Input 2 S7E4 - The Joker Returns!
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by Trevor Sheffield In filmmaking, there is arguably no greater challenge than trying to mentally comprehend how other audiences will respond to your movie, especially from an American perspective looking outward. In some cases, filmmakers try to appeal to other countries by filming additional scenes that help give international cuts more relevance to international audiences (see the Chinese cuts of Iron Man 3 and Transformers: Age of Extinction for example). In others, filmmakers have to outright censor prominent aspects of movies so as to not offend local sensibilities (see movies like Suicide Squad and Rocketman, either banned from screening outright or being heavily edited to avoid the former). More and more recently, we’ve had primarily American-backed movies like Crazy Rich Asians and Alita: Battle Angel that either try to give a voice to underrepresented filmmakers. Or, they try to prove that American filmmaking can understand the voice and style of works from other countries without completely butchering either the source material or the culture it came from. Now, enter Abominable, which attempts both.
by Trevor Sheffield Fun fact: As of this moment, there are eleven Angry Birds games currently available on the American Apple App Store. Want an even more fun fact? Only two of them are actually Angry Birds. The rest are spin-offs: match-3 titles, a Snood clone, multiple RPGs, an AR-enhanced 3D version of the regular formula, and what looks like a Pokémon Go clone. It’s strange to think that a property like Angry Birds (put out by Finnish games developer Rovio) would go on to become for the smartphone what Mario is for home console gaming. It’s even stranger to think that most of the original games, including the ORIGINAL Angry Birds, are now permanently gone. Unless you still have it downloaded on an old phone somewhere in the back of your junk drawer, games like those first few iterations of Angry Birds and even some of the spin-offs that were praised to critical acclaim have gone the way of Kojima’s P.T.; remembered, but left to the annals of history as a result of corporate restructuring and, at the heart of it all, greed. A long time ago, Rovio was a small fish in a big ocean. Then, it killed a shark, and became the end-all be-all. Now, we live in a world where we have toys, clothing, school-wear, cookbooks, Qatarian theme parks and ultimately movies all based off of this simplistic little thing that we played when we had nothing better to do. So, here we are in 2019, with another theatrical outing for this oddly vivacious franchise. All things considered, my expectations have been sufficiently subverted.
Over the course of my career in analyzing and critiquing film, I would be lying if I said I haven’t come across many people who have questioned me and my line of work, specifically in regard to the material I tend to focus on. Questions like, “Do you only review ‘big’ movies?,” “Why do you get angry at kids’ movies?,” and “Trevor, why are you talking to yourself?!?”
by Trevor Sheffield Over the course of my career in analyzing and critiquing film, I would be lying if I said I haven’t come across many people who have questioned me and my line of work, specifically in regard to the material I tend to focus on. Questions like, “Do you only review ‘big’ movies?,” “Why do you get angry at kids’ movies?,” and “Trevor, why are you talking to yourself?!?” To answer: A. I’ve reviewed plenty of smaller movies in my time (see my backlog). B. I get angry at these kinds of movies because, more often than not, filmmakers think they can get away with being lazy. It’s not hard to assume that the target audience for these films is no smarter than a day-old papaya. Kids are smart, and these movies often leave a lasting impact on who they grow up to be. If you feed a child nothing but trash their whole life, they’ll likely go in the bin along with it as they grow older. To say that schlock like Wonder Park is less accountable for criticism than a film like the latest Men In Black retread or a “prestige” film like Room for Rent is to invalidate the efforts of hundreds of legitimate artists and filmmakers, regardless of the final product. And C? It’s because of movies like The Lion King (2019).
I think we’ve reached a point in this summer’s blockbuster season where it seems like everything that was supposed to go right has completely backfired in some fashion. Whether it’s good movies disappointing financially (Godzilla: King of the Monsters, Booksmart), remakes failing to hold audiences critically (Aladdin (2019), Shaft (2019)), or franchise tentpoles dropping dead on arrival (Dark Phoenix, Men In Black: International, etc.), it’s undeniable that in this post-Endgame power vacuum, nobody’s really been able to pick things back up. This is especially tough for families out there, for whom the only option short of dragging their kids into Ma is the critically reviled next entry in the Secret Life of Pets franchise. Surely, at some point this summer, someone’s got to pick up the ball again…right?
by Trevor Sheffield I think we’ve reached a point in this summer’s blockbuster season where it seems like everything that was supposed to go right has completely backfired in some fashion. Whether it’s good movies disappointing financially (Godzilla: King of the Monsters, Booksmart), remakes failing to hold audiences critically (Aladdin (2019), Shaft (2019)), or franchise tentpoles dropping dead on arrival (Dark Phoenix, Men In Black: International, etc.), it’s undeniable that in this post-Endgame power vacuum, nobody’s really been able to pick things back up. This is especially tough for families out there, for whom the only option short of dragging their kids into Ma is the critically reviled next entry in the Secret Life of Pets franchise. Surely, at some point this summer, someone’s got to pick up the ball again...right? Enter Toy Story 4 (released June 2019 and directed by Pixar veteran Josh Cooley), which was originally slated to be released in 2017, directed by Disney-Pixar CCO (and original Toy Story director) John Lasseter, and written by Rashida Jones and Will McCormack. That did not go as planned. At first, the film was pushed back with Incredibles 2 taking up its original release date in 2018. Then, in November of 2017, news broke to the public that Jones and McCormack had left the project a year prior as a result of the company stifling the voices of “women and people of color,” per an IndieWire report. This ultimately led to a bombshell report by The Hollywood Reporter, detailing how Lasseter, the self-described “Peter Pan,” had a propensity for “grabbing, kissing, making comments about physical attributes,” and more. Long story short, Lasseter got the boot from Disney and Pixar at the end of 2018, leaving Toy Story 4 in the hands of Cooley less than a year before the movie was slated to run. So, after being delayed for over a year and possibly catalyzing this massive (and well-justified) shake-up, Toy Story 4 stands to have the longest development cycle in Pixar history. Given the situation at hand, one can only ask; does it live up to its predecessors?
So, here we go again. Another movie based off another vaguely forgotten franchise from years past, made in an attempt to Dracula the clutter of eons ago into the new, hot fad of today. Normally, this kind of thing is reserved for franchises with mass appeal and nostalgia, like childhood TV shows, time-honored playthings, or even arcade machines.
Let’s be real with ourselves. There are only two types of people out there at the moment: people who have already seen Avengers: Endgame, and the poor souls who haven’t. You already know whether or not you’re going to see it, and all I can really do in this case is reaffirm whatever stance you have on seeing the darned thing.
by Trevor Sheffield So, here we go again. Another movie based off another vaguely forgotten franchise from years past, made in an attempt to Dracula the clutter of eons ago into the new, hot fad of today. Normally, this kind of thing is reserved for franchises with mass appeal and nostalgia, like childhood TV shows, time-honored playthings, or even arcade machines. Now, we have a movie based on that one weird-looking rabbit thing on the couch from Zathura. What could possibly go wrong?
Over the last few years, no animation studio in the business has left as much of an impact as Laika. Known for films like Coraline and Kubo & The Two Strings, the Oregon-based stop-motion powerhouse is known for their willingness to take (comparatively) bold risks in storytelling and advance the stop-motion artform in revolutionary ways…and for the fact that the studio is the pet project of former rapper and heir to the Nike fortune, Travis “Chilly Tee” Knight.
by Trevor Sheffield Let’s be real with ourselves. There are only two types of people out there at the moment: people who have already seen Avengers: Endgame, and the poor souls who haven’t. You already know whether or not you’re going to see it, and all I can really do in this case is reaffirm whatever stance you have on seeing the darned thing. As I am writing this, the opening weekend for Endgame has come to pass with smashing critical and box office success, and the steam seemingly hasn’t stopped since. As such, this review will contain absolutely no spoilers whatsoever for the movie so nobody will get angry at me for spoiling/not spoiling anything about this film whatsoever. That said, let’s get into spoilers.
Over the last few years, no animation studio in the business has left as much of an impact as Laika. Known for films like Coraline and Kubo & The Two Strings, the Oregon-based stop-motion powerhouse is known for their willingness to take (comparatively) bold risks in storytelling and advance the stop-motion artform in revolutionary ways...and for the fact that the studio is the pet project of former rapper and heir to the Nike fortune, Travis “Chilly Tee” Knight. Bringing this up isn’t to insult the man, no, but rather to provide context for the fact that, since the aforementioned Coraline, every single one of Laika’s films has either failed to make back its money at the box office or outright bombed on arrival. The strangest (and perhaps most fascinating) thing about that is, under normal circumstances, a track record like that would have absolutely decimated a studio like Laika. However, despite the increasingly diminishing returns, they always manage to spring back, bigger and more ambitious than before. It almost begs the question: “Will the tennis shoe money ever run out?” It’s hard to tell, but there’s a recently-emerged factor that may help us find our answer. Or, rather, a recently-emerged Link.
Of the original Disney animated features, no one is more infamous (or remembered, period) than Dumbo. Released in 1941, it tells the story of Dumbo, a baby elephant whose ridiculously large ears lead to him getting separated from his mother, belittled and shamed by everyone in the circus he lives in, and ultimately help him literally soar above the adversity in his life.
by Trevor Sheffield Of the original Disney animated features, no one is more infamous (or remembered, period) than Dumbo. Released in 1941, it tells the story of Dumbo, a baby elephant whose ridiculously large ears lead to him getting separated from his mother, belittled and shamed by everyone in the circus he lives in, and ultimately help him literally soar above the adversity in his life. He also gets verbally abused multiple times, gets drunk on clown beer and sees nightmares, and ultimately achieves his ability to fly after encouragement by a group of black racial stereotypes. Not even going into the controversy behind actually making this movie (Disney laid off roughly 207 people for wanting to unionize during the production of this thing!), it makes sense that Disney, currently in an era of remaking its most famous films, would want a shot at making a Dumbo divorced of the badly-dated elements of its source material. So, they did. It did not pan out well.
Around this time last year, I was returning from a week-long excursion with my father down to Universal Studios Orlando, my first foray into the globe-branded theme park chain, and found myself having a legitimately good time for the first time in what felt like ages.
by Trevor Sheffield Around this time last year, I was returning from a week-long excursion with my father down to Universal Studios Orlando, my first foray into the globe-branded theme park chain, and found myself having a legitimately good time for the first time in what felt like ages. I distinctly remember, after going through most of the rides at the resort, jokingly suggesting that we take on Shrek 4-D, an aging theater attraction dedicated to the halitosis-ridden green goof and his highly-profitable adventures. The first red flag should have been the fact that the pre-show video, played on loop in the lines outside, highly advertised VHS copies of the original Shrek being available in the gift shop (they weren’t). The second red flag should have been that the pre-show proper was heralded by a guy doing his best Tyler Perry impression teaching audience participation games centered around the word “flogging” to a swathe of sun-baked tourists huddled into a literal medieval torture dungeon. The third red flag was the film itself. Despite its short runtime, Shrek 4-D was nothing but an assault of dated pop culture references (even for the ride’s early 2000s debut), uninspired visual gags, and what can only be described as thermonuclear dad puns, all “aided” by chairs that jostle the viewer repeatedly and continuously, while also spraying you with water and farts. As we were leaving the film, my father looked at me with a sense of shame and regret I had never truly seen in him before. Is it possible for a film, intended for the enjoyment of families and average Joes like you or I, to be so bad that it could make a father consider financially and emotionally disowning his first-born son? Check your lapbars, folks, because Wonder Park dares to claim that title and I’ve made a park of my own to prove it. Please, step into…
Over the course of my time analyzing film —and mainly getting angry at films made for children— I’ve come to accept the fact that Hollywood is no stranger to curses. You’ve got things like the Superman curse, where it seems like any actor cast to play the Man of Steel has their career go up in flames after doing so. You’ve also got something like the Poltergeist curse, where the cast of the original films was marred by death and despair under mysterious circumstances to the point where some have asserted that the entire set of actors were paranormally marked for death. In recent years, however, I’ve come across what may be a new Hollywood hex that is sweeping the nation.
by Trevor Sheffield Over the course of my time analyzing film —and mainly getting angry at films made for children— I’ve come to accept the fact that Hollywood is no stranger to curses. You’ve got things like the Superman curse, where it seems like any actor cast to play the Man of Steel has their career go up in flames after doing so. You’ve also got something like the Poltergeist curse, where the cast of the original films was marred by death and despair under mysterious circumstances to the point where some have asserted that the entire set of actors were paranormally marked for death. In recent years, however, I’ve come across what may be a new Hollywood hex that is sweeping the nation. The Lord-Miller Curse. Named after renowned writer/director duo Phil Lord and Chris Miller, this new curse (as I’ve come to define it) has a tendency to occur when the two create a surprise smash-hit (for instance, 2009’s Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs or 2014’s The LEGO Movie). This inevitably leads to a sequel getting greenlit. At that point, if Chris and Phil don’t return to direct (or serve some major function), then it’s all but doomed to be a major downgrade from the original. It’s how you get stuck with movies like Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2, Solo: A Star Wars Story (where the duo were kicked out of the production midway, leading to a microcosmic version of the curse), and The LEGO Ninjago Movie. Sequels where the gap in quality between it and the prior film are wide enough to pull a cruise ship through. [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eu5J8XZdg1g[/embed] This leads us to The LEGO Movie 2: The Second Part. Released February 8, 2019 as the FOURTH entry in the Warner Bros’ theatrical LEGO franchise, the question of the hour for this film was simple: Had the Lord-Miller Curse claimed another victim?
You already know whether or not you’re going to go see A Dog’s Way Home, and I’m strongly sure that a majority of you feel like you’ve already seen it after watching the trailer in front of some other movie this past holiday season. It’s a movie with a poster that features an impossibly small puppy fitting comfortably inside of a size ten Chuck Taylor, and the tagline “A lot can happen between lost and found…” Not to give into cynicism or a nihilistic attitude given that we are knee deep into January, a month known for being Hollywood’s dumping ground for low-tier films and guaranteed bombs (that is, before Netflix arrived to save us from such surefire classics as The Magnificent Seven and Michael Peña’s Extinction), but the fact of the matter is that the deck is stacked against this film from the ground up.