Agora

I usually don't care for period pieces. I often get caught up with making sure the costume and look of the environments are historically accurate, which is really not that important. What is truly important with the costume and set design are their artistic qualities; not whether the costumes are accurate to the time period. Hell, 99 times out of 100 the language isn't even accurate to the time period. But, certain things done in Agora make these details truly unimportant.

The main thing the film does are the shots of Earth from space. These give the film an anthro-pological feel, as if the filmmakers are arguing that the way the characters behave in the movie reflects the true nature of our species--the violent hatred between differing groups, the heated debates about whose God is true and just, the inability to put aside differences and coexist. This anthropology removes the film from its singular place in ancient Alexandria and makes it transferable to any culture, at any epoch in history.

Twice during the film, and again at the very end, written text appears on the screen describing the lives of certain characters as time within the film jumps forward a number of years. This is done each time during a shot from high up in the sky, if not outer space. This gives the viewer a sort-of "God's-eye-view" of Alexandria as time goes by, as if God or some celestial being is telling us what is taking place. These bits of text add to the anthropology of the film, as if the entire film were a chapter in a textbook, and God himself is reading it to us.

Aside from allowing the viewer to put aside the complaints of historical accuracies, the anthro-pology of the film is quite startling and frankly depressing. Several characters in the film articulate an mathematical principle (several math and science principles are used as metaphors for human interaction) indicating how we humans have more in common than we do different. Disappointingly, these articulations fall on deaf ears, as the Christians and Romans continue their hatred and waring throughout the film.

The first character to proffer this metaphor is Hypatia, a scientist and philosopher played exquisitely by Rachel Weisz. Ironically, in a film centered around religion so much, it is an admitted atheist philosopher who comes to embody what is often called the "face of God" character. She attempts to act as the arbiter between the feuding religions, be the level-headed diplomat for both sides, and represent hope with her beautiful smile as she gazes at the stars and works out thought experiments in her study. How is she rewarded for attempting this noble feat? She is accused of witchcraft and godlessness, and sentenced to be stoned to death.

She is brought to a local church and stripped naked, so that "God can behold [her] in all [her] filth," according to a member of her execution squad. While the death squad is gathering stones, she is murdered by Davus, her former slave and former lover, a leader of the Christian uprising. After the murder, the camera once again ascends to the heavens as text reports what is to happen to Hypatia's body in gruesome detail, and what is to happen to Alexandria as a whole, in one of the most mesmerizing and devastating film climaxes I've seen in quite a while.

Agora stands as a truly depressing film, reminds us that is not love that conquers all. Nor diplomacy. Nor reason. Nor beauty. It is the fervent defending of one's beliefs that drive the action in the entire film, from the opening religious riot, jaw-dropping because of its surprising violence and chaos, to the defiling of the famous Library at Alexandria by the revolutionary Christians, to the persecution of a brilliant scientist because of her lack of religion.

I am first reminded of Shakespeare's infamous quote from As You Like It: "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." I am then reminded of John Doe's meditation from Se7en: "What sick, ridiculous puppets we are, and what gross little stage we dance on. What fun we have dancing and fucking, not a care in the world, not knowing that we are nothing. We are not what was intended." These ideas ring even more truly after watching Agora.

The King's Speech

The King's Speech is the charming, twelve-time Oscar-nominated film about a soon-to-be king overcoming his stammer through the help of a speech therapist. It basically boils down to the standard and overdone "overcoming adversity" storyline that for whatever reason the Academy seems to drool over (which I'll address in more detail in my upcoming Oscars roundup).

This movie pretty much starts and ends with its performances (although there are a few other nice trinkets). Colin Firth gives a very genuine performance as King George VI, or "Bertie." The pressures he feels of becoming the new king and having to deal with his speech impediment come across absolutely, and his stammering speech is thoroughly convincing. Firth is very good, but Geoffrey Rush in the supporting role of speech coach Lionel Logue overshadows Firth in many of the scenes they share. Rush brings such a lightheartedness and humanity to the role, and is really the one to bring Bertie around despite his insecurities and self-doubts. Considering the roles both actors were given, Rush brought much more to the table than did Firth. Helena Bonham Carter was good as well, but was given too little screen time to really showcase or judge her performance.

Due in part to Rush's performance, the film had a charming humor to it that I wasn't expecting. There were quite a bit of comic relief that made the film more accessible, such as Lionel's wordplay and jokes and the swearing tirade Bertie goes on as a speech therapy technique; how often to you get to hear The Duke of York say "fuck" ten times in one minute? It was a bit out of place at times, particularly near the end, preparing for his first speech as king, but overall it was a nice touch.

Bertie's speech impediment also serves as a nice metaphor for the difference between nobility and the common man. Bertie's older brother Edward, his predecessor as king, resigns so that he may marry his love, a divorced woman. Bertie feels strongly the pressures of the Royal Family, while his brother hands over the crown so that he may marry his love. Edward has learned how to balance the stresses of nobility with his passions; Bertie has not. The pressure he feels as king and his desire to be like the common man causes his indecision, and hence his stammer.

This metaphor is understandable, but it's not all that relatable, especially in this age and place. Most of us cannot relate to the amount of pressure that exists in having to be the voice for an entire nation. In this country, at least, the pressures of nobility and family heritage are non existent unless you happen to have a former president or multi-billionaire in your family tree. The most basic ideas of conflict and pressure comes across in the film, but the specific degrees and natures of those pressures are from an antiquated society, and not easily relatable to today's moviegoer.

The photography in the film is worth discussing. There are many nicely composed and angled shots in terms of where the actors are in frame, but the art direction is not very noteworthy. There isn't a lot of symbolism, if any, used in the photography. The design of the costumes and sets puts you into 1920s Britain, but the photography is not used to really drive home the themes and tensions at work in the story. Given that the film is not extremely relatable, some cinematography that helps convey the stress that Bertie feels would have greatly helped the viewer understand his plight.

 

The King's Speech mostly amounts to a film that exists to showcase a great performance, which kind of bothers me. Films should be about the combination of story-telling and photography; this is the simple nature of film because of the combining of visual and auditory mediums, and those two aspects need to be in balance. When photography isn't given much importance, and story-telling and acting are given heavy importance, you might as well be watching a play. Even if you accept that, you're left with a play in which the dominant performance comes from a supporting actor, a play that's difficult to relate to.

 

The King's Speech is a good film that I enjoyed watching, but I wouldn't really pay to see it again or buy the DVD, and I certainly wouldn't give it twelve Oscar nods.

The Fighter

Shakespeare once said that there are only seven stories ever to be told. This means that since the eighth story ever imagined by humankind, we have been copying and repeating ourselves. Extrapolate that to the year 2011, and we have no hope for complete originality. Even still, can we try a little harder, people.

Taken by itself, The Fighter is a good movie. Mark Wahlberg and Christian Bale both give terrifically sympathetic performances, and fit well within the ensemble that is the Ward family and the entire city of Lowell (despite the somewhat annoying New England accent the cast is forced to feign). All the documentary-style moving camera and point-of-view shots really help to give you a sense of humanity and a connection with the characters, and the music does well to get you excited for each of Wahlberg's matches.

But, treated as one work within a medium, the film is incredibly predictable. Wahlberg's character is the stereotypically unassuming up-and-comer stuck in his star brother's shadow. Bale's is the standard over-the-hill douchebag-with-a-heart-of-gold still clinging to whatever faint glimmer of stardom that he can. Melissa Leo plays the typical unwittingly-overbearing mother trying to keep the family together by managing her son's career, and Amy Adams the hot young girlfriend competing with Walhberg's mother for his affection and control over his career. Any experienced moviegoer will be easily able to foresee which scenes are coming next, and there's never any doubt in the audience's mind whether Wahlberg will win his fights.

This creates within me a conundrum. I know the movie is formulaic, but it still manages to draw emotion out of me. Even though I was certain what the outcome of Wahlberg's fights would be, I still found myself fist-pumping in the theater when his opponents fell to the mat. Why is that? It's certainly not out of surprise; my disbelief was never really suspended. And is this experience of emotion enough to make it worthwhile to sit through a two-hour film?

Most of the time I would say no. I tend to find much more enjoyment in watching films that experiment with somewhat original story lines, camera techniques, etc; ones that take some chances, even if they end up falling flat. Even if you weren't able to succeed with your movie, at least you went against the grain and possibly influenced someone out there who can take your film and perfect the things that you attempted.

Accepting the fact that it brings nothing new to the table, I did nevertheless enjoy my viewing of The Fighter. Something about it got to me, even though it's not particularly relatable to me. It's probably Christian Bale's performance, which is, again, outstanding--Bale, and everyone else, watching his documentary in prison is extremely powerful and heartbreaking. In the end there will always be screens available in the world's cinemas for films that can execute the film-making textbook as well as The Fighter does.

The Social Network

With the film having just won a slew of awards, including four Golden Globes, I feel The Social Network is an appropriate choice for my first review. And let me begin my review by stating that in a vacuum, The Social Network is a good film. Really good. It has strong, relatable themes of competition to gain social status, the lighting and editing are superb, Eisenberg is very good and Trent Reznor's score is perfectly pitched. But, as a journalist, I can't put my seal of approval on such a libelous film.

The film treads the murky waters between fiction and nonfiction, drama and historical documentary. The film introduces into the history of the founding of Facebook fictitious characters, such as Erica Albright, whom the real Zuckerberg has said he never dated, but also uses real names and real events. This creates a question within the viewer's mind over how important the film's historical accuracy is and should be, and whether the film is to be treated as fiction or nonfiction.

The flirting with this line also has the potential to paint the real people behind the film in a very false light. The film paints Zuckerberg as a selfish, take-no-prisoners businessman who is only driven to create by the need to attain social status. It paints Sean Parker, who has voiced clear objections to his portrayal, as a partying playboy version of Zuckerberg. These two portrayals don't bother me too much, because both Zuckerberg and Parker are public figures, and therefore are susceptible to greater scrutiny by the media.

What truly bothers me are the portrayals of Eduardo Saverin and especially the Winklevosses. The film paints Saverin as a naive friend who can't see that he's being forced out of the company right in front of his face, and it paints the Winklevosses as silver-spooned rich kid jocks who throw their father's money around by suing people when things don't go their way. Especially the Winklevosses would have a good case if the were to sue screenwriter Aaron Sorkin for painting them in a false light, since the information in the film may be technically true but misleading.

There is solace to be had, I guess, in the fact that no one does care about libel. The voters behind all the awards the film has won don't seem to mind. Zuckerberg, Parker and Saverin all acknowledge the film as fictitious, and although they, especially Parker, have expressed concern with the film, they seem for the most part willing to accept the film as a product of Hollywood, and are comfortable leaving the film as that.

Cameron Winklevoss has described the film as nonfiction, and feels it's more or less accurate. He and Tyler have appeared at screenings of the film, and show no hostility to the makers of the film despite their depiction (although they are still sore over Zuckerberg's betrayal). They even have joined Facebook following their Olympic effort in Beijing.

I reiterate that The Social Network is indeed a good film in a vacuum. But films do not exist in vacuums. They exist in the real world, and bring with them real emotions and consequences. Even though David Fincher and everyone involved showed great filmmaking skill in The Social Network, I cannot ethically approve of a film that begins with the premise of truth and twists, stretches and alters the truth this much because of the potential impact it has on the real people involved in its story.