I Am...Impressed

Making New York City empty is damned near impossible, but the opening shots of “I Am Legend” depict NYC as a jungle-like wasteland full of stampeding deer and grass-split pavement. What’s most amazing is that the film’s post-apocalyptic vision of the Big Apple is absolutely convincing. The opening shots establish the barren, decrepit landscape in which military scientist Robert Neville (Will Smith) prowls, searching for anything to help him find a cure for the KV virus (to which he is one of the few humans immune), originally thought to be a cure for cancer, that mutated and killed 2/3 of the humans on the planet, turning all but 12 million of the rest into bloodthirsty zombie-like creatures that are inexplicably vulnerable to UV rays.

The computer generated dilapidation of Robert Neville’s lonely Long Island is awe-inspiring and director Francis Lawrence (“Constantine”) and cinematographer Andrew Lesnie (“King Kong,” “Lord of the Rings” trilogy) handle their land o’ special effects with care. Brooding, atmospheric shots investigate the lonely environment with graceful push-ins that emphasize and make concrete the abstract concept of an uninhabited metropolis. The dread and paranoia inherent in the thoroughly existential surroundings are elucidated by Will Smith’s solid, confident performance. Unlike the tongue-in-cheek, “I say funny shit that 13-year-olds laugh at” performances of “Independence Day” and “I, Robot,” Smith acts with depth and purpose in “I Am Legend,” leaving the “Aw, Hell naw”s behind. Smith’s incredibly natural rapport with his pet dog in the film (canines are immune the airborne strain of the KV virus), Sam, is inspiring and evokes enormous pathos in many scenes. In many ways, Smith creates a rounded human being for the first time in his career. Robert Neville actually thinks about large problems and faces genuine drama, rather than just being a semi-comedic navigator of elaborate set pieces with exploding crap (although there is some pretty cool exploding crap in “I Am Legend”). The film combines Smith’s past strengths and action film chops with a new, deeply human facet that enables Smith to carve out a complete and fascinating protagonist.


In fleshing out Smith’s character, the film takes time to detail Neville’s past as a fighter of the virus during its early days, before it became airborne. The film accomplishes this explanation of Neville’s past in well-placed and brilliantly realized flashbacks that reveal the fate of his family and the fate of NYC in the wake of the disease’s spread. Perhaps most stunning about these flashbacks is their interesting resonance with the events of 9/11. During one flashback scene, military helicopters bomb Brooklyn Bridge in an effort to quarantine the island. This violent image is combined with the depiction of a traffic-jam full of New Yorkers attempting to leave the island before the quarantine to create a terrorized city, brimming with fear. Sound familiar? This frenetic destruction is further grounded as a strong political metaphor by Robert Neville’s repeated proclamation, “This is ground zero. This is my site” when confronted about leaving the city. The introduction of the extremely loaded term “ground zero” when describing a severely damaged New York City strikes a connotative chord that is no doubt intentional and Neville’s resolve to remain in the city and continue his work in trying to cure the KV virus, intending to (like Bob Marley, his idol) spread love and positivity, is certainly a sort of optimistic rallying cry for political change through cooperation and kindness (it might be unrealistic, but still admirable). Neville proves himself to be a hero through his various courageous actions and his bravery in the face of extreme hardship. His heroism is particularly apparent once he meets up with two fellow survivors, Anna (Alice Braga) and Ethan (Charlie Tahan), from Maryland who stop in NYC to pick him up on their way to an alleged survivors’ colony in Vermont.

In Robert Neville’s confrontation with Anna and Ethan, matters of faith and science meet in a head on collision that seems to be resolved by an interesting and very humanistic synthesis of spiritual irrationality and pragmatic reason, which is perhaps the film’s central message. This irrational faith in a positivist future, a sort of indefatigable optimism, seems to be the separating factor between the human and the inhuman in “I Am Legend” and is the factor that transforms the purely scientific into the humanistic. This is evident is the initial scene in the film, which seems indicative of the survivalist realm the film takes place in, seemingly lacking humanity. In this scene, Neville is hunting deer through the city streets, littered with abandoned vehicles and weeds, in a Shelby Mustang with a high-powered rifle. He is a human predator with maximized potential. Once the deer enter a frozen block of abandoned traffic, Neville tracks them on foot, but his prey is overtaken by a small pride of lions, presumably escaped from the zoo since the devastation. Neville watches on respectfully as the superior predator wrangles the deer.


In this opening sequence the survival-of-the-fittest, harsh environment is illustrated perfectly and Neville’s place, as an individual attempting to not only survive, but save others through his work, is presented as a contrasting, distinctly human quality amidst the competitive, self-interest of the lions, and, most importantly, the infected humans, referred to as (check out this morally-tinged nickname) “dark-seekers.” The value of selflessness is reiterated in the film’s finale, which accentuates the value of faith and the transcendent nature of optimism, as well as (man, is it trite) the healing power of love and care. For a doomsday film, “I Am Legend” packs a very hopeful punch, full of what some would call a naïve sense of morality, particularly considering that the film’s morality is only justified by many miracle-like coincidences that almost certainly attempt to validate the existence of God, or some creative/controlling external force. This is a hell of an ambition for a sci-fi/horror/action film, but at least it’s an ambition.

If the film suffers from anything, it is the CGI “dark-seekers.” Frankly, they look worse than the monsters in a “Resident Evil” videogame. It’s astounding that a film that uses such convincing CGI to create the disaster zone New York City would have such horribly rendered creatures. The monsters open their raging jaws to unrealistic extremes and leap around clumsily, without any concern for actual physics, seeming more like props than actual characters or people (albeit mutated). While it’s fairly standard to have such shoddily-created creatures in horror films, a film as good as “I Am Legend” is severely crippled by these special effects, especially when it has such an excellent script, visual design, and art direction. Here’s hoping that Will Smith decides to continue this whole “good acting” thing and that he helps get some equally impressive projects off the ground.

by Brandon Colvin
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Alethiometers, Ice Bears, and Daemons, Oh My!

Expressing anti-religious (not anti-spiritual!) sentiments in child-oriented films is a tough and hazardous stream to navigate. Miraculously, director Chris Weitz and crew have found a balance of dangerous social commentary and fantastical thrills in “The Golden Compass.” The film, although diminishing the anti-religiosity of Phillip Pullman’s 1995 novel, maintains its anti-authoritarian convictions without becoming overly preachy (get it?).

For those who aren’t acquainted with the source material (myself included), “The Golden Compass” traces the exciting path of a young girl, named Lyra Belacqua (Dakota Blue Richards), as she finds herself deep within a power struggle between the authoritarian, conservative Majesterium (an entity VERY similar to the Catholic Church) and a renegade group of intellectuals seeking to understand the nature of “dust” (I’ll let you figure out what it symbolizes) by toying with some aurora up north and maneuvering around with a golden compass, or alethiometer, which enables anyone who can read it (basically, children, having the almighty innocence necessary) access to the direct truth. The Majesterium fears public access to truth (imagine that) and seeks to co-opt the golden compass, which has found its way into young Lyra’s hands by way of her gallivanting uncle, Lord Asriel (Daniel Craig), who is the spearhead of the intellectual “dust” movement. Following her tense, repressive stay with the icy Majesterium representative, Ms. Coulter (helluva last name), who attempts to surreptitiously capture Lyra, employing her as an “assistant” for her travels to the north, Lyra begins a quest, using the alethiometer, to solve a recent string of kidnappings in which many of her friends have been taken and which may or man not involve Ms. Coulter. All of these figures, of course, dwell in a parallel universe to ours, as the opening narration clarifies, where people wear their souls on the outside. These souls, called “daemons” are represented as animals that can talk and interact with others and that have a voodoo-doll-like relationship with their respective humans. If a person’s corresponding daemon is killed, they die, and vice-versa.

The imagination illuminating the source material is fantastic and the film thrives from having such an excellent and well-crafted mythology to explore. The CGI animals in the film are particularly astounding as wonderful examples of literary imagination turned into cinematic reality. The daemons in the film are impressive, especially the children’s daemons, as they are still shifting since the souls of the children haven’t settled yet. Lyra’s daemon, named Pan (short for Pantalaimon), morphs interchangeably between a ferret, a cat, a mouse, and a sparrow – maintaining an incredible amount of cuteness, no doubt a result of Freddie Highmore’s endearing vocal work. When watching the film, one is left desiring a daemon of his/her own, a steadfast friend who is cute and cuddly. It’s a marvelous concept. Likewise, the ice bears in “The Golden Compass” present a visual feast. The ice bears are gigantic polar bears that live in the artic regions. Keeping with the incredibly imaginative nature of the source material, the ice bears talk and have a complex, warlike society in which status is gained through armored combat. One ice bear, a dethroned and exiled former prince named Iorek Byrnison (Ian McKellan) who has turned to alcoholism and is quite the curmudgeon, encounters Lyra on her journey and is eventually led back to the ice bear kingdom, where he challenges the bear (yes, they all have Scandinavian names) who took his throne, Ragnar Sturlusson (Ian McShane). Their battle scene is a triumph of CGI and is one of the ballsiest sequences I have ever seen in a child-oriented film, featuring an incredibly grisly finale.


Acting-wise, the film is very strong, led by the performances of Nicole Kidman as the complex Ms. Coulter and the effortless magnificence of Sam Elliott as the Wild West-styled aeronaut (person who flies around in a badass ship) named Lee Scorseby. Kidman’s character is certainly the richest in the film and her depth increases as the film progresses, creating a very torn, confused individual who simultaneously evokes terror and sympathy. Kidman is pitch-perfect in the role, exuding the cold confidence and calm ruthlessness that matches the character’s stark blue eyes and immaculate appearance. Sam Elliott practically IS his character, a wise old cowboy whose goodhearted smile and caring eyes guide Lyra with a soft-spoken paternal influence. Just as in “The Big Lebowski,” Elliott finds a way to fill the screen with an ineffable warmth that feels like Christmas.

The major problem “The Golden Compass” has is the massive impact that the compression of the novel for cinematic translation has on the film’s pacing. Many sequences feel rushed and compacted, with information glossed over and emotions unearned. This is probably a result of having to shrink all of the information from a 400ish page book into a two-hour film that is viable at the box office. Also, the elimination of many more blatantly anti-religious aspects of the novel no doubt has an influence on the awkwardly rushed narrative. The effect of this is quite obtrusive and one may feel a little cheated by ending, which seems forced. However, considering that the actual ending of the novel, which is quite substantial, is left out, probably so as not to offend Catholics and such, it would be nearly impossible to have created a logical ending that felt correct. I would love to see an extended edit of the film, maybe with an extra 30 minutes or so, which includes the ending and probably some significant deleted scenes.

The theoretical “The Golden Compass: Director’s Cut” would surely rock my world and while the version in theaters now is certainly adequate and in some instances brilliant, it is lacking the proper pacing and narrative cohesion that Phillip Pullman’s novel has.

by Brandon Colvin
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Lost in the Fog

The usually sure-handed Frank Darabont has created a mess of extra-dimensional, tentacled proportions in “The Mist,” his adaptation of Stephen King’s novella of the same name. While Darabont has had success helming adaptations of King’s more “literary” pieces, “The Shawshank Redemption” and “The Green Mile,” he handles King’s horror work without the same unity, simplicity, and character-based dynamics that made his previous works excel.

“The Mist” is full of great ideas; however, none are given enough space, time, or care to be examined as thoroughly as they deserve. The film depicts the experience of the citizens of Castle Rock, Maine, particularly the family of David Drayton (Thomas Jane), when a mysterious storm, complete with fatal mist, overtakes their town, trapping many of them within a supermarket where they must discover the nature of their problem and, basically, solve it. It is revealed, rather early in the film, that the mist contains a veritable zoo of CGI monsters, including a mysterious octopus-like entity and some enormous scorpion-locusts. A later (pointless) twist clarifies that the beasts crossed over into our world from an alternate dimension, being granted access by a group of (you guessed it) rogue military scientists. All of this sci-fi nonsense is really secondary (or at least it should be) in a film that is more interesting when it isn’t clear what’s in the mist and when the people inside are fighting amongst themselves.


During their imprisonment in the supermarket, the group of citizens engages in numerous conflicts (not even counting fighting off mutant pterodactyls) involving a variety of interesting theological, philosophical, political, and sociological ideas. The conflicts between the citizens cover issues including the merit of logical thinking, the dangers of faith-based societies, the irreducibility of the unknown, the place of violence in society, the detriments of trusting military establishments, the scary truth of scientific advancement, and the necessity of hope. The problem with “The Mist” is that it attempts to touch on ALL of these issues, leaving them ALL essentially untouched. The film could’ve been saved if a single issue had been selected out of all of these to be covered in greater depth. An excellent example of this approach can be seen in George Romero’s horror classic “Dawn of the Dead” (1978). In the film, Romero covers many of the bases pertaining to consumerism and socioeconomic realities and how they impact American society. “Dawn of the Dead” has an effectively narrowed focus and this gives it the ability to actually say something significant, a goal that “The Mist” seems to have but which it never achieves.

The most visceral, arresting tangent that “The Mist” careens onto deals with the establishment of a cult-like group of supermarket-trapped citizens that is constantly quoting the Book of Revelation and yelling about Biblical beasts and “expiation.” This group, led by an ultra-conservative tight ass named Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden), considered the local religious nut, creates a stronghold of power and fanaticism and becomes an oppressive, totalitarian institution within the sequestered community of trapped supermarket shoppers. These power-hungry zealots are infinitely more terrifying that the shoddily animated monsters that fill the screen with half-assed, terrible looking graphics, debasing the terror and suspense to the level of shock-n-gore instead of genuine dread and atmosphere. Shifting the focus from acid-spitting spiders to real people and leaving the mist undefined and mysterious, maintaining its theological significance, could make “The Mist” a potentially incredible, although extremely different, film.


Aside from the film’s scatterbrained content, its style, pacing, and script are completely incompetent. The cinematography of the film is inspired at times, but unimpressive on the whole. Shot by two camera crews from television’s “The Shield,” the film contains many of the handheld, rapidly zooming shots common in “gritty” shows, like “K-Ville” and “24.” This visual schema would be more effective if the characters in “The Mist” were actually rounded and the dialogue and script didn’t sound as if the screenwriter was an angst-ridden high school student. However, flat characters making cutesy, semi-wry remarks and vaguely witty, hackneyed speeches combined with “gritty” cinematography results in a tonal clash similar to what might happen if one tried to make a neo-realist musical.

As far as pacing goes, “The Mist” speeds through what it should really concentrate on: characterization. The introductory portion of the film should define its characters in very subtle, specific ways. This would theoretically allow for the previously established characters to be revealed as more complex and intricate in the rest of the film. However, “The Mist” doesn’t seem to really bother with its characters in a serious sense until the action has already kicked in. Everything is glazed over. The characters aren’t revealed in their normal lives and this forces them to all seem like abnormal, unbelievable people. Only the stereotypical reactions of stock characters in scary situations are available as characterization and this makes the film feel detached, unreal, and ultimately ineffective, when it could be incredibly involving.

“The Mist” is full of ambition but bereft of the focus and the tight storyline that made Frank Darabont’s earlier films so admirable. The potential of the film is obvious and the film may certainly be limited by its source material. If you decide to brave “The Mist,” be prepared for a frustrating amalgam of clichés and misfires, as well as an ending that will probably make you comment out loud, “That’s just stupid as hell.”

by Brandon Colvin

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NYFF: Wes Anderson and the Coens

Although the selections may be far from what the public will call “daring,” the New York Film Festival had an intriguing selection from the onset. Though it is the foreign selections that really caught my eye, the NYFF had two of the most anticipated American films of the fall. Their opening night selection “The Darjeeling Limited” directed by Wes Anderson and the festival centerpiece “No Country For Old Men” directed by Joel and Ethan Coen came in with lots of buzz. Anything directed by Anderson seemingly has an immediate following for anyone from the ages of 15-29. “No Country For Old Men” had glowing reviews coming out of the Cannes Film Festival and is considered by many to be a top Oscar contender.


What is most interesting in considering the two films side by side is the distinctive styles of each of the films and how the style serves the narrative. “The Darjeeling Limited” is exactly what the cinematic world has come to expect from Wes Anderson. Each frame is stuffed full of nifty little images, interesting color schemes, and plenty of slow motion scenes with people running to indie pop music. Anderson chooses the landscape of India to set his “spiritual journey,” which is the only change he makes in his aesthetic or, indeed, his entire film. “The Darjeeling Limited” feels like the Wes Anderson that everyone used to find charming on repeat. It may be this regurgitation of his previous films in the new work that makes “The Darjeeling Limited” feel so forced, uninteresting, and inauthentic in its grasping for a higher level.

From the opening sequence of the brothers running onto the train, Anderson attempts to use his style and images to draw the audience in, or maybe he just expects his audience to be in love with his style from the onset. Instead of being inventive or profound, Anderson’s aesthetic is immediately overbearing and crushes the rest of the film. Whereas in “Rushmore” and “The Royal Tennenbaums” it seemed like the birth of a provocative young directing, “The Darjeeling Limited” feels amateurish with smug references to Renoir and the short film predecessor “Hotel Chevalier,” stiff unfunny humor, and overwhelming sentimentality. The film wants to take us all on a spiritual journey, yet the characters are all so similarly uninteresting that it is hard to want to follow them to the “higher ground.” Throwing aside their baggage, literally, at the end of the film is a slap in the face to audience. Clearly Anderson wants to tie everything up at the end of the film, which is perfectly fine, but the overt methods given his prior work are demeaning and unnecessary. From the first moment on, “The Darjeeling Limited” is less concerned with the story it is telling than with the way it is telling it.




Whereas “The Darjeeling Limited” fails due to its overly stylized tendencies, “No Country For Old Men” showcases the ability of mature directors and actors to blend all of the distinct separate elements of a film into a cohesive and powerful film. The Coens deviate little in their adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel and the choice to follow the text pays great dividends. Considered one of our greatest living writers, McCarthy writes about extreme characters with radical points of view in order to illustrate to the audience, who is constantly living in a middle ground gray area, the destructive power that the extremes hold. Though his view of humanity is downright depressing, the Coens along with their actors create subtle nuances in each camera movement and line of dialogue to establish a sly level of humor that helps the audience survive in between horrific spurts of nihilistic violence.

Javier Bardem is utterly frightening and unforgettable as the villain Chigurh, who kills with logic yet no moral conscience- he gives or takes away life at the flip of a quarter. Bardem, too, finds strange moments for humor, as if his hair cut did not do it anyway, which make Chigurh even more despicable. Chigurh is more concerned with keeping his boots clean rather than disposing of dead bodies; he knows that he is indestructible. Just as McCarthy’s character Judge Holden serves as a semblance of pure evil in his masterpiece “Blood Meridian,” Chigurh does the same here. The imagination of the reader can run wild in reading McCarthy’s prose, but seeing the character visualized is chilling. While Chigurh serves the purpose of evil in its purest form, Llewlyn Moss, played by Josh Brolin, is an ordinary guy thrust into this situation. By all accounts, Moss is a good man who wants to protect his family. In his discovery of a briefcase full of drug money, Moss serves on the other extreme of the story as pure good. He faces many moral dilemmas on his journey, but first and foremost comes protection of his family and the people who he loves.

The fate of the audience and the common man is displayed by old time local sheriff Ed Tom Bell, played brilliantly by Tommy Lee Jones. It is Ed Tom who realizes the position that Moss is in, yet moves forward as though he has seen this all before. He does his best to protect Moss and his family, but knows that Moss is in way over his head, no matter the efforts of the police or the world as a whole. Ed Tom lives in the real world, apart from the radical sides of good and evil, but even in these gray areas evil has becomes the dominating force. Ed Tom and Moss are both looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, but it is only Ed Tom who tells us that we are all outmatched in the modern world of random acts of despicable violence.

The pitch perfect story aside, what is even more of note in considering the faults of “The Darjeeling Limited” countered to the successes of “No Country For Old Men” is in the use of camera and visual style. Though Anderson has a clear sense of what he wants his style to be, it is constantly bloated and unable to carry the story with it. Roger Deakins superb cinematography works not only to complement the story being told, but creates another elusive element to the world of our characters. The vastly still landscape holds the essence of the quiet and calm world that can in an instant turn into extreme violence. Deakins does need to tell the audience that he is flashy for us to recognize his artistry. Just as the Coens shift the tone of the story, the landscape and mood of the camera shifts as well, not just complementing the execution of the story, but involving itself in the telling of the story without the sense of laughable irony in Anderson’s aesthetics.

While the two films could not be more variant in terms of storytelling and mood, “No Country For Old Men” serves as the filmic counterpoint to the missteps of “The Darjeeling Limited.” Each move made by the cast and crew of “No Country For Old Men” was taken to serve the world that the Coens and Cormac McCarthy were striving to create. The world of “The Darjeeling Limited” was created before Anderson and his crew even began writing.The crux of great filmmaking comes down to a matter of channeling the talent, ambition, and filmic devices in the right direction. These two main attractions of the New York Film Festival illustrate a path that needs some rethinking and the path that nears perfection.

by James Hansen

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