Danny Boyle is one of those few directors who has managed to work outside of one specific genre and be good at it. Other filmmakers of note include Stanley Kubrick and Martin Scorsese. 2007's Sunshine proved Boyle's abilities yet again, adding sci-fi to the list of tackled genres which includes the thriller (Shallow Grave), the drug flick (Trainspotting) and zombies (28 Days Later...).
The central premise of the film is simple. Set 50 years into the future a group of astronauts and scientists have been sent on a mission to reignite the Sun, which is on its last legs. They will do this by launching a large nuclear bomb into the center of the Sun and attempt to create a new star within the old one.
The crew consists of a captain, (Hiroyuki Sanada from Lost), a physicist (Cillian Murphy from Batman Begins), a pilot (Rose Byrne from Damages), and an engineer played by Chris Evans (Captain America). The crew is rounded out by a psychiatrist/doctor, a communications officer, an oxygen gardener, and a navigator.
The film plays out as would be expected: the nearer the crew gets to dropping off their payload, problems ensue and they begin dying one-by-one. The film would suffer if it were not for Boyle's competent vision. He deftly handles well-tread material to craft something fresh.
At face value, Sunshine seems like another run-of-the-mill end-of-the-world pic (along the vein of Michael Bay's Armageddon or The Core). And although it is essentially a hybrid of those two films: going into space to save the world (Armageddon) and using a bomb to restart something (The Core) it maintains the subtlety lacked by the former and makes you care about the characters unlike the latter.
Near the film's climax Boyle introduces elements of the thriller-esque, showing how man can lose his humanity when faced with extreme claustrophobia. But despite the sense of dread that the characters experience wave after wave, Boyle never lets total darkness envelope the story.
A thrilling entry in the space opera series, Sunshine, though seen by few upon its release, is about the prevailing hope of mankind and to quote Murphy's character Robert Capa, "So if you wake up someday and it's a particularly beautiful day, you'll know we made it."
Sunshine - 4/5
The Criterion Collection is a group dedicated to the preservation of some of the most important films in cinematic history. Active since 1984, the Collection has entered a new class of films old and new every month. This new series, "From the Collection," will look at some of the films that are forever preserved in the Collection.
I won't attempt to tackle them all and I won't delude myself into thinking that you'd be interested in the one film from Macedonia that is in it. So, I will only post about films from the countries with the most entries: America, France, Japan, the United Kingdom and Sweden.
Without further ado, I present the first entry "From the Collection."
Film: Metropolitan
Country: America
Year of Release: 1990
The first of writer/director Whit Stillman's "yuppie" trilogy, Metropolitan, was also his powerful debut into the filmmaking community. Stillman was, of course, one of the many young filmmakers to be influenced by the relatively lax production value of Steven Soderbergh's 1989 debut sex, lies & videotape, and developed an "I could do that" sort of attitude. Fellow filmmakers of this generation include Robert Rodriguez, Christopher Nolan and Kevin Smith.
Enough about the history, though, let's talk turkey. Metropolitan is a simple film on the surface. A group of preppie New York socialites see their world turned upside-down when they let a stranger into their midst. The film holds a deeper meaning, however. Although it is very clearly a satire, the film makes you care deeply about each of the characters. They all share in the same tragic flaw of immobility.
It is their fear, told by one of the yuppies to the outsider, that it is more common for someone to experience downward social mobility that upward, despite what their leaders are telling them. It is this fear, along with the uncertainty of just who this new guy is, that begins to drive them apart.
As I said the film is a satire of snobbery and stuck-up lifestyles. One scene involves Tom (the outsider) discussing Jane Austen's Mansfield Park and how he thinks it's a terrible book. We come to find out that he hasn't even read it. He just reads literary criticisms so he can get both the author and the critic's views at one time. Another scene has the character Charlie talking about how the members of the group aren't quite a part of the bourgeois and comes up with the term urban haute bourgeoisie, which they promptly shorten to the one syllable "uhb."
In the end we are treated to a film that is surprisingly charming given that it's just young people talking to each other. It is through these conversations that we learn about not only who they are but also about the importance of young people in the late-'80s. Metropolitan has influenced many filmmakers who like to film people "just talking," including frequent collaborators Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach.
Stillman's observations and criticisms continue in his next two films, Barcelona and The Last Days of Disco (of which the latter is also in the collection), which rounds out his non-canon yuppie trilogy.
Observant, poignant, and incredibly smart, Whit Stillman's Metropolitan is very deserving of its spot in The Criterion Collection.
So here we find ourselves again, Michael Bay. Here we are to step right up and view the latest attraction in cyber-robotic war (and in 3D, no less). Here we are, sitting in these auditorium seats, waiting for you to dazzle us with giant, shape-shifting robots at war, vintage cars that will most certainly be destroyed after five minutes of screen time, and a woman who is shot from provocative angles and made into an object of pure desire. But most of all, Mr. Bay, here we go again...
There isn't much of anything in Transformers: Dark of the Moon that is worth the $7.50 ticket price ($10.50 if you think 3D is worth it). In truth, the only good part of the movie (aside from when it ended) was how it looked. It's a truly gorgeous film with awesome action, but as well all know (or should) is that just because a movie looks good doesn't mean it is good.
It's a shame, really. Audiences pay the ticket price to be wowed, but all of the action-packed imagery serves a second purpose. While you sit in your seat and say, "Wow, this is a good-looking film" your vision becomes clouded and you aren't able to see past the skin deep layer to the bad acting, lack-of-plot, and contrived dialogue/situations.
No amount of building-wrecking or low angle booty shots of Rosie Huntington-Whitely can hide this films numerous and frequent flaws. We open on an interesting alternate history in which Apollo 11 astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin (who actually makes a cameo appearance) use their 20 minutes on the dark side of the moon to investigate an Autobot ship which had crashed there eight years prior.
After some poorly written plot progression (if you could call it progression, the film just sort of jumps from one scene to the next) we discover that the Decepticons have the upper hand and chaos ensues. The last third of the movie isn't even a coherent story, it's just Shia LaBeouf running around Chicago while Decepticons destroy it and the Autobots try prevent said destruction. Each scene is tied together with a collapsing building or a dying robot (all while an explosion ravages the background).
Even the cameos from some of the greatest actors are done in poor style. John Malkovich isn't given the respect he's due in the character he was given to play. He is a poorly written fool. Frances McDormand is also given a bad character to bring to life. All her character does is spew useless diatribes about why she's important. Then there's John Turturro, who has been in all three of the Transformers films, and all though he is still treated like a day-playing, 2-bit actor his role is an improvement from 2009's Revenge of the Fallen. Regardless, these are three great actors who deserve better roles and better lines.
I place the greatest blame for this film's faults at the feet of its writer, Ehren Kruger. Kruger is, without doubt, one of the worst writers I've ever encountered. He is the man who was put in charge of Scream 3 when Kevin Williamson had to step down due to Dawson's Creek obligations. We all know what happened there. The series, which was famous for its self-aware satire, devolved into nothing more than self-dissing parody. He did it again when he was brought in to "clean up" the script to Scream 4.
Here is a man who is utterly incapable of the following: plot, plot progression, character development, dialogue. He is also famous for inserting the f-word into any line when he can get away with it (obviously he cannot here) and writing in stupid jokes that a) add nothing to the story and b) aren't even funny. In this film much of the humor comes from two small robots who have replaced Mudflap and Skids. Great, he did away with the racist jokes to bring in sex jokes (most directed at Huntington-Whitley's Carly).
I fail to see how Bay continuously gets away with what he does. Not just make bad movies, but dress up a soft-core porno as an action movie safe for pre-teen viewing. The way he shoots Huntington-Whitley does absolutely nothing to further her character along, but serves only to allow hormonal 13-year-old boys (and the occasional 40-year-old creep) to leer at her. For shame, Michael Bay, for shame.
Transformers: Dark of the Moon - 1.5/5
