FAT SUIT FAILS TO HARPOON FRASER

 

MOVIE
The Whale
Director Darren Aronofsky
Review Ray Chan

The Whale adapts a play by Samuel D. Hunter, about an excessively obese man coming to grips with his life after leaving his wife and daughter for a homosexual relationship, with the story taking place exclusively inside his home.
    In essence, the camera is stuck in front of actor Brendan Fraser, who is encased in bogus blubber that makes him appear to weigh near 300 kilograms, and we're even treated to scenes of him in various stages of undress. But while such a scenario works well on the stage, it feels almost claustrophobic in a movie setting. 
    Audiences will feel themselves sympathising with the character Charlie’s physical and psychological plight, while maintaining a morbid fascination for the mountain of a man who struggles to carry out simple activities such as getting up from the couch while still feasting on candy bars and chicken, well aware of the dangers posed to his health.
    A college writing professor, Charlie teaches his students online from behind the safety of a black square, too ashamed to reveal his true voluminous visage. His favourite novel is Moby Dick, the Herman Melville book also referred to as The Whale, an obvious metaphor for his external appearance.
    He describes the elusive mammal as he stands up, shirtless, and lumbers across the living room and toward the bedroom with a walker. "He thinks his life will be better if he can just kill this whale, but in reality, it won't help him at all. This book made me think about my own life," he says, slapping viewers head-on with symbolism as subtle as a piledriver.
    The movie unfolds over the course of a week, during which Charlie receives a series of visits  – from his friend and informal caretaker Liz, who also happens to be the sister of his former male lover Alan, who committed suicide from shame of the gay tryst; from Thomas, a young missionary who wants to rescue his soul; from his estranged teenage daughter Ellie, who is angry at her father’s desertion; and embittered ex-wife Mary.
    The most interesting exchange of dialogue takes place with Thomas, who insists that Charlie’s sins can be forgiven. Telling him that "I'm not interested in being saved", Charlie berates him for his unwanted proselytising, pointing out that there was nothing wrong with the true love that he and Alan shared.
    Ultimately, the film challenges us in important ways: when we see Charlie, do we look at the man or the body?
    There’s little doubt the movie ultimately works because of Fraser.
    While critics may argue that any character actor worth his salt could just as easily pull off the role, Fraser’s facial expressions, puppy eyes and welcoming and resonant voice give Charlie gravitas and strength as well as a certain effervescence, unencumbered by the weighty prosthetics and make-up.

#thewhale

MORE THAN JUST A MONSTER MOVIE

 

MOVIE
Godzilla Minus One
Director Takashi Yamazaki
Reviewer Ray Chan

Well, this must be about the best holiday present you could get. Just as the year draws to a close, comes a movie that is quite possibly the best of 2023 … and the biggest surprise is that it’s a Godzilla film. 
    What makes it stand out is the production’s focus on the relationship between its human protagonists as they try to battle the threat of the titular giant monster, when it first arises from the ocean to wreak devastation on Japan.
    There’s no explanation about Godzilla’s origins: he just IS. And it’s up to the citizens of the country, recently recovering in the aftermath of the atomic bomb that stirred the beast from its hibernation, to stand up or be slaughtered. 
    The story, from franchise owner-originator movie production company Toho, is a masterclass in action and storytelling, an absolute spectacle about humanity that provides far more compelling pathos and cerebral content than the Hollywood releases of Legendary Pictures, which tiresomely focuses on the efforts of the bureaucratic agency Monarch to keep Godzilla and his bunch of so-called Titans at bay (and for which a TV series has been created).
    Godzilla Minus One is essentially a remake of the 1954 Godzilla, with inspiration (particularly in its first and third acts) from a few others in the early series. But while the production borrows their basic story structure and certain themes, it brings a great deal of original characterisation to the table, while improving upon the inspirational elements from those other chapters.
    Writer-director-visual effect supervisor Takashi Yamazaki’s magnificent script is full of real, delicate, flawed people trapped in horrifying circumstances and facing impossible expectations and odds (both internal, cultural, international, while contending with a giant atomic monster).
    The premise surrounds a Japan ravaged by World War II, with Godzilla’s attacks taking the country “from zero to minus one”, symbolising a shattered Japan which thought it couldn't sink any lower after the bombings. Proximity to the events of Hiroshima lends it an immediacy that permeates every scene, the complex messages and cultural mea culpa combining with overwhelming weight of grief, loss, and sense of morals about the dangers and evils of nuclear power.
    In terms of the lizard itself, it hits every major story beat that any audience would expect from a Godzilla story. Urban destruction, fleeing crowds, the monster’s horrifying emergence from the waters: all executed with percussive bombast and luminous visual flair. It features several extraordinarily satisfying action scenes, which deliver thrilling moments of monster mayhem and display, through to some jaw-dropping visual effects.
    But all this takes second stage to the characters brought to vivid life by a tremendous cast. Ryunosuke Kamiki plays Koichi, disgraced after failing on not just one, but two, counts of cowardice: losing his nerve as a kamikaze pilot in WWII, and then subsequently freezing when he has the chance to shoot Godzilla as it attacks and kills his crew.
    Bearing this emotional weight and survivor’s guilt, he then has to contend with the unexpected intrusion of a woman named Noriko, who comes into his life with a baby who is not her own.
    How he achieves redemption and helps ordinary Japanese people scratching a living in the ruins of a firebombed Tokyo, and their ultimate confrontation with Godzilla, is rendered in ways that foreground their resilience, comradeship, compassion, and hope, imbuing what could have been a maudlin and grimdark affair with warmth and personality.
    And a quick thumbs up to Naoki Satō, for a score which impressively takes viewers between the gentle and haunting single-line melodies of intimate and emotional scenes, to the huge and explosive scare chords during Godzilla's rampages.
    During the more triumphant scenes, Sato utilises sweeping orchestras against the characters' heroic speeches, but equally important are the moments where the ambient sounds make up the only soundtrack — lending a sense of peace and realism in the human moments.
   2023 has not been a memorable one for outstanding movies, but it has been bookended by two marvellous masterpieces: Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale in January, and now this killer kaiju chronicle that out-trumps every other offering since then.

BLOWING IT OUT OF THE WATER

 

MOVIE
Avatar: The Way of Water (3-D)
Director James Cameron
Review Ray Chan

It’s been so long since the first instalment that viewers could be forgiven for having trouble remembering anything about the parables on planetoid Pandora.
    So, a quick recap. In the year 2154, the celestial satellite – inhabited by blue-skinned, sapient humanoids that live in harmony with nature – is coveted by Earthlings whose own planet’s resources have been depleted.
    To explore Pandora’s box, genetically-matched human scientists use Na'vi-human hybrids called "avatars". Paraplegic marine Jake Scully (Sam Worthington) is one such recruit sent on a scouting mission but ends up driving his own race of invaders away, ultimately settling down and living happily as a Na’vi with his native wife and family. 
    A new threat duly arrives, as Pandora is threatened once again when the Earthmen return, with a much bigger army. Through Sully’s family (which includes an irritating human boy named Spider), we get a sense of the stakes and why the inhabitants revere a whale-like creature named the tulkan. 
    To keep out of harm’s way, they find shelter with the Metkayina reef people, whose physical features have adapted to their water wonderlands, and who are also leery of the “sky people”.
    Clocking in at three hours and 12 minutes in full, the story takes too long to get going, sure to cause impatient viewers to twitch in their seats. When it does, we realise it’s basically an extension of the first, with its overt themes of familial love and loss, along with impassioned indictments of military colonialism and climate destruction.
    But then we get the payoff. Where the movie really comes into its own is the ambitious animation used throughout, reaching almost preposterously realistic dimensions hitherto unseen. 
    The major part of the film takes place in the wet, with director Cameron using it as an excuse to show off the latest in visual effects wizardry as he satisfies his well-documented penchant for aquatic adventures.
    Of course, the 2009 movie had been one of the first in the industry to utilise 3-D effects. However, in the time since then, trends have changed so quickly that the technology now seems to have been regarded more ancient than avant-garde. 
    This sequel is shot in that same style, requiring the donning of visual-enhancing glasses that were once a requisite at theatres. And it’s so much worth it. Way of Water looks like a billion bucks. And certainly cost as much to produce.
    Right from the first dive into Pandora’s oceans, the lushly luminescent undersea settings and richly chromatic floras and faunas combine to sweep the audience away and immerse it in its vast and vivid, silky smooth water world, creating pure cinematic magic. 
    Cameron unleashes more than a decade of technological advancements on the viewer, resulting in possibly the most immersive film ever experienced, exploding with brilliant hues and fast-moving otherworldly images that rarely fail to dazzle the eyes for any lengthy stretch of this epic. 
    And the action, when it arrives, is thunderingly entertaining. On one side there is the Na’vi navy, astride majestic flying fish dragons, ululating and bristling with spears. On the other, the squad of Earth marines, plus a swaggering, dickish Australian seadog named Scoresby (Brendan Cowell, near-stealing the show with his salty jargon) and an armada of incredible military tech (scuttling crab-submarines, for example).
    What ensues is a sea battle for the ages, a blisteringly exciting meld of live-action elements and visuals, which boggles the brain in all their crystal-sharp, hyper-real resolution. 
    Many of the cast had been given special scuba training for the scenes, such as breath techniques. But given the calibre of the actors (including Sigourney Weaver, Kate Winslet and Michelle Yeoh), it is disappointing at how little opportunity is granted them to fully develop their respective characters. 
    There’s no doubt his production is ultimately more style than substance.
    Way of Water is a timely reminder of what cinema is capable of when it dares to dream big. And that means this is a sequel that truly deserves to be seen, not from the comfort of the couch, but on the biggest screen available. 
    If ever a movie were to be perfectly suited for virtual realities, this is it. Its success might even herald a comeback for those disposable 3-D specs. 

#avatarwayofwater

GODLY SLICE OF PI

MOVIE
Life Of Pi
Suraj Sharmam, Irrfan Khan
Director Ang Lee
Review Ray Chan


It takes the pedigree of an Academy Award-winning director like Ang Lee to have the audacity to tackle what looked like a seemingly impossible literary adaption of Yann Martel's novel.
    Martel's story outlines the life-defining journey of a young man named Pi, whose zookeeping business family decide to travel to Canada from their Indian homeland — lock, stock and menagerie — to escape political problems there.    
    On the way, their cargo ship gets battered by a fierce storm and capsizes.
    Pi manages to find a life boat, which bit by bit takes on various animals from the sinking vessel — a wounded zebra, a noble orangutan, a cackling, self-serving hyena, a regal Bengal tiger — who in the ensuing days turn on each other in the quest to survive.
    Eventually it’s just Pi and the tiger left stuck on the small vessel in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, a predicament that would test anyone’s sanity.
    To help him endure, Pi digs deep into the recesses of his eclectic convictions that a god exists to keep him alive, and this journey is rendered impeccably by Lee's vision. The colour is electric, with iconic and stunningly sublime shots littered throughout.
    Whether it's magnificent underwater shots of the ship plunging to the watery depths, a grand whale breaching to the skies, or the infinite glacial look of an ocean, Lee's stunning composition is omnipresent, as is the technical wizardry used for the animal stars of the film, which make them wonderfully realistic.
    Veteran Irrfan Khan plays the older Pi, who narrates the tale, while the younger version is represented by Suraj Sharma, who does an impressive job of absorbing the harrowing physical torture without extinguishing his optimism, belief and hope, successfully emoting without any real creatures to play off of.
    If you haven’t read the book, you are in for a treat as you gradually realise the movie is all about symbolism and metaphors.
    As the film nears its end, a rescued Pi tells two versions of his adventures: the animal story and a human interpretation. It’s then that the realisation dawns, if it hasn’t already, that the ragtag group of animals were likely anecdotal manifestations of crew members who clambered on board with Pi.
    After recounting his experiences, Pi asks his rescuers, and indirectly the viewers, which rendition they prefer.
    Pi maintains it was his faith that got him through, and here he provokes a person to believe in the presence of a higher being.
    He is challenging the viewer to consider which version of the world they prefer — the one where we make our own way and suffer through the darkness via self-determination, or the one where we are aided by something greater than ourselves (regardless of which diety we may follow).
    Is the tiger in fact how Pi sees God, who helped him get through adversity when all seemed lost? Is the tiger Pi himself?
    Ultimately, Life of Pi is a beautiful allegory about living with acceptance in the face of the most formidable of adversities.
    The consensus from the hardened investigators interrogating Pi as he recovers is that the animal version is too fanciful to believe, but a much happier one to accept.
    “And so it goes with God,” Pi says as the movie ends.

#lifeofpi