Rating: 8

The Avengers is a super-hero movie that lives up to the hype, even if you use the more demanding definition of the term that takes into account not only years of anticipation and a ridiculous conglomerate of actors, but also the much-lauded writing/directing talents of nerd superstar Joss Whedon.  In other words, it’s not only big and fun, but it’s got the sense of humor and style to elevate it comfortably above the standard action flick.  Hats are off to Whedon, who may finally springboard into the mainstream, carte blanche success he has so long deserved.

The Avengers is successful because it is funny and has some great action sequences, but also juggles a complex cast admirably.  Despite a bit of a slowdown through the middle third, it’s overall a very lean movie.  Whedon avoids the common pitfall of trying to do too much, as The Dark Knight did; the ensemble cast drives the story organically, even if I wished it paused to catch its breath a little more.  The movie could have also done a better job of establishing a strong threat, like the Dark Knight does with its Joker; though the Avengers feel needed, they fall a little short of threatened.  As a last quibble, I felt a couple of plot points could have been elaborated on better (minor spoilers here), such as Loki’s purpose for The Hulk or in getting captured to begin with.

But these are all really asides.  The real draws of the movie are its wit – Whedon is known for snappy dialogue, but The Avengers demonstrates he also knows the value of a good visual gag – as well as some fantastic action set pieces that rival or top anything seen in a comic book movie.  After a half-dozen reasonably entertaining skirmishes, The Avengers ends with a battle royale that is exactly what fans of the genre have been waiting for – a breathtaking, complex, sustained action sequence worthy of a super-hero super group.  The action is GOOD action, too – it’s fast without being incomprehensible, and there are even those genius little moments like Captain America swatting a grenade in mid-air or Hawkeye using the wind to direct an impressive arcing shot.  These little touches ground the audience back in some sense of reality; we feel these superhuman beings inhabit a real world, rather than a never-ending sequence of Falcon Punches.

Among comic book movies, I would slot The Avengers with The Dark Knight in a tier below Iron Man.  It does not have quite the ingeniously-compelling plot of Iron Man, but it matches it in humor and exceeds it in the scope and quality of its action.  And while I’m a little on the fence as to whether I “must” see it a second time in the theater (there was never any doubt with Iron Man), it’s unquestionably the rare film that’s worth plunking down 10 bucks to see it on the big screen.  Assemble your crew – you’ll be glad you did.

A slightly belated Valentine’s Day dinner (though scheduled in advance, thankyouverymuch) brought one of the best eating experiences we’ve had in CT and MA combined.  The Mill at 2T in Tariffville served dish after dish that I could describe as the finest of its kind, starting with the bread and lasting through dessert.  As a dining experience it ranks right up there with the marvelous fare I’ve had at No. 9 Park in Boston, and is a lock to be revisited by us in the future.

Starting with ambience, the Mill at 2T was very pleasant.  It’s not the best dining room I’ve ever been in (I’m partial to No. 9 there), but it was certainly agreeable.  The rustic brick walls, handsome candlelight, and 7 full tables lent a feeling of intimacy.  The food started off with amazing pop-overs with salted butter that were flaky on the outside and warm fluff on the inside.  We ordered a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc; I don’t consider myself a wine connoisseur, but it was a nicely flavored, crisp wine that seemed reasonably priced.

We shared a refreshing green salad with goat cheese to start, and without asking they kindly plated our portions separately.  I should mention here that the service was excellent – I normally don’t heavily factor that into a dining experience, but the staff really was uncommonly helpful and upbeat, while avoiding obtrusiveness.  For the main event, I ordered a rib eye with black garlic dip (aioli?) and homemade ricotta.  Like the bread and the salad before, this portion was among the best, if not the best, I’ve ever had.  The seasoning was sublime and the choice of complimenting it with the sauce or cheese – both superb unto themselves – made it quite simply perfect.  Also satisfying was the potato cake that was cooked to a wonderful crisp on the outside.  A mild disappointment in comparison were the brussel sprouts that did not seem dramatically different from anything we have made at home.  The final course was homemade “brioche donuts” in caramel.  Though we were pretty full by this point, I knew I had to try this once I saw it, and we were not disappointed.  Similar to fried dough, these donuts were crisper and doughier than anything we could have ever hoped to achieve at home, and the combination of confectionery sugar with caramel drizzle made them a total home run.

If there are any regrets I have about the visit, it’s not sampling more of Anne’s food and not taking any pictures.  It wasn’t until I sat down to write this post that I realized it was really one of the best meals I’ve ever had.  This place gets my highest recommendation.

Rating: 6

Stop me if I’ve used this one before…a movie (or book, or show…) draws me in with its initial charm and mystery, only to feel like an also-ran by the end.  It’s happened more times than I can count, and it’s déjà vu all over again with George Lucas’ THX-1138.  It’s a film with a pretty challenging first half, and few guideposts to help the viewer through meaningless dialogue, quick cuts, and emotionless characters.  It might not be effective storytelling, necessarily, but it is certainly different.  Unfortunately, as the movie stops challenging it falls into all-too familiar patterns – a plot that’s instantly obvious and all the scenes that come bundled with it.

Before its lame climax, though, THX-1138 has a few things to show you.  I saw the Director’s Cut, so unfortunately there was some CGI mixed in with the original visuals, but the original visuals as far as I could tell were quite nice.  The visual highlight is the tall enforcer robots that recall Robert Patrick in his cop uniform, cutting an imposing presence through the bleak backgrounds.  There is one scene in particular where the protagonist and his captors engage in an odd dance amidst nothingness that is probably the signature moment of the film, and queerly effective.  Finally, while the generalities of the culture Lucas shows us are well-worn, some of the specifics seemed pretty creative.  It’s a nice extrapolation of U.S. culture, with its workaholic tendencies and over-reliance on pharmaceuticals.

THX-1138 was George Lucas’ first film, and while it is far from his worst, it’s not on the level of Star Wars or American Graffiti.  Moments of creativity in the visuals and storytelling elevate it to slightly above average, but all in all it’s a film you could probably skip.

Rating: 8

Though undeniably clever and engaging, Adaptation is such a schizophrenic film that if you latch onto one of its many personalities it’s bound to disappoint.  Personally, I loved the first half and felt cheated by the second, but that’s the whole point, and there is satisfaction in the way the film cheats you.  But it’s perhaps not as much satisfaction as would come from the character-driven, thoughtfully-written first act carried over the full length.

To focus on its strengths, Adapatation can boast a quite ingenious premise and phenomenal acting.  It’s also got plenty of genuine laughs, in that best and hardest form of comedy that comes from our understanding of the characters.  Chris Cooper won the Oscar for portraying the mercurial John Laroche, whose knowledge, experience, and philosophies make up many of the movie’s best moments.  Meryl Streep seems to have fun as Susan Orlean, and Nic Cage is superb as the twins Charlie and Donald.  It has all the elements of an all-time great, and though I ultimately felt a little cheated, this is a movie that might taking more than one viewing to fully judge.

QT loves to challenge the established boundaries of film-making, so it should come as no surprise that IB is, well, surprising. It’s surprising on multiple levels; on the bludgeoningly obvious, typically Tarantino-esque level, such as when he points out Nazi party luminaries with scrawled annotations, or interrupts the story proper for a documentary-style aside on the flammability of nitrate film; but surprising also on underlying storytelling levels, such as the inversion of the damsel-in-distress archetype or the abandonment of the hero-as-event-motivator cliché. What’s left is a bit of a mess, but a completely winning, expertly put-together mess that does nothing to dim Tarantino’s star as one of the great living directors.

I walked into Inglourious Basterds fully expecting a Western set in Nazi-occupied France, and perhaps for a day or two Tarantino had the same goal in mind. Certainly the film opens with a strong Western feel, from the Ennio Morricone strains to the opening confrontation that smacks of Sergio Leone. Inglourious Basterds, I knew, was about a troupe of eight soldiers – let’s call them gunslingers – that parachute behind enemy lines to terrorize, pillage, and generally give the Nazis something to think about.

But the opening Western feel is rather quickly shelved, and to my amazement Inglorious Basterds becomes less and less about the Inglourious Basterds and more about their adversaries and the film’s ostensible MacGuffin, the French cinematiste Emmanuelle Mimieux. The Basterds are each given a fairly equal share of screentime, and so are relatively dilluted characters compared to the larger-than-life villain (Colonel Hans Landa) and the doted-upon Mimieux, the latter being a damsel-in-distress that is not only capable but also much more interesting and relevant than the role typically demands. In contrast the supposed heroes feel more incidental to the events and rather large cast. Even Brad Pitt’s Lieutenant Aldo finds himself in few scenes of consequence and none of drama. His Marlon Brando-channeling performance is played up more for comedic effect than anything else, and one is tempted to say his chief purpose in the film is to let us see Brad Pitt play a southerner.

But make no mistake, there are scenes of genuine drama, which Tarantino assembles in a way that few have achieved. The excellent opening scene is merely a warm-up for what might be the film’s centerpiece, an intense, extended joust between three of the Basterds, a Nazi collaborator, and an SS major. This scene is completely absorbing from start to finish. Tarantino trusts his dialogue enough to let it completely drive the tension, and the result is nothing short of phenomenal. A scene involving the heroine, villain, and additional foils is equally tense.

The ending brings more surprises, which I cannot fully discuss without a big, fat SPOILER warning. Firstly, Tarantino decides to liberally rewrite history, which bothers me slightly from some kind of purist perspective…it’s a bit of a cheat, but ultimately can be lived with. More interestingly, Tarantino resolves his rather complex plot threads in part by making the villain a cheerful defector. I must question this decision somewhat. It sidesteps the traditional climax of pitting good versus evil in a way that recalls 2007′s No Country For Old Men. To my mind it’s a less-effective catharsis that also undermines prior events: the villain isn’t as unambiguously detestable and the uncertainty of the heroes’ success is marginalized. The novelty of such a decision, I believe, comes at too great a sacrifice of the overall dramatic impact.

*** end spoiler ***

Style: 8
I found the stylistic decisions to be less effective than those in, say, Kill Bill, but I think there is little doubt that Tarantino is still at his peak. His oftentimes sledgehammer approach works to both ends, with some adding to the tension and others more disarming the audience for the sake of disarming the audience. I do not doubt that I missed some subtleties with my first and only viewing.

Substance: 9
Relentlessly absorbing, cruelly nihilistic, simultaneously bewilderingly surreal and intensely real – Inglourious Basterds is definitely a ride. The dialogue is great, and a few of the characters are very memorable. Tarantino struggled with the ending and I think it shows, but it’s of small concern next to the towering heights of drama and presence that he achieves.

Overall: 9
Add it all up and it’s a film that’s uneven at points but brilliantly so. The tone of surreal nihilism, the muddled ineffectuality of human affairs, is consistent with Tarantino’s previous works; a potential deeper meaning, if you’d like, is a subtle critique of U.S. American culture, as the film portrays the Americans as irrelevant, uncultured, and inflexible. I suspect that I will find more to this film over time, and that there are layers to be exposed, but its immediate impact is undeniable.

Sweet seats.

Some tool getting in the way of the view.

Cousin Rob made it all happen. This is like a normal day at the ballpark for him.

All those ‘roids have given Papi a bad case of blurriness.

A highlight of the evening was watching my favorite player, Dustin Pedroia, jack a two run homer in the first. Home runs look particularly impressive this close to the plate.

The first question I must ask in reviewing Watchmen is sort of an age-old question in the arts: how much credit do you give for something that relies on a previous version? Watchmen was supposedly based on some comic book (or something), so the creative heavy lifting had already been done by the time the movie version rolled around. That’s not to say important artistic decisions weren’t made for the movie, but it is, essentially, a “cover version” of the original. My approach is to frame the review around the quality of the interpretation.

If nothing else, Watchmen is very, very faithful to the comic book. There are some liberties taken with the action, a few lines transposed here and there, and a reworking of the ending, but much of the film directly follows the imagery and flow of the book. I give Watchmen credit for sticking to the source material (apparently not always as obvious a decision as it seems), and a little bit of extra credit for the generally good creative liberties taken.

In that regard, for starters, I think the movie is very kinetic and well-paced. A great many scenes are sped up or slowed way down, decisions that work and keep things creative and interesting. I also liked the aggressive lighting effects that used in some shots that, for lack of a better way to put it, made things feel more like a comic book. This is most noticeable (along with the interesting pacing) in the fantastic opening sequence, set to Bob Dylan’s The Times They Are A-Changin’. This is perhaps the nicest credit sequence I’ve seen, with a very interesting look, an excellent song choice (also referenced in the book), and a great introduction to Moore’s universe.

The movie opens with one of its brisk, exciting action sequences – sue me, but the Matrix-style combat still has not gotten old. The action also does a good job of establishing the superheroes as individuals to be feared, even if that benefit comes at the expense of realism (seriously, how many punches to the face can a guy take?) The casting is generally solid. Jackie Earle Haley makes for a fantastic Rorschach and Patrick Wilson looks remarkably like the Nite Owl. Dr. Manhattan was a little too distant for my tastes; his line about there being no structural difference between living and dead bodies always seemed too grossly insensitive to be consistent with the character, even in the book, and in the movie he actually uses the line on live TV (which seems just inconceivable to me – he’s not THAT out of touch). I also found it a little odd that Dr. Manhattan actually glows. I guess it works ok, but…that just didn’t occur to me.

It was pointed out in another review that Matthew Goode’s Ozymandias was one of the weaker casting calls, and on a second viewing I found myself agreeing. He’s not particularly subtle as the movie’s heavy and at the same time does not really channel the character as well as I’d have liked. Weaker decisions are also noticeable in the soundtrack, where the many instantly-recognizable songs tend to pull you out of the film (where they didn’t seem simply inappropriate to begin with). Some have critiqued the modified ending, but I actually think it works pretty well. It’s believable enough and avoids the complexities of a CGI squid (a word which actually appears on one of Veidt’s control panels).

Style: 9
I loved the action, I liked a lot of the camera work (just check out the dynamics of the shot where Veidt takes out his assassin – whabam!) Interesting lighting effects and rapid shifts in pacing keep the eye intrigued.

Substance: 7
It’s the greatest comic book ever written in part due to a fantastic cast of characters, most of which are represented very effectively here. Ozymandias IS the weakest link. Some of the line transpositions bothered me a bit, but that’s really a nitpick to a nitpick.

Overall: 8
Overall I thought this was a very strong interpretation of Moore’s original work. It could be improved by degrees with less of a sledgehammer soundtrack and a couple better decisions here or there. But overall I’d like to think Alan Moore could walk out of the theater with a little less British/artistic angst than usual and a few buckets of popcorn resting happily in his belly.

I believe film is fundamentally a storytelling art, and that good books often make the best movies. Consider Ben-Hur, Gone With the Wind, the Shawshank Redemption, the Godfather, and the Fellowship of the Ring, to name a few. The Half-Blood Prince is my favorite Harry Potter book for its grippingly dark chapters, the ongoing mystery of the Prince, and some excellent Hogwarts asides. Happily, this all translated very well into what I believe is the best Potter movie to date.

This is contrary to a lot of movie critics, but then I am somewhat unusual in that my respect for the Potter movies has increased rather than decreased with each installment. While many cite the declining sense of wonder of the franchise, I always felt the early Potter movies were too unfocused, a melee of special effects that (perhaps inevitably) felt more wondrous on page than on screen. I also have a tough time with raw actors, and indeed some of the weaker moments in Prince are due to Frank Dillane’s overacted Tom Riddle.

But the central cast is older now, with their craft better honed and the storylines more mature. The romance between Ron and Hermoine comes off a little awkwardly, as I thought it did in the novels, but it provides some nice moments between the three friends (happy is the story that trusts its characters to play off each other). The movie benefits from the familiarity we have with the troika and their real-life counterparts, and there are scenes where I was struck by how enduring Rowling’s creations really are.

A few strong story threads prop up Prince throughout. I might quibble that some moments and moods did not translate perfectly from the book, but this is still the emotional apex of the series. The journey into the seaside cave is nearly as powerful as the written version, while the final scenes have a desperate quality heightened by the consistently moody cinematography. There are times when the movie overreaches a little – I could have probably done without the wand-lifting scene after an otherwise powerful moment – but overall, this is a movie that moves well and looks nice.

Style: 8
I was surprised by how much I liked the look of this film. Yates imbues the landscape with towering clouds and twists of black lightning that befit Voldemort’s ascension. Wide shots frequently convey the scope and grandeur of the Hogwart’s grounds, and the Quidditch sequences seemed tighter than ever. Though there is less overall eye candy than in the earlier movies, on a macro level I think Prince is more visually accomplished.

Substance: 7
There are some lovely moments between the three central characters as they confront the complexities of growing older. The storyline is more urgent than that of previous installments, culminating in a couple excellent scenes. Between Ralph Fiennes and now Hero Fiennes-Tiffin and Frank Dillane, the series just can’t seem to get Voldemort right.

Overall: 7
Like all of the Harry Potter movies, the Half-Blood Prince sometimes wanders towards melodrama. But more frequently it is beautifully executed and quite memorable. It benefits from the strength of Rowling’s plot and the maturation of its principals, ultimately resulting in the most engaging Harry Potter to date.

Objectivizing taste remains sort of a pet philosophical quandary for me. I do not have a strongly analytical or artistic mind, so my left and right brains tend to have at it each other, Black Knight from Monty Python-style. The notion that taste, traditionally a purely subjective concept, can be given a more rational framework is one lovechild from this unholy mental union. Though it may be the result of two orthogonal entities warring against each other, I think it has a certain rational basis.

Consider – there is a shared realm of psychology that we all might agree to call “sanity.” Because of our psychological gestalts, there is a fundamental sharing of value. These values are not only based on the basic psychological constructs we use to understand our universe, but the physical limitations of our bodies. High C may be such a powerful note, for example, because of its similarity to the human cry.

If the “value” or impact of notes can be reduced to a common currency, so too could more complex melodies. In the previous entry, I suggested there are many musical progressions that follow similar patterns, and propose classifying them to understand them. Good music is, for lack of a better way to put it, a “good pattern” – a structure from which the ear can discern regularity and extrapolate meaning. There is probably some kind of consistency between the feelings experienced and the mathematical relationship of the notes.

This all sounds pretty good (to me, right now, anyway), but if the fundamental premise holds true, how could we begin to assign objective value to, say, a song? After all, the human mind is fickle, especially when it comes to matters of opinion. I think at least two basic principles would be fundamental towards achieving this goal:

1) It’s my belief that there is an absolute way to define taste for any individual. By exposing the individual to enough forms of art enough times, the person would gradually converge on his/her absolute taste preferences (ATP?) The purpose of exposing the person to enough forms of art enough times would be to eliminate arbitrary opinions due to limited exposure of particular styles (or, conversely, excessive familiarity with preferred styles). From a practical standpoint, I think many people (myself included) would find their tastes in music shift radically if they were exposed to a lot more of it. By adjusting for individual experiences, we could approach that true base level.

2) In forming value judgments, the mind does not effectively juggle many ideas simultaneously. If a person is asked to listen to 50 songs and then rank them from most to least favorite, inevitable “mistakes” will be made. The person might feel quite strongly that the #5 ranked song is better than the #6 ranked song, and the #6 is better than the #7, but believe the #7 is better than the #5. Thus, in determining artistic value, a bubble sort technique could be used. This way the person would be asked to judge two items side by side, reducing the chance of overall inconsistency. (I believe this technique is already used in psychology under a different name, but since I’m a computer scientist I think of it as bubble sorting.)

By following these two principles, I think we could begin to understand an individual’s true level of artistic taste, eliminating some of the arbitrary complexities imposed by the human brain. At that point we could begin to sift for consistencies and underlying patterns, and understand taste in a more analytical form. We could even start to apply economic concepts to the results: for instance, I’d suggest artistic value could be “discounted” to bring them on level with the current artistic environment, adjusting for the impacts of innovation on overall quality.

All this may not sound very fun, but besides reductionism for the sake of reductionism, I believe there is a lot to be gained by understanding art on a more objective basis. The arts have a way of continually reinventing themselves, even when it seems “it’s all been done;” what better way to push forward than through the fundamentally human need to understand things better?

Star Trek (2009) is a bit of a poster child for movies that “I don’t get.” It’s not that the plot was confusing or anything, but rather the average movie-goer’s reaction. I was in London when Trek came out, and the Tube was littered with posters proclaiming a litany of praise for the film: “Four stars!” “Summer movie of the year!” “Best Trek movie ever!” And so on. The poster was literally covered with 20 quotes like this. Now I think this exuberance is reflective of an average movie-goer’s opinion of this film, as well as a great many Star Trek fans. My disconnect with the world might be best summarized thusly:

“What movie were you watching?”

I know, I know, I’m a curmudgeon before my own time. But help me understand by what rubric people were giving this movie such high praise. Is it because the special effects are so spot on? Or the cast so winning? Because it certainly does have a fine look and a winning cast. But surely, surely these viewers were not heaping the praise on the movie’s plot, or writing? Were they?

To me, Star Trek was an average summer film. It got some superficial things right. It didn’t particularly shine in the action department, but then we do not expect Star Trek to. The deeper problem is that it was boring. It did not reinvent the characters like, say, a Batman Begins (and I’m not even the biggest fan of that movie). That’s a problem, because we already know all these characters. It revisits them not for their own sakes, but perfunctorily. Kirk is a renegade because we see him in a clichéd scene in which he recklessly exceeds the speed limit as a kid (at a rather unbelievable age, I might add). This is followed up by your garden variety bar fight scene. Spock is an outsider because we see him in a clichéd scene in which kids pick on him in school. The rest of the film does not venture beyond even these cursory character outlines. It establishes the broadest sort of characterization for the rest of the cast (Uhura is a workaholic, Scotty a smartass, Bones a cynic). It does not allow them to reflect and interact, perhaps because there is a quota for spaceship battles in the runtime.

Lacking any sort of meaningful conversation, there is a lot of fluff in this film. What is the point of watching Scotty getting stuck in a tube for five minutes? Is this supposed to be funny? It’s a joke that went whizzing over my head like a full torpedo spread. What’s the point of his alien sidekick? Or of (spoiler, I guess) the awkward relationship between Uhura and Spock? The starship battles look pretty enough (I actually really liked the look of the ships), but they are so one-sided they are not remotely dramatic. Similarly, Kirk is chased by a giant snow beast only because we expect such things in a Star Trek film, not for dramatic purposes. At least when it happens in The Empire Strikes Back we get to see Luke use the force.

The writing is generally weak. The main villain is exactly like every other Star Trek movie villain, only less so. There is amazingly little time spent on his motivation. He does not feel threatening (even though he has one bad-ass mining ship) because as a character he is so laughably sketched out. He could have been summarized with the opening line: “Uhh, I’m from the future, and I’ve got like this blue-collar/Romulan angst, so fuck you all.” Do not even get me started on the deus ex machina laziness of assembling the Enterprise crew due to the convenient deaths or resignations of senior officers.

Style: 7
Great looking film, fine cast (though, when was the last time they got the casting wrong in a reboot/adaptation? It’s getting more and more uncommon.) Leonard Nemoy was perfectly cast for the role of “old Spock.”

Substance: 4
The jokes fall flat, and the plot is so classic Trek that there is nothing interesting or new about it. Innovate, please.

Overall: 5
Star Trek was an average movie at best. One of the rebuttals I’ve heard is that the movie effectively set up the alternate universe and thus the sequels. This is true. But couldn’t it have accomplished the same thing in a better movie? Doesn’t the mere existence of a Star Trek reboot, y’know, reboot the franchise? I don’t get why you wouldn’t demand more.