Reviews

Open scene: A quiet somber town in the middle of Nowhere, USA, surrounded by mountainous forests and filled with hapless citizens. It is idyllic, if not a bit boring at times. Nothing much seems to happen here. That is, until one day a dark and powerful presence wanders into town. It comes from seemingly nowhere and it's intentions are unclear. Within moments, this peaceful little place is subsumed in chaos as the violent force tears its way through the town and its inhabitants. The police are unable to stop it. No matter how many times you shoot it, it just won't die. Anyone who wanders into the woods alone is bound to be caught in the snares of this creature and either brutally maimed or simply disposed of, leaving a bloody corpse for the others to find. By the end of the story, the town is left in a fiery ruin. Buildings are destroyed, countless people are carted off in stretchers to waiting ambulances and bystanders are left in shock by the carnage. What is this creature that you are imagining? Perhaps something grotesque and green, dripping with puss and slime, the large fangs lining a bottomless gullet. Or perhaps it's a creature from the lagoon, or an alien from another world, or a shamanistic cursed beast. How about John Rambo?

In many ways, First Blood (1982) is more reminiscent of the monster horror movies of the 1980s than the action hero movies of the same era. It has more in common with The Thing (1982) or Alien (1979) than with an Arnold Schwarzenegger action flick like Commando (1985), only in this case Rambo is not Ripley or MacReady, he is the Alien and the Thing. Rambo is the mysterious entity that lurks in the shadows and catches you when you are alone. He is the terrifying entity that has no clear motive other than to kill. The character that was clearly written to be a protagonist, badass action hero is in many ways the existential threat to many innocent and morally neutral citizens. In other words, he is a horror monster.

I don't necessarily view this reading as an intentional eyebrow-raise by the creators. I'm sure Sylvester Stallone imagined himself as a badass action hero with bulging muscles who saves the day. The legacy of the film and the sequels it spawned are evidence enough of that. However, sometimes a work of art can get out of the hands of the artist and become something larger. It is no longer within their control. Just like how Ray Bradbury intended Fahrenheit 451 to be a social commentary on laziness and addiction to technology, but it didn't matter. People will read it as an allegory of fascist censorship and the dangers of totalitarianism, no matter how many lectures he gives railing against this interpretation. First Blood is, in my eyes at least, heavily leaning towards monster horror with the scaffolding of an action adventure flick.

It's not so much about the story. There isn't much in the way of story here. A wandering PTSD-laden Vietnam vet finds himself having to defend himself in the forest against a police force and eventually a military. The elevator pitch on this one is rather short. It's not quite a mind-bender. But that was never the point anyway, the movie holds up under its own positive qualities without having a revolutionary script. But besides the story, it is really the cinematic atmosphere, the music, the tension that really makes this movie memorable, and also what makes it reminiscent of Alien or Predator (1987). The movie is darkly lit, with scenes of flashing thunder and intense piano keeping you on the edge of your seat. We never really know where Rambo is until he strikes. He lures the officers deeper into the woods where he can pick them off one by one, until finally the civilians need an army to take him down, but of course they cannot. In other words he "Just. Won't. Die!", an archetype reserved for comic book heroes, James Bond and monsters.

The wanton destruction we see in monster horror is often random and without justification. Monsters like Jaws (1975), Godzilla (1954) and IT (2017) seem to exist exclusively for the purpose of killing and destroying. Similarly, Rambo's spree of destruction seems equally random if you view it from the perspective of the police. Here is a random drifter who comes into town, won't abide by some simple (albeit rude and uncalled-for) requests by the town sheriff, and instead of accepting a $250 fine, induces a massive manhunt that leaves one person dead and dozens injured, possibly crippled. You might say it is a response to police brutality, but is the reaction really justified? Especially against people who had nothing to do with it. No, it's not about that. As the necessary Harbinger of Doom (Colonel Trautman, in this case) tells us, Rambo is a machine designed to kill. You cannot even aspire to kill him, you can only hope to escape with your life.

By the end of First Blood, as with virtually any good monster horror, our views about the monster change. Ultimately, the monster can be viewed as innocent of its crimes. Rambo is a tortured (both literally and figuratively) soul with no purpose or place in this world. He has experienced the unimaginable horrors of war, seen his friends die in gory fashion right in front of him, and upon returning to the real world, is greeted not with sympathy but with hatred and ostracism. All of this exposition that is meant to invoke our own sympathy happens within the last 2-3 minutes of the film, well after we have witnessed the violent bloody rampage. Just like we don't blame a shark for being hungry, and we feel sympathy for Frankenstein's monster for having been created and subsequently neglected by his creator, we understand Rambo's experiences and find them justifiable in some sense.

Perhaps in this way, many people will be left with the impression that Rambo is the hero of this story. I think that this is wrong, and the fact that we are led to feel this way says something about our views of trauma and the dangers of masculinity, but that is a topic for another essay. First Blood is far from a typical action movie and considerably different than the sequels it spawned. It's hard to imagine that Rambo became an action hero on par with Indiana Jones or Jason Bourne, but that's essentially what happened. It could just be chalked up to our obsession with bloody violence, or maybe rippling biceps and a cool demeanor. Whatever it is, I just hope a "hero" like Rambo never wanders through my town.

If Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2012) was an archetypal example of how to one-up an original movie and create an enthralling and captivating movie franchise, Mockingjay Part 1 is the all too typical way of crushing that excitement. What was shaping up to be a memorable franchise that would become logged in the public discourse and be mentioned in the same breath as Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia was unceremoniously extinguished by a completely lackluster third installment. Disappointing in many regards, it lacked so many of the things that made the first and, especially, the second movie so fun to watch. Whatever momentum the series had before this was lost in something that was simply a mediocre sequel.

What made Catching Fire so good? It was the intense and unique action in The Games that never let you relax for a moment. It was the reliance on heavy hitting talent in Jennifer Lawrence, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Donald Sutherland. It was the beautiful imagery of The Capital and the contrast to the bleak existence in the cities. It was the sense of fulfillment in seeing an oppressed society rise up against its oppressors. Most of this was lost, or at least made bland and boring in Mockingjay Part 1.

One of the most unfortunate critiques in this movie compared to the last is the fact that it is entirely generic and forgettable. It feels like you could plug this movie into almost any science fiction fight-against-the-man type of film series. Was this The Hunger Games or was it Maze Runner? Or was it Divergence? One could imagine a nearly identical course of events in almost any anti-establishment narrative. Clearly, the story couldn't just repeat the Hunger Games for a third time or it would become stale, but these are not the only things that make the world unique. You have the exorbitant extravagance of The Capital Citizens. There is the uniqueness of each of the 12 districts and how they interact with each other. There are the Gamemakers and their sleuthy, creative killing methods. All these things and more were forgotten in place of a plug-and-play rebel alliance story.

Another disappointment was the onscreen chemistry of the actors and the lack of use of some amazing actors. In Catching Fire, Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) and Finnick (Sam Claflin) play a strong supporting role to Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence), who puts in a masterful performance in being a broken, scared girl to growing up and accepting the challenge and becoming the heroic figure. Plutarch (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) is an enigmatic wildcard with a sly smile who keeps us guessing. In Mockingjay Part 1, Lawrence gets very little time to shine. The intense action scenes which she does so well are few and far between. Hutcherson is rarely in scenes and when he is, his acting abilities are subdued. Hoffman is made to take a backseat as only a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things. And unfortunately, Julianne Moore (who plays President Alma Coin) put in a less than inspiring performance as the aspiring leader of a rebellious uprising.

Catching Fire gave us a sense of purpose as audience members, when we could cheer for the gradual uprising in the districts mirrored by Katniss' success in The Games, both her physical defeats of Capital sympathizing stand-ins from the first districts, and her emotional grapplings with killing and its repercussions. Once we are introduced to District 13 and the underground rebellious movement, headed by Alma Coin, it seems to lose its luster. This is no longer Poncho Villa versus the oligarchical dictatorship, it's the Allies versus the Axis, a feeling of an even playing field. Gone is that feeling of an underdog that's building up to something special, led by an unexpected hero. Instead we jump-cut to the point where the Districts have an established military system and a next-in-line dictator who doesn't seem to care much about her people. It's a fight without a face and heel, just machine against machine.

There is something that feels artificial about Katniss and her Mockingjay persona in this film. The film itself is almost a meta-critique of this. The Mockingjay is quite literally an artificial construct used by District 13 to inspire the rebellion. Katniss, however, wants to be genuine and passionate in the propaganda videos and has the opportunity to make grand speeches in the face of real crisis. However, even these moments of supposed truthfulness feel like a reenactment. This whole idea of having film cameras follow around Katniss, and especially the propaganda films they make, feel like something from a cheesy satirical comedy. It recalls images of "I'm doing my part!" from Starship Troopers (1997). Starships Troopers has the benefit of not taking itself too seriously, being purposefully lighthearted in contrast to the dark reality. Mockingjay Part 1, on the other hand, attempts to be only darkness, a bleak reality of war. Scenes with that comedic spin feels forced and out of place rather than tension breaking.

In the end, what we all wanted this movie to be, and what the studio needed it to be, was a setup to the inevitable conflict and resolution in the final movie that we all already knew was coming. The audience should be on the edge of their seat in anticipation for the finale after watching this film. However, that feeling is not something I expect many people would be left with. Having split the final book into two parts, the film is left with many voids of space compared to the first two films which were so jam packed with action and plot progression it almost felt rushed. It is a slog to get through this, and the final film can only hope to compensate in some ways.

Writing this review a few years after the movie was released, and looking back on it in retrospect, it seems unfortunate that the series has exited public consciousness for the most part. You never see Hunger Games themed toys at the store, and people don't usually bring it up in conversation. This pales in comparison to the extreme hype when the first film was released. Perhaps this is the natural progression of things, that a series should run its course and have its day in the sun. Not everything can last like certain stories. It is just disappointing to know that something that started with so much promise will end with a whimper and not a bang.

Note: This review only pertains the season 1

Altered Carbon, from the very first episode, builds us a picture of a universe that is both imaginable and extraordinary. It has familiarity to our own world, and unique aspirational technology that we can only dream about. Human microchips and digital consciousness allow humanity to achieve that which they have been searching for for millennia: immortality. Plus, we are dazzled by the usual cyberpunk fanfare of flying cars, AI and futuristic narcotics. The main character, Takeshi Kovacs, is not just the typical hunky hero that can fight and takes off his shirt at any opportunity (though he is that as well), but he is also a cunning tactician and skillful negotiator. He uses he brains as much as his brawn to get himself out of any tricky situation. We are lured into the lurid world of Laurens Bancroft and taken on a wild ride into a sordid, shocking and sometimes repulsive world that keeps you wondering where it will go and who else will be roped in.

And all this leaves me wondering by the end of the season, what was the point? We have this intricate build up and intense, unfolding mystery and by the end of the season I was scratching my head and saying to myself, so what? In Episode 7, we are introduced to Reileen "Rei" Kawahara, the sister of Takeshi Kovacs, and then everything goes downhill. Ignore for a moment the fact that they are siblings but inexplicably have different last names for a moment, and we'll focus on the actual failure of storytelling.

Let's first focus on the key motivations and backstory of Rei, to get a sense of who she is and how she fits into the story. After learning that Quellcrist Falconer is going to try to revolt against the immortalizing Stack technology and bring everyone back to the time when life was finite, Rei has a change of tune and wants to undermine the revolution. The only thing she cares about is being with her brother for the rest of time. So she kills everyone Kovacs has become friends with, including his romantic love interest in Quell, destroying everything Kovacs ever held dear in the world besides her. Oh and somehow this makes her super rich, I guess because she sold out the rebels to the galactic order. Then, to release Kovacs from suspended animation purgatory, she devises an elaborate scheme where she murders an uber rich elite and sends him on a wild chase around the whole world trying to solve the mystery of the killer, all the while trying to bring him to see her by sending a brain-dead, murderous goon to escort him to her. Excuse me, what?

There is so much to unpack here and just so much that seems wrong. Why did she send someone to escort him who wanted to kill him? Why didn't she just go there herself? She could even put her stack in someone else's body and go find him herself, and just say "Hey it's me, your sister. Remember this detail that only we remember which proves irrefutable that I am your real sister? Now let's get out of here, I'm rich now." The amount of headache this would have solved is unbelievable. We already know that the upper-class are basically immune from punishment, or at least can elude it pretty easily, as we see that the police force is easily bribed and altogether inept. Why did she ever send him on this convoluted and pointless mission if her end goal was to spend time with him?

Here's the key piece of dialogue that explains her intentions, from Episode 8:

Kovacs: Why didn't you say anything? Rei: Because I knew it was going to be hard for you to trust me.

In what deluded way could anyone ever think that something like this was just going to blow over eventually. Oh yeah, I just murdered everyone you loved and destroyed all remnants of your core ideology, plus I lied to you for weeks and nearly had you killed, but trust me, I did it for you! Maybe we are supposed to think that she is just an insane psychopath. There isn't really much build up to this though. One moment she is a loving sister who wants to go along with her brother through thick and thin, and next she is selling him and his allies out to the interstellar police. Her character development really boggles the mind.

Beyond the frustration of the plot holes and insanity of Rei's plan, there is just something so disappointing in discovering that it all led back to Rei. Everything is Rei. Every possible little detail that we thought was some intricate plot was the doing of a delusional sister. Bancrofts killer. Rei. The owner of Head in the Clouds. Of course, it's Rei. The head of the VR torture facility. Who else, but Reileen? There is no artistry in this character. It shows a complete lack of storytelling prowess. It is reminiscent of an student writing an essay and has no idea how to end it, but the deadline is tomorrow morning at 8am and it's already 11:45pm, so they write some half-assed semi-nonsensical paragraph that tangentially relates everything together.

The ending could have been saved with a cool plan by Kovacs and his new allies, but even that was stifled by the overpowering mediocrity of Rei's character. Instead of getting some well thought out plan, the heroic moment becomes nothing more than a fist fight. Kovacs' plan goes awry and he is surrounded by Rei's guards, and Kovacs new squeeze, Kristin Ortega, along with his buddy Vernon Elliot, are captured and about to be executed by Rei. Talk about tough love. Please cherish me brother, and if you don't, I'll kill everyone you care about a second time! Well, surely he'll see the light, I mean how much more reasonable can she be? Anyway, after all being captured, what does Kovacs do? He uses a moment of surprise to knock the guards unconscious, and then has a sword fight with his dear sister. Ortega also has a fight of her own, somehow managing to beat the formerly indestructible kung fu bodyguard hired by Rei. The plot armor is quite thick here. Nothing too difficult to follow here, just a few people duking it out in the most climactic moment of an otherwise thoughtful and intricate story.

It feels so inorganic to the overall story that we had to end in this place. I wanted something more unique considering what had been built up to all this time. It feels like an intended ending was in mind from the very beginning, and the creators worked backwards trying to jam as many things in that would fit, ignoring anything that didn't really make sense and disregarding the integral aspects that make this world compelling. If we could have got the ending without Rei somehow, or at least in some other form, then there would have been so much more to work with and we could have gotten something more interesting at the end. I am not here to suggest what the actual ending could be, I am just a critic after all and not a talented Netflix writer, but there surely is something in between a virtuoso's awe-inspiring climaxes and whatever this hot mess was.

Elsa is simply a bland, lifeless shell with the sole purpose of singing Let It Go and acting as a plot driver for Anna, Kristoff and Olaf. She has no desires, no emotions, no humanity. I exaggerate a bit, but it feels like that at times. Her character is minimal and Idina Menzel doesn't really have the voice acting ability to make something from nothing. And you see, this isn't necessarily a problem. In the first Frozen film, she was barely on screen and the focus was mostly on the adventure of Anna and her sidekicks. Elsa's lack of energy was masked by the overall plot and the performances from the real stars. Elsa was more of a device rather than a character, and she served that role well. She caused the ice storm, and Anna fixed that. She was the problem that every film needs to have as the integral latching-on point to give a concise and exciting narrative.

But in the second film, things fell apart. Why? Because they made Elsa the main character. Anna was shunted off to her own pointless side-quest with Olaf, and Kristoff was...wait where was Kristoff? Did he even appear in the movie? He was entirely forgettable except for the 80s power ballad (which I admit was pretty awesome, actually) and the single cleverly disguised sex joke at the end that is mandatory in every Disney cartoon. Elsa was front and center for the whole movie. She simply does not have the depth of character or the relatability to hold the film up on her own, and so the story feels flat and lifeless compared to the first.

We can simply compare the two main songs from the first and second movie. "Let It Go" is a release from responsibility, a rebellious ode to freedom and escape from scrutiny. Thus, Elsa becomes the antagonist (though not really the antagonist, more like the "problem-maker"). This role suits her as she can step aside to let the other characters save her and her kingdom. "Into The Unknown" is a song full of reservations. "I've had my adventure, I don't need something new" she says in the song. She is a main character who actively wants to avoid interesting developments. How can we be expected to attach ourselves to a character who doesn't even want to be the star in their own movie? If we are to put ourselves in her shoes, then the following events of the film are an unhelpful nuisance, not an enterprise of self-growth and accomplishment.

The other Disney stars of this similar era make Elsa seem like a tired schlup. Moana is drawn to "the line where the sky meets the sea", an unquenchable thirst for exploration on the great blue waves. Judy Hopps is a precocious overachiever who will stop at nothing to succeed beyond expectations. Rapunzel could have been just a lovely damsel in distress but was witty and, at times, bad-ass. And Elsa is a queen who doesn't want to be a queen on an adventure that she never wanted to go on.

I get it, Elsa had a traumatic past. She was locked up in her room for years and not allowed to see her only sister and companion in this world. The journey of the first and second movie is therefore how she deals with her trauma and copes. She is awkward and nervous, reserved and not outgoing. A character does not need to be exuberant or over-dramatic to be entertaining. But there needs to be at least an element of relatability. Elsa doesn't have nearly enough screen time or lines between the first movie and the first 20 minutes of the second to really warrant this connection with the audience, so when she sets off on her own adventure, we have nothing to work with.

For me, one of the parts that best illustrates the failure of Elsa's writing and her overall character is her relationship with Anna. It is in every way a canoe with one paddle, totally one sided and can't function. On one hand we have Anna who expresses deep yearning for her sister's love, a quirky familiarity and passion. From Elsa we get a clinical, monotonous response. Their relationship is so awkward and strained that I was physically cringing at animated characters. I know they didn't grow up together, but they spent the last three years living together. I would expect some sort of camaraderie by now. There are two scenes which really highlight this. The first is the scene where they are playing Charades and the second is the heart-to-heart they have near the very end of the film.

In the charades scene there is a happy family playing a fun game together...and there is an odd one out, a fifth wheel who just feels out of place. Never mind the fact that she has something else on her mind (which comes near the end of the scene), there is absolutely no sign of emotional connection here. It goes well beyond the socially awkward type which is Elsa's shtick into the unconnectable. I want to empathize with her, but I simply cannot.

The scene near the end, where Elsa explains the narrative conclusion and abdicates her throne, is even worse. This is supposed to be a moment of summative character growth and understanding. It loses all power because of Elsa. It feels like Anna is talking to a robot rather than her sister. It feels like Spock trying to explain something trivial to Captain Kirk. The problem is that Spock has earned that right to monotony and coolly calculated wisdom through a deep character backstory and a dearth of episodes to lean on. Elsa has none of this, but we are suddenly expected to take her as an all-knowing arbiter of the will of nature. It's either trite or it's snooze-inducing, take your pick.

Maybe it's on purpose that they made Elsa an ice queen (yes, I know they couldn't call it Frozen otherwise). She is cold and placid, frozen to the core. The metaphor went overboard and became self-fulfilling. The cold was supposed to be the overarching metaphor that builds the world and characters, but instead it just froze my interest.

I have to admit that Elsa has some cool moments. When she is an ice-wielding superhero, that's awesome. When she is fighting with the ocean and the spirit of the water, it is totally cool and engaging. That is what I want her to be all the time. She is the secret weapon that the gang can pull out at any moment to defeat the baddies. When she has a lot of dialogue and when the story hinges on her emotional exploits, that's where the film goes wrong. With a different focus, this film could go from average to pretty good.

You know what's just the real kicker though? Disney always wins. No matter what, they come out on top. They can make a movie with a convoluted plot and sub-par main character and they win anyway, because they know their audience so well and they control the marketing. Frozen II is the 10th highest grossing movie of all time (at the time of writing this) and out-grossed the original. It is the second highest grossing animated film of all time. Maybe they don't need to spend the time making a compelling character with an interesting personality and character growth. Maybe they just need a generic placeholder that can be the face to plaster on toys and games, and they can keep putting out the same thing over and over. The recent success of their remakes and their ever-growing media empire certainly indicates this is true.

By this point, we all know that there is a good and a bad way to make a children's movie. There is Wall-E (2008), and there is Boss Baby (2017). Pixar (generally) gets it right, and Illumination can hit or miss. You need to strike a balance. You want to be cute but not juvenile, funny but not slap-stick, and silly while also mature. It can be a difficult balance to get exactly right, with many films leaning too far one way or the other. When creating a film to appeal to children, you must, almost mandatorily, appeal to their parents as well, who are paying for the tickets, buying the popcorn, and driving their child to the movie theater. Maleficent seems to balance on this line in a lackadaisical fashion.

Now, this raises a further question: Is Maleficent, in fact, a children's movie? The story itself is obviously much older, going all the way back to the 1300s from Giambattista Basile, who surely didn't intend it to be consumed exclusively by children (hence the casual mentions of sleep-assault (though perhaps that's what children listened to in the 1300s, who am I to say)). The 1959 version has it's elements of mild horror, but overall it would be suitable for most kids, as won't wrack the brains of any adults. The 2014 version, told from the antagonists perspective, maintains that style, and with the PG rating and lack of any blood or curse words, you wouldn't be wrong to take your niece and nephew to see it on the big screen. In my view, this movie appeals largely to children, thus making it a kids movie.

So, where does it go wrong? Let's start with the plot line, and the main problem. Unless you've been under a rock for the past 700 years, no spoiler tags should be necessary. The back-stabbing king tricks Maleficent, steals her wings and is rewarded with the throne. Maleficent gets her revenge by cursing his first born, whereupon the lovely young Aurora falls into an unbreakable coma on her 16th birthday, only to be undone by the True Love's Kiss™. In the original story, and in the 1959 animation, this is a problem. In this movie (this is the part where the real spoilers begin), it may as well have not happened at all. It was infuriating to watch the build up of the past 70 minutes culminate in the most basic of triviality. Aurora predictably pricks her finger and falls into her deep sleep, and is there for maybe one hour? Two tops? What was the point? Shortly after falling into her sleep, she is awakened, not by a lovely prince this time, but by the kiss of Maleficent, who has now begun to love Aurora as her own daughter after secretly taking care of her in the magical forest.

This reversal of the narrative delivers us two cliches that are as pandering as you can be. Firstly, the person who caused the problem in the first place is the one to solve the problem (see Megamind (2010), Moana (2016), Frozen (2013)). Secondly, perhaps you would call it a reverse-cliche, the true love comes not from a romantic partner, but from familial bonds (again, see Frozen). I guess Disney felt it was their duty to try to disrupt the hegemony of handsome princes by using the same exact major plot point in movies just 6 months apart from one another.

These are the types of plot points that children do not care about, or do not understand, but that parents pick up on and leaves them scratching their heads. Of course, their are all the parents who are happy enough to just make their kids smile and leave the theater with neither an opinion nor a memory of what they just watched, but if apathy is the best we can hope for from the adult audience then we aren't really trying very hard. Everyone knows the story of Sleeping Beauty, and everyone knows that the deep-sleep is coming, and to just have some hand-waving to make it disappear makes the whole movie leading up to it seem pointless. This, along with some other rather glaring plot holes and a generally predictable journey makes the story unengaging and boring.

The acting is another thing that we need to grapple with here. If one-dimensionality is flat and boring, then the other side of the spectrum must be four-dimensionality, taking it too far. This movie has both. On one side we have Aurora (played by Elle Fanning) who might as well be a mannequin with how much she added to the plot, and the three dim-witted pixies, Flittle, Knotgrass and Thistlewit (played by Lesley Manville, Imelda Staunton, and Juno Temple respectively) who are our three-stooges providing us with banal slap-stick comedy. On the other side is Maleficent (played by Angelina Jolie) and Stefan (played by Sharlto Copley) who provide sometimes convincing performances that go totally off the rails in times of heated emotional moments. Something about the way Jolie screams in furious anger makes me laugh more than it does make me afraid.

This movie has every element that will make a film look good on the surface. But we already knew we were going to get that. It's a Disney film, and Disney always knows how to make some acceptable, if not wonderful just with their costume design, animation and scoring. When you release ten films in a calendar year, obviously not every one of them is going to blow you out of the water, and the producers are likely more than happy when a middling film receives a small amount of press acclaim but triples its budget in the box office. And so I once again leave this film thinking, was that it? I yearn for something more because I know what is possible. For every Maleficent, there is Pirates of the Carribean or Toy Story that hits you on all the fronts and is a magical journey for those of any age.

I can appreciate when a director and writer choose to take a different approach. Having a film from the point of view of the antagonist wasn't easy until recently (especially with a children's film). And shying away from the frivolous and expected love angle is better than constantly trying to drive home the cliche. However, there is a right way to do it that can leave the audience with something to remember instead of something that is simply inoffensive and easy. I'm not saying I have the magic formula. Perhaps no one does (except Steven Spielberg of course). I haven't seen the sequel yet, it's next on my list now that it's out on Blu-Ray. I don't have high hopes, but I am always happy to have my preconceptions overturned. For now I'll comfort myself with some Jack Sparrow and Mike Wazowski.

Moana is exactly the type of film you get when you want a movie with an acceptable amount of entertainment for adults and children, a cookie-cutter plot that could be subbed in to any time period and culture, a minimum of challenge and character development, and catchy tunes that people will get stuck in their heads. It is the simulacrum of Disney's hundred year plan, to develop and distribute the easiest and shallowest media to the greatest masses of consumers. If you simply wanted a victory lap of the collected anthology of Disney princess odysseys, this is a perfect film. If you wanted anything new that you hadn't seen before, consider a different film.

I should start with the plot, or lack-thereof. This film has every hallmark of the young adult adventure down pat. A sense of disconnect between the hero and their community. A magical item. A cheesy sidekick who serves solely for comedic relief and adds nothing to the plot. The death of a loved one. Being "the chosen one". And finally, a journey into the unknown to save their community/country/the world. You will find all the classic tropes in Moana. It is the very face of predictability. In some ways, you really can't go wrong with a classic arc like that, but after seeing it so many times, you crave for more. You want something different that you didn't expect. Disney will throw in the occasional mild twist or turn, but nothing that's going to make you think for more than 5 seconds, and certainly nothing that's going to confuse or alienate any young, timid minds.

It felt like there were several missed opportunities here. We get the majority of the second act hyping up this idea of mythical creatures, monsters and super powers. Maui is a demigod with a magical hook and the power to give humans the very lifeblood of existence. I was dying to see what awaited in the realm of the monsters. And then as soon as it began, it was over. We got all of ten minutes and one song in the underworld before it was over. I was craving for more. The most intriguing point of the whole movie and they glossed over it in an instant. We got to see, in total, three monsters, including a throw in of the "there's always a bigger fish" trope. The other missed opportunity was the adorable (so I thought) sidekick of Moana, Pua the Pig. The cute little white pig got only a few minutes of screen time before being shunned by Moana as she set off on her adventure. I was waiting for him to pop out of the underside of her boat, but alas, we didn't see him until the closing moments of the movie. So much for being a loyal supporter. You get left behind, and Hei-hei the idiot chicken gets the come instead. That being said, Hei-hei did give me the biggest laughs of the film.

Despite all the criticism, there are some important parts that make the film enjoyable and at least worth one watch. Disney once again knocks it out of the park with their music. What can really be said that hasn't already about Disney musicals? They are the gold standard. They manage to tell a story while at the same time being catchy and fun. There is always at least one song in every Disney movie that you have to download and listen to on repeat for a week after you hear it. It has a set up piece, although perhaps a bit blunt and obvious, with Where You Are. A comedic song with You're Welcome, that will leave you saying "I didn't know The Rock could sing..." And of course, the heavy hitter, How Far I'll Go, that I can safely admit was stuck in my head for a long time.

The attention to detail is also something rarely missed among these classic animated features. The richness in the presentation of Polynesian culture is certainly something to be admired, and it is always nice to see a film that explores a seldom seen corner of the world. The animation is always beautiful and well done. The colors throughout the film are warm and subtle when they need to be, aquatic and fresh without being over the top or overpowering. The little easter eggs and subtle graphical details are always a special charm when watching a Disney film.

Moana is exactly what it needs to be. Not something that is going to challenge or polarize anyone, but a fun, light-hearted adventure that will keep everyone, young and old, engaged for 100 minutes. And certainly, it can be said that not every film needs to be evocative in order to be good. Where Moana lacks is in character development and a compelling plot. You never grip the arm of your chair and wonder if they will really make it in time. The climax and resolution are known from the moment you see the characters formulating the plot in the 10 minute mark. Everything will be fine. Truly, it is fine. Just relax and take in the summer breeze and the light spray of misty salt water as the waves roll by.

Is an accurate review of this film even possible? We all watched different movies unless you are one of the few who slogged through 5 hours worth of scenes to watch everything they created. Even then, the order is different and the cohesive narrative is lost. I could review the acting, the cinematography or the special effects, but that's not the point. They were all good enough as a framework for the real substance of this film. This wasn't a film as much as it was a concept that merits further exploration, and perhaps is the first step in the future of media.

The protagonists of this film are the writers and directors who created something that strings together despite disparate elements and free choice. Whether that choice is just an illusion created by pressable buttons is irrelevant, because the feeling is there. When "Netflix" showed up on the screen as an option and I realized I was a character in this movie, it created a feeling that I have never experienced in a film before. An escape from the couch and a movement into the screen. The 13 inches of my monitor grew all around me and placed me solidly within the narrative.

Could this be better executed? Certainly. This is the first foray into such a film, unlike anything I have ever heard of before. There will be others who master it and create something much grander and more enthralling. This is not to say it is the first interactive film ever, but it would be willfully ignorant not to ascribe a certain specialty to this film and its impact on the genre.

I hope that you will leave this film feeling as though you have touched beyond normal cinema. It is something we can only truly experience with new technology and the ever growing creativity of directors who use that new technology. Where do we go next? I am excited to see what our ingenious heroes of cinema can come up with in the near future.

Toy Story 4 is certainly a fourth installment of a franchise. Whether you believe this to be a good thing or a bad thing is up to your opinion of rehashed ideas and the merit of original ideas. While a fun watch, this film lacked a lot of the magic and world building, character development and interesting side characters that we are so used to in Toy Story films.

The world we are put into in this Toy Story film is unfortunately shallow. Where in previous films we saw a wealth of interesting locations that have their own magic in each of them, the scope of this film is far more narrow. We are introduced to the carnival quickly and that is our home for 75 minutes or this film. It felt like the grand aspirations of an interesting world were not realized at all. I kept waiting for the next act, the next stop in the road trip, but it never arrived. We are also not given nearly enough of some of our favorite characters, in favor of drab tired side characters who lack much purpose. Potato Head, Rex, Slinky and Hamm have little more than a cursory mention, and Buzz is left with little to do besides act dumb and provide a small bit of comedic relief.

And where was the tension? The fear? The subtle darkness that made the first few films so wide reaching in its entertainment. There was no Sid, no incinerator. Never was I afraid for these characters. It was too easy for them the whole time. I was never on the edge of my seat and wondering what might happen next.

The stars of this movie were the small toys who were unique and colorful. The Canadian Daredevil, our high-five craving soldiers and the psychopathic horse were the stars of this movie and got the biggest laughs. They are a testament to Pixar's ability to have fun in the peripherals without overshadowing the main cast.

And what more can be said about the animation that everyone hasn't said about Pixar a million times before? The effects were superb. It felt so real and lifelike and yet cartoonishly fun. The ability to make a fork who is sympathizable and relatable cannot be overstated. It's really the little details, the reflection of light off the water, the way a book falls off the shelf, or a lightbulb explodes when crashed into. These are where the magic happens.

Was this movie fun? Yes of course. Was it the weakest of the franchise? Also yes. It didn't hit all the notes we have become accustomed to in Pixar films. Bring your kids, they will love it. And see it if you're a Pixar and Disney nerd, but I won't be putting this one on my shelf for my future children to watch as they grow up.