Reaction Shots

Anton Ego (Peter O’Toole) from “Ratatouille” Disney/Pixar Why do we read criticism? I can think of three reasons. It’s a learning experience in examining critical thinking, application of critical theory, and developing one’s unique aesthetic sensibility. If I have doubts or speculation about a film, book, piece of music, food, etc., there are critics who I am familiar enough with to get an idea of whether or not any given work is going to be something I’ll like or not. It does not mean that I will feel the same way about the piece, just that I can make a decision about spending money and time on one thing as opposed to another. It’s fun. Let’s take a look at these points, particularly in regard to film criticism, since this is a cinema-oriented site. I had to learn observational critical thinking as a young artist. At Houston’s High School for the Performing and Visual Arts, we were expected to respond to works and give valid reasons for supporting our responses. Yes,

No one sets out to make a bad movie. It is difficult to judge a work too harshly when the various people who work on any given project are taken into consideration. That said, some works fail. They fail to entertain. They fail to engage. They fail at just plain telling a tale with the bare minimum of verve, style, or panache. I rarely say that a movie sucks. I have said in the past but to be clear, I am not going to say it now. “The Greatest Beer Run Ever” isn’t engaging enough to suck. It’s too milquetoast to generate a heated response. It’s too enervated and inert to elicit much of a reaction except, “Well, that’s too bad.” I understand Peter Farrelly continuing to pursue films with stories that have something to say. It’s admirable when anyone decides to switch gears and work outside the familiar. That “Green Book” was recognized by the Academy is a lovely thing for Mr. Farrelly, however much it says about the Academy and its electoral processes. The movie at hand is unlikely t

Watch That Man “Moonage Daydream” is strictly speaking, not a documentary. There are no talking heads telling you about the man. You get that directly from the man himself.  There is, however, a lot of music and eye-popping visuals that pass through the retinas in fractions of nanoseconds. It should be a sensory overload, but somehow it’s not. If you’re familiar with Bowie’s life and work, you’ll decry that the film moves along in relatively chronological order. You’ll also notice that all of the clips from other movies, newsreels, and photos are a catalog of the influences on Bowie.  If you’re a casual listener but aren’t sure why Bowie’s kind of a big deal, you may find this a descent into the maelstrom and it is a delight as an audiovisual plunge. Sound + Vision Not just in terms of David Bowie’s work (and this might be one of the few realizations of much of what his work), but in and of itself, Brett Morgen’s work is a fine standalone example of what a document a documen

An hour in and I have to take a break. Cameron’s opus is more tedious than I remembered - and more gorgeous and more frustrating than I care to endure. Frankly, this is like watching a remarkable, beautiful masterpiece of emptiness. That may not be as dismissive as it sounds.   To be sure, I don’t disagree with Cameron’s message throughout the film; a parable for how our exploitation of resources and oppression, if not outright destruction of indigenous peoples to obtain these resources (and the capitalist drivers behind that destruction) has my full support. But there is no reason why the parable has to last almost three hours.  The wonderment of the effects does not let up. The 3-D seems better resolved with this rerelease and the CGI still works (except for a slight “uncanny valley” not in eyes or facial expression, but in limb articulation; I want to revisit that). However, as before, when I and untold millions saw it the first time might have felt with me; the visuals are almos

From the outset, Godard was taking apart cinema even as he was putting it together. Even the title of his first feature traffics in ambiguity and challenge. Sure, “breathless” is certainly on the point, but so is “out of breath”; “à bout” means to be at the end of one’s tether, add “du soufflé” and you have someone on their last legs, they’ve had it. Additionally, within moments, Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) has told us he’s an asshole. And it just gets better from there. Learning of the great master dying, my first thought was to start scheduling rewatches (and some new viewings; he was nothing if not prolific). To that end, starting with this shot over the bow just makes sense. I’ll probably go through the early work pretty quickly (they are glorious) and then pick through his later decades.  As others have noted, Godard grew didactic and far too pedantic in the seventies. There is still wit but the occasional satire, when it arrives, is pretty heavy-handed. There are, however, som