Reviews by Jenn Wright

Pre-Blogger Review Listing

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Sun, 01 May 2005 13:07:00 +0000

Prior to the migration to Blogger, the following reviews were also written for HollywoodJesus.com:

—The Fighting Temptations

—Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

—Life of Brian

—Radio

The U.S. vs. John Lennon

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 18:51:00 +0000

As a nominal Beatles fan and dedicated Flower Power scoffer, I found that The U.S. vs. John Lennon provided an abundance of opportunities to gain insight not only into the life and purpose of John Lennon, but the equally mythologized and criticized era in which he made his voice heard. While exploring Lennon’s very public life and protests, filmmakers David Leaf and John Sheinfeld also invite the audience to see the context of Lennon’s political voice—a context which, for those of us born post-1960s, is only the romanticized period of the power of the people, or the disdained era of pot-smoking and sexual promiscuity, depending on who’s telling the story. Through innumerable clips of actual footage from the conflict-steeped era, Leaf and Scheinfeld provide the backdrop as well as the (extremely significant) scenery for the story of John Lennon’s life.

There were a few things which struck me as I was exiting the theater, all of which are directly attributable to the accurate and thorough work of Leaf and Scheinfeld. First, I realized how jaded and downright misaligned my opinion of the sixties had been. For me, an eighties-era yuppie, the sixties had always seemed silly to me—a time of deliberate rebellion and promiscuity that merely represented a generation that got stuck at age seventeen. My tie-and-jacket history teachers had effectively demonstrated that marijuana and free sex had screwed with an entire generation’s collective brain cells, and reduced them to mindless, vapid activists with no jobs, no education, and nothing better to do than smoke dope and bed the neighborhood. Mission accomplished. While my political views did change radically over the years, my general impression of the era remained relatively the same—an ineffective people protesting ineffectively about a war that was certainly unjust and downright wrong, but wasn’t necessarily worth all the silly falderal and mayhem surrounding it.

But, honestly, in my confessed ignorance, I am grateful to Leaf and Scheinfeld for the principled way in which they collected and arranged the actual footage from those years to paint an accurate and telling picture of the political and social climate that produced a John Lennon. The historical clips they chose to include clearly come from a wide variety of sources, thus representing a wide variety of original goals in their filming. As such, there can be no allegations of gleaning footage only from sources with a certain agenda—and this lends the film a solid credibility in advancing its own cause. Seeing and hearing about the events that didn’t make the nightly news (and therefore didn’t make the high school history textbooks) offered a better, and perhaps even more balanced, representation of the time than anything I ever learned in school or in my straight-laced home.

Secondly, the film cleared up my misperceptions regarding what part Yoko Ono played in Lennon’s life and art. As I discussed the film with my husband, I realized that many of my ideas had been shaped by two ruling opinions of the time: that Yoko broke up the Beatles (and was, therefore, to be despised), and that her relationship with Lennon was just for show—more a business partnership than a marriage. Leaf’s and Shienfeld’s work pretty much blew both of these misguided ideas out of the water. While it may have been true that John’s relationship with Yoko interfered with the Beatles’ progress, effectively “causing” the break-up of the group, the marriage of John and Yoko was definitely based on a true connection—socially, politically, and artistically, as well as personally. Again, the footage Leaf and Scheinfeld chose to include demonstrates the deep connection between the two lovers, pointing out the sincerity of their love and dedication to each other, as well as their intense philosophical and social connection. Yoko’s conceptual art very clearly affected Lennon’s music—there is a definite change in the style from “musical music” to a conceptual art style (think of the numerous repetitive lines in his later music)—and perhaps that change did contribute to the end of the Beatles as a musical group. But it was not an intentional or insidious scheme on Ono’s part—it was a natural progression as Lennon’s political and social views came more and more to bear on his public presence and purpose.

Finally, The U.S. vs. John Lennon offered me a much more comprehensive look at John Lennon himself. While I knew about his activism and the “interesting” music he recorded during the sixties, I had always seen him as one of those misguided and wishy-washy protesters. What I saw in this documentary was a man whose principles were rock-solid, and changed only as he matured, not as the climate changed or the public opinion wavered. His use of his public persona was responsible and sincere, not manipulative or dismissive—he certainly saw his notoriety as a gift and a tool that could be used effectively to communicate with people. His stability inspired me, and his humility surprised me. While he definitely took his music seriously, he never took himself too seriously, often taking moments in interviews to mock others who took single comments of his out of context or gave them too much weight.

Unfortunately, Leaf and Scheinfeld pushed the envelope an inch too far just at the close of the movie, over-dramatizing the untimely and violent death of Lennon, and trying to directly tie his assassination to the government and its previous attempts to deport him. This is unfortunate only because the film is very instructive and revealing and non-manipulative up to this point, and the last five minutes or so leave a decidedly Michael Mooreish bitter taste in one’s mouth. While Lennon’s death was, indeed, tragic and needless, the conspiracy theory turn at the close of the movie actually detracted from the impact, rather than strengthened it.

In short, I found the film incredibly informative and worthwhile. I had little idea how much the U.S. government had been working against Lennon and his efforts, and while I felt truly ignorant in my lack of awareness, I was at least grateful that this film had enlightened me to the long-standing issues between politics and art, and where they “should” and “shouldn’t” meet. I imagine that there are many others out there who would find the film educational as well, whether they lived through the sixties as adults, participated in the protests, or were born well after the fact. The U.S. vs. John Lennon simply does an excellent job of telling the story of John Lennon in its social, political, philosophical, and artistic context, and as such reopens the era for its great potential to teach us today.

The Devil Wears Prada

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 12:54:00 +0000

We all have hopes of landing the perfect job right out of college—after all, now we’re educated and fresh, and who wouldn’t want us? Andrea (Andy) Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is no exception. With dreams of high-class journalism, the new grad with a—shall we say—casual approach to fashion ironically lands a job as the second assistant to New York notoriously high-maintenance fashion editor of Runway magazine, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep). In her mind, this is a one-year stint that will get her the contacts she needs to become a serious journalist, but when Miranda’s demands rapidly devour Andy’s life, she is forced to confront what it takes to get ahead in her career.

The “devil” in this movie rather clearly refers to the “Dragon Lady” editor—she is unrealistic, condescending, aloof, and generally rude. But, as my fellow critic pointed out afterwards, there is a definite reference to the fashion industry in general, and how insidiously it captivates us all, whether we know it or not. Particularly interesting to me was the flagrant mockery of the “number game.” While I was initially concerned by the jokes that Andy was “fat” (a whopping size 6), it soon became a running joke about how ridiculously thin models have to be, and the drastic measures they take to maintain a size 0 (which was the old size 2, by the way). As a woman who has felt the pressures of the number game, I appreciated the way Prada pokes fun at the emphasis on size and diet, making it evident that it’s all pretty much irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. After all, Miranda Priestly is no toothpick—in fact she has a very flattering womanly shape—and no one comments on her being “fat”!

Another prominent theme throughout the movie is that of choices—and what we do when we feel like we don’t have them. Several times when Andy has neglected her group of close friends, including her boyfriend, she bemoans the fact (or at least her perception) that she “didn’t have a choice.” After the third of fourth repetition of this rather pathetic whine, it’s pretty clear that we’re watching Andy learn that she’s making choices all the time, and they have consequences. She does have a choice, and her choices to proverbially kiss Miranda Priestly’s demanding hiney eventually cost her her closest friends. But what’s a career-minded girl to do?

Ultimately, the tension revolves around Andy’s choices—and how she reconciles these choices with who she is and who she wants to be. One of the strengths of the movie is that, until the end, the audience isn’t absolutely certain how she will choose—will she abandon the high-class fashion industry altogether? Or will she make choices that will allow her to continue in her career without sacrificing her relationships? It’s a choice Andy will make, and it may not be the one you expect.

Artistically speaking, Prada isn’t a blockbuster, but a truly ensemble cast (including Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt) makes for a (somewhat surprisingly) three-dimensional movie. Streep plays the invincible Priestly to a “T,” and when the façade cracks for just a moment, Streep captures the depth of character in a truly stunning and engaging manner.

Prada certainly made for an enjoyable evening, as well as numerous post-viewing discussions. While I imagine it will appeal more to the women in the audience, it shouldn’t be relegated to the “chick flick” bin—there’s plenty of meat to chew on for the men, too.

Because real women eat carbs.

Relentless (Novel)

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 12:47:00 +0000

Author: Robin Parrish
Bethany House, July 2006

Synopsis:
Grant Borrows' life has just taken a drastic left turn. There's another man in the world wearing his face and living his life. What's more, the man he sees in the mirror is a stranger. Somehow, he's been Shifted—his whole life fundamentally altered, in the space of a single breath. But the changes don't stop at skin-level. Inexplicably, he's able to affect objects around him by simply thinking about them. And as he soon learns, he's become the central figure in a vast web of intrigue that stretches from an underground global conspiracy to a prophecy dating back over seven thousand years, that tells of his coming. Enemies and allies find him at every turn, but one thing they all learn very quickly is that you don't want to push Grant Borrows too far... Can destiny be undone?

The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us that there’s nothing new under the sun, and with literature that is very often the case. Every story is a new take on an old theme, a theme first explored thousands of years ago and simply repackaged over the millennia.

Robin Parrish’s debut novel Relentless, however, has found a brilliant and tantalizing package for the often-overused theme of self-discovery.

In a somewhat sci-fi (sans pointy ears and unconvincing alien forms) setting, Parrish explores what he has termed the Shift—a sudden transformation in a person from one body to another. Our protagonist, Grant Borrows (known pre-Shift as Collin Boyd) is a lonely man, riding a lonely bus to a lonely job for a lonely eight hours of work before returning to his lonely apartment for a lonely evening before going to bed—alone. Suddenly he looks up and sees himself—really, himself—on his way to work. Same briefcase, same watch, same slightly overweight lumbering gait, same disobedient lock of hair continually dropping into his face. He gives chase, briefly, until a strange barefoot woman stops him, interrupts his identity crisis, and basically tells him to act now and ask questions later. His life is in danger, and many people are depending on him. No time to waste.

Meanwhile, he’s caught his reflection in a window—now a svelte, broad-shouldered, well-postured, GQ-type man, he’s more than a little uncomfortable with his new form. Women are looking. But inside he’s still the lonely, overweight, dead-end job “loser” he’s convinced himself to be. Inside the fine leather wallet he finds in his finely-tailored coat pocket, there is a load of money (another novelty), a driver’s license with his new name, and the key to a bachelor-pad-furnished penthouse apartment is a flashy neighborhood.

This was going to take some getting used to.

So begins the journey of a new man—a man given a new life of responsibility and adventure—the life he once dreamed of, and now he’s not sure he likes it. Intense, sometimes eerie, and always engaging, Borrows’ plight to understand his role in saving a special group of people (of which he has become one) explores the ups and downs of becoming a savior. Parrish draws us in with finely-tuned dialogue, surprising but not completely implausible plot twists, numerous interesting and well-developed characters, and yes, a relentless pace.

While I wouldn’t have chosen this book off the library shelf, the combination of an incredibly original narrative of a man striving to reach his potential and brilliant storytelling captivated even my stuffy literary attention. The title page indicates this is the first of a trilogy; if so, I am eagerly awaiting the sequels.

This is one fine debut novel. While Christian themes (particularly regeneration and redemption) are present and very worthy of discussion, there is absolutely no heavy-handed, overtly Christian reference, making it a great read for all audiences, and a superb conversation-starter for those interested in following spiritual themes.

Rather than being a great “Christian novel,” Relentless is a great novel by a very talented Christian writer.

Waking Lazarus (Novel)

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 30 Jun 2006 12:43:00 +0000

Author: T. L. Hines
Bethany House, July 2006

Synopsis:
Jude Allman is no ordinary man: he has been clinically dead three times—and yet he lives. The subsequent celebrity of his “accomplishments” has left him paranoid and more than a little unbalanced. He has changed his name and fled to the quiet anonymity of Montana, where he desperately attempts to hide from the press, his past, and his future. But when a string of crimes against children pervades his relatively quiet life, Jude is called out of his fear and into a new kind of living.

Writer T. L Hines has crafted an amazing work for his debut as a novelist. Unlike many “Christian thrillers,” Waking Lazarus is a good story, well-told, without apology for its underlying faith motif, yet certainly without preaching. Despite being published by a Christian publisher, and having evidently Christian overtones (the opening page bears a quote from the gospel of John), the novel could easily become a “crossover” hit, simply because both the spirituality and the humanity are realistic and absorbing, without ever becoming overbearing. A distinct lack of “Christianese” truly keeps the book well within the range of interest for anyone interested in near-death (or full death and resuscitation) experiences and any flavor of spirituality.

The unlikely marriage of crime thriller and self-examination creates a unique yet intense storyline that Hines has not only deeply contemplated, but made real and tangible for the proverbial Everyman. Jude Allman, the modern-day Lazarus, is beset by paranoia, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and a host of personality quirks that would make a millionaire of any decent psychiatrist. He is scared spitless by his death experiences, by the publicity, and by the potential meaning lurking behind them. In short, Jude Allman is as human as we get—an unequivocally sympathetic character caught in a life the reader might eschew just as thoroughly as Jude. But Hines’ story doesn’t stop there…

To put it rather simplistically, Waking Lazarus is about purpose: fearing it, avoiding it, circumventing it, and finally embracing it. Jude Allman resents his resurrections—to the point of taking on a new identity in order that no one (including himself) will connect him with those three fateful and frightful times when he died—and then didn’t. The constant hiding takes its natural toll, though, in his paranoid window-boarding and home alarm systems and reticence to form any meaningful relationships. But when, after being pulled into the realm of deliberately risking his life for the sake of someone else, he sees some purpose in having thrice been to the Other Side, he is able to welcome his purpose, and begin living.

Yet while purpose is the underlying theme, it does not at all detract from the page-turning crime thriller status that Hines gratifyingly achieves. While not creepy or overtly violent, there are many spine-tingling moments, psychological twists, dangling carrots, and extremely subtle references (i.e., Kristina) that keep the reader engaged with all aspects of the story. The crimes, Jude’s mental torment, and the final twist that brings Jude to his psychological and spiritual sense carry the reader all the way through until the (rather satisfying) end.

In short, Hines has truly succeeded in writing a book with Christian content that can (and I project will) be enjoyed by people of other faiths as well. The universality of accepting both one’s past and one’s future ensures that any spiritually inquisitive reader will find both an engaging crime novel and some spiritual food for thought.

A peculiar recipe, perhaps, but one that will satiate many a reader’s appetite for drama with a backbone.

Interview with Patrick Creadon

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 16 Jun 2006 02:22:00 +0000

Patrick Creadon, director of the documentary Wordplay, has served as a cameraman for literally every major network as well as Paramount Pictures, Disney, Warner Brothers, and numerous others. In his debut as a director, Creadon explores the world of crossword puzzle fans across the country, and their hero, New York Times puzzle creator Will Shortz. He lives with his fellow-crossword puzzling wife, Christine, and their two young daughters, in California. In anticipation of the release of his film, he was kind enough to participate in the following e-interview.

JW: What, specifically, did you find compelling about Will Shortz and the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament?

Patrick Creadon: My wife, Christine O'Malley (producer of Wordplay). and I have been big fans of the New York Times crossword for years, and we'd been looking for a great topic for our first documentary feature for quite some time. One day it just hit us—Why don't we do a movie about Will Shortz and his puzzle? The tournament was not on our radar early on (in fact, we didn't even know there was a tournament until after we'd started the project). Originally the tournament was going to be a sidebar to the rest of the film, but once we shot the tournament—and it's incredibly exciting finish—we knew we had an ending to the film.

JW: Are there any sequences that you wish had been included that weren't? If so, could you discuss one or two of them, and explain a) why they weren't included; and b) why you would have liked them to be?

PC: There were several people we shot for the film that ultimately weren't included in the final cut. This was probably the hardest part of the process for me. I feel very indebted to people when they open up to me and my camera, and not including someone in the final cut makes me feel quite badly. I've since spoken to all of them and they understand the decisions we made in the editing room. They also all really enjoy the film—which takes some of the sting away.

JW: I noticed that there at least seemed to be a distinct absence of minorities at the tournament. Is this an accurate observation? If so, why do you think such is the case? If not, why did we mostly see and hear from Caucasians at the event (leaving aside the fact, of course, that the finalists happened to be white)?

PC: The film is a very accurate portrayal of who attends the tournament. I wish I had an answer for why there aren't more minorities in attendance but I don't. Will Shortz certainly welcomes anyone to attend.... perhaps we'll see a more diverse group at future tournaments.

JW: The film's production notes mention that you're a Wednesday/Thursday puzzler, having been introduced (and immediately addicted) to the NY Times puzzles on your honeymoon. Do you work the puzzles together with your wife, or do you “compete” against each other? Any advice for us can't-even-finish-the-Monday puzzlers?

PC: Christine and I definitely solve together as a team. If we did have a competition I don't think I'd stand a chance. For someone who is intimidated by the puzzle (it does have a fierce reputation!), I recommend you grab a Monday New York Times, rip open the Arts page, and dive in with a #2 pencil. No matter how far you get, grab Tuesday's paper the next day and go over the answers to Monday's puzzle (the answers always appear in the next day's puzzle, except for Saturday's answers which appear on the following Monday).

JW: I agree that changing the focus from “one man and his puzzle” to an exploration of his puzzles through the countless devotees was a wise one. However, I also found myself wanting to know a little more about what makes Will Shortz tick, how he fine tunes the clues, how he can continually come up with new themes and ideas. Could you shed any light on that from what you learned while creating your film?

PC: Will is an extremely intelligent and clever person. He's literally “the man with all the answers.” Originally we were going to devote the entire film to him and his work because he truly is a fascinating man. However, as we started shooting and the movie began to branch out into more characters, we realized that we could learn an awful lot about Will by learning about his fans and the people who attend his tournament. Will is extremely happy with the results of the film, so I think he too is satisfied with the direction we took.

JW: The film notes that people in certain professions are more likely to be successful at crosswords than those in other fields. Did you notice any personality traits (or quirks) that are common among puzzlers? What about the puzzle creators—any interesting common traits among them?

PC: Crosswords fans come from all walks of life, but most of them share certain basic characteristics: they love a challenge, they love the process of figuring things out, and they are highly engaged in the world around them. It's a very intelligent, witty group of people. The ones that are really good at solving often have somewhat of an obsessive personality. And without question they are a decent, hard-working bunch. I've yet to meet a crossword solver who isn't a joy to spend time with. As for crossword constructors, they're really smart and really funny. And if you ever have to drive cross country alone, try to recruit one of them to ride shot-gun with you... they can turn anything and everything into a game.

JW: Did you participate in any part of the tournament, just to see how you'd do? If you did: are you willing to disclose your results (after all I hear Ken Jennings didn't place very high!)? If you didn't: are you willing to conjecture as to how you might have done in the competition?

PC: Ken Jennings actually won the B Division last year, which is amazing for a first-timer. I've yet to compete, but I might give it a go next year!

American Dreamz

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 14:22:00 +0000

LINKS
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

Just what comprises the mystical American Dream? Paul Weitz’s latest production, American Dreamz, explores a not-so-distant potential future in which Reality TV is the savior of everyone from the (pathetic) starry-eyed contestants to the deliberately uninformed (at least through his first term) re-elected President of the United States. A broad look at the elusive pursuit of “success,” Dreamz throws plenty of punches without delivering many effective punchlines.

Winning (the symbol of success à la America) drives three caricature Idol-type contestants to various extremes of competitiveness as they scratch and claw their way to the American dream of fame and fortune. In direct contrast, the famous and fortunate host, Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant), exhibits the empty, self-absorbed celebrity we have come to know and distrust. Is this vapid, self-loathing man really what these contestants want to become?

Well, it would appear so.

The trio of final contestants is as overstated and lampoonish as are the marionette-President and the television host. While Sally Kendoo (Mandy Moore) may be resemble what most of us expect from a superstar wannabe, Omer (a show-tune-loving transplanted terrorist-training-camp failure who is supposed to use a suicide bomb to kill the President on national television) seems to represent satire for satire’s sake, along with Orthodox Jewish rapper Sholem, whose yarmulke stays firmly affixed as he pursues stardom. Not incidentally, these contestants have been selected, at Tweed’s request, because they are “freaks.” Bored with the typical semi-talented but savagely competitive contestants, Tweed has sent his crew to recruit talentless, pathetic naïfs to liven up the show on which, not coincidentally, the President himself will appear as a judge.

The overarching parallel in the story is between celebrity and politics—the contestants (particularly Sally) compete with a voracity rivaling the mudslinging presidential campaigns of recent years. Meanwhile, President Staton himself (Dennis Quaid) is actually losing favor with the public (and his Chief of Staff, played deftly by Willem Dafoe) by becoming more educated about our country and its place in the world, rather than staying willfully ignorant and allowing his Chief of Staff to dictate his every word (literally—through an earpiece).

Weitz’s satirical look at current American culture and the obsession with popularity has its humorous moments, but often takes the issues too far. In a sort of live-action Team America style, nearly every demographic is ritually mocked, from wildly popular (but vapid and self-absorbed) celebrities (Martin Tweed, played by Hugh Grant) to earnest (if naïve) military personnel (Sally Kendoo’s rejected but tenacious boyfriend, William Williams, played by Chris Klein).

But while Weitz’s humor is evenly distributed, there are, it seems, certain issues that never warrant laughter, terrorism perhaps topping the list, followed closely by soldiers injured in the line of duty and, not to be overlooked, suicide. Some may find the farcical depiction of a truly ignorant southern-accented president (whose devoted First Lady affectionately calls him “Poopy”) strikingly similar to a certain other current President of the United States—an either rabidly humorous or patently offensive resemblance, depending on whether the screen is tinted more heavily red or blue. And hypersensitive souls may find themselves offended on behalf of everyone—the “white trash” country singer, the bumbling terrorist and his homosexual manager-cousin, the exploited soldier, and even the “successful” but intensely miserable television star.

It would be nice to be able to say that, in the midst of the broad satire, Weitz offers some glimmer of hope, or some solution to the idolatrous craze that has become the American dream. Unfortunately, there is a distinct lack of anything—or anyone—acting as a positive influence. Instead, we see myriad examples of manipulation, avarice, naïveté, and willful ignorance, with very little sanity to balance the pessimism.

There are dreams, and there are Dreamz, I guess. Let’s just hope that we all wake up from this one.

CONTINUE
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

Ice Age II: The Meltdown

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 30 Mar 2006 23:45:00 +0000

LINKS:
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

Synopsis: Manny, Sid and Diego return in another incredible adventure. With the Ice Age coming to an end, the animals delight in a new world of water parks, geysers and tar pits. But when Manny, Sid and Diego discover an impedning meltdown of the glacier that rims their valley, they must warn everyone in time to escape the coming deluge.

There are a lot of identity issues circulating throughout director Carlos Saldanha’s sequel; consequently, the magnitude of denial might be best measured on the Richter scale. But these issues of identity and purpose undergird the fairly cohesive storyline, with our three main characters (and a fourth newcomer) leading the evacuation from the soon-to-be-flooded valley.

Identity issue one: Manny the Mammoth (Ray Romano) insists that he is not the last of his kind, despite not having seen or heard of any other mammoths for quite some time, and that he is certainly not about to become extinct. His denial works in his favor, though, when Ellie arrives…with identity issue two.

Because Ellie (Queen Latifah), a woolly mammoth, grew up with two wacky possum brothers, Crash and Eddie, she fervently maintains that she's a possum, too. She scampers about, hangs upside down from trees and, of course, plays possum (feigning death in the face of danger). Despite all evidence to the contrary and Manny’s attempts to point out their remarkable similarities (tusks, thick fur, large rear-ends), Ellie remains delightfully and deludedly (if almost psychotically) convinced of her possumhood.

Then there’s Diego (Denis Leary) -- identity issue three. The distinctly rational saber-toothed tiger fears nothing - except water - which hasn’t been a problem in the current solid-water age. But when the meltdown begins breaking ice, Diego vainly hides his hydrophobia, despite its debilitating effect on any ability to lead the evacuation.

And finally there’s poor, pathetic Sid (John Leguizamo) -- identity issue four -- the 'lithping thloth who thinkth he’th a fine leader, beloved by hith peerth and followerth alike.' The truth is that Sid is completely ineffective— the only orders of his that are followed are those reiterated by Manny. Even so, Sid remains convinced that he's the backbone of the evacuation, the firm foundation of intelligence and practicality that will rescue the valley dwellers from annihilation.

So how do these prehistoric beasts with such steep identity issues save their world?
Like the first movie, denial must be breached. They have to admit first that Fast Tony (Jay Leno) is right about the end of the ice age and the upcoming flood. Second, they have to recognize and face their broken selves (except for Sid, who obliviously believes whatever he wants). Eventually, Ellie accepts her true identity just as Manny recognizes the potential to reverse their species' extinction with Ellie's help. And Diego, prompted by his life-coach Sid, conquers his fear of the water in time to rescue others from the breaking ice.

The valley herd is saved from the flood, and the characters are saved from themselves, but not without some well-earned laughs and (thankfully) a complete absence of politically charged comments about global warming. And when things begin to plod, watch for the excellently interspersed “shorts” of Scrat the saber-toothed squirrel and his never-ending quest to grab that last acorn and prepare to laugh.

CONTINUE:
— Overview
— Cast and Crew
— Photo Pages

C. S. Lewis: Beyond Narnia (DVD)

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Mon, 27 Mar 2006 14:19:00 +0000

When Hallmark Channel debuted C. S. Lewis: Beyond Narnia in December of last year, I found that writer/director Norman Stone had splendidly offered us an honest reflection of the man behind not only the Chronicles, but myriad works of wisdom, insight, and creativity. Yet after watching the DVD version of the docudrama, I must confess I am once again overwhelmed.

The DVD release is strikingly different (and better, in my opinion) from the television premiere in one major way: there are no “talking heads,” as Stone put it in an interview with Greg Wright, Senior Editor for HollywoodJesus.com. Without the (nonetheless informative) interruptions by scholars and family members, the hour-long program is able to more fully compose a fluid, profoundly moving picture of C. S. Lewis the man. The time gained by dropping the cursory, disjointed, and somewhat disorienting breaks (which felt like moving from the theatre to the talk show and back again in three sudden segueways) is well spent in further developing and exploring the life and writings of the great apologist and author.

Granted, I was significantly moved by the original showing of the docudrama, talking heads and all; but having seen a more cohesive version with even more of Anton Rodgers, I must say that the DVD brings to full fruition Stone’s vision for a living portrait of C. S. Lewis.

Read Jenn's original review of Beyond Narnia.

Nanny McPhee

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Fri, 27 Jan 2006 15:58:00 +0000

Nanny McPhee is ugly.

So is the behavior of the seven Brown children.

Nanny McPhee has a large, bulbous nose, several facial warts, a certain rotundity of figure, a snaggle tooth, and a decidedly unfeminine unibrow.

The children are out of control, willful, disrespectful, and rude. And they have intentionally chased away the last 17 nannies since their mother died. And they are counting on victim #18.

Having exhausted all the options at his disposal, Mr. Brown is at his wits’ end when Nanny McPhee arrives (out of nowhere), announcing, after a brief interrogation, that the children need her. She then tells the children that as long as they don't want her, but they need her, she will stay; as soon as they want her but do not need her, she is to go. In the meantime, she has five lessons to teach, five ways in which the children's lives will change for the better. (You can imagine the seven pairs of rolling eyes...)

Nanny McPhee's primary teaching tool is to use the children's behavioral whims to her advantage—a bang of her magic stick, and suddenly the children are completely unable to stop the misbehavior they are so intent on performing. So you want to play in the kitchen? OK—now you are unable to stop the mayhem. So you want to lie in bed, pretending you have the measles? OK—now you truly have the measles, and literally cannot arise from your bed.

The screenplay, written by Emma Thompson herself, is decked with little grains of wisdom, mainly spoken from behind that snaggle tooth. However, the most poignant undercurrent is the way in which the characters undergo their own "Extreme Makeovers."

The first lesson that must be learned is saying “please”—and saying it sincerely. This is accomplished in the kitchen-mayhem scene, when the eldest of the seven children, Simon, is forced to sincerely ask Nanny McPhee to break whatever spell is keeping them from stopping their obnoxious and destructive behavior.

Lesson One is learned: the children's behavior loses a piece of its ugliness; and Nanny McPhee loses a wart.

As the movie progresses, the children learn their subsequent lessons, and also learn to accept the consequences of their actions. But each time the children's demeanor improves, so does Nanny McPhee. Over the course of their five lessons learned, Nanny McPhee's warts dissolve; her brow become neatly divided into two very shapely brows (plural); her bulbous nose shrinks; her snaggle tooth disappears; she develops a waistline. With each of the children’s steps toward respect for self and others, Nanny McPhee grows more and more comely.

Nanny McPhee is a fun, delightful movie, taking a 21st century twist on the Practically Perfect Mary Poppins of the olden days. But look out Nip/Tuck. Move over Extreme Makeover. When children learn to respect themselves and others, it affects the beauty of the entire world around them, without ever reaching for a scalpel or laser to remove the ugliness.

And that is the beauty of Nanny McPhee.

The Movie in My Head vs. the Movie on the Screen: Working with Terrence Malick

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 19 Jan 2006 14:02:00 +0000

A Talk with the Cast of The New World

Terrence Malick is an enigma, emerging from seclusion once every fifteen years or so to tell a cinematic story in his own very unique way. His films are generally character studies, often sacrificing the drive of a storyline to explore the behavior of his characters. Unlike many writers and directors, Malick's works are entirely devoid of ethical and moral commentary—he portrays a mass murderer (Badlands) with the same neutrality as a disowned Algonquian girl. Not that there is a lack of passion or depth of personality, but the motives and intentions of the characters are largely left unexamined, and therefore unjudged. It is truly a unique approach, leaving much to the imagination and speculation of the audience.

Also unique to Malick is the practice of changing the script from day to day, even moment to moment. While The New World was first written about 25 years ago, what made it to the screen was very different from what was originally on paper. When asked about the tendency for last-minute changes, actor Wes Studi commented that a scene would often be interrupted by Malick's desire to capture "the grass waving in the wind." Likewise, Q'Orianka Kilcher noted that Malick pushed her acting skills to their limits, cutting vast quantities of spoken communication in favor of body language and facial expressions. For Kilcher, though, the changes merely accentuate an already stunning performance, as her silence often reveals more of Pocahontas' soul than any dialogue could have captured.

In relation to Malick's tendencies to add, subtract, expand, condense, and otherwise alter the script at the last moment, it was interesting to discover how the nearly three-hour film compared to the film the actors had envisioned. Considering that Malick shot a million feet of film (about four times the average for a feature-length movie), there was certainly some question as to what would appear in the final cut. (In fact, Malick has been known to shoot a film and then cut characters—major characters—from the work entirely.) At any rate, Q’Orianka Kilcher, Christian Bale and Wes Studi each had their own expectations of what they would see at the premiere, and the only thing that lessened their surprise was knowing that they would be, somehow, surprised.

Kilcher, whose skills were probably most challenged by the last-minute dialogue cuts, expressed some disappointment regarding several very visceral scenes that didn’t make it to the screen, particularly those involving Pocahontas’ transition from Native American to English colonist. (And, indeed, the movie seemed a bit top-heavy, spending the majority of time on Pocahontas as a playful sprite of a girl, and comparatively little on the staggering transformation of the young woman as she leaves her Native identity behind.)

Bale, whose actual screen time was probably most affected by Malick’s editorial whims, was nonetheless pleased by the outcome. While Rolfe only appears as a major character very late in the movie, Bale was particularly pleased by the spiritual progression evident in Rolfe’s character —the “idea of a spiritual journey” from the rigidity of England to the relative freedom offered by new surroundings. And despite the relative brevity of Rolfe’s character (which seems far greater thanks to Bale’s outstanding performance), Bale remained exceptionally enthusiastic about the work, noting that it was “the most perfect acting environment [he] could imagine.”

Wes Studi (Opechancanough) was probably the most surprised by what was not included in the final cut. Openly preferring "the nastier side of human nature,” Studi felt that the battle scenes showed far less of the violence inherent in those initial confrontations between the two worlds, also noting that while much of that fury and brutality was choreographed and filmed, very little found its way into the movie itself. Perhaps his final comment conveys best what many of those involved in the project feel: he’s “looking forward to the DVD release” in order to see more footage—and “a lot more Terrence.”

The New World

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 19 Jan 2006 13:56:00 +0000

The story of Pocahontas is the stuff of legend, and there is no doubt that The New World bears the personal stamp of writer/director Terrence Malick’s artful combination of historical documentation and brilliant imagination to bring a fresh and multi-layered story to the screen. And if you generally appreciate director Terrence Malick's body of work (The Thin Red Line, Badlands, Days of Heaven), The New World will reinforce your devotion. The film is visual poetry, with stunning cinematography and impassioned acting accompanied by an impressive classical score by James Horner. And while the story itself is largely speculation, the movie is incredibly well researched, with much of the voiceover (one of Malick's favorite cinematic devices) lifted directly from the writings of the colonists.

Malick's story of the young Pocahontas follows her journey from being a free-spirited Native American girl through her passionate love affair with John Smith, her father’s disownment, and her ultimate immersion into the Western culture, complete with Christian baptism and the adoption of a Western name. It is a complex story, told largely through silence, which is simultaneously distressing and beautiful.

The foundational underpinnings of the story revolve around tension between choices—and in true Malickian form, he offers no moral commentary. Rather, the characters are shown in all their conflicted vulnerability, making their choices for their own reasons—reasons that aren't always clear to the audience. We're not privy to the rationale behind John Smith's choice to fabricate his death, nor are we certain why Pocahontas betrays the plans of her tribe's attack on the colonists. In superb parallel with real life, we are only able to speculate on why the characters choose as they do. One of Malick's great strengths is his ability to portray characters and their actions completely neutrally—there are no white hats or black hats, only people making difficult choices.

Part of the beauty of the story is the contrast between the dream and the reality for Pocahontas. The passionate romance with John Smith represents the dream—the Christian marriage to John Rolfe represents the reality. Like the Englishmen whose expectations of abundance and freedom ultimately gave way to the reality of work, disease, and war, the young Pocahontas dives headfirst into a steamy relationship with a less-than-stable man, yet ultimately finds her reality in the man who loves her so much as to be willing to let her go back to Smith if she should so choose. The conflicts between dreams and realities allow the audience to remain morally neutral as well—a stunning accomplishment for Malick when so many moral and ethical issues are in the forefront of the story (cultural imperialism, faithfulness, personal integrity, just to name a few).

It must be said that Q'Orianka Kilcher shines in her first major role. The 15-year-old was forced to master the art of silence, as there is very little dialogue in the 2 ½ -hour movie. When asked about the need to express so much without words, Kilcher noted that she was often required to speak only the first part of a written line, and "act out" the rest. This she does with stunning depth, retaining the historically playful nature of Pocahontas while plumbing the depths of grief, loneliness, and despair.

Pocahontas' conversion to Christianity (including changing her name to Rebecca), like other morally neutral choices in the movie, begs an interesting question for both the characters and the audience. It appears as though the adoption of the Christian faith is simply the next step for the young woman—a necessity for marriage to John Rolfe and integration into the colonists' community. Her conversion itself carries no more weight than her squeezing into a corset and shoes, or her learning to read and write in English. And despite going through the rites of baptism and christening, she continues addressing her "Mother" in prayer, though whether she addresses her biological mother or Earth Mother, we are not certain. What is clear, however, is that there is no joy or hope depicted in the conversion. There is no heartfelt embrace of something many cling to in times of loneliness and grief. In short, there appears to be no heart in her decision to convert; it is rather another step toward her Westernization.

Probably the most profound realization for me was that the celebrated New World simply was not a New World. It was the collision of two very old worlds, combining to form something very new, but not separate from its dual heritage. I had never thought about how the story of Pocahontas was less a story of the beginning of America than of the merging of two very long histories into one. There is nothing "new" about the New World, as the English-Americans wanted to believe. There was no way to leave their Englishness behind, nor was it possible to avoid permanently disturbing the Native American cultures as they imposed themselves upon the land. Rather than "discovering" or "establishing" a New World, an Old World descended upon an Older World, and the nation-child born of the union was only new in its form; its genetic history stretches farther than the stories we can tell.

The Wonder Within You

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 15 Dec 2005 17:48:00 +0000

Author: David Manners, edited by David Morgan Jones

Trafford, ISBN: 1412050138

Nonfiction

Many people may recognize the name David Manners from his days in Hollywood. While his acting career was relatively short (1930-1936), his work was indeed prodigious, with nearly forty films to his credit, including such artistic classics as Dracula, The Mummy, and The Millionaire. Unlike many big-name stars, however, David Manners left the life of monetary success and became rather an ascetic, spending the next half-century as “a metaphysician and philosopher,” plumbing the depths of his own soul for wisdom not only for himself but to share with others. His prolific and vulnerable writings on the soul, spirituality, and the self embrace teachings from Jesus Christ, Buddha, Lao-tzu, Emerson, and Rumi, among numerous others.

In recognition of the 75th anniversary of David Manners’ break into fame, David Morgan Jones has selected and organized a compilation of many of Manners’ journal writings, incorporating entries and letters spanning his entire lifetime. Included is a brief biography of the actor-philosopher, which traces the beginnings of Manners’ search for enlightenment from childhood through his reclusive adulthood. The book is then arranged somewhat topically, with reflections, musings, and excerpts from personal letters grouped by theme rather than by chronology.

Despite my foundational disagreements with Manners’ general concepts of enlightenment and the soul, I found his thinking and expression challenging and insightful. His observations regarding emotion, self-awareness, and Being may take some effort to grasp, but show serious contemplation and a definitive commitment to sharing his enlightenment with others.

It is perhaps this admirable commitment that leaves the reader feeling as if he is reading the same thought over and over, just expressed in a different way. While this is certainly helpful, as different people will connect with certain forms of expression more easily than others, it lends a certain sense of repetition to the compilation as a whole. This is not to belittle the existent wisdom and expression; it is more a recommendation for how to approach the book most effectively. Consider it best served as contemplative hors d’ouevres, most palatable when taken in small bits and savored, rather than making a meal of them and trying to digest them all at once.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 08 Dec 2005 21:19:00 +0000

LINKS
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Lovers of C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia can breathe a collective sigh of relief—perhaps, even, a sigh of wonder and enchantment: your beloved book has successfully made it to the screen. Andrew Adamson’s execution of this prodigious task is sure to delight Narnia fans across the board. The story itself remains wholly intact, and Narnia does, indeed, come alive in a way that has thus far been entrusted only to our literary imaginations.

On the whole, the movie is pleasing. The performances of James McAvoy as Mr. Tumnus, Skandar Keynes as Edmund, and Liam Neeson as the voice of Aslan particularly stand out among the highlights of the film.

Likewise, the CGI is well-integrated and, for the most part, realistic (the atomic-bomb phoenix comes to mind immediately as a fascinating addition to the battle scene). And, of course, the New Zealand vistas add to that sense of “other-worldliness” that effectively separates Narnia from London.

The opening sequence, a literarily apocryphal sort of exploration of how the children come to be at the Professor’s house, draws the audience into the story immediately. Witnessing the bombing raids in London and the wrenching decision of a mother to send her four children to a stranger for safety’s sake offers us an early opportunity to sympathize with the children in their displacement.

Edmund, a “still waters run deep” young man, perhaps feels the abandonment most profoundly, yet is least likely to express it in any emotionally vulnerable way. Rather, as they stand on the platform anxiously awaiting their tardy transportation to the Professor’s house, Edmund astutely (and somewhat presciently) suggests that “perhaps [they’ve] been mislabeled,” an indication of his own sense of estrangement, even among his own siblings. This introduction to both the story and Edmund’s psyche engage the audience almost immediately, opening the door to the children’s world before we enter another.

It is this introduction to Edmund and his subsequent transformation that rather significantly remind each of us how easily we justify our rash choices, how effortlessly we forget the needs of others and focus on our own desires. Edmund is no wicked, dark-hearted weakling who chooses evil out of spite or revenge. Rather, he is a lonely, frustrated boy, who (like all of us at some point) desperately wants to be more than he is. The most poignant element of the film is observing Edmund as he becomes more than he was—not because of anything he was able to do—in fact, just the opposite—because of what has been done for him: Aslan’s sacrifice.

Yet the movie’s rather strict adherence to the book seems to be both an asset and a liability in this case. While the film is sure to be lauded as a “faithful rendition” of the novel, there’s something to be said for a little creative license to make a well-known story a little less predictable and a little more, well, art. For example, many die-hard Tolkien fans took issue with Peter Jackson’s artistic interpretations of The Lord of the Rings. But the effect of those changes was that even the Middle-earth experts found nuances in the film trilogy, and the movies themselves were perhaps more engaging because one didn’t necessarily know what was coming next. Such expansions on the original story serve to drive the films from being merely moment-by-moment reproductions of the text to becoming art—that is, an artist’s unique rendition or interpretation of something that already is.

Such judicious departure from the structure of the written word might have made Adamson’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe a more interesting and more aesthetically satisfying piece. Instead, it seems that the reins on his creativity were perhaps held a little too tightly, and consequently the land beyond the wardrobe does not meet its full, enchanting potential.

Perhaps the best way to describe my reaction is to say that I had hoped to visit Narnia myself—to go through the wardrobe and find myself in another world. Instead, it seemed I was taken to the edge of the wardrobe, and rather than being pulled that final step into Narnia, I had to settle for spectator status. Now, that being said, being on onlooker in Adamson’s Narnia is no drudgery. Indeed, his Narnia is a delightful, charming world, with fantastically creative creatures, beautiful scenery, and adventures aplenty. In fact, it’s so delightful that I do want to be there—thus the relative disappointment at not quite making that fateful step.

For those whose hearts are yearning to see a consistent reproduction of Lewis’ first Narnia book, the movie will not fail you. For those wanting to see a bit more creativity and personality injected into the muscles of Lewis’ already robust work, you may have to engage your own imagination to supplement the screen.

Images Copyright 2005 Disney Enterprises, Inc. and Walden Media, LLC. All rights reserved.

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C. S. Lewis: Beyond Narnia

jenn@dramatic-insights.org (Jenn Wright) — Thu, 01 Dec 2005 05:45:00 +0000

It is widely accepted that the task of bringing the creative spawn of C. S. Lewis to the silver screen is a daunting one. The Chronicles of Narnia has faced the nuances and criticisms of several generations, and has steadfastly endured as a bestseller for nearly fifty years, yet the question has remained: can it be successfully put on film?

But if taking an artist’s literary creation to the screen is a difficult undertaking, then capturing the life and spirit of the artist—exploring the mind and soul that produced such a work of art—is monumental.

C. S. Lewis: Beyond Narnia attempts such a feat—and succeeds. While docudramas are frequently vague on the “docu” and heavy on the “drama,” Beyond Narnia reveals the character of a real man—one whom we might wish to know better. Contributing significantly to this honest depiction is writer/director Norman Stone’s skillful use of substantial excerpts from Lewis’ non-fiction works as the foundation for the underlying narrative. By using Lewis’ own words, documentary meets drama in a very pleasing, intelligent, and engaging way. Quotes from Mere Christianity, A Grief Observed, Surprised by Joy, and The Four Loves, among others, offer the audience the confidence that what they are hearing is, indeed, Lewis—not a paraphrase, not an interpretation, but his own words, expressing his own thoughts and experiences and feelings. The breadth of Lewis’ work lends itself well to such an approach, and is molded into a beautiful, balanced piece of art and understanding by Stone.

With the strength of Lewis’ own words as the cornerstone of the script, the story of Lewis’ life as expressed in Beyond Narnia finds a resonance and candor that are frequently lacking in biopics. Though the movie itself is only sixty minutes, the audience follows Lewis through numerous influential experiences, beginning with his “idyllic” childhood, which was brutally disrupted by his mother’s death and his father’s subsequent withdrawal. From there we journey with him from his rejection of God through his coming to faith, and finally from his nearly euphoric romance with Joy Davidman through his almost fathomless grief over her death. Without flinching, Beyond Narnia delves into the profound crests and canyons that Lewis traversed, without over- or underplaying any single event. Rather, it is a full depiction of some of the most profound experiences that shaped Lewis into the man he was.

Finally, complementing the strength and depth of Stone’s script is actor Anton Rodgers’ immensely accessible, erudite portrayal of the man Lewis. While Lewis himself may have been somewhat less emotionally available than the depiction in the movie, Rodgers certainly offers a stirring performance of a man whose love and loss the audience intimately shares. Despite the genuine tragedies in Lewis’ life and his subsequent crises of faith (first in the existence and later in the nature of God), Rodgers maintains a sense of British propriety and reserve, while still successfully conveying the intensity of Lewis’ heartache and doubt.

C. S. Lewis: Beyond Narnia brings us “further up and further in” to the life of the creator of Narnia, offering the audience a glimpse into the heart of the man whose wisdom and insight still holds influence in literary, philosophical, and theological discussions forty years after his death.