Walking Dead: The De-Evolution of a Series

Let me just start right out: I'm a horror movie fan. I spent a whole series of posts last year defending the horror film, and I relish each October for the plethora of movies I can throw onto the DVR.

I have to say, though: it's hard to find good horror material. And with horror being a hot commodity right now (vampires are the current fad, but it looks like zombies are on the rise), that means there is even more garbage to wade through.

One former bright spot was The Walking Dead - a show I used to look forward to for its suspense, intrigue, and character dynamics... Now in its third season and more popular than ever, I fear that the show has jumped the shark, and I doubt the strong character traits and suspenseful moments of the first season and a half will be returning any time soon.

There are several issues... (1) Zombies have a limited shelf-life. As Roger Ebert once pointed out, zombies work better as comic figures (think Shaun of the Dead) because they're essentially moving props. They aren't characters really - they only want one thing, they can't learn or grow... in fact, all they can do is eat or die. Not much to do with a villain that thin. That's why any zombie movie, really, is just a survival movie. Barricade the doors, stock up on ammunition, etc. How you go about that can be interesting, and you can take the story to interesting places, but your options are very limited. (2) Walking Dead has gotten too big for its own good, and now it's starting to get repetitive... Again, it's a survival story. The first season and a half were tension-filled because information was hard to come by, everybody was on the run, and zombies were all over populated areas... As the characters gradually moved further and further into the outskirts (for a time they occupied a farmhouse), there were other issues to contend with. Food was scarce, trust even scarcer. Then, as reality had time to settle in, the characters had to confront the harsh truth: zombies are the new norm. No matter what, when they go to get food, when they seek recreation or even just housing, there's a chance of running into them...

They face two options: isolationism, or risk attack. You can do some interesting things, but I'm afraid the writers of the show have worn the options thin... The problem with isolationism in media is that, well, if your characters isolate themselves - once they're done, the whole point is they're safe. Nothing bad can happen. And that makes for poor drama... So, they spice things up a bit: missing characters, distrustful characters, power struggles, and so on. This works, for a time, but eventually those arcs play themselves out. What next? Well, in the case of Walking Dead, you start to repeat yourself. More power struggles, more missing characters, more distrust... Rather than the bucolic farmhouse, they find a stark prison. At first, this seems "perfect" - built-in fences and alarms, towers from which to stand guard - but already, after just a few episodes, the prison is wearing thin and the leader (Rick) is seeking some place better... "safer."

(3) The biggest problem, however, is focus. Just what is the show about? At first, it was a survival story. Would they survive? Could they survive? Just what the hell caused all this in the first place? Information is gradually being filled in, but there is no longer that driving arc which was present early on. Season One, for instance, is all about laying the groundwork... We meet the principals, get thrown into the apocalypse, and then everyone has to deal with it. There's a bit of a breather to give some general explanation, but otherwise everybody is just running, running, running... Season Two brought things to a standstill. It's more about the grind - how do you sustain health and longevity in a world like this? Add in the missing child and traumatic injuries/deaths to principal characters, and you've still got things moving and interesting...

Even then, though, the series started to falter. For a time, especially after the little girl was found, the "grind" became ponderous. It seemed like every episode was spent bemoaning the situation, how little hope there was, the lack of quality leadership, blah blah blah. I'm not saying these aren't important, real issues that people would face - but when multiple episodes drone on, it just gets old. Finally at the end, in the last two episodes, the show came back to life - killing off major characters and uprooting the principals from their idyllic farmhouse, but it may have been too little too late.

Enter Season Three. More and more characters are introduced - including a whole town of survivors where something so obviously sinister is going on that it boggles the mind none of the townspeople seem to realize it. The main group takes charge of the prison (which seems to have a literally endless supply of zombies... they claimed they were going to "clear it out" in the first two episodes, but there always seems to be a horde from nowhere whenever characters wander down dark halls), but nothing else has happened. Okay, people have died, but when you look at this from a "big picture" point of view, nothing has happened. What's the focus here? What is driving the story forward? Nothing, except that it's on, and there's an audience.

I joked a few weeks ago on Facebook that anyone who complains about gory movies obviously isn't watching television - and Walking Dead was the impetus behind that joke. Within literally one scene was more blood and gore than everything I've seen this year theatrically (and probably everything I've seen in the last two or three years) combined. Just non-stop. Decapitations galore, an on-screen field amputation, skulls split, faces cut in half... sprays of blood that put Kill Bill to shame.

Now... I've got nothing against gore. I really don't. I'm well versed in the ways of Dario Argento and Takashi Miike, I loved Wayne Kramer's Running Scared, I sat through Cannibal Holocaust... But everything has its place, and there are few things more annoying to watch than gore for gore's sake. Ichi: The Killer, Dead Alive - terrible, terrible movies. Why? Because they are, literally, non-stop gore. Each film has a story, so they're not like snuff films or anything, but the focus of the film is clearly the blood and guts. This may be fun and/or entertaining for some people, but from a narrative perspective it's just plain boring. You can't really develop a character or create compelling drama when your whole goal is to rip somebody apart with complete anatomical detail. This was the same problem I had with The Passion of the Christ - any chance of drama is cast aside to slowly torture and kill a character (yes, I lumped The Passion of the Christ in with Ichi: The Killer and Dead Alive - take that, Mel Gibson!).

And therein lies Walking Dead's problem... The focus this season is almost entirely on the gore, so it's really a pretty boring show to watch. SPOILER: Take the "birthing" episode a couple weeks ago. Lori was not the most popular character (there's a popular meme where people praise Daryl's parenting skills and chastise Lori's), but she was Rick's wife - a major player. It should be a big deal when she goes into labor, and an even bigger deal when she dies. But the whole focus was on the disgusting nature of the birth: how deep Maggie has to cut, how much blood Lori loses, and then of course the bullet Carl has to deliver ("artistically" omitted, of course).

The solution is easy... Just dial it back. The writers really need to take a look at this cast of characters and figure out what they all want and need, and more importantly - what's in the way. That's how you create a compelling show. I'm not expecting greatness here. Few shows can match the intelligence and intensity of something like Breaking Bad or The Wire, but it would be nice to try, right? Right now, they're a slave to the audience. Ratings are better than ever with the ridiculous violence, so why stop there? The show is in a mad race to one-up itself, and if the audience is happy, it will continue to do so...

Those of us who remember the strong, humble beginnings will have to subsist on gory mediocrity, hoping the story will one day return to its roots... or better yet, strike a balance between the two tones. Then you could really have something special.

Finally ... Greatness!

I've been trying to steer this away from strictly movie reviews (and have been swamped with school-related issues for some time), which has led to a dearth of posts. Right now, though, I can't help but talking about one that's been gnawing at me...

Cloud Atlas - 4/5
(dir. Lana Wachowski, Andy Wachowski, Tom Tykwer)
I've written about Cloud Atlas once before, in reference to actually having read it before I knew a movie version was coming, and thus being ahead of the cultural curve.

Cloud Atlas is big, far-reaching, take-no-prisoners filmmaking at its finest. This is a film so assured of itself and so well planned and prepared that you can't help but admire the craftsmanship. (It's said that David Mitchell, author of the novel, actually thinks the film does a better job capturing the themes and ideas he was aiming for.) The visual effects are first-rate, the dialogue is appropriately lofty without drifting into pretense (these are BIG THEMES we're talking about here, so don't expect naturalism), and the editing keeps the film moving briskly, even at three hours. Much has been said about the make-up effects in the film, and while I can admire the intention and especially the ingenuity in creating some characters, you can't ignore the fact that some of these make-up jobs draw too much attention to themselves. A number of actors completely disappear, but just as many (if not more) stand out like sore thumbs. It makes sense thematically why certain actors continually fill certain "types," but it may have been a bit too much for them to change races/genders to do so. Hugo Weaving is a great example. A long-time favorite of the Wachowskis, he is here again playing a number of heartless villains; but given his build and distinct voice, it was a bit of a stretch for him to play a ruthless female nurse.

What impresses me most about the film is just how singular, complete, and unified the material feels, given the disparate storylines/themes/tones and multiple directors (three total - one working singly, the other two as a team). The "story," as it were, spans hundreds of years (maybe even a millennium - we're not given a "hard" date for the final one) and focuses on about six protagonists, if I remember right. Most of the tales are dramatic, but there is also a pot boiler/whistle blower-type story and a broad, hilarious farce to keep things from getting too "heavy." As you might assume, this is more a story of ideas and themes than traditional "protagonist's journey" material.

Little preview of the "types" everyone plays, as well as some of the make-up effects

The film is largely concerned with history, relationships, and revolutions. History: in the ways we constantly repeat the same mistakes and societal short-comings (slavery and subjugation a recurring theme); relationships: in what defines "love" and "family," and the mad things those values can lead us to do; and revolution, of course, in the way we subvert these ideas and initiate change - hopefully for the better. This is the film's "message," perhaps writ a little too large: things may be bad, but they can always change - hopefully for the better... always for the better.

A number of people have asked me about the film's relationship to the book... As I mentioned in my review of the book (very bottom of the page), the technique is so bold and unusual that you can't help but talk about it. The book is good and a wonderful read, but we have to be honest: it is a bit gimmicky. The film version (even at three hours) pares each narrative down to its essential elements, and as such feels more thematically unified - no small feat for a film with such a wide range of tones and settings. If you're a big fan of the book, I think you'll admire the film. I can't imagine why you wouldn't. Looking at each narrative on its own, you might say that a number of characters aren't as well developed (a constant problem in film adaptations), or that too many things were altered - or outright removed - but when you look at the result, I think we can all agree that the changes were actually for the better. By removing extraneous material, by focusing on the protagonists and their essential relationships, by having the actors repeat archetypes - all these changes underline the broader arc and "story" that much better... At least in my opinion. And if you haven't read the book, don't worry - it's not necessary. You may have a bit more mental juggling to do to keep up with the shifting timelines and narratives, but the editors do a nice job of linking and transitioning throughout centuries.

After being perpetually disappointed at the movies this year, it's nice to be surprised. It's nice to see something worth writing about.

What's Goin' On

I know I don't need to announce this, but I've been too busy for the blog... plus, I haven't had much to write about lately. I've seen a number of movies since my last batch of reviews, but as I've mentioned, I don't want this strictly to be a review site; additionally, the movies I've seen have either been a disappointment or just not exceptional enough to warrant lengthy discussion. (Even The Master, which I had been looking forward to for literal years was a let-down. Not a bad movie, mind you, but not as good as it should have been.)

So, what's been taking up all my time? School hoops and black holes, in a sense. I'm back at the community college - not for a prerequisite this time, but to try and keep my anatomy sharp. I'm taking Pathophysiology in the hopes that some more of this complicated medical information will sink in. Thus far the class has been a bit of a disappointment: the teacher is determined to discuss things at only a cursory level, flying through chapters without really covering the material to any discernible depth. He'll mention a disease, give a few signs/symptoms, key words, and abnormal labs, and then go on to the next one. The class isn't really difficult (he's very "loose" with his grading: so long as you have the concept, you're generally okay), but I'm disappointed that I'm not getting a better understanding.

On top of that, I'm also finally starting to get responses from grad schools. In total, I applied to eight this past June. As of this writing, I've received three interview offers and one rejection. I'm hoping to hear from the other four by the end of the month, but it could be as late as February (!).

My other great time-consumer is a "book" I've been working on. It's been more than five years since I wrote any sort of fiction, and over the summer I finally started writing again. I have to say, it feels great. I'm a born writer, and while you can debate my talents, there's no denying the way I feel afterward: it's great catharsis, but also great pleasure.

I put "book" in quotes because it's not nearly long enough to be a novel, but it's also going to be substantially longer than a short story. Not a novella... a novelette maybe? Right now I'm at about thirty pages, with a bit more to go. At most, I imagine it will be about fifty pages, seventy would be pushing it; I have a hard time believing it will go any longer than that. My wife tells me I should expand it into a full-length novel, which I could with enough time, effort, and research, but my response is that I don't want the story to be boring; and to reach that length, it would have to be significantly padded. There's enough material for a book - hell, even a few - but I'd rather touch on several topics and keep people interested than drone on and on and lose them. It's a special writer than can be verbose and engaging. James Joyce I am not.

The writing of this story has been much different from anything I've ever done. Not that I'm the biggest fan of structure (often, I simply start with a phrase or image and just go from there), but generally I at least have an idea of where I want the story to go, altering things as necessary to keep it natural and fluid... But this time, the entire story is some strange, organic thing. Very instinctual, very primitive. I find myself writing and going, "No, that needs to go there," or "I need to address a whole new topic here," or writing bits and pieces of completely different sections so they can be assembled later; it's being written piece by piece and then cobbled together like some strange bit of music. Very experimental, and very exciting.

My chief concern is that when all is said and done, it will feel disjointed and thrown together (which is intentional for some sections), but my hope is that the technique and the subject matter will be compelling and interesting enough to overcome any weaknesses. I'm trying to develop several different perspectives and styles: keeping it cohesive has been the hardest part.

This is where Harlan Ellison has been a big help. Over the past few months, Ellison has become one of my favorite writers; he's not in the same league as James Joyce, but then no one is. I've gone through every book of his I can get my hands on, and while some of his work is rather pedestrian, he's also written some of the most extraordinary short stories I've ever read. He's a man teeming with interesting ideas and phrases - a beautiful, fragile, morbid grasp of the ephemeral, the etheral - but it's the passion with which he writes that inspires me. I've found myself mimicking some of his phrasings and his rhythms (I should be so lucky).

Some of you (hopefully) are wondering just what the story is about, and to that I say: just you wait. One of these days I'll finish, and with any luck be published. (Wouldn't that be a trip!) It's science-fiction, I'll give you that much, but there are also pieces of mysticism, political theory, textbook, autobiography - all wrapped within humor, tragedy, and an ending that could only be described as a kind of linguistic thought-experiment. Can't wait to see what everybody thinks - can't wait to finish!

I Don't Have Faith in Fate

About a month ago I read Jesse Bering's Why is the Penis Shaped Like That? (and Other Reflections on Being Human), a collection of essays exploring various evolutionary phenomena and curios (most of them somehow centered on sexual organs or sexual activity). My favorite essay in the book wound up being the one most out of character with the rest of the text: "Scientists Say Free Will Probably Doesn't Exist, Urge 'Don't Stop Believeing!'" As you could guess from the title (a great title, by the way), the essay deals with the classic argument of free will versus determinism, with some surprising results. Specifically, a hard view of science pretty much requires a deterministic view of the universe... what makes the article interesting is that most people tend to resign themselves to a humdrum life and become depressed thinking that way - hence the "Don't Stop Believing." I've always been drawn to this argument, just as I've always been drawn to questions about God, faith, and other "big" issues. They're interesting. But a deterministic view is not one I can get behind. It makes sense - I can't deny the logic of it, or even the correctness of it - but morally I just find myself opposed to a hard deterministic view of the world.

Determinism (broadly speaking) maintains that, essentially, the conditions of the universe (or world, or human body - whatever you want to talk about) at any specific moment dictate a specific, unavoidable outcome. The timeframe on this may be only on the scale of milliseconds (which Bering's essay touches on), but those few milliseconds determine the entire history of what follows. (In one sense, this is analogous to Aristotle's "Prime Mover" argument, without the divine intervention... However, I don't want to get into the moral implications of a deterministic universe right now, so I'll stop there.)

As you should know, I got married a few months ago. And something a lot of people talk about when you're getting married - something my wife and I have discussed off and on over our years together - is the idea of a "soulmate," or if you prefer, "destiny." My wife maintains that she loves me very much, but neither she nor I believe in a soulmate - ie, only one specific person who can "complete" you. That's a nice, romantic idea, but I just don't buy it... Likewise, I don't believe in destiny - ie, being fated to do something for some grander purpose.

A destinic view seems kind of naive to me. It's nice to believe that there's some grand plan to the universe, or that we've all got some great, specific purpose to fulfill, but that doesn't work for me. From my short time on this planet, it seems quite obvious that we live in a chaotic system - ie, chance and coincidence reign, and some times (most times?) there's no greater purpose to an action other than the fact it happened. I'd rather believe that we can define our own purpose - we "choose" our destiny, so to speak.

From my view, this is the only thing that makes sense in an adult world. Remember those "moral implications" I didn't want to get into? Let's just touch on that now: if we're fated to do something, then "we" don't really exist in the true sense. If I'm destined to be a carpenter, then no matter what, I'll be a carpenter. There's no room for personality or even personal identity in that kind of framework. You're a slave to fate - bound to duty, defined by purpose. I'd rather believe that our actions have an impact, that we actually can choose to do or not do something, and that we can thus accept responsibility for our actions. Because that's really what determinism/fate/destiny are all about: who's in charge. If I was destined to be a killer, then why should I be blamed for the lives I took? If I was destined to be a doctor, then how could I take credit for the lives I saved? That's the problem.

Flip that around, now. If there is no greater purpose, no destiny, no fate, we're free to make our own choices, to pay our own prices. Everything is a result of everything else. That's a philosophy I can get behind. And in my opinion, it's even kind of romantic. My wife and I didn't wind up together because we were forced to, we wound up together because we wanted to. Isn't that nice?

Maybe it's not scientifically sound, but it's the best way I can think of to function in the world.

Oscar Roundup - Six Months Later

I barely had time to see all the nominees back in the good ol' days when there were only five... with ten, who could possibly watch them all? Hence my six-month delay. I don't think you'll mind.

The Artist - 3/5

(dir. Michel Hazanavicius)

I know I'm going to catch a lot of flak for this one, but I've got to stick to my guns: The Artist is not extraordinary. Good, yes. At times, very good. But that's about it. Hazanavicius's lackluster script is brought to life by an extraordinary pair of actors (Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo - who actually look like they could have been silent film stars), and I commend their work and recommend the film solely to see them. If I were just reviewing their performances, the rating would be much higher... but I have to take the film as a whole, and as a whole I could appreciate the concept and the intent, but in the end it just didn't really "hit" me with any sort of impact. This is a film that flits and dances and looks nice, but there's almost no weight to it - it's like getting the dessert without any meal. The Artist does try for gravitas and pathos, but in my view those are the most awkward scenes in the film. Dujardin's character becomes too over-the-top and unbelievable in his melodrama. When we see his marriage deteriorating early in the film, it's believable because he still approaches it with that charming arrogance he's established... by the time we reach a suicide attempt, it just doesn't work. This is not a man who would kill himself, and certainly not in the manner in the film. So why does it happen? Because it's convenient for the plot. It's this sort of thing which undoes the film and prevents it from making any substantial impact. I love the sentiment, the finale, the music, and the performances - I just wish the story were good enough to dance with those elements.

The Help - 2/5
(dir. Tate Taylor)

The Help is yet another caucasian apologetic for segregation, and it plays as such. Charming, hilarious performances from Octavia Spencer and (especially) Jessica Chastain elevate the material from soap opera, but there is nothing here that hasn't been seen or done before - in worse and better movies. White people exploited black people, but black people endured and carried on with pride and quiet dignity... We get it. I'm not saying these are not important issues, but they stopped being cinematic some time ago.

Midnight in Paris - 3.5/5
(dir. Woody Allen)

Those who know me best would say I'm just being preferential to Woody, but it's hard to say bad things about this charming little film from the master. I will be the first to say it does not compare to his better work, but few movies do. The point here, though, is that it was a return to form for Woody - who's been pretty hit or miss this century - and was able to contend pretty well with other critical darlings this past year. I'd sooner watch this again than any of the other nominees.

The Tree of Life - 3.5/5

(dir. Terrence Malick)

What can I say that I haven't already said about The Tree of Life? Enigmatic, poetic, epic, and yet at its core very enduring and human. The best way I can describe it is by comparing it to a Thomas Pynchon novel: it's about everything and nothing, the universe and the humanity, all wrapped under one heading; and while you may hate it, there is no denying the talent on display. What really burns me is that this somehow lost the Cinematography Oscar. That truly is unfathomable to me. Do Academy members have cataracts? Hugo was fine, and I love Robert Richardson as much as the next guy, but... there simply is no contest. Comparing Lubezki's work here to any film this year - even comparing it to almost any color film ever - is like putting men against boys.

Hugo - 3/5

(dir. Martin Scorsese)

Speaking of which, how is Hugo? It's perfectly fine, good, fast-paced, interesting to watch... but it feels half-baked. Based on a (supposedly) popular children's book, Hugo is perfectly good when it focuses strictly on the main character and his storyline; it's when the film ventures outside that main circle that it starts to drag and (worse) feel irrelevant. Most movies can stand to lose a few minutes here and there, or maybe even a scene to keep things moving: Hugo has entire characters and subplots which add nothing to the film, the protagonist's journey, and are not even particularly amusing on their own; they should have been cut, leaving the film better overall and about twenty to thirty minutes shorter.

The performances are good (Chloe Grace Moretz again shows she's the real deal, stealing virtually every scene she's in), the editing is superb, and the design and look of the film are top-notch, though that does come with a caveat... I love Robert Richardson. He's one of America's best cinematographers, no question, but his work is somewhat diminished here. Still looks great, don't get me wrong (he has an amazing way with faces), but too often his photography is undercut by unnecessary CG flourishes, and I'm still scratching my head in regard to the blue-yellow color scheme, especially when he's produced the most extraordinary reds and greens ever captured. In short, good as it is, this is not his best work, and for those interested, I recommend you see JFK and Fast, Cheap, & Out of Control - not just for the subject matter (great movies, both of them), but for the extraordinary cinematography. Those deserved Oscar wins, Hugo merely a nomination.

Moneyball - 4/5

(dir. Bennett Miller)

A rare accomplishment. Think of the typical baseball movie, or even just the typical sports movie: a schmaltzy tale of an underdog, able to succeed on pluck and determination in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. The whole point of sports movies, generally, is to recreate the experience of going to a sporting event: the filmmakers want you to cheer, they want to get your adrenaline going - they want you to want the team to win. Moneyball takes this in an entirely different direction. This is about what happens off the field, what goes into creating that experience; it intellectualizes and deconstructs both a real-life visceral event and a fictional narrative convention. The amount of baseball in Moneyball, for instance, is very little; in fact, basically insubstantial. What little of the game is shown is rarely given context - merely used to highlight the characters' unconventional approaches to the sport. I'm sure if one were to add up the minutes of actual baseball footage, it would be comparable to the minutes of Raging Bull boxing footage. The result is something new, refreshing, and... oddly spiritual - another nice touch. Moneyball has a meditative, soulful quality missing from the typical sports movie, indeed from most movies. And I don't mean sympathy, empathy, or excitement (usually served up in heaping amounts with this kind of story), but actual spiritual resonance - a quality deeper than viscera, even emotion. I wish more people would give it a chance and take the movie on its own terms - it really is something special.

The Descendants - 3/5

(dir. Alexander Payne)

Another case of a film which is incredibly hard to rate numerically. The strengths of the film are obvious - a few truly devastating, heart-wrenching scenes, capped with nice, nuanced writing and acting. The weaknesses, however, are not so obvious, so it's no surprise critics were doing backflips when it's really nothing more than a compelling, strong, yet all too typical drama. Let's start with the strengths... obviously, Alexander Payne knows what he's doing. Since his exceptional Election, he's been one of Hollywood's premier unsung heroes, delivering high-quality work with compelling, character-driven dramedies. So of course the script is nice, the acting top-notch, and the direction clear and unfettered. Those things are no surprise. What was shocking, to me anyway, is that despite a compelling story that really does hit you hard (a couple of these scenes are hard to watch with a dry eye, unless you have no heart), the film carries an air of affectation throughout its entire running time. At the beginning it is especially noticeable (the narration is unnecessary and sounds comprised of direct lifts from the source material), but even later in the film - when we're actually interested and invested - I just couldn't shake the "film"-ness of it... Too many scenes just felt contrived, pretentious - so subtle and understated that they were heavy-handed and overstated. There is a great movie to be had from this material, I'm just not sure this incarnation gets the tone right. (Also, as a postscript, I was let down by Clooney's performance. He does a fine job, but mostly as a surrogate for audience members. He does not bring a unique take to the character, playing him truly as an everyman. The actress playing one of his daughters, however, Shailene Woodley, steals every scene she's in and has quite a promising career ahead of her.)

War Horse - 2/5
(dir. Steven Spielberg)

With a career as successful as his, it is no wonder Spielberg's films (especially the recent ones) have been labeled as overly sentimental, heavy-handed, emotionally cloying, fraught with plot devices and contrivances, obvious Oscar baiting, and hammy in their "verisimilitude." War Horse is all these and more, and I'd go so far as to say it's one of Spielberg's worst. There are, quite simply, very few things the movie does right. A few of my major complaints: (1) None of these characters develop, or are interesting on their own, or are even given anything interesting to do... but never mind that - it's the casting that is really the problem. I've watched a number of foreign films, even simply from the UK, but a number of these actors are frankly hard to understand. It's not cockney, it's not the hyperstylized slang of Trainspotting, they just kind of mumble and the sound mix doesn't make their voices crisp enough. Plus the voice of the lead male bugs me - he sounds too whiny. Sorry. (2) This one surprised me... No matter the film or its weaknesses, Spielberg has always been at the technological forefront, but it seems like he had some trouble deciding what he wanted War Horse to look like, or maybe he had trouble photographing the animals. Albert's farm house, for example, is lit too much like a set. The way the light reflects off the rocks and the grass, and the multiple angles at which the actors' faces are lit - it all calls attention to itself and as a result simply looks fake. Then later on he seems to take an almost episodic approach to the cinematography: the war scenes are soft, ethereal, romantic (almost as if vaseline has been spead over the lens); night scenes have an overly blue tinge, like shooting day for night; and the extremely romanticized red/orange of the ending raises an obvious parallel to Gone with the Wind. This would be fine if the material itself were episodic, but as War Horse follows the titular animal, there should be a photographic consistency which is frankly lacking. (3) Not to beat a dead horse (pardon the pun), but this may also be John Williams's worst work in recent memory. My guess is that he was simply taking his cue from Spielberg's overdone sentimentality in terms of direction, but the score here is so overblown it approaches cringe-worthy... All in all, War Horse is by no means unwatchable, but a film with such a talented crew should have been much, much better. Despite a couple very strong, emotional scenes near the conclusion, the film as a whole is a bit of an embarrassment.

HONORABLE MENTION

I've already mentioned that Drive was among my favorite films of last year, and overall 13 Assassins topped the list. I see absolutely no reason why Drive was overlooked at the Oscars (deserved a number of acting nominations), but the real travesty is the following snub...

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - 4/5

(dir. Tomas Alfredson)

What a stunner... Interesting, engaging, complex. This is not a film for the casual film-goer - even film-lovers will have a hard time following all of these tenuous plot threads - but we need more movies like this. Not just Hollywood - the world. A wonderfully intricate film aimed at intelligent people (what a thought!).

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy does not really have a central character, but if it did, it would be George Smiley. It's unclear if Smiley is his real name or a cover, but he and virtually the entire cast work in British intelligence during the Cold War era. Word is there's a mole who's penetrated the highest ranks, and Smiley and others take it upon themselves to uncover the secret.

Sounds like yet another inane plot from yet another big budget actioner, right? That's what's so great about Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - where it takes you, how it keeps you guessing, and how it leaves you unsure of just about everything right up to the end. This is not some romanticized, idealized, adrenaline-fueled version of the spy lifestyle; this is what it would actually be like to be a spy, I imagine... Never quite sure who to trust, never quite sure whether you've just heard a truth, a lie, or something in between. The tension (and paranoia) of the film is palpable. A must-see for anyone serious about movies.

p.s... A word about cinematography. Specifically, it's just about perfect in this film. Not flashy, mind you, but more movies would do well to keep their photography more understated. It's rare to find a film which is so balanced by itself... Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy engages us with its complex plot and characters; the cinematography complements them perfectly, showing us all we need to see, omitting some things we'd like to, and allowing us to actually appreciate the pace and composition rather than be bludgeoned by unnecessary movements and banal close-ups. A beautiful film for the eyes and the mind.