themediareviewer

[themediareviewer]

The Great Adventure of Horus, Prince of the Sun

1968, Isao Takahata. Action, fantasy, medieval-ish. 

What a delight to have the chance of watching this movie! Few will probably know it, but the ones who do probably know it as one of the first movies in which Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata — the two main directors of Ghibli Studio — worked together. As a big fan of Miyazaki’s work, I must admit I definitely saw it under that light.

As an “older”movie (49 years!), there are obviously certain things that can feel and sound a bit “outdated”. The level of the animation is not consistent throughout the movie and the drawing style is visibly simple if we compare it to the flashy, exuberant effects of today’s movies and anime. However, The Great Adventure of Horus is one of those classic stories that should be watched simply because it is the base to so many stories that we know and love nowadays.

In matters of plot, this movie reminded me a lot of Hayao Miyazaki’s later movies, markedly Princess Mononoke. Here, the movie takes place during trying times and constantly reminds us that coming together as a community is often the only way to move forward. 

There also seems to be a large interest in war-like topics, such as the notion of men going off to war, leaving their wives and children behind. This reality of death, and the loneliness and harsh living conditions of the survivors is very present throughout The Great Aventures of Horus — though not always the main point of the story. This tangible fear and recognizable circumstances anchored the context of the movie pretty well for me, even with all of its fantastic elements. We might not have talking animals or magic spells in our world, but we do understand concepts like food rationing or a grieving wife and kids.

In fact, I find that Japanese animation often seems more comfortable tackling these harsh topics than American animation does. When characters die in Japanese animated movies, it is not always for noble reasons and they’re not always charming deaths. It’s a type of death that seems to confront, even the youngest audience members, with the harsh reality that sometimes people we love just die, in sometimes violent or even pointless ways. And although we can feel angry about those deaths, we (and the characters in the movie) don’t always have the power to do anything about them.

It leads me to wonder if this willingness to explore such helplessness comes from Japan’s own experience during World War 2. Of course, this is nothing but personal speculation, but who better to speak of “feeling helpless” than a nation who sacrificed so much and didn’t get to celebrate victory? I’m not speaking in terms of people being right or wrong in the war -- rather, I’m acknowledging the fact that war is harsh on all sides, and sometimes, decisions made by the head of states can have dire consequences for the majority of the population when they might not even agree with the decision to begin with. Interestingly enough, the animated movie Animatrix also touches upon these feelings of helplessness over a governmental decision, and Princess Mononoke makes us wonder if there really is such a thing as the “right” side in a war. All that to say that, it is often interesting how a country’s history strongly influences the messages explored by their movies, and even their artists’ willingness to tackle certain topics.

As a matter of fact, I am often positively surprised by how much confidence Japanese animated movies have in their audience. I remember watching Princess Mononoke in English for the first time and being struck by how explanatory the dubbed version was in comparison to the Japanese one. While in Japanese the character would say something like, “Ah!”, the English version would say something in the lines of: “Ah, look! The trees are coming together in order to make a barrier!” Reflexively, I would just laugh, because it felt like the people responsible for the movie’s dubbing thought that what was taking place in the animation was unclear, and so needed to explain the visuals through the dialog. In other words, where the Japanese animation trusted its viewers to pay attention to the movie and figure things out on their own, the English-dub seemed to feel their audience needed more explanation and hand-holding in order to appreciate the movie.

Though I am not a fan of purposefully vague movies, I do think there is room for improvement in that front, particularly in Western movies. Audiences will understand way more than some people might give them credit for -- and if they don’t, maybe dumbing down the plot isn’t the way to solve the issue. Instead, a combination of the audience’s willingness to understand harder concepts and of artists to lay their information with enough coherence and grace would benefit both sides, I think.

In fact, as much as this movie is a classic, if I had to complain about one thing, it would likely be the subtitles. Now, I’m no expert in Japanese, so I couldn’t say that such and such translations were “wrong”. Nevertheless, I know that Japanese is a complex, often poetic language, where what is read in-between the lines can be just as important as what people are actually saying. One word emphasized in a different way can completely change the meaning of a sentence. One “nope” instead of a “No” can make a world of difference. That is why when sentences were overly simplified in the English subtitles, they often sounded laughably crass. “You’re like my twin brother then!” the subtitles would read. For English speakers, this sentence can sound odd, in that it seems at once too intimate and too childish.”Like a twin brother” implies such a strong bond, yet since it is being spoken by a child to a stranger she just met, makes it sound like a naive comment. (In fact, most people in the audience laughed at this line in the movie!) However, if we consider that the original Japanese sentence sounded more like, “Your soul and mine are as similar as twins then!”, now the sentence holds the weight of a child with a scarred soul; a kid who has seen too much and whose dialog mirrors the discrepancy between her vocabulary and her age. Of course, this was just an example and I’m likely taking some poetic liberties with the translation. Nevertheless, this is one of the moments when I wish I could speak all languages, because (risking sounding too lame), I am much too aware of how much can get lost in translation.

Another element present in Horus that become even more relevant in Miyazaki’s later movies is the nebulous definition of the word “Good”. Here, Good or Bad aren’t adjectives used to describe a person; rather, a person has both good and evil inside them. Without giving away too much of the plot, there are several characters in the movie whose nature we can’t quite pin down at first -- and that’s because often, those characters are confused themselves! That willingness to admit that people are often more than just good or bad makes these characters way more realistic than many other animated characters to me. In fact, Mark Steinberg once mentioned that Japanese animation often depicts what he calls “emotional realism”, that is, it uses a style that might not look or move very realistically, but realistically depicts the complexity of emotions inside a person. A character who agrees with the protagonist at a certain point in the story might disagree in some other aspect — just as real people do. We have changes of heart, and we can act differently when we’re tired, or sad or angry. Likewise, once someone comes to trust you as a person,  that trust is often enough for them to believe you no matter how much someone seeks to undermine your credibility. There is no big moment of “You doth betrayed me!” (*big, exaggerated motion*). Rather, those who like you will likely back you up no matter what, and those who don’t, will probably find any excuse to act against you.

Finally, I’d like to discuss the clever use of budget in this movie. When I think of movies like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, where even the simplest shot has a picture-perfect background, with a beautifully crafted movement and a painfully sharp photo quality, I understand why people could expect that same level of perfection from every animated studio out there. But as an audience, we should remember that not every studio has that sort of budget and man-power. That movement style we understand as “realistic” comes with a cost that not everyone can pay. And yet, artists may still choose to tell a story with the means they have available, and we as viewers should be willing to meet them half-way. You know the saying, Tell me a good story and I will read it from a toilet paper (it’s not a saying... But it is a good reference to V for Vendetta). If we only judge a movie by how visually appealing it looks, we could be missing out in some great stories out there. 

The Great Adventures of Horus is one of those movies where, likely for budgetary reasons, the artists used very simple animation. More than once there were long sequences of still frames where the only “movement” was literally the camera movement over the static drawing. It might feel a bit jarring to look at -- particularly for someone who is used to Pixar-like movies -- but it isn’t so jarring if we consider that animation also came after centuries of Shadow plays and Kamishibai (literally “paper play”) in Japan. In that context, animation is not limited to a realistic aesthetic or to a particular quality of movement; it is a means of telling a story, a box of stylistic possibilities.

As such, I found myself thinking of why the artists chose to use partial animation in certain scenes instead of others. In this movie, the makers clearly put their limited budget toward animating the sequences with most emotional value for its characters. The clearest example is that while one of the main battles in the movie (which could be considered imperative to the plot) happens mostly through these moving stills, while the festival of the sun -- which introduces Horus to the village in a more relevant way -- is lavishly animated. The fighting sequence, though important, depicted nothing more than violence and death, and didn’t really require complex animation to be understood by the audience. On the other hand, the dancing sequence is a moment of bonding. Here, we get a fantastic 3-5min sequence where the whole village is dancing around a bonfire while the sun is setting. Between the shadows cast on the floor, or the dozens of people making a zig-zag conga line, or the children running between the people dancing, I just couldn’t stop marvelling at the richness of the visuals. It seems almost contradicting that the same movie could have animation “cheats”, but it’s really not. It is precisely because the movie chose to have some “cheap” shots that they could afford to go big where it mattered to them. As someone who appreciates good storytelling and character development, I definitely respected that decision.

When it comes down to it, I feel this movie is definitely not for everyone… in the same way that The Godfather is not for everyone. As a viewer, you sort of need to know what you’re walking into. However, by adapting your frame of mind and taming your expectations, you can appreciate the movie for what it is: a piece within a historical context with its own filmmaking significance. Personally, I watched The Great Adventures of Horus, as the originator, an inspiration to many movies I love today. The visuals range from noticeably simple to masterfully complex, and the characters go from flat talking animals to scarred men of war. All in all, this movie is the very definition of go big and go home.

[themediareviewer]

Unravel (cover by Animenz)

Have you ever watched something so awesome, you knew you had to create an entire new section on your website just to fit it somewhere? No…? Well, granted, it’s not one of my most relatable questions, but this is what happened a couple of days ago when I found this beauty on YouTube:

It’s not uncommon for people to make covers of famous songs and upload them to YouTube, and I have to say some are quite incredible. This cover was made by username Animenz Piano Sheets, a professional piano-player who takes anime songs and makes classical versions of them on the piano. He has quite a few songs up on his channel, and even a website, if you care to check it out.

This is his most popular cover to date, and I should say it’s not hard to see why. The original song comes from a (semi-obscure) anime called Tokyo Ghoul and sung by a (semi-obscure) band called Ling Tosite Sigure (though in no way do you need to know that in order to appreciate the song). Knowing this, I think it’s safe to say that the 31 million plus views on the video are more due to the quality of the cover itself rather than just because the original song was popular.

Now, as usual, here are a few notes on why I fell in love with it:

- Just the right amount of “vocal” notes: When creating covers of songs which originally have lyrics, it’s easy to over-compensate in the amount of notes representing the voice. On the other hand, it’s also easy to not represent the voice enough so that the version ends up sounding like a karaoke version of the original song instead of a “cover” per se (which can also be beautiful of course). Animenz seems to represent the voice in just the right amount, and made it into a beautifully crafted right hand that doesn’t seem alien to the rest of the song.

- Use of the whole keyboard: It’s not easy to learn how to use the full spectre of a keyboard, and there are many reasons why. From my little experience in music, I find that it’s easy to get caught playing on a set of notes that are working so well, you’re afraid of moving up or down an octave for fear of losing the melody, or sounding dissonant. Animenz doesn’t seem to have that fear whatsoever. Let me give you an example. If you check during 2:27-2:36, he is pretty much staying on the same “area” of the piano, a limited range, when suddenly, around 2:37, his left hand drops a whole octave. That quick note (and I mean quick note) immediately “opens up” the melody by increasing the range of sounds. It also emphasizes the high note he is doing with his right hand, by offering an even deeper counterpart with his left hand. Again, contrast is such a great friend to the arts. 

Another difficulty when using the whole keyboard is the player’s own motor skills. Going up or down an octave can be difficult, because it’s very easy to miss the notes you’re aiming for. Go too quickly and you might hit the wrong notes. Hesitate too much and you might slow down the tempo of the song. Now check out 0:34-0:41. His hands are everywhere, yet each note is distinct, and each chord is very deliberate. This section could have easily sounded “messy” (you know, with many notes being hit at the same time) or inconsistent in tempo, but he avoids both of these traps wonderfully. Which leads to my next point…

- Consistent tempo: This one sort of speaks for itself. When playing something more complex than you are comfortable with, it is sometimes necessary for you to play the song a bit slower so you can hit each of those complex notes and wide chords. That is something natural, that you might only lose with time and lots of practice. And this is where the fact that Animenz plays extraordinarily well becomes obvious. His tempo almost never falters, regardless of the complexity or speed of a segment. I mean, check out the movement of his fingers between 1:45-1:58. That sort of speed does not come naturally. In fact, he says on his website that he started playing when he was 6, so there’s a big amount of dedication implied on that sort of speed. 

Not only that, but to reach that speed, something else is necessary. And that is where the fact that Animenz makes his own piano sheets comes into play. He seems to know which chords come next because they sound right to him, and not because he is reading them off a sheet. Not that you couldn’t get to that level if you are following a sheet; I just think that this sort of talent and musicality deserves a special mention. Even when he is getting messy, he makes this sort of “controlled chaos”, that even though is too fast and semi-dissonant at times, still feels harmonious. I think that is due both to a consistent tempo he keeps with his secondary hand, and a good musical ear (developed over more than 18 years of practice) which allows him to create a jumble of notes that somehow sounds good. Check out 2:00-2:14. This is not something you learn from your 4-o’clock piano teacher, guys. This is a magical combination of talent, practice and inspiration. Which is where I come to my last point…

- Passion: If the whole beginning of this song didn’t convince you, check out the transition from 3:21 to the end. From an intense climax, to the most delicate of silences. He respects each with such vitality. And if you think I might be reading too much into a cover-musician’s playing style, I invite you to read this small section he wrote the in the description of another one of his songs:

“While arranging this, I remembered the hard days back then when I couldn't make any progress for days, and therefore I've put all my heart and soul in this transcription, trying to express all those frustration and sorrowful moments back then. This is especially audible in the last third of the transcription. Last but not least: This sheet is dedicated for all those people, who have waited years for my arrangement of the Angel Beats! OP, and their patience should be rewarded with a full version special transcription. Thank you for listening this, because this transcription means a lot for me.”

You know, sometimes I tell myself that it should be obvious that someone who does something that well has to be passionate about what they do... but that’s not always the case. That’s why I was very happy to know that on top of being good, Animenz also seems to be in love with what he does. And although many of his other songs are fantastic (and I invite you to check them out), I think that Unravel is potentially the one where his love, talent and effort shine through the best. Good for you Animenz. And hats off to you.

[themediareviewer]

The Rules of Ever After

By Killian B. Brewer, 2015. Fiction/comedy book.

This will be a bit of an odd entry, but what is this blog if not a union of the common and the odd? This book was lent to me by one of my friends, who guaranteed the story was right up my alley. And I have to admit, I do have a weakness for stories that break the rules right from the start. You know what I’m referring to, right? Those stories that made Peter Pan grow up, those TV shows that decided to follow the villain instead of the hero, or even those movies that decided that your “true love” might be someone who raised you, instead of the one you want to marry. In short, I like stories that, right from the getgo, throw a bit of chaos into my otherwise predictable world. That is why The Rules of Ever After (2015) had me intrigued from its very premise. 

Now, it’s pretty hard not mentioning any spoilers while reviewing this book. However, I will try my best to keep the description pretty superficial and the plot points as vague as possible. 

Personally, I find that the best part of this book by far is its willingness to embrace the different and the absurd. Why are there Rules that one must follow in order to live happily ever after? the book seems to ask us. Why can’t everyone and anyone be happy as long as they are not hurting someone else? I find that those are very fair questions, and although Brewer hammers them a bit too forcefully at times, I found it almost added to the book’s comedy. Look at these rules! Look at how ridiculous they are! it screamed. And with such ridiculous rules, ridiculous actions (and just as ridiculous counter-actions) ensue. As much as this is not the type of story for everyone, I found its quirky humour to fit very well within my broad taste of humour. And it helps that it seemed like the author was having great fun considering all the ways in which he could manipulate and distort the old fairy tales.

Now, I have heard a lot of people complaining about studios like Disney who make very simplistic stories, with caricatural characters and blunt messages, but here’s my take on it: These stories (this book included) belong to a new generation of fairy tales, one that has evolved with our ever shifting values and moral compasses. When Aesop and LaFontaine were first making their stories (which are now famous classics of literature), they weren’t striving for “realistic” stories, I don’t think. There aren’t that many hares that go around racing turtles, or mice that set lions free, or scorpions that travel on turtles’ backs… Not as far as I know, at least. The point of these tales was often to pass very simple messages to their readers, who were often younger and had to have big notions boiled down to their simplest possible form. When I read “The Fox and the Crow” (Aesop) for the first time, I didn’t particularly care about the Crow’s backstory, neither did I ask myself if the Fox had a family or if its siblings were currently fighting for the family’s heirloom. The fact that contemporary fairy tales have become considerably more detailed than Aesop and LaFontaine’s, should be celebrated in my opinion, not admonished for their simplicity. Not all stories have the same objective, and we as readers, should respect that. As such, I feel that Brewer’s point wasn’t to make a master piece of literature per se, but rather introduce a few messages of acceptance through his book. And that is always a noble aim in my opinion. 

Now, when it comes to the actual “literature” of the book, Brewer does an acceptable job. Most of the main characters are very clearly the “good characters” and have plenty of redeemable qualities that forgive any of their flaws. I would go as far as saying that the author almost helps these characters to be all-too likeable. Sometimes, he would make one of his characters do something terrible, and then conveniently decrease the consequences of the character’s actions to zero. Now, wouldn’t it be wonderful if all the good people in the world had their flaws and mistakes erased by some benevolent author? Well, Brewer definitely seemed to think so, and he didn’t seem to shy away from some plot manipulation to get the ending that he wanted for each of his characters. Personally, I do tend to find these “cheats” a bit tiresome if overused, particularly because, if there is a happy ending, I want to feel that the characters have earned it. So when an author seems too present, i.e. he’s making things too easy for the protagonists, the reader might start feeling bad for the poor antagonist who is basically fighting against the All-Mighty Author who wants him or her to fail. I do concede that I don’t mind reading stories where good things happen to good people, but I feel that The Rules of Ever After walks a very thin line between respecting karma and imposing it. I almost wish the characters had struggled a bit more throughout the story, but I suppose that, since the book never seems to take itself too seriously, it doesn’t call for an all too serious ending.

The dialog is a good part of what makes this book enjoyable. As I mentioned above, the characters are quite likeable, which ends up making their conversations likeable and entertaining, too. There are simple bits like:

“Actually, Phillip, we don’t spend a lot of time hanging out in gambling halls and taverns.” “Even if some of us have asked nicely,” James mumbled.

The idea is simple; while one character is proudly stating that they aren’t hooligans, the other admits that it’s not for a lack of trying. Contrasts often make for the strongest humour in my opinion, and this book is full of contrasts! It’s not necessarily the most well-versed dialog but it definitely gets the story going and it brought quite a few grins to my face.

Finally, I should mention the writing, because it is an important aspect of this book. Now, we all know that there are some authors that get stuck describing things a bit more than necessary. The rule of thumb from creative writing teachers seems to be that, if you’re not making the reader think, laugh, or learn something new about the characters, you probably shouldn’t be dwelling on it for too long. (Dickens is probably laughing at that as I write it.) This is, however, a “rule” that Brewer breaks, a bit to his loss. It was difficult to get through his prose because of how clunky it could get, particularly during action scenes. Often, I felt that if I read only the dialog of a chapter, I had more than enough information to understand the story. Not only that, but when I did skip the description, the pacing of the story was actually quite good. Add the description though and any momentum he had built in the story was instantly gone. Take this  section for instance: (**warning, spoiler for the following three paragraphs**)

“‘You want to change all the rules when you are king? Well, you cannot be king until this one is dead!’ Cauchemar screamed as she pointed to King Henry. ‘We shall see about that!’ Flinging her arm toward the king, Cauchemar shot a wave of brilliant blue light across the room at the old man. King Henry lifted his arm in fright; his jaw dropped open. As the light hit him, he toppled to the floor, his arm frozen in front of him and his face seized in fear. Phillip’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at where his father had fallen at his feet. The king did not move; his eyes stared blankly. ‘You killed my father!’ Phillip screamed. He dropped to the ground and grabbed his father’s frozen body.”

It’s a very clear description of the action… But perhaps too clear? Now, had this sequence taken place in fewer sentences, I feel it could have been much more striking and even shocking! Something like:

“‘You want to change the rules little prince? Well, you cannot be king until this one is dead!’ Cauchemar shrieked as a blast of brilliant blue light crossed the room and hit King Henry in the chest. His body toppled to the floor — his arm lifted in fright, his jaw frozen in an eternal scream. Phillip dropped to his father’s side. ‘You killed him!’ he screamed.”

(***end of spoiler***) 

Now, writing is incredibly hard, and it’s sometimes frustrating to describe an image that is just so clear in our minds. I am not saying that the writing on the second version is better, but I wanted to illustrate how much room there was for some editing.  Brewer could have trusted his own words a bit more, and given the readers a bit more room to interpret his descriptions. That could have really lightened the prose and made for a much better (and shorter!) read, I think.

In conclusion, this book was a “sweet” find — you know, one of those stories you read when you have a few minutes to spare, and when you leave, 5 minutes later, you have a tiny grin on your face? — The dialog made me laugh, the characters were quirky and the themes gave me food for thought. In other words, it was an endearing and pleasant surprise — though maybe not one for everyone.

[themediareviewer]

Pan (2015)

Directed by Joe Wright. Family/fantasy movie.

Okay, so this is the type of movie that I feel I will come to disagree with my own opinion in a few years. I’ll explain why. I think I speak for all of us when I say that nowadays it’s quite hard to watch a movie without having ANY preconceived ideas of it. Either we’ve watched the trailer (one of those here-is-the-whole-plot-of-the-movie-except-for-maybe-the-last-two-minutes kind of trailers), or perhaps one of our friends has watched it and talked about it heatedly, or  maybe we’ve gotten 5,839,286 GIFs of the movie on our feed and already know most of the whole plot. 

My point is that, by the point when we sit down to watch a movie, many times, we have already formed an opinion about it. Sometimes, the movie has been so hyped up by our friends that when we watch it, our expectations are not met and we end up not like the movie, period. Or, on the contrary, the media has been so harsh with the movie, that when it’s anything more than a catastrophe, you actually end up enjoying it. 

When I walked into Pan, I did NOT have a good image of the movie. I had read somewhere (and this is a bit of information that I have NOT managed to confirm since then), that although the story of Peter Pan has become public domain, people who use the story still pay the copyrights to the owner. Why, you ask? Because the actual “owner” of the story, writer J.M. Barrie transferred the copyright to the Great Ormond Street Hospital , which is a children’s hospital in London. In fact, in the strongly-worded article I had read at the time, the article’s writer had specified how important that source of income was for the hospital, and how it helped a lot of children (a good writer always appeals to the heart of its readers, right?). Now, it was said (and this is the part I have failed to confirm, please let me know if you find an article about it) that this iteration of Peter Pan chose NOT to pay the copyrights. I mean, no one is actually obliged to do it… but it does seem like the right thing to do, particularly when you think of today’s movie stars’ salaries (which can go up to millions of dollars), donating part of the revenue of your million-dollar movie to a hospital of children, doesn’t seem like such a hard thing to do.

In other words, this movie was already not looking good to me as a person (I am the type of person who can’t fully separate the artist from the art, and although I won’t go on about it here, I will say that I preferred not to buy this movie, and only watched it when it came to Netflix). In addition to that whole internal debate about watching the movie or not, I also found a lot of reviews about this movie when I was trying to confirm the information in the paragraph above. And they were all extremely negative, with scores going from 0 stars out of 5, to 23%, to “YOU SHOULD JUST NOT WATCH THIS” kind of reviews. 

So, when I sat down to watch this movie and I first met the main character, I was astounded to realize that I quite liked him. Played by Levi Miller, he was easily one of the best parts of the movie. But even more surprisingly, I was FLOORED when I noticed I was actually enjoying myself! I almost felt ashamed by that point. “How can you like a movie that might be STEALING money from sick CHILDREN????” my heart would scream. But then my eyes and my ears and my love for art started to speak louder and I realized that some aspects of this movie were truly worth talking about.

I’ll start by the easy one: the soundtrack by John Powell. If the first thought in your head after reading those words is, “Who the hell is John Powell?”, don’t worry, that’s normal. I do have a very soft spot for soundtracks and one of my favourite of all times is from How to Train Your Dragon (2010) by (you guessed it!) John Powell. The way he layers different instruments together is breathtaking and clearly resembles the rush of feelings you might get when you’re flying — a theme that is very relevant to both movies might I add. I listened to this soundtrack after having watched the movie, and even individually, these songs are wonderfully crafted. The first few chords of the “Opening Overture” pulled at my heartstrings, and “Kidnapped/Galleon Dog Fight” had me excited for everything this movie promised. Even the song, “Smells like Teen Spirit” (or how I call it, “Hello, Hello, How Low”) is so wonderfully dark, I had chills at the power of hundreds of voices singing it together; and then Hugh Jackman’s evil voice joins in and the all is deliciously creepy. Unfortunately, it was intercut with unnecessary jokes and the movie’s tone doesn’t live up to the song. Nevertheless, if anything positive should be coming out of the movie, the soundtrack is definitely the one.

Now, if you’ll allow me a second positive element to take out of this movie, I’d say that the circus elements were visually stunning. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that all of the art directing was brilliant, because the indigenous section of the movie was very weak on that front. (In almost all fronts really, but I’ll get to that later.) However, the circus-themed aspects of the movie were pretty enticing -- and had this style been consistent throughout the movie, it could have been one of my favourite art directing in a while. However, it wasn’t. We only had a few glimpses of it, such as when we first see the pirates of Neverland: in an otherwise dark room, one yellow spotlight lit up, a pirate dropped from the ceiling, with an elastic clearly wrapped around his waist, snatched something up, and slipped back up out of view. The snappy timing of the situation, the comically elaborate costumes and the whole theatricality of the sequence made it all very surreal and visually intriguing. Again, I wish this circus theme had stayed throughout the movie, because the rest of it simply did not live up to it.

This leads me to the next point which is where I will shift into negative gear. Now, from the beginning of this review, you probably thought I was going to say this movie was genius, but fear not; those reviews online had good reason to criticize this movie. And my reason for joining them is because the aspects that this movie gets wrong, it gets really wrong. 

The first aspect that bothered me was the inconsistency in tone. The beginning of this movie is quite delightful in my opinion -- a sort of “Home Alone” vibe, as my friend called it. Adults are quite simply caricatures of adults, and the children are the real heroes of the story. That in itself was a tiny movie that begins with (**tiny spoiler**) Peter at the orphanage and ends with him and Nibs finding something they were not looking for (**end of spoiler**). Then, the second movie begins: an action movie where Peter is forced into a dark, adult world where death, slavery and capitalism are ever present; this, by far is the strongest part of the movie in my opinion. The conversation between Peter and Blackbeard in the Captain’s Cabin is one of the most chilling sequences I have ever seen. Their age difference is so obvious displayed, thanks to the difference in the complexity of their dialogue and interests. I was very positively impressed by the scene’s depth, and particularly by Hugh Jackman’s acting. 

From then on, the movie goes downhill. It becomes your usual very-bad-adaptation of a story, with corny costumes, weird character development and quite frankly, racism left to right. I’m not one to hammer on socially inadequate problems, because I’m afraid of joining in today’s abuse of the term “politically correct”.  However, this movie really did some very poor decisions on that front. I mean, the most violent character is the only prominent dark-skinned character; the only traitor is the Indian-looking character; the only character that can barely speak English is Asian; and the only strong indigenous character is played by a white actress. I mean. It’s hard to defend casting decisions like that.

Apart from that, although the special effects were pretty good, the integration between them and the characters was a bit… jarring. By that, I mean that sometimes we would see an extreme long shot (shot from very far) of a CGI battle taking place, then suddenly cut to a close-up of the character’s reaction to the battle... and not for one second did I believe that those two shots were taking place at the same at the same time and space. My movie-geek mind could just see the actors standing in front of a green screen and some director yelling at them “PRETEND TO REACT TO THIS!! REMEMBER THIS IS ALL VEEEERY SCARY!!” The soundtrack and quality of the actors themselves almost fixed this feeling, but I couldn’t quite shake it off. This CG oddness got considerably more relevant whenever flying characters were involved; it was very difficult for me to believe that they were part of the same world as the non-flying characters, which took me away from the story in numerous occasions.

Finally, one of my biggest problems was the character of Hook. I won’t say much about him in respect for those who want to watch the movie spoiler free, but let’s just say that as an origin story, it felt quite thrown together and poorly developed. His motivations were nebulous to say to least and it’s difficult to see how he and the Captain Hook we know turn out to be the same person. And if they truly do, then I would love to see that happening, because what I saw so far did not sell me on that story point. 

Not only that, but it felt like a wasted opportunity to make something incredible. Imagine if (** Spoilers ahead till the end of this paragraph**) after Peter gets taken to Neverland, Peter’s best friend, Nibs actually grows up and becomes bitter. And suppose, that when Peter does come back for him, Nibs has become a self-reliant old man, whose life was so sad and lonely, that his only drive to live was to hate that “blasted Peter Pan” who left him rotting in that orphanage. Now suppose that at some point in the movie, you find out that Nibs’ last name is actually Hook. I mean, wouldn’t you have lost your mind a tiny little bit? Wouldn’t it have been superb if Peter turned out to be the originator of his own nemesis? Wouldn’t it be tragic if, child-minded Peter doesn’t see the bitterness in Nibs-turned-Hook, and continues to play hero-versus-villain with his best friend for the rest of his days? Meanwhile, Nibs-Hook is actually trying to get to Peter, but can’t quite bring himself to kill him because they were best friends once? (**End of Spoiler**) Now that would have been true to the creepy, deep tone that the movie had established in the beginning, and could have actually done justice to the great character of Captain Hook.

In fact, as ridiculous as this might sound, I believe that the lack of time was part of this movie’s problem. “Wait, you’re saying you wanted more of this??” I hear you rage. Well, sort of, yes. I think this movie had a lot of rich material they could have explored, particularly in the dark aspects, like the slavery and war. The contrast between innocent children and truly infamous world is a hard sell, but a very possible one, if Stranger Things (2016) has taught me anything. 

The indigenous people also felt thrown into the story for me, and even seemed unnecessary the way they were presented. Their fighting style didn’t seem particularly unique (or effective), their costumes were not particularly rich, and their intentions seemed to come from a glorified past we didn’t get to see. I feel like they had to be there because they were in the original story, but their necessity in this movie was questionable. 

Now, if the movie had had more time, say, (**Spoilers ahead**) if the first movie had focused simply on Blackbeard’s exploitation of pixum and Peter’s escape from the compound, then the second one could have been about Peter discovering Neverland and its inhabitants (the tribe, the fairies, the mermaids), and the third movie could be the climax where Peter rises up against Blackbeard and the Pirates (**end of spoilers**). 

Again, I know this would all never happen, because producers don’t like investing in something they’re not sure will sell. They would hardly invest in three Peter Pan origin movies, particularly if the first one did as badly as Pan did. But as usual, I am speaking from a story standpoint. And although I understand that people claim that the world has simply “moved on” from the notion of Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up, I think that if we had had the time to explore a new, original Neverland, we could have been sold into loving Peter again. This movie could have reawaken the joys of being a child into many viewers’ hearts. But instead, it settled for being a rushed movie, with clashing themes, and brilliant aspects just begging to be explored. Now, it’s true that, as I said in the beginning, my expectations for this movie might have been so low, I ended up finding too many redeeming points about it, and maybe one day I’ll come to disagree with myself about all this. But for now, I honestly feel that this is one of the only bad movies I wish they had done more of.

[themediareviewer]

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children - Book and Comparison

As promised, following my review on the movie, here is my take on the book Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (2011) by Ransom Riggs. If you’re only here to see the comparison between the book and the movie, feel free to skip this next section of the post and check the following one lower down!

After I watched the movie by the same name (directed by Tim Burton), I knew this wasn’t the type of world I could simply walk away from. There were simply too many things unsaid, too many mysteries I still wanted the answer for -- and that ending! No, I couldn’t leave Miss Peregrine on that note. That is why on the following week, when I was walking about with a friend by a bookstore, we both stopped in front of this book, and the decision was unanimous: we both got a copy. I started to read it that very evening.

Now, people often mention that a book or another “is a fast read”. Well, I am a very slow reader -- the type who easily takes 10-20 hours to read a 300-page book. So when I say that a book “is a fast read”, I really do mean it’s a fast read. And this is definitely one of them. I must have finished it in 4 sittings of very short duration.

This isn’t generally a point I find particularly relevant when reviewing a book. What is the relevance of how quickly or slowly this book is read? Is Les Miserables a bad book because it’s long? Is Love Story bad because it’s short? No, this isn’t an element that we should be judging a book’s quality by. However, in this case, the speed of the reading is influenced by two things that I particularly enjoyed about the book:

- The pacing: Oh, the pacing. I loved how Riggs travelled smoothly between moments of contemplation and outbursts of action, particularly because I could never tell in which of those moments I was in. I didn’t know what to expect, and that’s considering I had watched the movie already! I think John Green described perfectly as he called this book a “tense, moving, and wondrously strange first novel” (as per the cover of the book published by Quirk Books in 2011). And I will generously emphasize the word tense. There is no respite in this book. The author doesn’t dwell in moments that are not relevant to the story, and describes actions with poignant efficiency. It was truly like watching a movie sometimes. And none of his contemplative moments felt like a waste of time. Sometimes he would spend a long time describing a room, but I could feel that it was due to the room’s relevance to Jacob, emotionally. There was however, no emotion attached to the colour of his sweater or any character development attached to the flavour of Jacob’s toothpaste, so he didn’t bother with those. Why would he reveal any more than he needed to, when omitting it could be just as powerful?

- This brings me to my next point actually, which is the prose. Riggs’ prose is so good. He managed to synthesize an entire image, capture a whole breath with one sentence. There seemed to be no wasted words, every description so pertinent. He would sometimes build up his wonderfully grotesque imagery in agonizingly slow steps, or add a verb of movement in his description to add life to objects, always with a creepy overtone. (The vines ran down the wall.) Every time I glanced down the page to see if a monster was about to jump out of a bush and my eyes fell onto those movement verbs, I thought things were about to go down, but he tricked me. And so, Riggs kept me exactly where he seemed to want me: at the edge of my seat, constantly preparing for the worse, never quite at ease.

The Word and the Lens 

(I shouldn’t try to give clever titles to my things...)

Now, the only reason why I feel the need to compare these two is because I find it very hard not to compare two things of the same name. You know, if there are two Vanilla ice cream at a shop, I will definitely want to know why they both earned their name, and which one holds the edge. However, when it comes to art and media, I try (with capital letters TRY) not to compare things too much. I feel I owe each of the artists’ behind each piece to look at their work individually and in their own right. 

Nevertheless. I’m only human. We are only human. Who came first the chicken or the egg.

My situation was, should I say, “peculiar”, seeing how I actually watched the movie first and later read the book. This means that I had already been provided imagery for most of what had happened in the book thanks to Tim Burton. And I think this speaks very highly of Ransom Riggs that I actually felt his descriptions were still very enticing despite the fact I already knew how most of it “was supposed to look”. Of course, I should also mention that Tim Burton did a fantastic job in building the Riggs’ world. The Home itself looked fantastic, with its creepily immaculate look, its sharp angles and desaturated colours. The whole costuming was also very on point: effectively odd and beautifully translated.

Another bonus point for Tim Burton was how he translated the characters. In my opinion, the people casted for each role was very on point -- if not in physical description definitely on the characters’ personalities. Enoch was such a fascinating, dark character and Finlay MacMillan played the part creepily well. 

In fact, I’m surprised (and slightly ashamed) to say that I actually preferred Burton’s version of Miss Peregrine than I did in the book (yes, book-avids, burn me on the steak!). Not only was her wisdom incredibly evident, but her training as an ymbryne seemed to include more than just being good at speeches and knowing dates. In the movie, Miss Peregrine is fully capable of using a cross-bow and making conclusions that were honestly remarkable (such as figuring out why Jake had come to see her even before he said it). In the book, Miss Peregrine seems like a wise lady, but that’s about all she is throughout the first book. Her limping seems to make her physically incapable of keeping up with the children (and protecting them for that matter), and for a “wise old lady”, the kids constantly outsmart her, getting themselves into mortal danger at occasions. Not only that, but her dialogue seems... adequate, at best. Nothing she said was so well-versed to the point of warranting the book’s title being “Miss Peregrine’s”. The peculiar children seem considerably more interesting and important to the plot than she is. And in matter os wisdom, I am still waiting for Miss Peregrine to surpass the wisdom in Jake’s very first sentence of the book: “I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen”. Who here was wishing they had come up with that little jewel for their novel? 

In any case, I suppose that having a main character that is more interesting than your title character is not a bad thing. It’s a great thing I should say. But then it all goes back to, Then why is Miss Peregrine the one in your title and not Jacob? It’s almost as if Riggs doesn’t want to let Jake be as important and cool as he actually is. This seems to be a recurring theme in the book actually. I understand that there are characters who doubt themselves, but when the story itself constantly diminishes the character’s potential, it becomes a bit of an uphill battle. Why must Jake not excel at anything? Why keep bringing up how incredible Jake’s grandfather was? And if his grandpa was all that great, why aren’t we reading a story about him then? Why does book-Jake sound petty in moments where his character was visibly understanding the level of danger they were in? Why keep hammering that Jake is simply not good enough? Again, the reason why I bring this up here and not in the section above (where I was only analyzing the book), is because perhaps these are all questions Riggs will answer further on in the series of books. However, because I had movie-Jake as a reference, I came to expect more from book-Jake. I was expecting him to be braver, to take more initiative, to have better plans, and to a certain extent for him to be more useful to the plot. (***spoiler alert - The fact that he can see the monsters seems so absolutely pointless when he can barely muster the courage to tell his friends useful information about it ***). I still feel that Riggs opted for some plot points and deliberately-placed descriptions that undermined Jake’s potential as a character, and even though (as I mentioned for movie-Jake) book-Jake is also not annoying, that is definitely less true than in the movie.

What the movie does get phenomenally wrong and you will have to forgive me for my small freak-out session #1 (***spoiler alert till the end of this paragraph***): WHY, just WHY would you change Emma’s powers???? This makes absolutely NO difference plot-wise and the is no valid reason to diverge so dramatically from the original material! It would be as odd as if Dasher was suddenly the one with the shining nose but Rudolph still became Santa’s favourite because he has nice fur. It’s like, “Okay, you’re allowed to change it I suppose, and there is no major plot point that is ruined by this so far.... But why?????”. Sure I liked the shot of Emma clearing the water from the ship’s secret room, and Jake being there did make it romantic.... But still, to quote Boromir’s meme: “One does not simply change the original material because it looks cool”. Well, I suppose one does, but I don’t feel one should. 

So in virtue of my own strict dislike for spoilers, I should mention the next section delves a little bit into spoiler territory, but only in a superficial matter. That is to say, in terms of the story’s overall arcs (but not touching any specific plot points!), the entire last act of the movie was widely different. It was almost comically different. As I mentioned, having read the book after watching the movie, when I reached the last, say, 100 pages of the book, I could feel my brain going like, “Wait, whaaaat”. The setting of the final confrontation was completely different (both where and when), the people involved were slightly different, and even the outcome was absolutely different. 

Now, it’s true that I haven’t read the second or third books of the series, so it is possible that the movie was in fact referring to events that take place a bit further into the books. As I mentioned in my previous post on Miss Peregrine, awkward endings are pretty common in movies adapted from books (in my humble opinion). I had mentioned The Golden Compass (2007) as an example, and I will add City of Bones (2013) to this list (where -- for the sake of a cool final shot I suppose? -- the protagonist suddenly gains Harry-Potter like powers which she never had in the book, and yes, I am as bitter about it as I sound). So, risking repeating myself (I am not as concise as Riggs unfortunately :/) companies don’t always pre-approve sequels to be made until they’re more or less sure they’ll make good money out of them. That is why we are often left with “first” movies which symbolically stand for more than one book. That is to say, that the director/producers try to tie loose ends and complete character arcs without letting the characters earning those endings. This creates rushed conclusions that are just messy and neat all at once (deal with that paradox!). 

So it is possible that the events we see at the end of the movie do take place later on in the story. But if not... (and now, you will have to forgive me for my small freak-out session #2. Also, spoiler alert for the remained of this post except for the last paragraph!) then what the HELL. Where did this ending even come from???? xD How does a climax taking place inside a decrepit lighthouse in an evening of 1940 becomes a full-on fight in the middle of a 2016 day-time, theme park in London??? Why would you diverge so incredibly from the original material??? Okay. Let’s calm down a bit... I will shamefully admit that I quite liked the final showdown in the movie, and even more shamefully... I would say I almost liked it better than the climax in the book. However, I feel that’s because the movie had been building up quite steadily towards an awesome showdown. I mean, for monsters who literally eat up little children’s eyes, there is no way that the finale could be an old man shooting with a handgun at children crouching in the sea. That would have not lived up to our expectations at all. However, that is where the whole building up comes into play. If Riggs’ first book ended up with an eye-candy massacre in a theme park, how would his second and third books possibly top that? In other words, the movie spoiled us with cheap fun, potentially jeopardizing the pacing and events of future movies. ....And yet, seeing how I am human... I fell right for it and had a blast watching that showdown. 

(Still spoiler) What follows the showdown in the movie however, perfectly exemplifies the “messy endings” I mentioned earlier. Seeing how the movie barely got the time to explain loops and how they work, the fact that Jake was loop-jumping (aka leapfrogging) by the end was very confusing in my opinion. I love my fair share of time-travelling movies and I particularly love getting into paradox conversations, but that wasn’t even the problem in this instance. There was simply not enough information given to us about loop-jumping for his whole time travel to make sense. How do loops work in this movie-universe? Is it the same as in the book? Is it like a time-machine then? Or a fixed inter-dimensional entrance to a single particular day in the past? If they are loops, can the peculiars leave the loops at any year they wish to leave at? Or can they only leave at, say, Jake’s present year? Why do the kids still act as children if time has actually passed in loops? How can the children get into a loop that opens up to 2016 if that loop wasn’t created until 2016 and they’re in 1940? And finally, if Jake goes back to 2016 and his grandfather is still alive, would that prevent Grandpa from dying? In which case, wouldn’t that mean that Jake would never be motivated to go meet the Peculiar children so wouldn’t live through the events that eventually made him do everything he did in 1940 which would then mean he couldn’t be in 2016--and NOW we have a paradox! xD In the book, the rules about loops are pretty clear, and though leapfrogging is a concept that is teased at by the end of the first book, we know we don’t need to fully grasp it yet, for Riggs will tell us more about it in later books. 

(Still spoiler) What drives crazy is that the movie had no need to mention loop-jumping! They had a perfectly reasonable ending where Jake had the choice of staying in 2016  and changing his grandpa’s death, or staying in 1940, in which case Grandpa would die, but at least the past would stay as it was and Jake could stay with Emma and things would still make sense. Instead, the movie wants to have both endings, and the plot becomes convoluted for no reason.

In conclusion, both versions have definite ups and downs, and I could never choose one over the other. I am partial to the movie’s characters of Miss Peregrine and Jacob, but I will never downplay the pleasure of reading really good prose. Both versions have pretty fantastic storytelling skills which eventually had a let-me-down moment -- the movie was way more aggravating in this aspect. However, I do feel that both versions have enough good things that I would happily recommend any of them to people into the creepy and the weird. Overall, I am very happy I got to experience such an interesting world not once but twice!

[themediareviewer]

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (2016)

I should probably not do something different almost right off the bat, but seeing how I have just finished reading the book for Miss Peregrine, I thought I shouldn’t shy away from sharing some thoughts on both versions of this little diamond in the rough. If you would like to see my book review, you can find it here, although a bit of a heads up: I’ll probably be including a comparison of the two versions in that review. So if you’re interested in that analysis, please go check it out in the link above! For now, here’s the movie review, pretty spoiler free, in case you’re wondering! :)

It all started on an uneventful evening when I was looking for something to watch on Netflix. I finally I fell upon the movie Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (2016), a movie my mother had mentioned to me before. When I first heard of it, my first thought was that it was probably Tim Burton’s take on the X-Men. Peculiar children with special powers? Seen that, done that. But then, I read that title again and, who could read that and not be intrigued by it? It is one of the coolest titles I seen.

Now, although there are similarities between Miss Peregrine and the X-Men, saying that the two stories are similar in any way would be like saying that Romeo and Juliet and Avatar are basically the same thing. Suuuure, there are a lot of similarities, but let’s be honest, there is a lot more to a story than its plot points. Characters, settings, texture -- all of those elements can affect a story’s quality as relevantly as its plot. And it is in fact those elements which set Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children apart and above from other movies for me. I wish I had the time to describe all the little things that make this movie so interesting in my opinion, but I suppose I would rather you just go and watch it if you have the time to read me describing all of these good things one by one. Nevertheless, sometimes it’s good when someone point things out to you in movies, so you can pay them special attention when you watch them later on.

- Jacob: what I’m about to say will definitely not sound as flattering as I mean it to be, however, Jake is not an annoying main character. What I mean by this is that when a reader or member of the audience is about to embark in a journey of 2 or 10 or 50 hours through a story, they probably don’t want to spend that journey in terrible company. Make your protagonist too flawed in the beginning of the story, and you simply won’t convince the audience to begin the journey to begin with. Why do I care? Where are we going with this? Those are essential questions when I’m coming into a new story (even if I don’t ask them consciously). And in this case, I was very intrigued about where the movie ‘was going with this’, and ‘I cared’ because Jake wasn’t a brat, so I could enjoy the ride beside him. That -- paired with the fact that Asa Butterfield’s narration voice was incredibly pleasant -- was enough for me to be hooked within seconds.

- Miss Peregrine: it seems silly to point out that the title character is interesting, but believe me when I say, you shouldn’t take these things for granted. Harry Potter might not the most interesting character in each of his books, as much as he is the most essential to the plot. Well, in this case, Miss Peregrine was in fact the most interesting character of the movie for me. As Jacob first approaches her home -- after having run from ruffians, rode past drunken men, set fire to a bar, and finally reached her home breathless and frightened -- Miss Peregrine looks at him then at her hand watch and exclaims, “Right on time!” Ah, what a brilliant introductory line! (And she proves to be right to boot!) Miss Peregrine is a very intriguing and beautiful character -- though not a flawless type of beautiful (will I lose credibility for calling Eva Green any different from beautiful?). What I mean is, that it is the character’s mind that sets her apart, not her looks or clothing. She is absurdly confident regardless of the situation she’s in, and she deals with her children’s peculiarity with such calm and grace, you are almost convinced that they are indeed perfectly normal. She is the type of character I wish I could have in every story. One I would confidently leave my children with. A perfectly complex character with a set of imperfect flaws and insecurities -- the perfect mix for a superb and enticing character for me.

- The scary factor: much like the book, this movie doesn’t let you forget that this is not a world for the weak of heart. From the beginning, the pictures Grandpa Jo shows Jacob are not particularly endearing. There is always a sense of the Creepy in the movie’s atmosphere -- whether it’s on the children’s emotionless expressions, or on the contrast between the immaculate state of the house and the visibly disturbing powers some children display, or even the observation of a bombing as nothing more than a beautiful celebration of fire and explosions. The first time we are introduced to the villains and what they did, I could not believe how much I had misinterpreted this movie’s target audience. Nonetheless, it is the movie’s willingness to go into those creepy zones and not shying away from the grotesque, that truly got me on the edge of my seat.

Now, as much as I would love to say the movie is fantastic, I do have a few reservations in regards to it. Like many adaptations from books (an aspect which I’ll explore in my "books” post of this story), the ending is a bit... off. (Hear me sigh as I say this.) Think of it this way: A producing company wants to invest on a safe story to invest millions of dollars in, so they buy the rights of adaptation to a bestselling book. However, they can only be sure that the first book of the series did well. (In the case of Miss Peregrine, there are two other books at least in the series.) Well, now we have a situation similar to what happened in the case of The Golden Compass (2007). The director Chris Weitz took the gutsy approach to a situation like this: by the end of the movie, the protagonist literally takes a breath and states all of the things they didn’t accomplish throughout the movie! It is the sad sound of ‘Things you should look for in the sequel we really, really hope we’ll be able to make!’. And I say ‘sad’ because many people might have actually forgotten about the plot points that weren’t closed during the movie. This is a risky approach because if the first movie doesn’t do well, a second one will likely not get made. Which means we end up with an incomplete first movie, and no second to complete it. 

Tim Burton (or the production company behind the movie), seemed to take the safest approach instead, that is to say, to tie all loose ends as well as possible and if there is a sequel, just tare them open again... Agh. See, I don’t say ‘agh’ often, but loosely tied ends warrant one, I think. It is not a classy story solution and sometimes it completely contradicts or prevents important plot points from taking place later on in the second or third movies or books. Now, I am not saying that there is a clear cut solution to this problem; however, it is sad to think that a story is only deemed worthy of being told in its entirety if it brings enough money back. Imagine if Peter Jackson decided to tie all loose endings by the end of the first The Lord of the Rings “just in case”. They could maybe have killed Gollum off before *spoiler* he could guide Sam and Frodo through Mordor *end of spoiler*, or maybe they could have simply locked The Ring away at the end of the first movie and say a grandiose statement like, “The Ring will be safe from any who seek it... At least for the time being.” Cut to black. And then, were there to be a second movie, they could simply create an excuse to open up the cave again which would prompt the second leg of the race. I’m not saying it wouldn’t work, (and maybe if this weren’t adapted from a book, I wouldn’t have minded it so much) but books end at a certain point for a reason. They often leave important unanswered questions that will be revealed later on, or leave a character’s arc to be further developed. When directors and producers decide to “clean it up”, it often produces movie endings that feel rushed and unfitting. There is no sense of fulfilment or gratification. It’s like the movie credits are still rolling when the last few words show up: “The end?”.

Well, Miss Peregrine’s is no different. The ending feels too quick, like the script was really trying to push a climax and conclusion to Jake’s character arc, and conjured up a "full-circle” ending that nearly had me rolling my eyes. And I don’t roll my eyes at art! I always remind myself that art requires a lot of love and dedication from its creators, so I always try my best to respect them. But it is precisely because of how great this movie had been until that point, that I was immensely exasperated at its last 5-7 minutes. The storytelling had been so on point till that point that it was simply a departure from its own pacing and atmosphere. In conclusion, it’s a pity that this ending was a part of the movie, because you will have to endure those five final minutes in order to savour the wonderful 122 before it.

[themediareviewer]

Anime

Because many of us love to get lost in sheer absurdity sometimes; because a lack of limits can also lead to a limitless creativity; because we enjoy going through those long journeys (and boy, do I mean long sometimes) with those quirky, haunted characters. Because we learn through their pain, share their joys, and laugh at their eccentricities. Because everyone needs a spice of different every now and then.

[themediareviewer]

Comics

Because many of us enjoy the privilege of getting both the story and the visuals of a different world; because we have the poetry of good writers and the painting of great artists in one incredible combo pack; because we could feel like kids, even when reading adult content. Because comics clash together the best of many worlds...

[themediareviewer]

Games

Because many of us have found ourselves screaming at the screen (as if our characters could hear us), or wiping fiercely at our eyes (as if we can't accept that a game is making us cry), or spending way too many hours playing a game because, at that moment, there's simply no other place we would rather be than inside that world...

[themediareviewer]

Jackie (2016)

Well, well, well, how can I accurately express all the emotions this movie deals with in roughly 100min? Directed by Pablo Larrain, this movie shows the story of Jackie Kennedy, John Kennedy’s wife, as she deals with the tragic death of her husband. No big spoilers there... unless you are not very familiar with American history, in which case I would be curious to know how this affected your impression of the movie.  

My first impression of the movie was Thank God they didn’t start with the shooting. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to watch as a wife and her husband merrily went on their way to an event most of us knew would end in tragedy. No. Showing the shooting and how it happened shot by shot (no pun intended, though sheesh what a tragic pun), would have nearly been a disrespect to Kennedy’s death. Jackie herself snaps at the reporter interviewing her, “You want me to describe the sound the bullet made when it collided with my husband's skull”. It seems like a warning to the new-comer audience saying, “If that’s the type of movie you wanted, this is not it.” No, the movie doesn’t treat his death as a simple spectacle of gore; it treats it as the gut wrenching episode it became for his families and for the country.

That is what I felt, thanks to the poise and grace with which the character of Jackie takes the audience through the mourning process along with her. Interestingly, though I never knew Kennedy, this movie made me care for him in a way I thought was not possible. By no means does it claim he was perfect -- by those standards, I actually felt Jackie held quite a bit of bitterness towards him as a husband. However, through Jackie’s resilience, I felt just how much Kennedy accomplished in his small time in office; I felt the love the American people had for him; I felt the hole he left when he was gone, as a president, a husband, a brother, a father...

Now the movies does all that very effectively in my opinion. The way the director chose to group shots by theme rather than chronology worked really well for me, as if I were reliving Jackie’s memories rather than the event itself. Whenever she has a moment of pause in the interview, a flashback comes smoothly to supply us with whatever she was thinking of. No drastic sounds made the cut jarring, it was all one fluid moment -- as if, like Jackie’s mind, we are drifting from the interview in the “now” to the memories inspiring each of her comments.

There were hardly any epic moments, except for a few poignant lines that made me sneer at the screen in approval. I was cheering for Jackie. I felt for her, which is more than I can say for many main protagonists out there. I had goose bumps when she states, without hesitation or pause, “I will march with Jack. Alone, if necessary.” This woman had so much going against her, and still, she did what she thought was right. Kudos for her....

In matters of acting, I would feel like a monster if I didn’t say that Natalie Portman copied Jackie Kennedy very impressively. Having watched a few videos of Jackie herself -- including an extract of the White House tour they reenact during the movie -- I can say that her way of speaking was very close to perfect. The only thing that would make it more perfect is if Portman was Jackie, rather than copying her. What I mean by that is that I felt her acting, which is an unfortunate thing to feel. You know when you’re watching a movie and the protagonist starts crying and you catch yourself thinking, “Wow, those are pretty convincing tears. I wonder if they used eye drops for that.” During a moment like that, you should likely not be thinking of those questions. Good acting doesn’t feel like acting; it feels like a sneak-peaking into the character’s life. I was aware of the effort she was making to speak like Jackie Kennedy, and that unfortunately took away from some of her believability for me...

Story-wise though, I feel like this movie did a fantastic job. I was captivated through the whole thing and, even though I knew most of the events that took place surrounding Kennedy’s death, I never felt bored. In fact, the movie made me feel hopeful even, thanks to characters like Nancy (Jackie’s assistant) and Bobby (Kennedy’s brother). The amount of understanding and strength that each of those characters demonstrated definitely made me feel glad they were beside Jackie, helping her keep it together. But mostly, if the point was to show how much Kennedy meant to the people who knew him, and how far Jackie was willing to go to make sure people didn’t forget that, I believe this movie conveys those points perfectly. And in my book, that’s a storytelling success.

[themediareviewer]

Movies

Because many of us caught ourselves gasping in the middle of a quiet theatre, or shedding tears in front of someone we were hoping to look cool in front of, or laughing at a silly joke we definitely thought we were above laughing at… Because moving pictures can be just so… Well, moving.

[themediareviewer]

Books

Because many of us have lost ourselves in the smell of a new book, felt the charming stiffness of a yellowing page under our fingers, felt the urge of clicking on to the next page, as we hold our breath -- cursing our eyes for not reading faster! --  as we thirst to find out And then what.