Hitchcock

Alfred Hitchcock is a director who is disputed over constantly. Those disputes aren’t about whether or not he was talented—all agree he was—but rather on which of his movies stands head and shoulders above the rest. With so many great ones to choose from, opinions inevitably vary. Some argue Vertigo was his finest work. Others point to North by Northwest. I personally hold Psycho up as his greatest achievement. That was a film that pushed the boundaries of the time with a subject matter that many deemed vile and unworthy. Its road to the big screen was a bumpy one, but the results were magnificent. Creepy low angle shots and brilliant use of shadows and props created what is still to this day one of the scariest films ever made. This week’s film, succinctly titled Hitchcock, takes place during its filming and the results are a mixed bag. Despite an Oscar worthy turn by Anthony Hopkins in the title role and endless material to borrow from, the film itself feels substanceless, neither an in-depth biopic of the man nor a particularly involving “making of” look at Psycho. It’s definitely a good movie, but it needed more meat to truly stand out.

Being an avid Hitchcock fan, both of the person and of his films, will bring simultaneous feelings of disappointment and appreciation to Hitchcock. Numerous film references abound, some subtle, some blatant, but they’re all something that will give viewers of his work pleasure, like the numerous shots of Hitchcock’s famous silhouette from his television show, Alfred Hitchcock Presents. However, if you’re aware of his personal demons, those that extend from what he captured onscreen, you’ll find surprising and unwelcome restraint.

Hitchcock had a weight problem, one that haunted him his entire life, like when he was rejected from the military during World War I for his weight. His weight fluctuated his entire life. He could never seem to truly keep control of it. In the film, little is said about this subject, which is explored only through a nagging wife, played by Helen Mirren, who tries to get him to eat fruits instead of junk. When he passes out at one point in the movie, it seems to be more a byproduct of his constant stress from filming Psycho rather than from his unhealthy physical condition. Similarly, Hitchcock was famous for obsessing over his female stars, which is mentioned only in passing dialogue rather than shown as an attribute of the man as portrayed in the film. In these ways, the writing lacks focus. Its title implies a biopic, one that will reveal who Alfred Hitchcock truly was behind the camera and elsewhere, yet it’s as shallow an exploration of a larger than life person as I’ve ever seen.

Nevertheless, the film somehow remains fascinating. Not once was I bored, nor was I angry that it wasn’t living up to its potential, even if that feeling of disappointment was lingering in the back of my mind. This is in large part due to a brilliant performance from Anthony Hopkins, who perfectly nails Hitchcock’s mannerisms, right down to the way he would slightly upturn his head when staring head on and cross his arms over his protruding belly. The only thing preventing a full transformation is Hopkins’ recognizable voice, which he seemingly doesn’t even try to hide. That in no way diminishes the care he put into who he was playing; everything else is so perfect, the voice hardly seems a distraction. He pulls off some truly great scenes, including a late one as he stands outside the theater doors on Psycho’s opening night, orchestrating the screams of viewers inside who have just reached the famous shower scene.

Some of its more intriguing moments come when the film explores Hitchcock’s inherent interest in the macabre or when they show off his cunning, like when he argues his way past the infamously strict censors who enforced Hollywood’s Production Code (which was then abandoned a mere eight years later in favor of the current MPAA ratings system). It concludes on a high note as well, with an ingenious ending where Hitchcock addresses the audience regarding how he will be on the lookout for inspiration to lead him to his next movie, just as a bird lands on his shoulder. But these moments are fleeting and don’t encompass the film as a whole. Hitchcock is such an interesting man and Psycho such an amazing movie that led a troubled production that there’s a wealth of content to explore, yet nearly all of it is brushed over. Frankly, a documentary would have suited this subject better. It’s difficult not to criticize the movie for what it isn’t rather than what it is, but I suppose that’s not such a bad problem to have. It may not be what one might hope, but at least what it is, is good.

Hitchcock receives 3.5/5

Thor

With the summer movie season officially taking off this weekend, there’s one question on everybody’s mind. Is Thor any good? The word on the street seems to be a resounding “yes,” but having just sat through it, I’m forced to counter with an unfortunate “no.” It’s not a disaster by any stretch of the imagination, but it lacks what many of the other Marvel properties have: an interesting central character. While more problems pervade Thor than just that, it’s more than enough to keep it from becoming anything more than a mediocre attempt at pleasing the comic book fan base.

Odin (Anthony Hopkins) is the king of Asgard. For centuries, he has protected the universe from evil, namely the Frost Giants (who are as bland an enemy as their name suggests). After defeating them, he took their source of power, the Casket of Ancient Winters and kept it safe in Asgard. Now, in the present day, he is preparing to step down from the throne and hand his legacy off to his son, Thor (Chris Hemsworth), but before he can do so, the Frost Giants attack, somehow finding their way into Asgard. Despite his father’s wishes, Thor heads to the Frost Giants’ planet and starts a war. Because of his arrogance and stupidity, he is banished to Earth and stripped of his powers. Now his brother Loki (Tom Hiddleston) is king, but he has an unforeseen hidden agenda.

Thor, quite simply, is not a compelling character. On his own merits or when compared to other superheroes, he fails to muster up any reason for us to care about him. The rationale behind his fighting never goes further than “just because.” Think about Spider-Man or DC Comics’ Batman. Those characters didn’t fight “just because.” They fought because they felt compelled to do so. They had demons from their pasts that gave them a reason to combat evil. They never asked for that life, but suffered through tragic events that led them in that direction. In their recent movie adaptations, they have been written and portrayed as three-dimensional characters. Thor, on the other hand, has no emotional pain scratching at him. He just fights because he’s told that’s what he is supposed to do. He even finds pleasure in it in the film’s early moments, starting a fight when none is needed.

This is no fault of the actor, I should say. Chris Hemsworth has everything required of this character: a deep voice and muscular body, which is to say very little. That’s not to suggest he’s a bad actor (his short stint as the soon-to-be-dead Kirk at the beginning of 2009’s Star Trek was quite good), he just isn’t given the tools to do anything other than run around and yell. Like most first entries in a superhero film franchise, Thor is an origin story, but the character simply doesn’t have a deep rooted past like many other superheroes (or at least he doesn’t as presented in this movie). This provides little leeway for emotional growth and prohibits Hemsworth from developing the character.

Thor is a film that is incredibly hard to take seriously, yet it asks you to do so for the majority of its length. One can’t help but look at the goofy costumes (some of which look like they were purchased for $9.99 at a local Halloween shop) and laugh. What really holds it back, however, are its fake looking effects. While it’s probably safe to assume they were rendered that way to keep with the film’s comic book origins, it strips away any sense of realism or danger. When a character gets hit and goes flying through the sky, your sense of fear for the assaulted is quickly replaced with disbelief because of the film’s obvious artificiality.

I can't explain the admiration flooding in for Thor. While I’m sure many have completely valid reasons for enjoying it, I suspect just as many are too easily dazzled by special effects and fail to see how shallow it is. Spectacle is fine, but without a compelling story to drive it along, it means nothing. Unfortunately, Thor sacrifices its story for the spectacle. If anything, it should be the other way around.

Thor receives 2/5

The Rite

When a movie comes with the label “Based on a true story,” I’m always skeptical. Is it really true or is it just a marketing ploy the studio is hoping will pull in more money? While there’s no reason to believe most based-on-real-events dramas are fake—movies like 127 Hours are anything but—horror films have proven that the phrase can be attached to nearly anything even if there’s little to no truth in it. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Blair Witch Project, The Fourth Kind, Paranormal Activity, all have hidden under the guise of reality and many viewers have believed their lies. This week’s newest exorcism film, The Rite, uses this tactic as well, though its validity should quickly be squashed as viewers read the opening credits where it is revealed the film isn’t “based on” or “inspired by” true events, but rather “suggested by,” whatever that means.

Colin O’Donoghue plays Michael Kovak, who is at a crossroads in his life. In his family, everybody becomes either a priest or a mortician. Although he desires to be neither, he gives into the pressure and reluctantly heads to seminary school. After hearing about the massive influx of possession reports, he heads to Rome to partake in exorcism school, despite his refusal to believe. When he arrives, he meets Father Lucas Trevant, played by Anthony Hopkins, the most knowledgeable and experienced exorcist in the area, and becomes his apprentice. Little does he know his lack of faith is about to be tested when Father Lucas begins acting strangely.

At this point, the Devil has become a cliché. Without question, the Devil is the most interesting villain any screenwriter could ever imagine. He’s the king of all that is unholy, a deceiver, a liar, a master manipulator, evil incarnate. He sees suffering in the world and relishes it. You can’t get any worse than Satan, but screenwriters seem content to simply plop him in another exorcism movie rather than really explore what he can do. The Rite is another one of those movies, but luckily, it’s an uncommonly smart one and it hits on some deep philosophical and theological issues.

At one point in the movie, Father Lucas explains to Michael that the Devil doesn’t want to be noticed. He says that just because you can’t see him, it doesn’t mean he isn’t there. Michael responds, saying that they’re hitting a tricky area when “no proof of the Devil is somehow proof of the Devil.” This hits the very foundation of religious belief, shedding light on how believers think. Many believe things they cannot prove while disregarding fact. Take creationism vs. evolution, for instance. Believers are quick to point out the holes in evolution, but can offer up zero proof of divine creation. They're also quick to give God credit in times of joy, but never blame when tragedy strikes. If the hard work of dozens of people to rescue the trapped Chilean miners can be described as a “miracle,” how do you describe the recent shooting in Arizona? If God has his hand in one, wouldn’t he have his hand in the other? Where’s the line?

The Rite astutely observes this religious train of thought while keeping the discussion in its own world. In fact, the whole movie is a battle between opposing viewpoints. It’s a battle between certainty and uncertainty; faith and lack of; seeing what you believe and believing what you see. Unfortunately, these intellectual battles devolve into a more conventional battle between the Devil and the priest in the last block of the film, completely dropping the ambiguity of whether or not exorcisms have any real merit and simply concluding that they do.

With such a smart beginning and middle, the inferiority of the end stands out, where mindless excitement is favored over smarts. Hopkins and O’Donoghue are terrific, however, and their two performances are delightful to watch, even if they are taken away from their tense dialogue driven scenes and forced into typical horror movie theatrics.

The Rite receives 3.5/5

The Wolfman

The Wolfman has been plagued with production problems since its inception. Originally scheduled to be released in late 2008, it was pushed back numerous times, it underwent reshoots, a usual normalcy in filmmaking, that were rumored to be because the powers that be weren't happy with the look of the werewolf, directors were leaving the project due to the ever reliable term "creative differences," and even now, a week before the film came out, early word wasn't good. Well, it's not. The Wolfman is a dull, lifeless, meandering failure saved only by the sinful glee of watching England's citizens get their limbs get ripped off in splatters of blood.

The Wolfman stars Benicio Del Toro as Lawrence Talbot, a British man who moved to New York some time ago to pursue his acting career. His brother, still living back in Blackmoor, England, has just been found dead and Lawrence has been summoned back for the funeral. The events surrounding his death are mysterious because his ravaged corpse shows evidence that he was not murdered by man, but by some kind of beast. One night at a gypsy camp, Lawrence finds that beast and is bitten, giving him the curse of the werewolf. Meanwhile, something doesn't seem to be right with his father, John, played by Anthony Hopkins and now he is being pursued by the local police, headed by Abberline, played by Hugo Weaving.

There are more than a few problems in this dreadful adaptation of The Wolfman, but none surpass the questionable decision to cast Benicio Del Toro in the title role. I haven't seen such an egregious case of miscasting since Ben Affleck in Daredevil. The film takes place back in old England, in the late 19th century and Del Toro plays a British lad who grew up there, yet he doesn't even attempt an accent. The problem is that his dialogue is still written in that time period's prose, so he ends up sounding silly. Every line he uttered was a distraction and his presence in this movie is unforgivable.

Still, with such great material to develop from, I find it baffling how bad this thing turned out. It should have been an homage to the olden days of horror, hearkening back to the roots of what made the genre so popular in the first place. Instead, it's little more than a new age horror flick hiding under the guise of a classic. It's incredibly violent and it uses dozens of jump scares, some that are placed within mere seconds of each other, none of which work.

The disappointment is that the film looks good. The production design is impressive, with a haunting, bleak atmosphere accompanied by gothic architecture and a dark tone that would have generously supported the story had there been one to care about. This thing goes from scene to scene without so much of a story arc, basically repeating itself over and over until the anti-climactic final battle. Scene transitions were sometimes abrupt and rarely seemed to gel together, even going so far as to overuse the fade-to-black scene ender multiple times.

What The Wolfman all boils down to is a slapdash, clumsy remake with zero scares, an uninteresting story and one ridiculously bad miscast. Sure, the intense violence will hold your attention for a few moments, but when you realize that's one of the only aspects of it worth noting, you begin to realize how truly shallow it is.

The Wolfman receives 1.5/5