Friday, March 23, 2012

Movie Review: The Hunger Games



This is one of the better book-to-film adaptations I’ve seen in a long time, maybe one of my favorite ever, mostly because of the way the material is tackled.  The writers who worked on this film (including author of the books Suzanne Collins, something I think really makes a difference) managed a true feat:  staying true to the spirit of the book (and a surprising volume of the details) without appearing slavish to any kind of verbatim re-creation.  Sure, some of the oft-quoted lines were taken out or edited, but that really didn’t matter in the scheme of things, because The Hunger Games film functions as more than a repetition of Collins’ novel—there is a very real, and very terrifying, message embedded in the film about our own culture, and a haunting quality that stems from the question of how far we really are as a society from an invention like the Hunger Games.

One of the virtues of the novel, and one that was cited early on, is its cinematic potential.  In many ways The Hunger Games book unfolds like a film, with a steadily rolling pace and imagery that stands to be even more fully realized on the screen.  No adaptation is without its challenges, however, and a concern of mine (and of many others) was whether it would be possible to really convey the parts of the story taking place almost entirely in Katniss’ head, particularly the nuances of her feelings and motivations during several significant moments.  First-person narration itself is always a difficult thing to translate to film, and yet the writers manage it with relatively few bumps in the road.  Of course, those of us who worried Katniss might be somehow misrepresented or flattened on the silver screen clearly underestimated the considerable talents of Jennifer Lawrence.  As someone who re-read the novel very recently, having it as a supplement to her performance was far less necessary than I’d assumed it would be; she plays the role with a palpable commitment and disappears almost entirely into the character, far exceeding my already high expectations.

And Lawrence certainly doesn’t give the only impressive performance.  The cast, which sounded somewhat dubious on paper when I first read about it, works surprisingly well both together and individually.  Stanley Tucci is fantastic in a role he seems born to play, as charismatic Games personality Caesar Flickerman; Woody Harrelson balances cynicism and comic relief as Katniss and Peeta’s “mentor” Haymitch; and Elizabeth Banks is unrecognizable (in a good way) as Effie Trinket.  Additionally, who knew Lenny Kravitz could act?  This was the casting decision that seemed the most illogical to me, yet somehow his performance as Cinna was easily one of my favorites.  As for the lead trio, while they certainly manage to keep pace with their adult counterparts, it’s hard to not feel a little bad for Josh Hutcherson (Peeta) and Liam Hemsworth (Gale), neither of whom can really hope to compete with Lawrence talent-wise (though Hutcherson improves drastically as the film progresses), although I’m sure their newfound status as international heartthrobs (seriously, you should see some of the stuff on the interwebs about these two) will provide some comfort.



This film also manages some impressive character work, which is an accomplishment with such a large cast and a vast scope of events to cover in 2.5 hours.  I like that we see some unexpectedly humanizing moments from a few surprising sources, most notably some of those characters who in the book are cast simply as one-dimensional villains.  There is a great moment about a minute into the Hunger Games carnage (and man, can we just appreciate for a second that the brutality was toned down in the interest of ratings?), when Katniss finds herself face to face with another competitor at the edge of the woods.  Both girls just kind of stare at each other for a few seconds, both of them knowing they’re “supposed” to take advantage of the opportunity and attempt to slaughter each other, but neither is able to bring herself to do it just yet.  They wind up running off their separate ways, and though the other girl later dies without much fanfare, it is interesting to see the internal struggle Katniss is enduring mirrored in the face of a character we’re supposed to be rooting against.  There’s also an interesting moment (and one that is an invention of the film) with Cato, who throughout the film is the overwhelmingly brutish, violent competitor who can’t seem to wait to get into the arena and begin slaughtering his fellow tributes.  He and Peeta have a struggle, and he goads Katniss to simply shoot them both, as he is fatally wounded already.  He then makes a few remarks to the effect that his life has been wasted in preparation for this moment, and there, blood hemorrhaging from his mouth, he looks just as devastatingly human as Katniss or Peeta.  In the novel it’s easy to dismiss him as deserving to die (and yeah, he is responsible for a whole mess of other deaths), but including this moment in the film further drives home the idea that even in such a straightforward game, there really is nothing completely black and white.

Of course, one of the necessary virtues of a great book-to-film adaptation is the latter’s ability to present key scenes “exactly how you imagined it” with that little pinch of movie magic to take it to the next level.  Several of these instances stand out for me in the film, the first of which is the way the character of Rue and her encounters with Katniss are handled.  I’ve read complaints that some viewers felt short-changed by the amount of time spent focusing on this, but I think given the time constraints the filmmakers capture the essence of these scenes perfectly.  Rue’s death and Katniss’ subsequent renewed determination comprise a turning point in the novel, and the same is true of the film.  The reaping is another scene that truly came across how I pictured it when reading.  The tension and the silent salute from District 12 when Katniss walks onto the stage is captured perfectly, as is the entire grim atmosphere of the event.  But probably my favorite among these is the climactic moment when the rules of the game are changed for the second time, forcing Katniss and Peeta to the realization that they now have to try and kill each other after spending days working as a team.  The plan with the berries is perfectly executed, and the moment right before they plunge into mutually assured destruction is a more powerful representation of their relationship than any prior kissing or cuddling (or cheesy lines)—Peeta’s face especially is just heartbreaking; but perhaps the best thing about this moment is that, despite knowing exactly what was going to happen, I was right on the edge of my seat.

In what is probably my favorite alteration from the text, the film allows us much more insight into what’s going on outside of the arena, particularly from the viewpoint of the “gamemaker” who dictates pretty much everything that happens to the kids thrown into the fight-to-the-death tournament.  This adds a layer to the narration that simply couldn’t be provided via Katniss’ first-person narration in the novel, showing us rather than telling us why the Games have become such an integral part of Panem’s culture and exactly who the real puppet masters are.  The film’s political aspect is also both intriguing and disturbing:  we get to see the reactions in the “outlying” districts (translation: the resource-rich but financially plagued ones) to events going on in the Games, and the escalating rumblings of unrest (those will become very important in the next two films).  What this also achieves, and this is something I found myself pondering as the credits rolled, is breaking down that last degree of removal from the story that we as moviegoers often feel.  Let me try to clarify:  when we watch a film about something particularly disastrous or upsetting, our many psychological protective measures kick in, reminding us that it’s just a story, it’s fiction and has nothing to do with us.  But The Hunger Games shoves its reality in the viewer’s face, not in a preachy or over-the-top way, but subtly:  you see the vapid audience in the Capitol, watching the Games and eating up every carefully scripted development, and it’s not a far leap to think of the audience at an American Idol finale or the SuperBowl.  It’s not a far leap at all to consider our society’s always-increasing desensitization when it comes to violence or the exploitation of other people’s misery, and to think about whether some future incarnation of us (and maybe one not terribly far down the road) actually might thirst so rabidly for a fresh form of entertainment that something like the Hunger Games would slip from that comforting realm of Complete Fiction and into our reality. 

I could probably say a few dozen more things about this film (like spotlighting the skillful foreshadowing of what’s to come in the next two films, or my short list of minor complaints, or talking about the musical score), but this review doesn’t need to be any longer than it already is.  Suffice it to say I think this is a film that achieves something not many book adaptations (and certainly even fewer young adult adaptations) do, which is presenting a film that works not only as a faithful interpretation of its source material, but as a well-crafted film with a message that is, at times, eerily relevant.

Friday, March 16, 2012

TV Review: Community-- It's BAAAAACCCKK!!!



Well, the moment we'd all been waiting for since December came and went last night, and I think we can agree that this episode, while perhaps not the epic blowout some people were hoping for (and that crazy faux-trailer hyped us all up for), was a more than successful entry in a somewhat shaky season 3.  We do have to keep in mind that "Urban Matrimony and the Sandwich Arts" wasn't written to serve as an all-out comeback episode, when they dreamed it up it was simply the next episode in line.  Watching it with that in mind, I found this episode to possess the same wit and quirkiness we've all come to love -- and during the hiatus, miss-- about this show.

This episode features a plot line about Shirley getting remarried to her ex-husband Andre, which ordinarily would be a snooze-fest, but its impact on the other members of the study group makes the episode infinitely more interesting and hilarious.  I can't decide what I loved best-- Britta's proving to be a wedding planning savant despite her opposition to marriage, Jeff's inability to compose a simple wedding toast, or Troy and Abed's epic attempts to "normal" themselves up in time for the ceremony.  Scratch that, I'm pretty sure it was Troy and Abed.  It's always Troy and Abed-- last night only served to remind me that they are probably the best part of this show on any given week.

That said, the other players bring their absurdest A-game to the table.  Annie predictably freaks out over being in the mere presence of a wedding, armed with the cliched wedding scrapbook and a sudden radar for anyone who might want her help with planning the nuptials.  Pierce is delightfully minimal/sidelined in this episode, working to start a sandwich business with Shirley (they are unfortunately preempted by a new Subway franchise), and using the endeavor as a final "screw you" to his departed father. 

Jeff and Britta's combined jadedness and sometimes obnoxious displays of "non-conformity"sometimes fall on the wrong side of pretentious or overplayed, but I liked the idea they went with last night.  The two of them almost inadvertently getting married in an attempt to prove it's a sham (or, in Britta's case, that becoming a wife is inevitable) is a hilarious and weirdly almost logical next step for them, though I am glad Shirley and Andre were able to put a stop to the madness.

On the whole I liked this episode.  Not the season's best or worst, but it offered a true sampling of what makes this show so great.  I've read only good things (and lots of hype) about what the folks over at Community have on tap for the rest of season 3, and I can't wait to see if it lives up to the chatter.

Oh, and I still wish we'd gotten to see more of Troy and Abed's adventures inside the Dreamatorium.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Movie Review: Friends with Kids



Given the sheer volume of romantic comedies rolling out of film studios year after year, crafting an original story that is equal parts genuinely funny and honestly moving is a necessary aspiration for any screenwriter.  Jennifer Westfeldt (who already has my respect for taking on writing, directing, AND starring reins for this film) sought to meet that challenge, and she manages to come very, very close.

Friends with Kids is a film about a novel concept, two friends who decide to have the child they both want without all of the romantic nonsense (not to mention the considerable loss of sparks they've witnessed between their married friends), splitting all of the parenting duties right down the middle.  It's an idea that, twenty years ago, would have been unheard of, much less celebrated on film, and ordinarily I'd give Westfeldt serious props for that.  However, the film is just a little too self-congratulatory in terms of its originality, and there are moments when it seems the script compensates for imperfections by simply throwing back to the premise ("hey, remember how crazy the idea of two friends having a kid is?").  As a viewer I could see the places where the writing, trying its utmost to not fall into predictability, veered a little too far into awkwardness and stilted exchanges instead. 

An issue that seems to go hand in hand with this forced notion of originality is the flawed pacing of the film.  Friends with Kids front loads a lot of information and introductions right off the bat, and the first twenty minutes or so feel almost rushed.  And yet later there are moments that drag, moments that had me glancing at my watch (never a good sign) and wondering if we were going to reach the film's conclusion any time soon.  There is no single big chunk or subplot that I would necessarily cut (and maybe that is part of the problem, the front loaded exposition makes a lot of information feel critical), it's more a matter of scenes that go on just a few minutes too long, or exchanges that are drawn out just a bit longer than they need to be.  The film's ending is especially problematic, as after a very dragged out thread of Westfeldt's character being in unrequited love with Adam Scott's character, the relationship is resolved in one of the most abrupt, awkward exchanges I've ever seen, one that leaves you wondering whether it's been too long coming or has happened too fast (it's somehow a strange mix of both).

I realize that given all of this it might sound like I didn't enjoy this film, which isn't true.  As a writer and an amateur studier of screenwriting, I can't watch a film without looking for these flaws, wondering where the story might be tightened or tweaked.  As a moviegoer, though, I left the theater satisfied (and more importantly, completely okay with the $11 I paid to see the film).  What really helps the flaws in the script fly under the radar of most viewers is the performances.  This movie utilizes the notion of an "all-star cast" in a really interesting way.  Scott and Westfeldt, both talented but grievously under-recognized performers, take the lead roles, while superstars like Jon Hamm, Maya Rudolph, and Kristen Wiig fill in the friend circle as background players.  This might sound like a poor casting decision on paper, but what it does is really allow the two leads (and especially Adam Scott) to really shine while providing a strong cushion of support.  Rudolph's uneven marriage with Bridesmaids' Chris O'Dowd was a surprisingly pleasant highlight, especially in scenes where the other characters' relationships were proving far more tense (Hamm and Wiig are fantastic as the couple who slowly grow to hate each other).  Talking about Adam Scott for just a minute more (and hey, we all know I could spend days extolling his virtues as an actor), I think the real feat he accomplishes here is the sympathy he pour into an otherwise flat, asshole character.  I hate Jason--he's a pig, he's astoundingly self-absorbed, and I can't stand when a guy calls a girl "doll" not just constantly, but in complete seriousness.  However, something in what Scott is doing here really does convey a tiny glimmer of goodness underneath all of that, one that doesn't feel forced.

On the whole, this movie sets itself apart by emphasizing the comedy in romantic comedy.  Rather than go for the typical slapstick stuff that might earn a halfhearted laugh, Westfeldt gives us the kind of raunchy humor that, mainly due to films like Bridesmaids, has become acceptable again, especially when paired with a moving story.  Friends with Kids might not be the best rom-com out there, but it is impressive in its pushing to the fringes of what this genre can be, something this generation of moviegoers sorely needs and is (contrary to popular opinion) smart enough to appreciate.

Friday, March 9, 2012

TV Review: Parks and Recreation Double Dose


As you might have noticed, I failed to review last week's episode, "Campaign Shake-Up."  I took a bit of a hiatus from writing entries last week due to some personal things, but I think I lucked out when it comes to Parks and Recreation, because last week's episode and this week's installment, "Lucky," seem in many ways to kind of go hand in hand.  Ergo I will attempt to compile some coherent and insightful thoughts on both of them.

First, talk about phenomenal guest stars, amIright? Last week we had Kathryn Hahn as Bobby Newport's conniving campaign manager who is very much only in it for the money.  She was the perfect villain and a great counterpart to Bobby's cluelessness (which we were treated to a few weeks ago, and will see again before season's end), making you love to hate or hate to love her in every scene.  When even Leslie Knope can't really decide about a person, you know that person is probably complicated and definitely dangerous.  Then this week saw Sean Hayes' appearance as Buddy Wood, the "Matt Lauer of Indianapolis" (at least, that's how showrunner Mike Schur describes him), a Pawnee-hating wannabe superstar who I wish we'd have seen a bit more of.  Hayes didn't get quite as much time to really get into his stride in the role, overshadowed by Amy Poehler's always hilarious drunk-Leslie antics, but then his character had a very small purpose to serve anyway.

As I've mentioned, these episodes felt like two that really complement each other, both giving us snapshots of moments in Leslie's campaign and both providing us with quickly dismissed (perhaps too quickly, in Hahn's case) human obstacles standing in the way of our favorite Parks lady's ascent to power.  I think the chief reason these two installments seem attached to each other is due to the lack of resolution in "Campaign Shake-Up."  The end saw Ben and Leslie reflecting on this newly established complication, but it had been by no means eliminated by episode's end.  Maybe that's what made "Lucky" just a little disappointing as a stand-alone:  by wrapping up the interview debacle neatly at the end, it was almost as though it had never happened at all.  I would have much rather seen either greater consequences as a result of Leslie's disastrous interview, or else another week devoted to the campaign crunch and the rise of Leslie's opponents (I think this might all have had something to do with the availability of Hahn and or Paul Rudd, who portrays Bobby Newport).  This week marks, as other reviewers have noted, the first occasion on which Leslie's campaign feels just a little too dragged out.  I know they're hoping to give us an exciting finale come May 10th (intel from PaleyFest is that both a Leslie victory and a Leslie loss have been shot and only a handful of people know which will be used), but in the mean time it might behoove them to distract us with a B-plot that isn't totally disposable, as they have been the past few weeks.

Speaking of B-plots, I really loved this week's with Ron, April, and Andy (oh, and Chris I guess).  Nick Offerman wrote this episode, and one thing I loved about this part of it was the numerous self-referential moments, little nods to details we've learned about the characters in previous episodes (especially Ron,which I suppose is understandable given that Offerman plays him).  I love that we got to see the conclusion of Andy's foray into higher education (although I'd love to see him continue on and very slowly earn a degree in women's studies), and that we got to see a woman choose Ron over Chris (that must have been fun to write). 

Overall, I think I was just hoping for a stronger episode leading into hiatus, where we'll be sadly Parks free for five weeks.  Of course, the show's writers didn't know at the time that NBC would once again mindlessly shuffle its Thursday night lineup (yet another sign The Office should be preparing its swan song, but that's another story), so they couldn't plan accordingly with some kind of cliffhanger or major development.  The good news is that when Parks does return in late April we will be treated to an episode written and directed by Amy Poehler and (as if that weren't enough) featuring a fierce debate between all of the candidates running for this much-coveted City Council seat.  By the time I'm writing my next review we'll be edging toward May sweeps, and I for one am hoping this show has a few more tricks up its sleeve than just the mystery of whether Leslie will win or lose.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Reading List Round-Up 2012: Books 12-18


The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
This book is a gritty chronicle of the life of the titular character, a sad-sack who never really grows out of that role.  Told primarily from the viewpoint of his erstwhile roommate, Oscar's story is a dismal one.  He is extremely intelligent, 100% committed to uber-nerd pursuits, and a prolific writer.  Unfortunately in his surroundings none of this really matters.  Oscar is physically unattractive and somewhat anti-social, which leads pretty much everyone to treat him like crap.  And then he dies.  Oh, and there are some other story threads about his sister and mother and their Dominican heritage.  Recommended if you don't mind a bummer of a story that never really gets more optimistic, written in a rhythmic, engaging style that almost makes up for the narrative.


Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
I guess February turned out to be the month for downward spiral/depressing books, because this qualifies as both.  If you've seen the film you remember a lot of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet screaming at each other and also having angry sex.  The novel is largely the same, though it does provide a deeper explorations of the inner workings of Frank and Alice Wheeler's misery.  Comprehending why they hate one another and their lives so much, however, only increases the burden of sadness this story provides.  This is one of the quintessential reads if you're like me and you love stories about suburbanites who hate their lives.



Bright's Passage by Josh Ritter
If you're at all familiar with Ritter's work as a musician, the style of his prose and the folks-y world in which he has set this story seem like they would be right at home in one of his songs.  While Bright's Passage does bear some of the markings of a first-time author and Ritter's transition from penning songs to the long haul of writing a novel is visible at times, the story has an impact nonetheless.  The best part is the visual world it evokes, really painting a picture of a period and of people caught up in events much bigger than themselves.  There are some other Ritter trademarks that crop up, and if you're a fan of his music it's fun to spot them:  friendly and helpful animals crawl around everywhere, poking their noses in at opportune moments; romances are quick and based on mutual understandings formed of brief encounters; there's a bad man with a rifle in pursuit of the hero; and of course, a spoonful of spirituality sprinkling over the proceedings.  This book doesn't take long to read, and it's an imaginative break from your day.



Reasons to Live by Amy Hempler
This is a collection of short stories that promises on its jacket to be moving and life-affirming and a whole bunch of other stuff.  It is not.  The stories are mediocre, many of them are poorly executed, and there's no consistent sense of voice.  Skip this one (I wish I had).


I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak
I already knew Zusak had the ability to craft an intriguing, heartbreaking story because I read his more famous novel The Book Thief a few months ago (incidentally, that also falls on my 'highly recommended' list).  I Am the Messenger is not quite as moving as TBT, mostly because the subject matter and themes are so different, but it is touching in its own way.  It was especially poignant for me to read because it really captures the feeling I think many young adults have right now, not knowing quite how their lives are going to shape up and what their actions will mean.  I Am the Messenger offers a bit of consolation by illustrating that sometimes a really small act of kindness or charity or just showing up can really make a difference in your life and in those of the people around you.


The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon
This is a tough book to pass judgment on, especially immediately after finishing it.  The value of this book lies, I think, in the fact that if you have no experience with or understanding of autism, it's a huge eye-opener.  But if you've read other books like this before or have worked with autistic persons in your real life, The Curious Incident... is perhaps not the best representation.  It certainly inspires a new facet of understanding these individuals (especially for readers who may not have considered how drastically differently they see the world), and it's a fairly interesting story primarily because of its narrator, but it tries a bit too hard to make its protagonist a kind of "face of autism" rather than a real character.  Definitely worth a read by virtue of its being unlike most novels out there, but nothing astounding.



Griftopia byMatt Taibbi
Here's the thing, kids.  If you think that you're the appropriate amount of angry over the financial malarky of the past few years (past few decades, really), then don't read this book.  Because if you're like me and you have a usually-dormant social justice monster inside you, this book will renew its fervor and it WILL try to eat your insides (the monster, not the book).  On the plus side, Taibbi does an incredible job explaining the factors which led to our financial implosion in a very accessible (if occasionally biased) way; so if you're one of those folks who pretended to comprehend more of the financial crisis than you actually did, this book can definitely provide some clarity.  Also, he does some serious hatin' on Sarah Palin and the Tea Party crew, so there's that.  Overall, for someone who usually groans at the prospect of non-fiction due to a desire to escape reality, this is a pretty intriguing and relevant read, particularly for those of us planning on voting in November's election (although some of the stuff in here may make you not want to cast a ballot for anyone at all, ever again).

Best Book:  Tie, Griftopia and I Am the Messenger

Worst Book:  Reasons to Live

Fastest Read:  Bright's Passage

Slowest Read: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

There you have it.  I may have fallen a bit behind in posting this, but all of these books were read and scrutinized by yours truly during the month of February.  I've made a conscious effort to seek out a few more humorous and uplifting books for March; however, I am as always at the mercy of the library system and books' availability.  I also didn't read as many as I wanted to this month; I'm going to blame that on February being short (even with a Leap Day), and shoot for better next time.  Until then, thanks for reading with me!