VALERIAN AND THE CITY OF A THOUSAND PLANETS

If I am going to be honest, I had every inclination to sit down, begrudgingly put my 3D glasses on, reach into my pocket for some snacks, and view Luc Besson's Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets with the utmost disdain and reluctance.

Shame on me, and my judgmental inklings.

I am not writing you today to say that Valerian is expert filmmaking, or even particularly game-changing in its visual effects work, which allegedly took years to perfect. But I can speak on behalf of its entertainment value; because, for me, it did just that. Between interstellar travel and mind-boggling sights and sounds per, I found so much to attract to and rekindle to, both as a young boy with his "backyard imagination" and as a older man, a bit wiser, with half a mind to compare every film he sees to something else.

Valerian, first of all, will probably be misunderstood to most American audiences. I won't even pretend I caught on to everything. It is based on a French science fiction comic book series that has a cult-like following that is unintelligible. Yet it has been cited as inspirational material for the Star Wars saga, not to mention a slew of other films by Besson. It is an unsung hero of our science fiction imagination since the later 1960s.

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As a film, it shares similarities in it's candy-coated visuals and designs to, say, James Cameron's Avatar. However, Cameron's picture was groundbreaking for its visual effects work. I do not think Besson's film is meant to be groundbreaking, although it is no less stunning. Valerian is rather campy, and reminds one of the experimental science fiction techniques of filmmaking pioneers like Georges Melies in the early 20th century. With that in mind, the visual and special effects are more playful, and function to be marveled at like you did when you saw The Thief of Bagdad (1940) or, perhaps to go even this far, cheesy horror like The Blob (1958).

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The other surprising feature in Valerian is that it plays less like a plot-driven action film and more of a wandering series of misadventure, a la Huckleberry Finn. There is a single thread of story involving the erasing of an alien existence, and the heroes Maj. Valerian (Dane DeHaan) and and Sgt. Laureline (Cara Delevingne) charged with discovering their motivations and preventing attacks on Alpha, the titular city of a thousand planets. But there are so many of these misadventures, ranging in relevance to the central plot. The structure provides too much allowance for meandering in the visual splendor. But as a whole, it is fun to sit back and let the movie happen.

The visuals really do strike, from art direction to costumes to sound (no need to ramble on about the visual effects work for too much longer). The acting is rather subpar. DeHaan, a performer I quite like, frequently undersells his lines, while Delevingne finds herself picking up the pieces. But did anyone really participate in this movie for Oscar glory? I don't think so. In Valerian, sight and sound speak far louder than words and performance.

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Behind all of this narrative meandering and barraging color is the giddy Besson, who's directorial style (as it was in 1997's The Fifth Element) is both silly and contagious. Everything you once held dear about being a kid in the summertime seems to be captured here. The wildly dynamic exteriors, fresh from Pierre Christin's and Jean-Claude Mezieres' imaginations and translated by the VFX team and production designer Hugues Tissandier, are the stuff we created outside and on the playground during hot summer afternoons. Allusions to 1980s retro video game sounds and camera movements recall when we needed to cool off inside and play the day away. Every aspect is captured by Besson's imperfect, but altogether fearless, vision of the series.

As mentioned, Valerian is not a feat of storytelling, acting, or even visual effects. But I sat in the back of the theater, took it all in, and laughed and enjoyed myself. I don't see the harm in that. Do you?

(Side note: I ended seeing the film in 3D, as mentioned. This is not a necessary avenue for the film's enjoyment.)

***1/2

Marvel Two-Punch: 'GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 2' & 'SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING'

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Marvel movie. I won’t lie, but I will clarify. I saw Doctor Strange and Deadpool and Captain America: Civil War. What I mean, I suppose, is that I haven’t seen a Marvel movie in a long time that wasn’t narcissistically inclined.

I don’t mean that entirely as a criticism. Clearly, the schtick is working. Marvel (Disney) is grossing billions of dollars, and people want to see them. For that, I can’t fault them. As an individual, sure, I have my preferences that do not always affirm the series. The word that comes to mind is fine; not fine filmmaking, but two hours spend pleasantly suspended.

During this year’s summer movie season, two films (three, this fall, including Thor: Ragnarok) have been added to the list, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, helmed by the original director James Gunn, and Spider-Man: Homecoming by Jon Watts, new to the Marvel party. I feel rather tired by these films, but each undoubtedly have some strengths to soothe their own weaknesses.

Vol. 2 addresses Marvel’s egoism almost mockingly by making this topic the focal point of the story. Peter Quill/Star-Lord’s (the ever-savvy Chris Pratt) aplomb and banter is challenged by Rocket’s (voiced by Bradley Cooper) own, brought on by past baggage, and finds affirmation when his father, the aptly named Ego (Kurt Russell), comes out of the stars and welcomes Peter to his planet - and a new array of superhuman abilities.

Gunn’s film has a lot of pressure going for it, to follow up well after the success of the first. I think it does so by not overcompensating. The soundtrack, and candy coloring, the banter - it is officially a part of the film’s DNA. It all works, even when you are aware the last twenty minutes or so go on and on and on.

The film, very much like the first, is also ironic and self-aware, which plays to its advantage. I wrote that the first Vol. 2 reminded me a good deal of Raiders of the Lost Ark or the original Star Wars for its sense of romantic adventure, boyish wonder, and grand sets. The rule of thumb, to follow in the steps of Temple of Doom or more so The Empire Strikes Back, would be to make a darker, deeper film. Vol. 2 dodges the expectation altogether, which sacrifices the film’s freshness, but makes for an entertaining summer entry all the same.

Watts’ Homecoming is refreshing for not being an origins story. Instead, it is a bumpy documentation of Peter Parker’s (Tom Holland) assumption into the role of Spider-Man. That means we follow him trying to always take down the baddies in the neighborhoods of New York, but causing way more damage than anticipated, much to his mentor Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) headaches.

In a way, the film almost takes on Peter’s persona: it feels too young and insufficient to stand on its own. I noticed that the best scenes of the film were when Holland interacted with Downey Jr., or with Jon Favreau who plays the hapless assistant Happy Hogan. Even some gag footage of Captain America (Chris Evans) doing educational videos for high school delinquents lit me up. There is a lot of confidence in Holland’ cuteness from Civil War, and while it is fun and most endearing, it is not lasting enough for those two-and-a-quarter hours.

Holland is a wonderful Spider-Man. If he is the best, it remains to be seen. Tobey Maguire, from Sam Raimi’s trilogy, was older at the time of production, and painful shyness he brought to the table allowed him to grow so much over the course of three films. I only mention this because I admired Maguire very much as a superhero (Spider-Man 2 is one of my favorite comic book films of all time), and I think if Holland is going to be great, he needs trajectory, which Watts and his writers have yet to explore.

The best scene is actually not a Spidey scene. It is when Peter is in a car with Adrian Toomes (Michael Keaton), who he knows to be his enemy Vulture. Adrian knows it too, and is also not in costume. It is a very human scene, so well directed and so tense, however aside it feels from the light tone to the story. With an exception to this scene, Keaton is ultimately squandered in the film. He deserves a better, juicier role than is offered by any of the six writers.

I hear the rebuttals already. “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 isn’t meant to be better than the original.” “Spider-Man was never meant to be about the acting.” “These are all just summer flicks.” Yes, yes they are. I don't mean to take away from that. They are good summer movies. I only hope for these summer movies to one day be on par with great movies. Guardians of the Galaxy and Spider-Man are fine ones. Just...fine.

Guardians of the Galaxy: ***          Spider-Man: Homecoming: **½

GET OUT

Get Out is, perhaps, the angriest film about American race since Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing in 1989. In this context, anger is not a bad thing. It certainly wasn’t during Lee’s time, and although it cost his film the Oscar attention it deserved, it is one of the most resonant films that no one seems to be watching during this time in our country’s present. But I digress. Get Out will probably fall under a similar fate because it is so passionate and morosely aware of the black/white binary.

Also sharing in similarity with Lee’s film is how the picture is often funny. Do the Right Thing is so because of Lee’s character, Mookie, walking down the street and essentially having the film happen to him (that is, up until the climax). It is an objective sort of humor, day-in-the-life. And it is funny because of the typecasting of blacks and whites/Italians, somehow finding the appropriate line of idiosyncratic rather than stereotypical. Get Out is a cheekier humor, aware in every frame that the audience knows, deep down, how horrifying many of the characters are from the underbelly.

The director, Jordan Peele, is a skilled comic actor and writer himself, and brings to the table such sensibilities. I won’t get too wrapped up in Peele’s background, as I don’t want to pretend to know is work more than I actually do. But what I gather from him as an offscreen entity is his meticulous attention to diversity. Sure, the racial tension is palpable between Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) and his girlfriend Rose’s (Allison Williams) parents, played by Catherine Keener and Bradley Whitford. For those even marginally aware of the film’s marketing, there is no surprise in the hostility Chris finds when he visits for the weekend. While I think some expectations and surprises were a bit on-the-nose, the build-up to a strangely satisfying climax pays off.

Racial conflict and compromise isn’t what I took from Peele’s direction, however. He is a biased man behind the camera. He makes it abundantly clear that there is good and evil in the film, there is not just black and white, but hospitality and hostility, justice and lawlessness. This is not a white-bashing film, but a spotlight for the director to say, “Here, something like this is still going on in my eyes.”

It is a fearless directorial debut. I think even great modern cinema tends to tiptoe around the opposition and find unity. That is likely what happened in 1989 when Do the Right Thing was probably seen a startling and violent film - violent, that is, socially, not blood and gore. Get Out has an opinion, and Peele is not afraid to let you know his take.

***½

BABY DRIVER

One of my favorite things about director Jim Jarmusch is that he is such a huge proponent of sourcing his films from anything - really, anything. There is a quote with the entire list of ideas, but basically he cites other auteur's films, music, poetry, art, architecture...the list goes on. The man does not believe in originality, so I don't think I'm stepping on toes here when I say inspiration from other work is not a new idea. But it's not one with enough accreditation.

In his newest film Baby Driver, writer-director Edgar Wright takes inspiration from the perfect playlist of his choosing. Instead of it being a supporting player, his soundtrack is the basis of the film. He could have used the cultural resurgence of vinyl or even mixed tapes (a la Guardians of the Galaxy). Instead, he swipes back a mere decade - or less - ago with the iPod, thus challenging the dependency on streaming services like Spotify.

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Baby Driver is something of the perfect vehicle for Wright's filmmaking techniques. By mixing up musical styles and genres and setting the action to each accordingly, he proves that he is a classicist in his inspirations, but a full-throttled progressive in his execution. Baby Driver is both cool like a 70s thriller, and alive like a modern popular track.

I mentioned previously that the story is virtually set to the music. The slight consequence in this choice is that some degree of originality is stripped. Recall Nicholas Winding Refn's Drive (2011), where the hero is soft-spoken and with one skill. He drives. He does not participate in violence (until the plot boils over, I should say). He does not associate with criminals.

In Baby Driver, the Driver's only connection to criminality is the handoff of black coffees to the other heist members. I love that Wright really works with, instead of against, this character type. The Driver is methodical, like Alain Delon's Jef Costello from Le Samourai (1967). And he is a major part of American cinema now, especially that of crime cinema. He is a design of Costello placed in the world of a Roger Corman B-movie.

The driver I speak of is called Baby (Ansel Elgort), and due to a childhood trauma he keeps his iPods (yes, plural) plugged into his ears most of the time to drown out the ringing. Also like the Driver type, he is procedural in his work. He will only begin the heist if it is perfectly synched to the song. Until then, the car is in park and no one goes anywhere. This effect drives the film musically, but also deconstructs the character of the Driver from a machine (plugged in, emotionless) and into a feeling, motivated thing.

In Wright's world, stoicism doesn't last his heroes long. Baby can be driven by emotions, where as Refn's and Gosling's Driver is (more so) unfeeling of the physical and emotional landscape, like a criminal of Michael Mann's L.A. underworld. His encounter with diner waitress Debora (Lily James) lures him out of a life of crime. His iPod suddenly seems to shuffle completely; his killer track, Queen's "Brighton Rock," evaporates into soft, bluesy soul (think Aretha Franklin or Gladys Knight, neither of which I believe are featured on the film's soundtrack).

Baby is kept from running away with the girl of his dreams by Doc (Kevin Spacey), an underworld heist planner, who always has a job for Baby, and while Baby sees Doc as the closest thing to a father figure, he can't shake that Doc might also cross him at any time. Added to the mix are Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Darling (Eiza Gonzalez), a pair of ecstatic modern day Bonnie and Clyde-types, and Bats (Jamie Foxx), a perpetually unhinged con, all of whom lose their trust in Baby as he falls for Debora. Baby drives all of these characters for their jobs, but never finds security until he meets her.

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Essentially, Baby is not oblivious to crime, but young love seems to be the only thing that brings him closer to the American Dream: driving down the highway in an open car with no particular place to go.

Fast cars, a dash of diner culture, young sweet love - how much more American could Wright have gotten? He does not deconstruct crime cinema nearly as much as he affirms it. I do wish the supporting players (i.e. Spacey, Hamm, etc.) had a little more weight and backbone during their screentime. And Wright's trademark of highly violent climaxes are detected again, and as preposterously entertaining it proves, it is also exhaustive.

But Baby Driver, I think, is not reliant on a strong screenplay. I might argue that this is Wright's real directorial debut. He's already a fantastic writer, born with the eyes and the ears for visual comedy. The synching of music, sound, and cutting is absolutely splendid, something we haven't seen in a long time, if at all. I think what I enjoyed about this film on a more personal level is that it is old fashioned, how Baby is an adamant user of the iPod. In Wright's America, he recognizes the rise of Spotify as the main source of music. Could iPods be the next retro electronic in the next decade? We'll have to see.

This is a magnificent picture, entertaining and unapologetically romanticized cinema. It might be the best film of the summer, one of the best of the year thus far.

***1/2

The Syllabus, Part 2: Why Visual Literacy?

When I was in sixth grade my parents divorced. I remember laying sideways on the couch, the position of my body trying to keep up with the equally sideways news. A tear swam from my eye and across my nose like an eye patch.

And in the family television before me, powered off and silent, I saw my reflection. Like I was a character on the screen. And, as a long shot, maybe there was a crowded, dim room on the other side where attendees were understanding my solely from what they could see on my face.

This, in a way, represents the side of pathos visual literacy provides.

Roger Ebert (a name that will be featured frequently on the blog) coined the term ‘empathy machine,' and I don't think there is a phrase more accurate. These are movies. This is what they do. Everything we see between the frame is a unique perspective of the way of life. And you get to be a part of it, every time.

Visual literacy belongs to a sect of nonverbal communication. Words are not everyone's first, or even best, form of communication, and I do not believe that that is frequently honored. Why do you think I write this blog as I do? Somehow, the world we live in is hypocritical; both judgmental of social media contact and driven by the very thing.

Frankly, it is not fair. Pressures and anxiety pervade the air with more toxicity than environmental damage (I would like to think). When someone reaches out to me by message or any other various posting, or vice versa, I believe in a connection that transcends just the coined term "antisocial behavior." I believe nonverbal connection shares warmth and meaning, in moderation. If truth is better found in the written word or action, then so be it.

Why does this work? Because it is a sign, a representation. I am a major proponent in the belief that the words we say to each other are less consistent with what we mean than the things we do and the things we write with an organized mind. Therefore, nonverbal cues are more in common with signs and symbols.

And what else is film? The projections on the screen are absolutely riddled with signs and symbols. They take on so many shapes: the use of color to express mood, lighting and composition to pay homage to another auteur, even character actions and reactions to express a cultural thought. I could go on.

Essentially, film semiotics is a celebration of culture; how familiar images evoke a specific point of view. When we dig into a film, we’re looking for those deeper meanings. It is pleasurable, and it is enriching. To even better articulate this idea, here is a wonderful video about semiotics, using La La Land (2016) as its focal point.

On that note of celebration, that is also what film does: it creates space for diversity in how we 'do' life by ourselves or with others. Perhaps film is a little like training wheels. Maybe if we see something we don’t understand, and then wrestle with it for its runtime, we can better have an outward understanding of others.

I feel like I could go on and on about just what film does for others. Perhaps more, another time.

Rory