Interstellar

For some reason the vast, incomprehensible expanse we know as space inspires some of the greatest filmmakers to want to tell great stories about family relationships. It's not that big of a mystery: contemplating the infinite and immeasurable is daunting, almost traumatic, when confronted full in the face. When facing the possibility of complete oblivion and meaninglessness it seems natural to focus on what is most meaningful and dear and search for significance there. Most recently there was Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity taking a John Donne-sian ("No man is an island") approach comparing the isolation of space to social remoteness. Another great entry of this type is Robert Zemeckis's Contact, doing a more traditional, but no less inspiring, take on the "are we alone?" question based on the theories of Carl Sagan. Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey holds legendary status, and rightly so, as he partnered with Arthur C. Clarke, one of the greatest sci-fi writers of all time, to examine the existence of humanity itself. Heck, even Steven Spielberg took a couple cracks at it with E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. And now Christopher Nolan books his entry in this impressive field of work with Interstellar, a visually-stunning and powerful movie arguing for nothing less than the literal cosmic power of love.

Ok, if you can handle the very last little bit of that last paragraph (singing only a little bit of Huey Lewis & the News to yourself) then you are prepped and ready for Interstellar. There are one or two moments during Christopher Nolan's expansive IMAX-ready epic that tackle that point very directly and I commend him and his brother and writing-partner, Jonathan, for putting some bare moments in the film that really cut back the layers to communicate so directly to the audience. Because despite its seemingly formidable length (2 hours and 49 minutes that flew by), Nolan seems to have ensured that every bit of the movie serves the story and provides cinematic and entertainment value.

One of the most obvious of a number of elements that make Interstellar a masterpiece is a great cast. Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, and Jessica Chastain are top-level actors on par with the high-level talent that Nolan is able to attract to his projects (Hathaway having worked with him previously on The Dark Night Rises). McConaughey plays Cooper, an astronaut-turned-farmer in a world that's dying and a society that's given up on space travel - and almost science altogether. Mackenzie Foy plays his young daughter Murph and shares the part with Chastain as her adult counterpart: the two actresses fit the character nicely. Coop and Murph stumble (or do they?) on an old mentor/teacher of Cooper's, Professor Brand played by Nolan-regular Michael Caine, who has a use for his unused astronaut skills. Anne Hathaway is Brand's daughter Amelia, a member of the crew planning to travel through a wormhole that has popped up near Saturn and seems to provide some promising prospects for a second home for humanity. Epic interstellar-ness ensues. As the film progresses Nolan tackles the theory of relativity and black holes. The support cast, including a surprising unbilled cameo, inspire excitement and confidence.

At the heart of the story is the relationship between Coop and Murph. In an article in The Guardian, Nolan reveals that part of what drives this movie is his reflection on his own relationship with his children. Let that idea sink in as you're watching. Interstellar dives into some pretty heady relativistic theory that, in essence, means his daughter is aging faster than him. Their relationship goes through some traumatic episodes and, when considered by the film's end, covers decades of time with very little direct interaction from the point that he leaves on his mission to "save the world." The core of what Interstellar examines, rather than the reality of relativistic space travel and the decline of the human race (both of which are explored believably and thought-provokingly, each deserving of their own analysis) is how the bond of love between these people somehow makes a real, physical, and lasting connection.

Visually, Interstellar is the direct descendant of Kubrick's aforementioned 2001. Nolan takes the audience past the rings of Saturn, through a wormhole and into a number of unique environments that are truly worthy of comparison with 2001. If you've ever had the chance to see Hubble 3D at an IMAX theater then you have a taste of what you're in for here. Filmed on it to a greater proportion than any of his previous films, Nolan's preferred format for viewing this movie is on 70mm IMAX film. Luckily I live mere minutes from a properly-outfitted theater. Did you know a true IMAX screen is a giant square? Nolan takes full advantage of the format's capabilities, providing, through both sight and sound, the most "immersive" experience possible. I must say that the Sacramento Esquire Theater didn't disappoint and I highly recommend taking advantage of the opportunity to enjoy this movie as its creator intended (find a theater here). The fuller picture and core-breaching sound provide a sensational, cinematic experience that makes a pickup driving through cornfields, a shuttle-like blast off, and relativistic space travel equally enthralling. It's worth it just for that aspect alone. Apart from stunning imagery and great acting, Hans Zimmer's score and some truly amazing and dynamic sound design round out the most obvious pieces of what makes this movie great.

Blancanieves: A reminder of great silent film

My first real experience with silent film, as an event, was in college at BYU where the classical radio station hosted a "Silent Movie Night" every semester. Mike Ohman, a member of the music faculty and an experienced silent film organist, played the organ to Buster Keaton's classic The General. Mr. Ohman instructed the audience, the majority of which had never watched a silent movie, that it was ok, and in fact encouraged, to applaud the hero in moments of triumph or to boo the villian (anything short of throwing popcorn at the screen - it was a concert hall we were in after all). He would signify these moments with his playing style and he really knew how to work a crowd. I think up to this point I had seen Chaplin's Modern Times and a number of shorts, but after watching The General that night I realized something new: I could enjoy a silent film as much as any other film. It was a revelation that has sent me in search of many of the greatest films of the silent era. We returned later in the fall to see The Phantom of the Opera. Other historical keystones and personal favorites include The Gold Rush, Man With A Movie Camera, and Sunrise. Blancaviences, a 2012 black and white Spanish film from director Pablo Berger, is a great 21st century silent film that adheres to the classic silent movie style, enhanced by technological advances and a love for fantastic storytelling.

Daniel Gimenez Cacho plays the father and bullfighter extraordinaire, Antonio Villalta

The movie opens on 1920's Spain on the big day at the coliseum. Antonio Villalta, the star toreador, is top billing for the day's events and the crowd waits with baited breath as he begins his dance with the mighty toro. But an accident occurs, shaming and crippling him. The same day, his wife dies in childbirth, leaving him a broken man with a baby to care for. An enterprising nurse, Encarna, sees an opportunity and becomes his primary caretaker, eventually weaseling her way into control of his life by becoming his wife. He becomes a willless man and she, a merciless and manipulative mistress over his home and estate. The baby, little Carmen, is the only reminder of what Antonio's life used to be. She is never allowed to see her father and the only love she receives is from her grandmother, who shortly dies as well. This is most definitely Snow White but it is a retelling without the magic, but perhaps still a bit of mysticism. The fantasy is in the fatefulness and not the smoke and mirrors. Eventually, a grown Carmen leaves home and becomes an amnesiac. Without any home or anyone to turn to, 6 dwarves, a band of mini-bullfighters (think rodeo clowns) take her in. Blancanieves is the 7th. There are twists on the original story: Grumpy is still grumpy but with a streak of vindictive jealousy and some roles double up. But Berger focuses on little instincts and cues that tie Blancanieves back to her roots as the daughter of a bull fighter. It's a better Snow White, really, than the standard Disney version - more about the heroine finding herself than finding Prince Charming.

Maribel Verdu is the wicked Stepmother and she plays it so well

But we must remember Ebert's Law: "A movie is not about what it is about. It is about how it is about it." This movie is really all about the joyful, more visceral experience of watching a silent film. Striving to adhere strictly to the genre of the silent films of the 1920's and 1930's, it serves both as a reminder of the magic of that format and as a marker of the advancement of film technology. You may never have seen a silent film (if so, shame on you. Go watch The General), but even if you've watched the latest the Transformers movie you've seen, heard, and felt the effects of things learned and innovated through silent film. The next time you watch a movie, think about the different purely-visual mechanisms that are used to display emotion, to further the plot, or to introduce a new character. There is an efficiency in the tactics used that is not only effective in communicating something to the audience, but in doing it in an entertaining way.

As for the modern take on the genre, Blancanieves strives to capture the essence of the original reference material while using updated technology to add clarity and a few flourishing touches. It was filmed in color which was afterward taken out, giving it a brighter tone with a beautifully-crisp, high-def feel. It goes beyond The Artist by cutting down the aspect ratio to a more traditional size. Although this followed The Artist by a year or two, Berger thought of the concept of the film back in 2003 and had been working on it since that time. That The Artist beat him to the punch may have stolen some of his thunder in the race of PR and marketing, but that in no way detracts from the quality and accomplishment of this movie. It is certainly overlooked and worth more than one watch.

The misfit band of dwarves

Ironically, one of my favorite aspects of silent film, both classic and modern, is its use of sound. Both Blancanieves and The Artist benefit from the advantage of the ability to do more well-crafted and subtle sound work than was available in the silent era. Back then, filmmakers would sometimes send out sheet music or musician's notes accompanying their movies with instructions on what and how to play at different points in the story. There is a real charm in imagining how each showing of a film would be distinct and original. But with the precision of modern sound technology the opportunities to overcome the restrictions of the classic format allow for occasional breaks from tradition with sound effects and music. Set in 1920's Spain, the music for Blancanieves ranges from traditional silent sound-direction to invigorating Spanish guitar and flamenco music, often relying on the rhythmic clapping, snapping, and percussion to add suspense, movement, and excitement to a scene. This is done especially well during the emotional climax at the final bullfighting scene when a Blancanieves on-the-rise begins to recall her origins. I was smiling, laughing, and feeling every moment of this movie so please do yourself a favor and queue it up. Currently streaming on Netflix - very family friendly.

Film: Life Itself

Perhaps you've had the opportunity to have a friend who shares your taste in movies, books, and music enough that you know you can always turn to that person for a fun and meaningful discussion about whatever it is you've recently been watching, reading, or listening to. You look forward to talking to this friend because when you agree it is so validating to have someone understand how you see things, and because when you disagree there's no one you want to convince more. Starting around 2007, Roger Ebert slowly became this friend for me, until it became almost impossible to watch, or consider watching, a movie without seeking his perspective. And just to clarify - yes, I did have friends in real life too.

Like many of my generation, all I knew about Ebert for years was that there was a TV show with a couple of guys talking about movies, Siskel & Ebert, and a catchphrase, "Two Thumbs Up." I had seen the show occasionally on PBS, and I remember watching it after Siskel passed away and it became Ebert & Roeper, with Richard Roeper. So when I was in college and found myself getting more interested in getting a critic's take on movies I had watched and kept seeing Roger Ebert's reviews pop up in searches online, it was natural for me read his reviews. The vague sense of the history behind the name seemed authoritative and most times I wasn't interested in reading more than one critic's review. Then, over time, I started to realize I often agreed with Roger. And not only did I agree with him (most of the time) but I found that he would frequently put words to my feelings, explaining how I felt but with more eloquence. After a while it became routine for me to read Roger's reviews of movies I had seen or was thinking about seeing.

Part of the reason I was drawn to Roger's site, rogerebert.com, was because he had been successfully making a concerted effort to grow his online presence. As an early adopter to online and mobile technology, like Twitter, Ebert had been touching a new generation of movie nerds and I was part of that wave. After dealing with cancer for years his jaw was removed, making it impossible to speak. In 2008, right as I was realizing how much I enjoyed Roger's writing, he had written his first blog post and was entering what would be the final stage of his life and career, in which his celebrity and popularity grew more than ever before.

Roger Ebert passed away last year and now I don't have that friend to turn to - at least not for any new movies. More importantly, though, his family, friends, and followers feel the absence of his positive and life-affirming perspective. The documentary film about Roger Ebert, Life Itself, was just released last weekend. It is a beautiful biopic that expertly takes the audience through Ebert's life, extracting, along the way, the essence of what made him tick so that it teaches a few things about *ahem* life itself.

I was in San Francisco over the weekend and so I had an opportunity to do something I'd never done: See a film while it was in limited release. My wife, Karen, and I saw it on one of 23 screens showing it around the country. We were seated in fancy electric-reclining leather chairs. We were uncomfortably in the front row of a tiny theater, giving me a headache by the end of the show (which cost us $25). These things didn't really bother me all that much, though, because the movie itself was an honest, sometimes humorous, touching, warts-and-all portrayal of a man I admired.

The story is told through a mix of interviews with family, friends, and colleagues, along with archival footage of Roger from his show with Gene Siskel, a mix of photos and written artifacts, and then new footage shot by the director, Steve James, during the final months of Roger's life. Using those final days and weeks as a foothold, we jump back in time moving through the different eras of his life: growing up in Illinois, college days as editor of the newspaper, the start of his professional life and his alcoholism, his growing fame, the TV show and relationship with Siskel, his marriage with Chaz, his family, his illness, the growth of his popularity online, and then his death and the response of fans and loved ones.

In his review, Matt Zoller Seitz, editor-in-chief of rogerebert.com, writes that it is about two loves stories: that of Roger with his wife and now widow, Chaz, and the relationship with with rival/partner/brother-in-spirit Gene Siskel. The segment covering his contentious, big-brother/little-brother type partnership with Siskel and the 30+ years they did their TV program together is perhaps the longest and most interesting section of the film. You get some great footage, both that aired on the show and some behind the scenes outtakes, that show their wit, competition, and sometimes disdain for one another. It'll send you looking for old footage from the show on YouTube, of which there is quite a bit. In an interview that Chaz did in promotion of this film, she said that during the years that Roger was doing the show she learned to steer clear of the studio on the days they would record. Roger would get riled up, sometimes excited he had "bested" Siskel, sometimes infuriated at Siskel's seeming blockheadedness. You can understand why when you see the footage in Life Itself.

One interesting tidbit that you might not know if you're not an Ebert fan is the connection between Roger and the film's director, Steve James. As a young, aspiring filmmaker, James made a 3-hour long documentary in the early 90's called Hoop Dreams, about a couple of black, inner-city youth hoping to find a path to a better life through their basketball talent (on Netflix Instant now). Told in a very straightforward and compelling way, the movie really impressed both Ebert and Siskel. Their positive reviews and championing of the film led to the purchase of its distribution rights and jump-started James' career as a documentary filmmaker. And so it's an added value to the beauty of the movie knowing a bit of its director's background. You don't get that story in the film as James humbly focuses on other indie directors whose work and careers benefited from Ebert's desire to find great movies from unknowns.

When I stepped into the world of Ebert I was unaware of almost all of this history. I was just touched by his writing, which some in the film share became even better in this final phase of his life. Ebert was sometimes criticized for being too lenient of a critic, doling out positive rating mores often than his counterparts across the country. But that's because of at least two things. First, he considered it his role to help people find movies that they will like, and that meant reviewing it based on who the audience of a movie was and what their expectations would be - not comparing it always against the greatest films (see the heated discussion on Benji the Hunted from the movie). The second was that Roger loved movies and wanted to love a movie when he saw it. He was always looking for the next great film and the story that it told. This, primarily, is what made him such a well-loved critic. And that attitude towards movies seems to be an extension of his attitude toward life, especially in his later years. That comes out in his writing and it comes out beautifully in this movie on his life.