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Doctor Dolittle (1967) 2h 32 min. PG

If I had to describe this film in one word, it would be joyous. Quite simply I don’t understand the hate, it is not a perfect movie but it is sumptuously filmed and I believe achieves what it sets out to accomplish. Doctor Dolittle is epic in scale and theatrically-structured (complete with Overture, Act I, Entr'acte, Act II, and even Exit Music!) but is admittedly long winded for a children’s film (coming in a little over two and a half hours). The plot can become meandering at times, but mainly focuses on Dolittle’s search for the Great Pink Sea Snail, a rare exotic animal whose language he hopes to add to the thousands he’s already mastered.  There is an amusing sequence that introduces exactly why the Doctor came to prefer his animal clientele and how he achieved his expert status. This film works well as a musical; the adventures (and misadventures) the Doctor and his friends endure while finding the funds for his journey and eventually setting sail should be enough to keep audiences of all ages engaged and entertained. Occasionally, some of the songs and scenes do seem added solely to fill the space of the film, but overall they are all pleasant enough to endure. Rex Harrison makes good use of his trademark ‘powerful patter’ delivery on songs such as the humorous and good-natured “Vegetarian” and impassioned “Like Animals,” even if songs such as “Talk to the Animals" becomes more like “Yell at the Audience” towards the end. Even if cast members don’t have the best singing voices, they deliver their songs with enthusiasm and a twinkle in their eyes, such as the up-tempo opener “My Friend the Doctor” by Anthony Newly and the rousing tune "I've Never Seen Anything Like It" brilliantly performed by Richard Attenborough as cunning circus-master Albert Blossom. The weakest song, the title tune, comes near the end of the film on Sea Star Island. The plot and music do lose steam towards the end, although the final shot is quite mesmerizing. Something that never disappoints is Robert Surtee’s photography, which does an excellent job of capturing the beauty and magic of the film and its multiple locations.  The cast is also a pleasure. Led by Rex Harrison as the Victorian veterinarian himself, it is clear the role was written with him in mind, and he does not disappoint. He manages to conjure up comparisons to his My Fair Lady’s Henry Higgins, without simply reprising the previous role. The Doctor prefers and understands animals over people, but is kind to all; is well-educated yet delightfully clueless in matters of the heart- aspects Harrison deftly recognized could be adapted and adjusted from Higgins’ personality to create another interesting, yet noticeably different character. Newly is spot-on as Matthew Mugg, who often gets many of the films great one-liners; and child actor William Dix is a fine if underused Tommy Stubbins. Even Samantha Eggar, in the misconceived role of a hesitant love-interest for Dolittle, does well with the part she's been given, although the film could have carried on fine without her. The film would also not be complete without its non-human cast members, and animals both real and imagined steal multiple scenes such as a homesick seal, a dog testifying in court, the all-knowing Polynesia the Parrot, and the delightful if impossible dancing Pushme-Pullyu.  

This film, however, appears to have become relatively forgotten and swept under the rug, which is quite a shame. It was not a critical success when it was released, even though it was nominated for best picture by the academy, and apparently almost ruined 20th Century Fox Studio. Nevertheless, viewing it today is, in my opinion, quite a charming experience. I do, however, question whether it can hold the short-attention spans of today’s youth. Saying they don’t make them like they used to is a very nostalgic expression (and possibly even ridiculous coming from me since I wasn’t anywhere near being alive in 1967, but alas I’m an old soul), but it is also true. When comparing this 1967 version to the 1998 Eddie Murphy “remake” (a word I use lightly, since they are nothing alike), I’m struck by the latter’s bad taste. The newer version is a “gross-out” movie, centering a great number of jokes on bodily functions, and unfortunately that’s something that kids (and many adults) seem to positively respond to. In the age when every animated film must seemingly contain at least one fart joke, where does the old-fashioned, good, clean (i.e. boring by today’s standards) fun of family films like Doctor Dolittle or Mary Poppins fall? Today’s gutter-minded movies and the audiences who eat them up are the reason it’s so important to remember a time when entertaining stories could be told without resorting to vulgarity (I’m not saying I embrace censorship, but it did make filmmakers more creative). The majority of blockbusters today are the ones behaving like animals (and I’ve never seen anything like it in my life!) but fortunately we still have classics like Richard Fleischer’s Doctor Dolittle to revisit when the “now playing” selection is getting you down, so curl up with your favorite pet and enjoy the adventure!  

**1/2 out of ****

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A Ghost Story (2017) 92m. R 

A Ghost Story is a movie that opens with a quote too small to read, I had to pause the film and physically walk up to the screen to see it. This did not put me in the mindset that what I was about to watch was going to be worthwhile. Despite the title, I did not expect this to be a scary or typical horror movie (which I view as a plus), but I did expect something more along the lines of plot development. I should have been prepared for this minimalistic approach having first watched the preview before viewing Personal Shopper, another low key “ghost film” that I ended up finding similar, yet even more disappointing than this one.  I will make the disclaimer early that I have a very high tolerance for self-proclaimed “art films,” with slow, drawn out scenes and little to no dialogue, yet even I found myself becoming disinterested at times. This is the type of movie I can understand people walking out of after twenty minutes, I actually had to give it two attempts before I started to discover some of the film’s redeeming qualities (the first time I fell asleep, not actually out of boredom but exhaustion). A Ghost Story is ninety percent visually told, and deals with the themes of loss and the inevitability of time. While these are universal themes that everyone can relate to, they seem like a lot for new-ish director David Lowery to tackle, especially in such a small frame. The 1:33:1 aspect ratio is purposely done as a statement, everyone has become so accustomed to the widescreen format, that when faced with a standard square we almost instinctively want to pinch the screen to zoom in or find the maximize button (as if saying, is this it? Is this all the picture we get?). But once you start to think about or even slowly forget about the shape of the film, you realize that it helps portray the ghost’s feelings of being trapped in and restricted to a world he no longer belongs in or that no longer accepts him. This brings me to the ghost of the title-the film’s main character is essentially a bed sheet, which would be funny if the movie seemed to have a sense of humor. All appears to be doom and gloom; so much so that audiences may feel overwhelming depressed by what it all amounts to. The lengthy monologue in the middle of the film is a nice reprieve for audience members who have been forced to accept the silence of the film for so long, but essentially what the man is saying (although scientifically accurate and eloquently stated) is that life is pointless. Viewers, as well as the ghost, have become passive observers of other people’s lives, a role that is quite solitary and mournful. And yet what the filmmakers actually want us to take away is a sense of reflection, pleading with us not to take life for granted because it is so short and precious.    

There are actors in the film, although I’ve gone this long without mentioning them, and this may be because they essentially don’t matter. The film stars Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara, two big name actors for such a small independently made movie. Casey Affleck has long been an indie darling who worked with Lowery previously in Ain’t Them Bodies Saints and finally made good in 2016’s Manchester by the Sea, and Rooney Mara also recently proved she’s not afraid to take on controversial “love it or hate it” films by turning up in infamous recluse Terrence Malick’s Song to Song. Their characters are a seemingly happily married couple who experience tragedy early in the film; it’s no spoiler revealing that Affleck dies since we wouldn’t have a film without a ghost. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that no characters have names (Affleck goes by C and Mara M, although I don’t even remember hearing these uttered in the film) or maybe it’s because C is killed off before the audience has time to establish a connection, but the film’s major drawback is that I simply don’t care about these people (at least not until the film is almost over).  Rooney Mara’s character is absent for a long chunk of the film and I never once missed her or wondered where she had gone. Watching the long and relatively pointless pie eating scene that she is in (I know it’s supposed to be emotional, but it just becomes ridiculous) is enough to make not only Mara, but the audience violently ill. The point is, when she was on screen she seemed so emotionally void that it didn’t really matter she was a recognizable actor. Similarly, since Casey Affleck spends most of the movie under a sheet with eye holes and never speaks as the ghost, he could have essentially been replaced by anyone (although I’m glad he wasn’t, since the role is so restrictive it does require a lot of skill to emote and make your intentions known to the viewer, a challenge I though Affleck handled well). I don’t have a problem with the premise of the film, watching Affleck’s sheet-dragging ghost roam halls, traverse landscapes, and haunt corners are some of the most potent scenes of the film and the movie is a powerful statement on the nature of existence- not knowing much about the identities of any of the characters does help us put ourselves in their positions. The film is an existential piece designed to make you think and I appreciate that it doesn’t offer up a lot of answers or spoon-feed you a single interpretation. Anyone looking for a traditional horror film should look elsewhere. The most haunting thing in this film is not the ghost but the hauntingly beautiful string score (that also helps fill the silence of the film). Experiencing loss can leave one devoid of all emotions, so being unsure of your emotions toward this film may not necessarily be a bad thing. The film is non-linear, very similar to my reaction to it- my own emotions seemingly follow no path, at times I hate it, at times I’m in awe of it, at times I’m indifferent- but isn’t that just life? So whatever emotions you’re feeling at the start of the film stick it out, and you might be surprised by all of the twists and turns along the way, proving that life (and the afterlife?) often has a way of coming full circle.

***½ out of ****

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Great Expectations (1998) 112m. R

I was a fan of director Alfonso Cuarón before I even knew who he was or I was an avid film aficionado, due to his A Little Princess being a childhood favorite. I still enjoy watching that movie today; it’s like visiting an old friend. In many ways watching his version of Great Expectations is also like revisiting an old friend. I’m sure many, like myself, had to read Charles Dicken’s Great Expectations in high school (although I was the rare student who not only read but enjoyed the required reading) and I have seen the David Lean classic multiple times (a film truly deserving of four stars). The only difference is, Cuarón’s version is like going to your ten year high school reunion and finding everyone much changed, sometimes for the better and sometimes the worse. I did not go into this film with “great expectations,” that is I knew if I tried to compare it to the book I would be setting the film up for failure and myself up for disappointment. Adapting any novel is always a challenge, especially when you’re tackling one of the giants of 19th century literature. As someone who loves reading just as much as watching films, I understand the argument ‘the book is better than the movie,’ as this is often true, but sometimes watching the movie first actually makes me want to read (or reread) the book, and mostly I believe that books and movies (even when adapted from existing source material) should be kept in separate categories and viewed as separate entities. Films are a visual experience, and while we all visualize the books we’re reading, we have to remember that everyone’s interpretation is going to be different. This film offers such a disclaimer from the start- this is not, states Finn, the way the story happened, but the way he remembers it.  

The skeleton of Dicken’s classic is there in Cuarón’s Great Expectations, for the most part all the major plot points are covered, but it has been updated to the 21st century and set in Florida and New York. The one inconsistency I found odd was the names, most had been changed but some stayed the same- why eliminate Pip and Miss Havisham just to keep Joe and Estella? I can understand that some of the names might have sounded outdated, but is Finnegan Bell and Ms. Dinsmoor any less inconspicuous? Ethan Hawke is Finn (Pip), a budding artist from the start, whose childhood is filled with oddities- he has a terrifying brush with a convict (Robert de Niro as Lustig) and after a gardening job with his brother-in-law/guardian Joe (Chris Cooper) is summoned to the eccentric and reclusive Ms. Dinsmoor’s (Anne Bancroft) decrepit mansion where his fate is sealed the moment he sets eyes on Estella (Gwyneth Paltrow). Beautiful and icy to the core, Estella becomes Finn’s inspiration and obsession. His childhood crush only intensifies when, years later and thanks to a mysterious benefactor, Finn is offered his own show in an upscale gallery in New York where Estella enters his life and his paintings once again. While I admire the daring and dignity in Cuarón’s attempt to recreate a classic for modern times and to appeal to a younger, modern audience the resulting film doesn’t amount to much we haven’t seen before (not only because the novel is so well known, but because it treads the familiar grounds of romantic clichés). Whereas the original expands past the romance to become a broad sweeping coming-of-age tale, this version becomes bogged down by our hapless lovers, so much so, the scenes with Robert de Niro feel like excerpts from another film entirely. What does dazzle is the cinematography- the opulence of the visual settings are sometimes enough to make you forget you already know how it will end and simply enjoy the story. The camera moves like an artist’s hand, employing clever inter-cuts and transitions and interesting angles all lit like a painting. The coastal shots of rural Florida and the contrasting splendors of the rich and unsightly slums of New York are excellent substitutes for Pip’s impoverished childhood and London of the 19th century. The most lavish display of opulence is Ms. Dinsmoor’s Gothic ruin Pardiso Perduto; and behind all the wigs, makeup, and cigarettes Anne Bancroft plays an equally fascinating decaying ruin- helping to bring to life one of the most interesting and devastating characters to ever be presented on page or screen. Being set in the present day (a la 1998) does have its advantages when it comes to the soundtrack as well; Pulp’s Like a Friend has never been used more effectively. So if you take the bad with the good, and set aside all of your own “expectations,” what remains is a good, entertaining film with solid acting, beautiful sets, and a little magic realism that may inspire us all to dance out of restaurants and into the rain in pursuit of true love.  

*** out of ****

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The Danish Girl (2015) 2 hrs. R

The Danish Girl, loosely “inspired by” (this is a very important phrase, that allows the filmmakers more leeway to get by with their artistic freedoms than the dreaded “based upon”) true events is first and foremost a film about courage and authenticity. It is also director Tom Hooper’s finest film since The King’s Speech, proving he’s not just a one hit wonder (sorry Les Misérables).

The film is centered around two characters, who are played exquisitely by two of the finest actors working today: Einar Wegener (Eddie Redmayne) and his wife Gerda (Alicia Vikander) are happily married artists, he preferring landscapes and she portraits. One fateful day Gerda asks her husband to fill in as her model, donning stockings, heels, and dress. Although this game of dress-up is initially encouraged by Gerda as a lark (such as attending a party dressed as a woman to avoid recognition) Einar’s long-repressed feelings that he has in fact always identified more as a woman begin to surface, and over time he prefers being “Lili” the character they made up. Although the transformation itself is interesting to watch, it is never made clear what truly drives Einar to make this switch. This is one film that may have benefitted from a flashback into Einar’s childhood. And while Lili’s physical changes are compelling, it is equally (if not more) remarkable to see Gerda’s work finally emerge from the shadow of her husband; using none other than Lili, her greatest enigma, as her muse- yet this part of the story feels rushed and largely ignored.    

Both of the main actors were coming off of a good year, with Redmayne deservedly winning the Best Actor Oscar for The Theory of Everything and Vikander impressive in Ex Machina in 2014. As Redmayne did with his portrayal of Stephen Hawking the year previous, he once again shows he is a master of physical transformation. Costume and makeup can only do so much to accentuate Eddie’s androgynous features, but most of Redmayne’s transition from Einar to Lili is through body language. The gradual, almost unperceptive changes in the way the actor carries himself; how he positions his hands, the way he walks and slips in and out of rooms tells audiences just as much of the story as the dialogue does. Even though the film’s focus is solidly on Lili, the audience enters and experiences the story through Gerda’s eyes. She is the one who takes us through the roller-coaster of emotions, ranging from fear, confusion, and anger, to acceptance, and finally support; and Vikander’s performance makes us believe and identify with them all. The strength of their marriage is put to the ultimate test, yet amazingly it is clear they still love each other.

The most astonishing part is perhaps not the love story, however, but the era in which it took place; Copenhagen, Denmark, 1926. Lili Elbe became a transgender pioneer, without ever hearing the word “transgender” in her lifetime. She was living in a rigidly conservative place and time that threatened institutionalization for everything from perversion to schizophrenia. The softness of light the film is rendered in (influenced by Danish artist Hammershøi) perfectly reflects the atmosphere of Copenhagen; but the dark, cool tones of the cinematography also mimic the feelings people had (and still have) towards those who dare to be different (even if different means being entirely yourself). Yes, this film is set in the 1920s, but the story is more relevant now than ever. Being set in the 20s, the decade of glitz and glamour, does have its own advantages- the fast-paced era brought about equally fast-paced changes, this is evident in Einar/Lili, who in the beginning is more self-contained in actions and manner of dress and then blossoms in personality and fashions as the film progresses. Lili, Gerda, et. all, were also part of the bohemian set, and artists, appropriately,  are often at the forefront of freedom and change.

Just as Brokeback Mountain will forever be labeled the “gay cowboy movie,” my greatest fear is that The Danish Girl is similarly doomed to be known as the “sex change movie” a narrow-minded; three word review of the plot that is not only unfair but will stop most audience members from giving it a chance. Once you do give the film a chance you will find it is about much more than a man becoming a woman. It is a unique story, but it is also a story that we can all connect to on some level- it is a story of identity (something we’ve all questioned at some point in time, if not in such radical terms), and at its core it is about what all stories are ultimately about- humans, love, loss, and the strength of relationships (between both spouses and friends). It is a technically remarkable and beautifully shot film, with a solid cast and acting rounded out by Ben Whishaw, Matthias Schoenaerts, and Amber Heard, who provide good (or at least good looking), if flimsy and sometimes unnecessary supporting characters. However, for a film that is so sentimental and depicts a story so cutting-edge (no pun intended), at times it felt reserved and left me feeling emotionally indifferent. It tells an important story, and tells it well, but style occasionally outweighs substance. Perhaps Roger Ebert said it best, if rather harshly, when he said The Danish Girl “is easier to admire than love.”

*** out of ****

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The Fisher King (1991) 137m. R

When one first hears the name of director Terry Gilliam, a number of things could go through their mind including his impressive repertoire of films and his association with the Monty Python troupe. When one watches The Fisher King, many of these references will most likely come to mind, as it is at times reminiscent in both look and tone of everything from Brazil (Parry’s cluttered, gritty industrial-influenced basement abode, anyone?) to Time Bandits to Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

When the audience first meets Jeff Bridges’ character Jack he is a wisecracking, self-absorbed radio personality on the brink of his television debut, which has only further inflated his pomposity. I cannot previously recall seeing Bridges playing such a dislikable, greasy character from the start; however, part of Gilliam’s charm is making his characters three-dimensional, and making the audience care for this man, who we soon realize, like any human being, is flawed but not without his charms. Jack’s arrogance is quickly deflated by an unexpected tragedy: a glib comment he made to one of his radio callers spurs a murderous spree in a local bar. When Jack, who has quit his job and dropped into a long alcoholic reverie, has finally hit bottom it is up to Robin William’s strange street vigilante, who calls himself Parry, to rescue him. When Jack realizes Parry just happens to be another unwitting victim of his mistake, he also becomes determined to return the favor.

The introduction of Parry, who in a deranged (and homeless) state believes he is a medieval knight on a quest to obtain the Holy Grail (Monty Python much?), is also the introduction of Gilliam’s magic realism (here the story veers from typical drama to fable, a very welcome change of pace). By allowing fantasy to become real we are exposed to both the film’s most awe-inspiring and darkest moments. A prime example of the former is the waltzing scene in Grand Central Station, which is not only visually stunning but an excellent reflection of Parry’s world view; he lives in an idealized fantasy land that represses sadness, anger and pain. On the other end is the Red Knight (who audience members familiar with Gilliam’s work will no doubt compare to the Samurai character in Brazil). Like the Fisher King of the title, the Red Knight is a figure from Arthurian legend who in this context represents the truth, Parry’s repressed memories of his wife’s death (note the Knight shows up every time he starts to remember the past).  

To counter-balance our two heroes in need of redemption, there are also two heroines in need of love: Mercedes Ruehl, who won a well deserved Best Supporting Actress Oscar as Jack’s girlfriend Anne, who oozes sex-appeal but is largely ignored and taken for granted, and Parry’s dream-woman Lydia (Amanda Plummer). I found it very refreshing that the woman at the center of Parry’s affection is exactly the type of woman who deserves a fairy-tale romance, but never seems to get one on-screen. She is mousy, awkward, and accident prone; has a steady but unfulfilling job; lives with her mother; and even her haircut and over-sized clothes (although anything would look over-sized next to Ruehl’s tight-fitting, barely there wardrobe) undermine her delicately attractive features.  

Although the film is, in my opinion, one of Gilliam’s darkest; it is also very funny and fitting of its tongue-in-cheek tagline: “A good, old-fashioned story of guilt, poverty, love, madness and free video club membership”. Robin Williams’ improvisational personality is indulged here without going overboard, as he also provides some of the movie’s most emotionally shocking and touching moments. The funniest scene is provided not by Williams but Michael Jeter’s homeless cabaret singer performing a Gypsy inspired dance number. While the film’s wild journey compliments Williams well, Jeff Bridges sometimes feels out of place in his fantasy surroundings, but his solid acting pulls him through these brief rough patches. I was also very pleased to see Tom Waits in an uncredited appearance providing some hard truths as a disabled veteran (the only thing that could have made it better was if he had contributed to the soundtrack as well) and David Hyde Pierce (of Frasier fame) in a small role as Jack’s uptight, snobbish agent. The film is a good balance of light and dark that does an excellent job of visually articulating mental illness and the depths of despair while never managing to make the viewer feel hopeless or overwhelmed. Successfully blurring the lines between comedy, drama, and fantasy is a combination only a director as confident and zany as Terry Gilliam could pull off. I think it’s worth a look, how about you?

*** out of **** 

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Star Wars:The Last Jedi- A New Order For the Stars

Greetings from the dark side! This is a full disclaimer that, although a self-proclaimed and devout film buff, before Star Wars: Episode VIII- The Last Jedi I had not physically sat in a movie theater since Django Unchained and The Dark Knight Rises in 2012 nor am I up to date on the current Star Wars universe (having only seen the original trilogy). I come to this review with fresh eyes and an open mind, and what I saw on screen was honestly better than I expected! I’m not always, or even usually, a big-budget blockbuster enthusiast nor do I watch many current movies, but I digress. The plot of writer/director Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi is expansive and action-packed yet simple enough; Rey is developing her newly discovered abilities with the guidance of Luke Skywalker, who is unsettled by the strength of her powers, while the Resistance prepares to do battle with the First Order, the millennial’s version of the Empire. This film, while good, was not without its flaws. While coming in at a total of 2h 33min., some scenes still felt rushed, particularly leading up to the climactic battle between the Resistance and New Order. While it was very entertaining and kept my attention throughout there were times when the dialogue felt sloppy (such as early on in Rey’s training, which also felt a bit too Karate Kid to me); and some details simply didn’t need to be there ranging from the unnecessary (why was Adam Driver shirtless?; why was a voice-over abruptly used and abandoned?) to the downright disturbing (Skywalker milking an alien creature and then taking a swig to both Rey’s and the audience’s disgust). Also, while the cinematography was visually stunning (there is great attention given to color and framing) with a good blend of both CGI and on-location filming in exotic settings ranging from Ireland to Bolivia, at times the movie simply didn’t feel like Star Wars, occasionally looking more like Middle Earth (I half expected Gandalf to appear at any moment, but again I’ve been away from the universe for a while, so maybe I’m just nostalgic). What did work were the blending of old and new characters as well as the charisma of relative newcomers to the franchise. Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker, Chewy, R2-D2, C-3PO and even Yoda are all there. The Last Jedi is an especially good send off for Carrie Fisher, this being both her final time in an iconic role and last film, she was given many touching moments and it felt like a tribute worthy of not just an amazing actor but amazing woman. The backbone of the film was carried by Oscar Isaac’s very likable and relatable Poe, John Boyega’s dignified and moralistic Finn, and Kelly Marie Tran’s emotionally vulnerable but strongly determined Rose. The many non-human characters often stole the show as well, providing many of the film’s comedic moments and tension breakers; BB-8 manages to be more emotive than several of the actors and the Porgs  are cute even if most of their on-screen time is spent pitying them. While I am personally a fan of Adam Driver’s acting and unique appearance, I felt his portrayal of Kylo Ren lacked passion for a character who is supposedly so emotionally torn between the dark and the light (although perhaps his stone-faced appearance is purposely done). The movie often leans hard on sentiment, some of it unwelcomed such as Kylo Ren’s strange sexual tension with Daisy Ridley’s Rey, which felt forced and out of place. And in times of doubt it was John William’s familiar score that helped hold everything together, even if at times the booming bass seemed to step over character’s lines. Overall, it was an engaging and worthwhile movie experience even if it didn’t always feel like it firmly belonged in the Star Wars vain. The old standards and actors have literally given way to a new order and way of doing things, a Disney way that sometimes really does feel like it’s coming from a galaxy far far away, but whether fans like it or not I don’t see the franchise showing any signs of slowing down. After forty years any Star Wars film that can still manage to seem fresh and unexpected is doing its job.    

**1/2 out of ****