HopkinsCinemAddicts

See You In 27 Years: A Look at Andy Muschietti's It Duology (Cristina)

I continue to find myself unbelievably fond of Andy Muschietti's It Chapter One. While on the surface It is a horror movie about an evil clown named Pennywise, when you dig deeper it's an earnest character-driven ensemble film. The movie does a meticulous job balancing all seven members of the Losers' Club, a plucky band of outcasts being tormented by the clown, as unique characters with strong voices, separating them at times to develop their individual journeys and bringing them together to bounce off each other. Whether it's Richie making a terrible joke, Beverly saying something courageous, or Stan dryly rolling his eyes, the characters' have great consistency in their interactions with each other, a playful banter that easily escalates to genuine tension between their distinctive personality types as the stakes increase. 

At its core, it's a coming of age film, following the kids as they confront the evils of the world around them for the first time, only able to find understand and gain the ability to fight back against their circumstances when united. And while their circumstances include a killer clown, they also encompass each characters' individual struggle: Bill's grief at the loss of his brother, Eddie's disillusionment with his mother's overparenting, Mike's forced adjustment to independence and maturity as an orphan. It's only by coming together and fighting the clown that each character is able to accept their situation and grow.

It Chapter Two picks up 27 years later as the characters reunite after Pennywise returns to torment their hometown again. Because of some evil magic, all the characters who left town have no memory of their childhood there at all and only when returning home do they start to remember, both the evils they encountered and their friendship. It becomes essential for each character to uncover parts of their past in order to actually kill Pennywise, once again pairing the clown's attacks with the kids' personal and familial struggles in a series of flashbacks. The narrative becomes a tale of confronting repressed trauma and only being able to overcome that trauma by confronting it head-on. 

The film's narrative is aided by the performances, each adult actor remarkably capturing every slight mannerism from the children's performances. Visually the characters haven't changed at all, unable to while they were unable to overcome the trauma they've repressed.

All that keeps Chapter Two from being as successful at its narrative as its predecessor is the very effectiveness of the first movie. Both the original Stephen King novel and the 1990 miniseries cut between two timelines instead of separating them, pairing the adults return and reunion with the memories they slowly regain of their original fight with Pennywise. The driving force of the adult Losers becomes their ability to uncover what happened that summer and how they were able to fight the clown so they can defeat it again. By separating the children's timeline into its own contained narrative, removing its episodic nature for a more streamlined plot, the audience isn't held in suspense in the adults' timeline, but is rather waiting for the adults to catch up to what the audience already knows. 

While the underlying messages of the narrative are still preserved, the 170-minute runtime of the second film only exacerbates the lack of suspense. The movie is carried along by the charisma of the characters, the intrigue of seeing them as adults, and a promise of finality for their struggles, both internal and against the clown. 

Ultimately Muschietti's adaptation shows true understanding of the point of King's novel and an ability to convert deep thematic narratives to screen. There's something powerful about the narrative that I can't escape, the way the characters find solace in each other and strength in themselves when united. Despite the struggle of pacing in the second film and the campiness of the horror, I continue to recommend it and can't wait to see it again.

Mandy Dreams of LSD (Eric)

Nic Cage is my favorite actor of all time, and thanks to his questionable financial responsibility, he seems to take any movie offer thrown his way. In 2018, Cage lent his voice to two animated movies, appeared in one documentary, and acted in six feature films, one of which was Mandy. Directed by Panos Cosmatos, Mandy is a nightmarish revenge thriller, imbued with as much unhinged emotion as it is with psychedelic color. In other words, it is the perfect vehicle for Cage’s often over-the-top acting style. Playing the role of a reclusive, recovering alcoholic whose wife is kidnapped and burned alive by a Manson-esque cult, Nic Cage operates at maximum Cage-ness for the duration of his bloody rampage, and it’s a whole lot of fun.

While Nic Cage was perfectly cast for Mandy, the movie would not be what it is without Cosmatos’ vision and the skill with which he laces psychedelic drugs into the film itself. Drugs appear in most movies as plot devices, sold and bought and used by characters in order to move the narrative along. Replacing the cocaine in Scarface (1983) with cheeseburgers would not make any practical sense, but the plot would remain essentially the same. In addition, countless other movies attempt to depict or replicate mind-altering drug experiences through visual effects and camera techniques. For example, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998) uses close ups with wide angle lenses to create a disorienting effect, and special effects are used to make patterns in the carpet move as they might appear to during a real acid trip. Many science fiction movies take inspiration from psychedelic experiences to convey a sense of otherworldliness, as evidenced by the “Star Gate” sequence in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and the countless other versions of the endless light tunnel. Most similar to Mandy in its attempt to craft a world dependent on psychedelics is Enter the Void (2009), yet the intimate camera of Enter the Void provides the film with a sense of realism that is noticeably lacking in Mandy. Mandy is the first example of a movie I’ve seen in which the mise-en-scene is wholly inspired by psychedelic drugs and in which both character actions and the movie universe are dependent on the presence of such drugs.

In this way, it could be hypothesized that the world of Mandy is actually the collective internal experience of its characters. The very beginning of the movie features no drugs, but the mise-en-scene in these opening scenes acts as a prologue to the full blown hallucinogenic heart of the rest of the film. The saturated lighting and double-exposures, though muted in presentation, are still apparent in the opening. In the scene in which Nic Cage’s character first takes the fantasy acid, the film presents what appears to be a montage of images within the character’s mind. These images strongly resemble the actual setting of the film, and in the final scene, Nic Cage drives away under a colorful, fantasy horizon. Once the drugs are introduced in the plot, many sequences take on a rhythmic, dreamlike quality reminiscent of Stan Brakhage’s Dog Star Man (1961-1964). This is despite the very literal violence that occurs in the plot, which includes a chainsaw duel and a skull crushing. The plot is presented in a very linear fashion, yet the film works to meld scenes together, which limits the role of time and emphasizes the movie’s hallucinogenic nature. The saturated lighting, fade-ins and fade-outs, double-exposures, and dream sequences cooperate with the fantastical special effects to produce a film that both explores and inhabits hallucination.

The Portrayal of Artificial Intelligence in Modern Sci-Fi Film (Nita)

The exploration of artificial intelligence in film is not a novel concept. Perhaps it has been such a popular topic because it leads humans to self-reflect on what exactly humanity entails. Two films come to mind when I think of modern films that prompt discussion on the increasing integration of artificial intelligence (AI) into society: Spike Jonze’s Her (2013) and Alex Garland’s Ex Machina (2014). Both films portray the dynamic relationship between humans and technology in similar, yet distinct ways. The two films do touch on the potential advantages of AI. However, both end on a pessimistic note, with Her and Ex Machina pointing out how the lack of a physical and mental sameness, respectively, can create turmoil.

Her seems to portray the relationship between AI and humans as adversely consuming. Though Samantha (AI) serves as an enhancement in Theodore’s (human) social life, she also acts as a barrier between Theodore and other human beings by replacing authentic social interaction. Throughout the film, the idea that humans are becoming increasingly isolated from their physical surroundings is emphasized through the usage of zooming. On multiple occasions, the camera will focus on a character and gradually zoom out to convey a sense of disconnection to the viewer. One particular scene in which this technique is employed is when Theodore talks to Samantha for the first time. As the two bond, the camera slowly zooms out, leaving Theodore and Samantha isolated in the center of the frame. This camera technique functions as a means of communicating the alienating effect of AI and its ramifications on the relationships between humans. Furthermore, in Her, relationships with AI lack one of the most fundamental elements of intimacy: physical closeness. This aspect of intimacy is emphasized when Theodore meets with Catherine to sign divorce papers. Upon seeing each other, the very first action the two take is to embrace one another – an act that is impossible in the relationship between Theodore and Samantha. During Theodore and Catherine’s conversation, a shot-reverse-shot technique is employed to highlight the authentic face-to-face exchange that is occurring—such as is missing in Theodore and Samantha’s relationship. As Catherine signs the divorce papers, a montage reveals moments that the two shared when they were in a relationship. All of the memories depict the two hugging, kissing, and touching; they also reveal what is lacking in Theodore and Samantha’s relationship. The emphasis on the physical nature of Theodore and Catherine’s relationship serves to point out the deficiencies in AI/human relationships. Additionally, the meeting between Catherine and Theodore suggests that AI can be used to escape genuine human relationships that demand more of an investment. Catherine confronts Theodore about not being able to handle human emotions, which consequently prompts Theodore to question the authenticity of his relationship with Samantha. Thus, the sequence underscores the issue of AI acting as a replacement for real, physical relationships between human beings.

Despite showcasing the negative aspects of AI, Her does suggest that AI can also serve a positive role in a human’s life. When dejected Theodore returns to his bed and recollects a failed date for Samantha, the AI acts as confidant and offers consolation. It is therapeutic for Theodore to discuss his feelings with Samantha, and he cherishes their increasingly intimate bond. Despite their different forms, Theodore and Samantha are able connect in a seemingly genuine manner.  A close-up of Theodore’s face is used in this scene to convey intimacy, even though a physical form of Samantha is absent.

A similar narrative arc can be found in Ex Machina. Like Her, the film begins with a cold gray-scale color palette and depicts a highly machine-dominated world as isolating and impersonal. Caleb’s entrance into Nathan’s advanced estate is daunting; the camera follows Caleb from a distance as he interacts with machines, until finally reaching another human (Nathan) in the depths of the overwhelming structure. Caleb and Ava’s initial exchange is also characterized as distant. The two characters are physically separated by glass, and the two faces are not shown in the same frame. As the film progresses, we see how Ava and Caleb (AI and human) become closer. The meetings between Caleb and Ava are depicted as becoming more intimate, with the camera positioned to show both faces in the same shot. Meanwhile, Caleb and Nathan’s relationship (human and human) deteriorates, while Caleb becomes suspicious that Nathan is the “enemy”.

Similar to how Her depicts the protagonist confiding in AI, Caleb discusses his negative feelings toward Nathan and begins to plot with Ava – in a sense, switching sides. The emotional progression of the plot leads us to empathize with her character while wondering how AI can be used in a moral manner to create a positive influence.

Ultimately, Ex Machina indicates that the possession of a human form may not necessarily translate into cognitive closeness between humans and AI. Ava’s “inhumane” betrayal of Caleb’s trust towards the end of the film suggests that AI’s lack of human consciousness may have problematic implications for humanity. Both Her and Ex Machina create an interesting dichotomy between AI’s capability to foster connection and disconnection. However, the two films have pessimistic conclusions, with the AI transcending the humans and leaving the protagonists’ lives incomplete.

Fury Road: The Car Is a Penis (Eric)

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), directed by George Miller, is structured as one giant car chase. The movie begins with Max’s capture and enslavement in the Citadel, a fortress with much needed water and resources in the movie’s wasteland Earth. He’s seen being branded with the skull logo that represents Immortan Joe, the dictator who maintains power by hoarding water in the Citadel. The Imperator Furiosa and a group of War Boys are sent into the dessert to collect gas and bullets when Furiosa suddenly deviates from the path. Furiosa is off to escape to the Green Place, the idyllic town from which she was kidnapped as a child, with Immortan Joe’s many “wives” in tow. Joe and his army immediately go after them, and chase after chase ensues in the hunt for Furiosa and the stolen wives.

When it comes to a car chase’s potential to induce an adrenaline rush, bigger always means better. With more cars comes a higher probability of crashes, and the typical large-scale car chase come in the form of police cars. Fury Road uses the basic idea of multiple cars chasing a single “prey” car and takes it to an extreme. The monstrous cars in Immortan Joe’s army serve specific functions in the hunt, and they are outfitted as such. There are cars fitted with machine guns, cars with people swinging through the air on poles, and there’s a single drummer boy car with a man swinging from wires while playing an electric guitar. Max himself gets dragged into the initial chase as a “blood bag”, and he’s seen chained and muzzled to the front of a car. Mastery of these specialized vehicles is critical to survival in this post apocalyptic environment. Importantly, the titular Max evidences less mastery over these vehicles throughout the film than does Furiosa, and though Max is by no means incompetent, Furiosa is set up as the leader of the pack, which creates some interesting implications.

Furiosa, with her shaved head and the ease with which she fends for herself in this violent setting, is a very masculine character. Indeed, the cylindrical vehicle which she controls for much of the film is the most phallic car out of the whole fleet. It’s also the largest vehicle in the movie. Furiosa stands in stark contrast to the more traditionally feminine “wives” that she’s leading to the Green Place, though even they are tougher than they appear. Despite being clothed in white dresses and shirts, (as opposed to Furiosa’s dirty pants and boots and metal arm), the wives have no choice but to match the fierceness of the men around them in order to survive.

Furiosa’s truck is large enough to fit several protagonists inside, thus giving it the ability to serve as a setting all on its own. The majority of the characters in the film are men, and Furiosa’s truck is an outlier in terms of its personnel. The heroes, many of them female, must work together within the vehicle to fight off the attackers in this dangerous, desert landscape. Furthermore, the creation of bonds and realization of emotions occurring mid-chase works to form character arcs as the action occurs. Ultimately, Furiosa is able to achieve success with the help of her crew, and the display of her dominance and mastery over her environment comes with the orgasmic release of the water that’s been hoarded by Immortan Joe.