The Critical Frog: Interstellar

Back when I lived about 45 minutes from Disney's Epcot, they had a ride where you could experience what it was like to be an astronaut going into space. It was fittingly called "Mission: Space", and was divided into two levels of difficulty. There was orange, which became increasingly annoying by spinning around and around as you tried to do your various space activities, It was actually pretty cool, if you could get past the overwhelming urge to puke your guts out (happy Thanksgiving, by the way- did you enjoy your turkey?). Then there was green, which completely ditched the spinning aspect and basically left you sitting in a box for ten minutes. It was ideal if you were a wimp.

All I could think of during Interstellar was how much it reminded me of orange levels' spinning.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for space movies, and Interstellar isn't an exception. I like the film- the story is nice, the plot is straightforward (with a few exceptions) and the CGI is phenomenal. I just think that Ridley Scott went a little overboard so to speak on all the tilted camera angles and spinning. Come to think of it, when do we ever get to see a film review completely ignoring the movie's plot points and focus simply on the camera?

Seriously, what's up with the movement of this film? It's all over the place. The camera styles range from quick and jumpy cuts to uncomfortably long shots without much rhyme or reason. In the works of Kubrick and Miyazaki, long shots are used to create a sense of discomfort or meaningfulness. Here, a few of them seem to go on forever to no avail.

When the shots work, they bring great imagery and a sense of hopelessness to the atmosphere of space (in particular the water planet's massive tidal waves). But when they don't, all they seem to bring is a headache. Literally.

I came out of Interstellar with three things: A migrane from the bad shots, a feeling of importance in the grand scheme of life (the film's point) and the remains of a Cherry Coke Iccee (you mix Coke iccee and cherry iccee. It's really good). Is it a good film? Yeah. Is the camera good? No.

OVERALL RATING: 7/10
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Remember how I said that Mission Space had two modes? So does Interstellar. It has the powerful Orange mode, with strong emotional scenes and great landscapes despite the camera's issues, and then it has the insanely boring Green. It's a it of a toss-up, but overall not bad.

The Critical Frog: Frog and the Old Man

The other day at the airport I met the most insteresting man. He was tall, hunched over, around 75-80 if I could guess. He had a breathing tube in his nose, scruffy white hair and a well-groomed beard. But what really struck me about him was his eyes.
He had a thousand-yard stare, the smell of cigars on his breath. I saw him being wheeled over by the airport staff, fighting as he hacked and wheezed. Figuring this was just another patron angry at the often irritating airport security, I planned to ignore him and continue the round of Starcraft I was engaged in (In my defense, Hard difficulty takes a lot of focus). I had seen this kind of thing many times before, I thought, and I would see it again.
But then he started to whisper.
I'm not sure if he knows I could hear him singing, but there he was, muttering things about blood, guns and whiskey to an uncaring audience. I figured he was only bored, and continued with my game. But then he stared at me.
His eyes, those soul-piercing eyes, combined with his muttering- they told me everything I needed to know. The man possibly had dementia, or PTSD. The poor guy.
He looked at me and started up a conversation. Not wanting to be rude, I spoke with him as he took breaths from his nebulizer. As he rambled on about guns, blood and indians, I noticed the intensity he was trying to put into his quiet speech. Placing down my laptop I began to listen with great passion, holding on to every word.
He spoke of drink and war, of life and death, and what I could understand through his garbled speech I heard with great interest. He told me about his problems, and how he began to feel useless as a product of a different time. He thought aloud about death and pennance, of the point of fighting, and eventually of his own sin and loneliness. He looked up to the celing and talked about Sioux and Rose Bushes, then talked about the meaning of freedom while taking puffs from his nebulizer. His mind was so clearly gone- but something else had arrived in it's place, for both of us. An invisible link.
We were kindred spirits, the two of us. A mental patient and a teenager. Both of us, through trauma or art, notice the downsides of modern humanity and weep at the misfortune they bring to the world while it looks on uncaringly. He has seen them and I fear seeing them. Eventually, we begin to accept the sins of humanity. The only difference between this man and I is our age and experience. The man knows his time is coming, and accepts it, while I fear for what will happen tomorrow whenever I go to bed- both of us concerned with what will happen once we shut our eyes. In fact, he reminds me of someone. Myself, in fact.
I don't know where the man is now. Maybe he finally gave in and passed in his sleep. Maybe he's in a hospital where society feels that he belongs. Or maybe he's still in that seat at the Denver Airport, puffing from his tube with that thousand-year stare in his eyes. But let it be known, wherever he is, a part of me is with him- and a part of him is me as well.

The Critical Frog: Fury

I wrote the word ¨Fury¨ at the top of my notepad and sat back to watch. The first thing I wrote was, ¨approx. 3 minutes until first brutal death¨. This movie doesn't waste any time in showing you what it's all about.

I recently got a chance to go to Cinebarre, a lovely little place where you can order food and drinks directly to your seat during the film. It was a great place, and the staff and food were great (especially the Children Of The Popcorn). But perhaps Fury was not something I really wanted to see during a meal. 

Don't get me wrong, the film isn't so bad that I wanted to vomit. Quite the opposite. I just don't think it was a smart move on my part to order a double cheeseburger during a movie filled with brutal violence that leaves it's victims looking like chunks of meat. It was a bit sickening to eat meat with dead bodies on screen, but hey- I'd hate to let all that meat go to waste. In my defense, it WAS a really good cheeseburger.

But on with the plot: Brad Pitt stars as War Daddy, the smoking and cursing pilot of Fury, a tank in the 3rd artillery division of the Allies during World War 2. He and his companions have worked together for a long time, killing Nazi after Nazi, but are stricken by the loss of a teammate and forced to take on a new recruit. This recruit is Norman, a church man who does not get along with the violent tendencies of the old crew. Together, the crew and Norman travel in their tank and encounter various war problems, including Nazis, mines, and a 5-minute scene of the characters doing nothing but eating eggs.

Honestly, most of the movie is like this: Heroes joke, shooting, heroes move on. Rinse and repeat. And don't get me started on the death count. 

Yes, Fury is so heavy on the brutality and gore that I had to add a Brutal Death Counter to my notes. At the end of the film, I counted nine insanely disgusting and gory deaths. And because I assume you are not eating while reading my reviews, I shall now list a few of them.

-1 Man lit on fire before shooting himself in the head,

-2 Men riddled with bullet holes in close-ups,

-1 Head crushed under a tank,

-1 Man blown apart by an anti-tank shell

-1 Man who throws himself on a grenade, and

-1 Man taking multiple stab wounds, including one to the johnson

Now, as you can clearly tell, this is a very violent film that shows a lot of the harsh parts of war: we get shock, PTSD, madness, infighting, and lots and lots of bullet action. I get that the point of the film is to show the real dark side of war with the deaths and drawn out scenes, but honestly, I wish they had done it a little better. Platoon did it amazingly, and so did Inglorious Bastards. Now we get Fury, which tosses much of the emotion of battle out for extended war scenes. 

The action is good, I suppose. You can see the bullets fly (although why they are green and red remains a mystery) and the burning tanks, and all the casualties are bloodily illustrated if you really want to see them. In the meantime, I'd rather just focus right now on the cheeseburger. At least I don't have to draw eating the burger out as long as some of these scenes.

OVERALL RATING: 6/10

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Is it wrong to give a movie about the harsh brutality of war the same rating as a movie about ponies singing magical songs? I dunno, but I'm doing it. I gave Rainbow Rocks a 6/10 too.

Yes, the action is incredible, especially at the end, and it is interesting to see Norman's descent into the harsh land of war. But the characters are so... bland. We never get any explanation for the characters, or their backstory. There is a scene where Pitt's character removes his shirt, and we see large burns along his back. How did he get these and his lax attitude towards war? We'll never know. The only features of our main characters we can identify is that they are not Nazis, and that's reason enough to root for them. But some of Pitt's crew is so annoying I didn't care if he was a good guy or not. There are some powerful scenes (Norman being forced to shoot a disarmed German with a family) and some impressive war scenes, but the scenes that aren't clearly lack and pale in comparison. If it's a war film you want, then this isn't horrible, but if you have a choice, go for Platoon, a personal wartime favorite and an excellent war film. If Fury is all you can get, then go for it- but know there are better war films. And word of advice: don't eat meat while you watch a war film. Trust me on this one.