dying of the cell phone battery was pointless.  If I haven’t made it painfully obvious enough, I wouldn’t recommend this film to anybody below the age of fifty, let alone anyone with a pulse. Guest Artist is a wholly unwelcome visitor, selling you the inane ramblings of that one uncle at Thanksgiving dressed up like an issue of The New Yorker. It thinks that it knows what it means and what it takes to be a true artist, to create true “theatre,” but it just simply doesn’t. There is nothing here of value that hasn’t been done better elsewhere, from My Dinner with André to The Dead Poets Society to even the lightly incompetent technophobia of Jerry Bruckheimer’s G-Force. You know that when the flipping guinea pig spy movie somehow manages to do an arguably better job at critiquing modern society than your prestige drama, you’ve screwed the film beyond the point of no return. Images: IMDb Featured Image: Heartland

Heartland Film Festival 2019: With ‘Waves,’ A24 has done it again

by Trevor Sheffield In the ever-shifting landscape of modern indie cinema, no distributor has left a greater mark on the landscape than the infamous A24. It struck out the box office with titles ranging from mind-benders like Swiss Army Man and this past summer’s Midsommar, to deep psychological horror like It Comes at Night and the infamous Hereditary. It even goes on to Oscar contenders like The Florida Project and 2016 Best Picture Winner Moonlight, which shows the bench of hits under this no-longer-fledgling studio’s belt are insane achievements. Now enter another one surely for the record books — Waves, directed by Trey Edward Shults, follows the Williams family: the headstrong Tyler (Kelvin Harrison, Jr.), self-reliant Emily (Taylor Russel), their stepmother Catharine (Renée Elise Goldsberry), and the patriarchal Ronald (Sterling K. Brown) as they live their way through the American Dream in South Florida. Tyler is fighting desperately to live up to his father’s growing expectations for his wrestling career. Emily is still trying to cope with the death of her mother… and the antics of the family cat. However, after a catastrophic series of events throws the family’s unity into peril, they’re forced to confront their worst fears about not just the people around them, but themselves. Coming into my screening of the movie, a common descriptor I heard from members of the House was that Waves was effectively the cinematic equivalent to This is Us. For clarification, This is Us is an NBC dramedy series known for two things: soap opera-esque melodrama, and the ability to turn people into sobbing puddles of fleshy emotions. While this comparison isn’t entirely wrong, the devil lies in the fact that Waves has a sense of sincere pathos that I feel wholly surpasses the show by the guy who unleashed the dreaded Life Itself upon humanity. You genuinely root for and sympathize with the family at the core of this narrative, even as things escalate to an extreme degree.  Harrison and Russel make for charming leads whose characters go to interesting depths (if Harrison doesn’t get any awards for his work as Tyler in this movie, it’ll be the crime of the century), and Brown gives a knock-out performance in what is, at its core, a very reactionary role. Everything in this film oozes some level of humanity, from the score to the movie’s trademark 360-degree car shots, to even the aspect ratio. Much like the film’s namesake, everything in this movie has some level of motion and some level of life running independent of everything else around it. It’s utterly trance inducing. When it comes to any cracks in the proverbial armor, it brings us back to the This is Us comparison. While I personally didn’t mind how the film plays out (largely due to its shifting forms of presentation and the performances on display), I can very easily see how that brand of storytelling could turn off some viewers, especially near the end. However, from my perspective, Waves manages to overcome that hurdle in such a manner that, melodramatic or not, still feels true to not only the characters, but the overall narrative as a whole. Waves is a cinematic balancing act that just as easily confronts you with the psychological terrors of the modern day as much as it proves that life is worth living again. While it isn’t hard to see how some could interpret the movie’s twists and turns as melodrama, it just as easily accounts for that with a cast firing on all cylinders and a unique visual language that stands out from all the dramas we’ve gotten this year. Without any hesitation, I’d say that this movie stands to become a shiny new jewel in A24’s crown, a surefire hit when it releases worldwide on November 30, and a total achievement for all parties involved in putting this wonderful film together. It’s an utter tsunami of palpable passion. Featured Image: Heartland

Heartland Film Festival 2019: ‘Where We Disappear’ is a gripping tale of Soviet woe

by Trevor Sheffield Directed by first-timer Simon Fink, Where We Disappear is an intriguing character piece with more tension than a wire fence. After knifing her husband to protect her son, the soft-handed Anastasia (Georgina Haig) is shipped off to a Soviet prison camp for a grueling twelve-year term. Justifiably wanting to get out as soon as possible, she inevitably butts heads with her newfound bunkmates, who have resigned themselves to their fate: the maternal-yet-struggling Svetlana (Osa Wallander), the shy, relatively kind-hearted Prushka (Vera Cherny), the injured Lubov (Katharine Isabelle), and at the top of the totem pole, the cold and hardened Masha (Jolene Andersen). With impossible odds, everybody at each others’ throats, and suffering around every corner, Anastasia ultimately fights to find a way to survive her new turmoil without letting it break her. While I won’t give away the film’s full narrative for the sake of spoilers, the best way I can describe this film is if Zach Snyder’s Sucker Punch put as much effort into actual characterization and story as it did CG smash-'em-ups and needless fanservice. All of the actresses are absolutely fantastic in their parts, with Andersen’s Masha stealing the show. Her performance gives what is effectively your “biggest guy in the yard” character a genuine sense of sinister depth and a cracked, rough facade hiding emotional trauma. Everything else in the film manages to work in turn, from the cinematography to the music, all accentuating the sheer discomfort of the prison camp and how Anastasia’s wounded psyche is trying to process this absolute nightmare. When it comes to negatives regarding the film, there are really only a few minor points and nitpicks, largely with the film’s proverbial pace in the third act. As mentioned prior, I will not divulge any specifics regarding what occurs; however, the actual reveal in execution could be confusing to first-time watchers who haven’t noticed key details throughout the movie. That isn’t to say that Where We Disappear doesn’t explain what is going on at that point, but it does call into question the subtlety of certain matters of foreshadowing from earlier in the picture. All in all, for a first-time effort from a filmmaker, Where We Disappear is a genuinely solid piece. For its weight class, it punches with the force of a much bigger feature, and largely manages to make its impact known. The cast is absolutely impeccable, the cinematography easily reinforces the rigid claustrophobia of the film’s setting, and while there are some issues with the third act’s big reveal, it still remains effective. While it may seem as if I’m going easy on this film in comparison to other first go-arounds I’ve covered prior, it is undeniable how much time and effort was put towards making this film look and feel desolate, hopeless, and yet somehow hopeful at the same time. I have a good feeling we’ll be seeing more of Mr. Fink’s work in the future. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb

Heartland Film Festival 2019: Indy Shorts Winners 2

by Trevor Sheffield With the return of the annual Heartland Film Festival comes the return of its traditional shorts showcases, where attendees get to see prize-winning, pint-sized programming voted upon the summer prior to that year’s fest. For 2019, we at Byte have already covered the first bushel of stand-outs, but the second course of shorts is nothing to skip out on. The Burdens They Carry Directed by Alyssa Andrews Opening this year’s compilation was the High School Film Competition/Summer White Lynch Memorial Award Narrative Category Winner, The Burdens They Carry. In the aftermath of the Vietnam War, a lone veteran struggles with the mental aftershocks of surviving a gruesome attack. As mentioned in my review for the first compilation of this year’s shorts, it’s impressive that a group of high school students could pull off a production like this, let alone with the success this film has gotten before. Still, the same can also be said for how the ambition of the filmmakers eclipsed their means of production, especially in this situation. In a film that almost necessitates a larger cast to fill the roles of soldiers, civilians, etc., the small cast is spread thin throughout (to the point of literally contrasting against our protagonist’s inner monologue about feeling alone in a crowd...despite entering a completely empty bar). Even worse, aside from the lead character, none of the characters whatsoever feel like actual people. It’s clear that the filmmakers know what they’re doing on a technical and moral level, given the film’s emphasis on how PTSD impacts our veterans; however, it’s the storytelling and performances that they need to work on. Hard to Place Directed by MD Neely Thankfully, the proceeding short upped the presentation’s game and then some. Hard to Place, the Audience Choice winner for Indiana Spotlight and based on a true story, follows two kids—a boy and his little sister—as they descend into the woods to escape their abusive father and squalid living conditions. The short is slick in its dirtiness, with a clear sense of time and care in each and every shot but perhaps too much. In trying to show how bad of a dad the children’s father is, there are moments where the short almost goes too, far to the point of bad taste. Still, Hard to Place is effective in how it goes about its story, even if some rushed pacing and the content issues get in the way. The audience genuinely feels for the kids in this situation, and the tension is palpable. The Secret Life of Muslims: Richard McKinney Directed by Joshua Seftel In a surprising bit of levity after the heavy realism of the prior film came the Grand Prize winner for Indiana Spotlight, The Secret Life of Muslims: Richard McKinney. In this short, a former Marine talks about the time he nearly attacked a mosque because he hated Muslims so much, only for something rather unexpected to happen. I won’t reveal the twist of the short, but for those of you out there who know about the subject of the documentary or have Google, you probably have an idea of what happens. Despite a fairly basic sense of cinematography compounded with archival footage, it’s largely the personality of McKinney and how he recollects his experiences that gives Muslims a unique sense of perspective. It’s the shortest short of this particular bunch (clocking in at 5 minutes total), but it’s not to be skipped out on. St. Louis Superman Directed by Sami Kahn & Smriti Mundhra Hot off the heels of McKinney’s story is another documentary, the Grand Prize winner for Documentary Short, St. Louis Superman. The piece follows Bruce Franks Jr., a Missouri resident who went from rap-battling to representing the marginalized in an overly-white and well-off House of Representatives. The story also follows as he fights the demons of his psyche and those society paints onto people of color. Undoubtedly, Superman paints a humanizing portrait of its central figure that breeds empathy for Franks like rabbits in spring. This is without talking about the piece’s cinematography and pacing, which presents an intimate portrait of Bruce and the people in his world, and even twists upon itself when the movie reaches its signature set-piece: Franks’ first rap battle since being elected to office, going up against a man who wholly believes that he’s sold out to the very system that wants him dead. It has pacing as fast as a speeding bullet, punches as strong as a locomotive, and bounds above its competition, St. Louis Superman is an extremely effective piece of cinema. Mind my Mind Directed by Floor Adams Finally, in what I personally consider to be the highlight of this collection is the Grand Prize winner for Animated Short, Mind my Mind. Centered around a young man with an unhealthy obsession for building WWII dive bomber models, he’s thrust out of routine after finally meeting the girl of his dreams. The kicker is that we spend a lot of time in the man’s mind, following a metaphysical avatar who is constantly scrambling for the right scripts to help keep his person alive, at the very least. Initial goofs about the premise’s similarity to Pete Docter’s Inside Out aside, Mind my Mind is a sweet little film that isn’t afraid to go into more adult territory as the story unfolds. In addition to depicting a version of the world inside our heads that feels just as inventive as the aforementioned film was without needing any dialogue to explain it all, it has an art style that’s pleasing to the eye, characters that you immediately can relate to, and a surprising amount of information about the biochemistry of chameleons. What more could you want? Featured Image: Heartland

Heartland Film Festival 2019: Indy Shorts Winners 1

by Trevor Sheffield When it comes to getting a point across quickly in film, there’s no better medium than the short. Whether it’s to make you cry, to make you think, or to just make you feel, period, it gives storytellers, animators, and documentary filmmakers the opportunity to leave a lasting impression in the least amount of time possible. The Heartland Film Festival has come again, and audiences have the opportunity to see some of the heights of short filmmaking as voted upon this past Summer. Of the selections made for this year’s showcases, it’s undeniable that these films break the mold. Hors Piste (Off Road) Directed by Léo Brunel, Loris Cavalier, Camille Jalanert, & Oscar Malet  Starting things off with gusto was Hors Piste (Off Road), the winner for Best Student Film. Following the madcap escapades of two rescue workers as they “attempt” to save an injured skier, Hors Piste is an absolute comedy juggernaut, milking the trappings of old 80s ski movies and sheer Looney Tunes-style antics with little regard for plot, characterization, and the laws of physics. The animation is fluid and lively, with some shots looking almost on par with the multimillion-dollar features that seemingly come out at a neck-breaking pace nowadays. Perhaps best of all, the pacing and comedic timing is utterly ingenious. It by no means overstays its welcome, but still gives time for absurd tangents that are a blast to watch. Overall, it’s a great short and a no-brainer as to why it earned its award.  INDY-viduals: Rising Above Directed by Adele Reich & Hope Staffeur Let's change gears now to realism with INDY-viduals: Rising Above, was the Audience Choice winner for High School Film Competition/ Documentary High School Indiana Category. The story follows a mother and son team in Caramel, IN, who decides to open a bakery staffed entirely by people on the autism spectrum in response to concern over whether the son’s own autism would ultimately waste his truest potential. I won’t lie, I admire the size and scale of this production (considering this was, as mentioned prior, made by high schoolers), and the choice of subject matter is legitimately intriguing. However, it’s undoubtedly clear that the ambitions of the filmmakers had partially eclipsed the resources they likely had at times when it came to actually filming the piece. Not to mention how it’s the mother who gets the greatest majority of screen time while the son is ultimately relegated to a few pictures and one proper interview. Yet, for what can be assumed as the first film from these burgeoning documentarians, there’s a lot of potential at play here. Brotherhood Directed by Meryam Joobeur Following up was the Grand Prize winner for Narrative Short, Brotherhood. Brotherhood follows a family of sheep farmers living in rural Tunisia, whose simple existence is rocked when the eldest son returns after fighting in Syria and gaining a mysterious new cohort in the process. Arguably, of the narrative features on display in this selection of shorts, this was the closest to being a typical movie. That’s not to imply this film is mediocre by any stretch (it sincerely isn’t), but for its relatively short 25-minute runtime, it feels a lot longer; however, it’s justified through the film’s progressive build of tension between the family’s patriarch and the eldest son that ultimately climaxes in an explosively emotional finale. In a lot of ways, despite the foreign location and its local politics, it feels eerily relevant to the modern American social climate. More specifically, it’s relevant in how the parents of people who don’t conform to the will of the family and/or society have a tendency to lash out against their children, some in ways that really only make the situation far worse for everyone involved. It’s tense, it’s uncomfortable, and it makes for juicy cinema. In the Absence Directed by Yi Seung-Jun Furthering Brotherhood’s themes of how the political climate can impact our society on a variety of levels, the most striking film of the compilation was the Audience Choice winner for Documentary Short, In the Absence. Following the 2014 sinking of the MV Sewol ferry-boat and how its 300-person body count utterly destroyed countless lives, it’s shocking in every definition of the word seeing how sheer negligence and a cocktail of nepotism, corruption, and incompetence led to such a tragedy (especially from the perspective of one uninformed on the story). Using a combination of actual footage from the tragedy, news footage and diver cams, and the haunting imagery of the watery grave of the wreck, Absence immediately drags you bare-knuckle into the situation and refuses to let you avert your eyes from the consequences of what led to this point. In a way, this feels like a horror film made flesh, with a story about a tragedy I’m sure most Americans haven’t even heard of—or simply forgot—in favor of the near daily tragedies we have inland. Ian, a moving story Directed by Abel Goldfarb In a stark departure from Absence’s unwavering realism came the Audience Choice winner for Animated Short, Ian, a moving story. Based on the real life trials and tribulations of the titular Ian, a boy born with cerebral palsy, we watch him struggle against playground bullies, discrimination, and his own limitations in order to be accepted. Now, on paper, the film is brilliant. In motion, however, things quickly go sideways fast. It’s undoubted that the film has high production values in its animation and character design, but a particular choice made with the production completely muddles the whole thing. Namely, the choice for all the characters to look as if they’re made of what can only be assumed to be chunks of decorative sidewalk pavement and multiple sequences where Ian, after being discriminated against, literally falls to pieces and is forcibly reassembled behind a chain-link fence in a wheelchair. On one level, the designs feel inconsistent (the main body is pavement, but the nose and hair are one piece each, while the eyes and lips are organic?) and fall into the uncanny valley. On the other hand, this choice muddles the short’s overall message of inclusion and overcoming one’s limitations while getting in the way of letting us properly connect with Ian as a character and what his problem really is. There is a genuinely heartfelt piece here. Unfortunately, it’s (almost literally) buried beneath the surface.  El Astronauta Directed by Manuel Trotta Capping off the collection with the Audience Choice winner for Narrative Short, we finished with the fairly heartwarming story of El Astronauta. Simply put, a businessman visits his aging (and mentally decaying) father to help him move into a nursing home, only to butt heads over his dad’s plan to fly to the moon to say goodbye to his wife. There honestly isn’t a lot to say about this piece, aside from being fairly blunt about its’ commentary on devices (cell phones, am I right?) and having the cleanest segue into a car commercial I think I’ve ever seen in a non-commercial film. Still, what is there works and brought many a teary eye to fellow residents of my theatre, so it can definitely have an effect on folks. I, unfortunately, wasn’t part of that portion, but the point stands. Featured Image: Heartland

Heartland Film Festival 2019: ‘Philophobia’ is a frank, enthralling look at coming of age

by Trevor Sheffield For more than 30 years, one of the tenant genres in modern filmmaking has been the high school movie. From American Pie to Superbad, movies in this paradigm expose the glories of late-night parties, wild underaged drinking benders, and how none of the aforementioned acts have any consequences whatsoever for anybody who isn’t a square. The American cinematic landscape has more than its fair share of these debaucherous adventures, but it begs the question: How do people from other countries around the world (and in this case, from across the pond) interpret this endless cycle of super-senior soirées? Philophobia, directed and written by Guy Davies, presents an English take on the high school shenanigans genre that, while clearly reminiscent at times of American contemporaries like Superbad or The Breakfast Club, feels wholly original. Set against a backdrop of densely-wooded greens and small-town English pleasantries, an aspiring writer named Kai (Joshua Glenister) is gearing up for his last week of high school alongside his buddies. He studies for exams, plots his future, and jots down poetry in his head. When he’s not doing that, he’s slinging back beers and blunts with old chums like Megsy (Jack Gouldbourne) on the library roof, plotting the ultimate leavers’ prank, and staring at the girl living across the curb like a deer in headlights. After a fateful encounter with one of the most beautiful girls at school throws our pedantic poet into the hot-seat of romance and intrigue, Kai struggles to keep himself and his love life in one piece. Without a doubt, the effort put into Philophobia is utterly palpable from an audience’s perspective. The lighting in the film is absolutely impeccable, with some sequences casting an eerie, almost dreamlike ambiance over the quaint, honest world our characters live in. Speaking of these characters, their performances display a genuine sense of camaraderie among the main cast, with Glenister as Kai giving a contemplative yet still emotional take on an ultimately troubled teen. Outside of that, the music (largely comprised of proper score and licensed work) excellently sets the tone for the whole affair, and the use of abstract imagery, in conjunction with the lighting usage, leads to moments that wouldn’t feel out of place in some of the A24 catalog’s brightest gems.  That said, for all the praise I’ve given the film, there are a few snags that, while not being dealbreakers in the slightest, are still worth noting. The film is heavily entrenched in the male gaze (literally so when it comes to Kai’s occasional long-stare sessions) and doesn’t really give the core female characters of the story much to do outside of being objects of affection for Kai and his peers. It’s somewhat justified, given how closely we follow Kai throughout the story and the overall laissez-faire attitude the film has towards sex for the most part. Outside of that, Philophobia’s third act has some fairly rough pacing issues, largely due to how much the film sets up and tries to pay off in full over the course of its runtime. That isn’t to say that the movie decides to pay full homage to Return of the King and comes to a conventional ending multiple times before starting back up again, but with the amount of closure the movie is intent on providing to its plot threads, it does start to wear out some. What else is there to say of Philophobia? The film is a unique take on your typical high school drama, blending together the likes of thrillers like Rear Window with shenanigans that echo movies like American Pie and The Dead Poets Society. However, it still manages to make the whole thing come together as a fairly cohesive and frank look at the uncertainties of growing up, both good and bad. Aside from some slight issues with pacing and characterization, it’s a movie with a spellbinding sense of sincerity in every nook and cranny. If you get the opportunity to catch this one on the big screen, seize it. Images: IMDb Featured Image: IMDb