Hulot...Hulot...Hulot

Mr. Hulot, that is. A classic movie review on Box Office Prophets of the 1954 classic Mr. Hulot's Holiday...

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A Look Back at Star Trek: The Motion Picture and Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan

Copyright 2009, Paramount Pictures

As I end the Pixar marathon, I begin a new one. Yes, I'll finish up the Jason Bourne trilogy soon, but for now, it's time to look back at the Star Trek film franchise. Before I get into the first two films, which I've comprised into one review for reasons I'll delve into soon, I just want to establish that I got into the entire franchise thanks to the 1987 reboot of the series on television, with Patrick Stewart, Jonathan Frakes, and Brent Spiner. That pretty much means that anything before then--the Kirk era, as it were--is relatively foreign to me.

Granted, I loved the overhaul of the Kirk era from J.J. Abrams, but I never assumed that there was, for example, any other answer to the Kirk vs. Picard debate than the latter. Why wouldn't I side with the captain I'd grown up with? Still, I've seen all of the Star Trek films, with only one exception. Before last night, I'd never seen Star Trek: The Motion Picture, the film that started it all. OK, the TV series from the late 1960s really started it all, but in terms of really fueling the fire of fandom, it was the 1979 epic from director Robert Wise that kick-started the franchise.

And only God knows why that is. I will be perfectly honest: I tried. I really, really tried, but could only get through 90 minutes of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Yes, I got through two-thirds of this ridiculously slow movie. Why didn't I stick around for the last 45 minutes? Reader, I would have given myself a lobotomy before I forced myself to do that. That said, I'm going to spend a little bit of time on the first two movies, as my thoughts aren't too deep on either, but overall....I must share some disappointment.

Now, being fair, I knew going into the first film that I was probably not going to enjoy it. What I wasn't expecting was for the series' creator, Gene Roddenberry, to have been so inspired by 2001: A Space Odyssey that he decided to supplant its middle section in all of its worst elements into an entire, 135-minute movie. The fact that no one, not one single person, told Roddenberry that spending five whole minutes on two men approaching a ship docked in space would me among the most mind-numbingly boring sequences ever put on film shocks me to my core. How could no one have told the people involved that it might be wise to speed up to the actual plot of the movie? How could no one have spent any time on creating a good plot? How? I'd like to move on from this movie, so my last words are these: whoever thought a slow-motion sequence would be a good idea is a moron (though it's terribly funny).

So, The Wrath of Khan. I'm scared, folks. I can't tell you how scared I am to consider the fact that I may have watched the best of the first ten Star Trek movies and found it to be hammy, corny, and just a bit too fake to enjoy. Yeah, I know that this movie came out over 25 years ago, but I'm not sure the Star Wars movies ever felt this cheaply made. No question, the second film is a major improvement upon its predecessor, but aside from Ricardo Montalban's delightfully over-the-top performance as the titular villain, there's not much to enjoy in Star Trek II, a movie which emphasizes too much blather as opposed to action. I wonder if the Elvis Presley lyrics "A little less conversation, a little more action" would be appropriate for the entire series, or just these two films.

Now, I've got the next two films in the series to watch, both of which will garner separate entries, but...I'm not too hopeful that things will improve until at least when Christopher Plummer turns into a Klingon. Can anyone dissuade me from this disquieting notion? Please?

You Know You Love The Old Stuff, Right?

If not, check out this week's A-List, about old movies for those who hate them, on Box Office Prophets...

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Up, Up, Up...

And away, and other easy puns. Read Part Two of this week's Monday Morning Quarterback, about the new Pixar film, on Box Office Prophets...

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The Pixar List

Copyright 2009, Disney/Pixar

For a time, this will be the last Pixar-related post on the blog, unless it's in regards to the box office success (or lack thereof, but I doubt such bad things will happen) of the latest release, Up or, who knows, maybe another Pixar story will seep through the cracks. Assuming such things don't happen, this is the last one for now. Some of you may be happy, some of you may be sad, but so it goes.

As mentioned in a previous post, I figured I'd spend my final post as a backwards countdown of my favorite Pixar films, which is a harder list to make than I'd have originally thought. Let's say this much: there's a big divide between the Pixar films I like a lot and love. No more wasted time, let's get started.

At number 10, currently holding the final position (and hopefully, always holding that position) is Cars. No surprises here if you know me or...well, if you've seen this movie. It's not that I dislike the film, but as I told someone today in an e-mail, just watch Doc Hollywood. All you need to do is watch the Michael J. Fox comedy, transplant cars instead of humans, and you've pretty much got the entire experience of watching Cars. Obviously, the most exciting aspect of the film is its eye-popping animation. Here more than anywhere else does the idea of photorealistic animation come into play. In the best scene of the film, Lightning McQueen and Sally take a drive around the wilderness surrounding Radiator Springs. At one point, awed by the beauty, Lightning drops his jaw; it may seem a bit arrogant on Pixar's part, but when you look at that animation, can you blame the jaw-dropping? Though its story and characters are the weakest among the bunch, there's still good here.

At number 9 is Monsters, Inc. If it makes anyone feel better, I like this film more than I did originally. Still, there's just something about this movie that I just don't love. It's funny, it's got some great action (the sequence at the end with the flying doors is the best scene in the film), enough drama. I suppose what turns me off is the screwball comedy elements that pervade the first hour of the movie. Mike Wazowski is just a bit too on-the-nose cute, with his snake-headed girlfriend and hammy jokes, just like Billy Crystal is in general. So...I like this movie a lot, but just not enough.

At number 8 is a sentimental favorite, A Bug's Life. Though it's certainly no one's favorite Pixar movie, I used to watch this a lot when I was younger; it was a movie I wore out on VHS. From the stunning visuals of Ant Island and the surrounding area to the frequent laughs to even those outtakes, I really loved A Bug's Life when I was but a mere teenager. Now, I find it a bit more clever than funny, but I still enjoy all of the characterizations that are covered in a very short period and still have some favorite lines ("I'm the only stick with eyeballs!"). Granted, A Bug's Life is the least complex film Pixar's ever made (even the original Toy Story deals with rejection), but as a fun lark, I think it's just fine.

For the number 7 spot, we have The Incredibles. Here's where it gets difficult. I want to make it perfectly clear that the seven Pixar films I'm mentioning starting here are all great movies, among the finest animated features ever made. I'd put these toe-to-toe with the other films released in the respective year. What it comes down to is nitpicks. For example, The Incredibles is not only a highly entertaining, suspenseful superhero movie, but a finely realized look at an imperfect American family. My two problems stem from the point that director Brad Bird wants to make, that mediocrity shouldn't be rewarded. I agree with the point, but by making Helen Parr, also known as Elastigirl, be so staunchly against acknowledging she was ever a superhero, and by having her son Dash enter the track team only to be encouraged to lose, things get screwed up. In all other ways, The Incredibles is much like its title, but those two elements have caused it to wind up on the bottom half of the list.

Of course, being the seventh-best Pixar movie makes it still one of the best animated movies ever. At number 6, though, is Toy Story. You see what I mean when I tell you that the top 7 aren't really appropriately listed. If I had to choose five movies to keep on a desert island, this would be one of them. So, don't get too freaked out. As it stands, this one's a nostalgic favorite, with the introduction of some iconic cinematic characters, hilarious humor, clever gags, exciting action, and even some well-earned emotion. Also, this is the film to feature one of my favorite lines in any movie--"Wait a minute. I just lit a rocket. Rockets explode!"--so don't think of this as being the sixth-best Pixar movie. See it as being tied for number one with five other movies.

We're now onto the top half of this top 10, and the fifth-best for me is Finding Nemo. At this point, I'm not going to be able to justify one way or the other why a movie is placed at a certain number. This story of lost souls in a vast ocean is moving, funny (but not in the normal Pixar way, thanks to the two lead characters), and tense. Sure, we all know Nemo will be found, but the stakes are high because who among us hasn't flushed a fish down the toilet? Who among us hasn't put fish into an aquarium? Who among us hasn't eaten a fish? Though we're in the place of the fish here, it's hard not to feel a pang or two of guilt when you see fish caged up nowadays.

Number 4 is Toy Story 2. Let's get this bold statement out of the way: Toy Story 2 is, along with a sci-fi epic and a lengthy mob movie, one of the best sequels ever. Those three movies are so damn good because they're better than their predecessors. How is it that the folks at Pixar could turn what was once going to be a direct-to-DVD story into one of the most successful and amazing movies of the past 10 years? How is it that these people can make me feel bad for abandoning my toys when I grew past a certain age? Maybe this is why I'm so worried about the upcoming threequel, a movie that could be incredible (fingers very much crossed), but could be a big mistake. Either way, we have Toy Story 2, with all of its humor, excitement, and the best Randy Newman song ever.

At number 3 is Up. As I mentioned in a previous post today, here we have the saddest film Pixar's ever made. What is sadder in this life than wasting it? What is sadder than watching a man lose his dreams, his wife and, eventually, his house, all because he can't let go? What is sadder than finding out that your boyhood idol has turned into a madman? What is sadder than losing your parents to divorce? I've only seen the film once, hope to do so again, and am confident of its status here. One of the reasons I hesitate to have the new film top the list is precisely because it's new. I want to make sure it still holds up in a few months; not that I doubt it won't, but it's nice not to jump to such immediate conclusions. What I can say is that the film is the best of the year so far, and yet another monumental achievement from this studio.

The silver medal goes to WALL-E, a movie that pushed Pixar even farther away from the mainstream, although it's celebrated for appealing to such mass audiences. How do you sell a movie with a silent first half-hour, a title character who doesn't speak, and a love story between two robots? Of course, the same could be asked of Up, but the point stands: this was the film that may well have put a line in the sand. Here is the movie where Pixar shies away from its past. Here is the movie where something different is called for. The soaring romance, the minimalist score, the bleak but awe-inspiring visuals...need I say more about WALL-E to prove its greatness?

And, yes, all of this means that the number-one pick is Ratatouille, a movie I just took a look back in the post below this one. Like all of Pixar's films, it has flaws (though it's fresh in my mind, Up is the one that works best by either glossing over its flaws or just not having any), but I don't care. The character of Remy is decidedly imperfect, decidedly human. He pushes his friends and family away at the wrong times, but they pay off for him in the end because, somewhere deep down, they want him to do better. The rats may not understand why Remy wants to cook, but they want him to do it. Linguine may not get much of anything, but he knows what friendship is and will stick by his little chef. Ego may not understand or comprehend that a rat can cook, but it will finally prove to him that the late Auguste Gusteau was always right: anyone can cook. Kudos to Brad Bird for making the best portrait of the modern artist.

So there you go. The best Pixar's offered. Now, come next June, I won't do an extra look back, but I may comment on how well Up has done in its growing longevity. Other than that, feel free to comment, tell me I'm crazy, tell me I'm wrong, or even--shocker--agree with me.

A Look Back at Ratatouille

Copyright 2007, Disney/Pixar

I know that we've been jumping all over the place lately with the final push of my look back at the Pixar films (the sole exception being WALL-E, which I reviewed back around the beginning of the year), but it's interesting to realize that, in some ways, the 2007 Pixar release Ratatouille was the first time that anyone in the studio truly pushed back against audience expectations, delivering a story and characters that seemed almost forcefully unmarketable.

Before this relatively deep look at what it means to be an artist and how much and how hard you have to work at getting to your dream's fruition, Pixar had made movies about toys, bugs, monsters, fish, and superheroes. Even though 2003's Finding Nemo had some challenging storylines, it was still pretty easy to market because, in some form, people had seen the story before. There have been movies about parents trying to find their lost children. It's not so often that you see a story about a rat who wants to be a cook...in Paris. Rarer still does that seemingly outlandish and completely unlikely tale work.

When I first saw Ratatouille in theaters, I was excited, partially because I saw it as a return to form. The only Pixar film I didn't see in its original theatrical release was Cars, partly because my wife didn't want to see it, and partly because...well, I didn't want to see it either, not as much as I would for other such films. This film, however, got me excited; Brad Bird was returning to the director's chair, the cast was almost purposely not famous, featuring Patton Oswalt, Brad Garrett, Brian Dennehy, and Peter O'Toole. These are all known actors, but to varying extents, and not one is as popular as Larry the Cable Guy. So I was thrilled.

This first experience was when I saw the first trailer for WALL-E, a movie that seemed even more difficult and inaccessible for children than did Ratatouille. However, the former film was challenging, but less complex in some ways than that of the story of Remy. The best example I can give you is one of the most accurate scenes in film history about any profession, and the scene that just may be my favorite from Pixar ever.

Take a wild guess, and you can assume what it's going to be: the climactic review from ominous food critic Anton Ego. In many ways, Ratatouille has been careening towards this confrontation between critic and chef from the first minute. One of the first images we see is of Ego, the notorious food critic who may well have helped along the death of Remy's culinary idol, Auguste Gusteau. Remy will have to prove himself and his worth as a chef at some point, and it fits perfectly that Ego is the judge of how good a craftsman the rat is. Now, the review is preceded by the scene where Ego takes one bite of Remy's ratatouille and is rocketed back to memories of his childhood, and of how his mother would give him the dish as a comfort food. And without being told, we know that Remy's dish is perfect, not because it reminds Ego of his mother's cooking, but because his mother's cooking was perfect. Ego obviously wants to talk to the chef but has to wait. Oswalt, as Remy, narrates this scene, explaining how the two remaining human employees who are wise to Remy's scheme tell Ego he has to wait until the restaurant is closed, in hushed tones. Then, Ego finds out.

But what seals the deal is that review Ego delivers, in the beautifully crafted script by Bird and Jim Capobianco. Not only is Peter O'Toole at his finest here (in a performance that easily sails to one of the best vocal performances in American cinema), but the words, the meaning, the many ways in which it may be analyzed...all is breathtaking. What struck me in the theater on that first viewing as Ego explained his life as a critic, his stance against true creativity and artistry, as a way to praise Remy's skills as a chef, is that not a single kid under the age of, say, 8 or 9 would understand a damn word of what he was saying. Oh, sure, they'd get that the evil-looking critic liked Remy's food, but that's not what the review is about. Each Pixar film--yes, even Cars--has a moment or two of complete transcendence, whether it's a house sailing via balloons, a toy retelling its sad life without being loved, or, in this case, a meditation on criticism, on being creative, and on the position of art in society.

One of the reasons that, in many ways, Ratatouille is my absolute favorite Pixar film is because of that moment, a moment that still gives me chills. After having seen the film countless times, I can see its flaws (though I don't really have any issue with him, the character of Alfredo Linguine is a bit too goofy), but I treasure its creativity, adore its characters, and nod with appreciation at its cleverness, its humanity and, above all, its relatability. Yes, a movie about a talking rat is relatable to me. How many movies with such completely implausible storylines (and yes, as much as I appreciate this film's attention to detail and realism, the story is ridiculous, especially when Remy's fellow rats band together to save the restaurant the creative rodent has been toiling at) can boast such a claim?

The More I Think...

The more I really loved Up, which may not be my number-one Pixar film (I'll have a list of best to worst from Pixar later today), but is unquestionably the saddest film they've ever made.

Anyway, take a look at Part 1 of Monday Morning Quarterback, all about Up, at Box Office Prophets...

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