Review - Brave

Grade: B

Before I devote 700 or so words to Brave, allow to me to talk about archery for a spell. 

So far, this year’s cinematic offerings have brought audiences four heroes with archery skills in as many months: Katniss Everdeen, Hawkeye, Snow White’s Prince William, and Brave’s Merida. This fall, the CW will air a new series featuring DC Comics’ Green Arrow, the creatively minimalist Arrow. Apparently, not long after The Hunger Games' Katniss drew her bow on the big screen, interest in archery increased across the country, and now, the sport is on a course to be destination viewing at the Olympics. I have nothing against archery, but I think the current zeitgeist around the art of manual projectile fire is the mostly the fault of one thing: the gun.

Sure, Hollywood always has a propensity to copy its own “creative” efforts and establish trends through dueling enterprises (see: Mirror Mirror and Snow White and the Huntsman), but the popularity of archery among this season’s heroes and heroines speaks to a rejection of the very thing many audiences and filmmakers have become: lazy. It’s easy for a hero to pick up a gun, but to draw a bow and let an arrow fly with great accuracy is a skill, albeit one that’s fairly useless as a pragmatic offensive strategy in age where most combatants would much rather pick up a gun. 

Ironically, that’s exactly what Pixar is doing with it’s latest, Mark Andrews’ Brave. Brave builds so heavily off of the Disney princess formula that, despite the obvious work devoted to developing a strong core built around a somewhat fascinating rumination on the mother-daughter relationship, it is clear that Disney's assimilation of Pixar is complete. Brave is just shy of being the quintessential Disney princess movie. It embodies the goal almost every Disney has been building to since Snow White: the independent princess as the feminist ideal. Brave, ostensibly, is the tale of Merida (Kelly McDonald, delivering a spritely brogue accent), a tomboyish Scottish princess with a skill for archery and absolutely no need for a prince to define her, who desperately wants to choose her fate/destiny/path in life, despite the protestations of her mother, the prim Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson).  

The struggle between Merida and Elinor simmered for years, apparently, and explodes when Merida is forced to marry one of the princes--including a dandy, a doofus, and a dope with a impassable accent--of the neighboring kingdoms. The conflict takes a unforeseen turn when Merida happens upon a witch and wishes to change her mother in a way that will allow her the freedom to do as she pleases. With that wish, the witch casts a spell that eventually turns Elinor into a bear. In the mold of Disney’s Freaky Friday, mother and daughter must work together to break the spell that can probably only be broken through mutual understanding and compassion.

The core of Brave is so solid that it makes the unnecessary complications of the plot seem unnecessary and slight. Brave works only because the characters and themes at its core are crafted with more care than the plot. If this was solely a character piece, not meant to capture the attention of young audiences for 90 minutes, then Brave would have been an unabashed success, but as it is Brave risks, which zags instead of zigging as soon as the witch is introduced, losing its core because it is so bent on jumping through hoops just to up the ante on a simple, powerful conflict. Now, I’m not advocating for indie sensibilities in a Disney tentpole, but a less is more approach would have prevented this movie from putting some of the kids in the screening audience to sleep.

That’s not to say that Brave is not entertaining; in fact, Merida’s brothers--three mischievous scamps always in search of a tasty pastry--her boisterous father, King Fergus (Billy Connolly), the fight-hungry lordss (Robbie Coltrane, Kevin McKidd, and Craig Ferguson), and their goofy sons are consistently chortle-worthy. However, the reason these characters are funny is due to a clear “men are mischievous, violent dopes” vibe that runs throughout. While I am all for presenting the positive female images that are desperately needed in modern fiction, the ascension of these images in Brave comes at the expense of every male character. So, what does that say to the young boys and girls in the audience?

I hate to bemoan Brave because there is obvious care and effort on display here, but there’s a bit of tone deafness and contrivance that wreaks havoc with the human story at the core of this flick; even the cute pre-movie short, La Luna, lacks a bit of spark despite an exceptional effort to be a mildly touching and comical reflection on generational discord. Bringing life to simple human stories is what Pixar does best, but it is something they do well because they devote skill and effort to building simple stories without relying heavily on formula and stereotyping. In the case of Brave, Pixar should have just dropped the gun and stuck with the arrow.

Yin: A contrived plot and feminist perspective that paints men as “dopes” weaken a slightly inspired spin on Freaky Friday with a solid core. Pre-movie short is cute but slight in comparison to previous Pixar shorts.

Yang: The central examination of the mother-daughter relationship is well-done, and the moments of levity provided by those dopey menfolk are fairly amusing. Visuals are as lush and gorgeous, as expected from the good people at Pixar

In-between: More butt shots than I thought would be allowable in a Disney flick. Times have indeed changed.

Review - The Hunger Games

Grade: B

Yin: Uninspired action diminishes emotional weight of character building efforts. Plot is a little too familiar to older, more violent versions of this age-old tale.

Yang: Well-crafted with great attention to character building at the expense of world building and spectacle--which is both a good and bad thing. Unsurprisingly Strong performances by Lawrence, Hutcherson, Harrelson, and Kravitz.

In-Between: From the looks of the citizens in the Capitol, it looks like the Joker finally won the day. Good job, Bats.

Barnum promised the world that a sucker’s born every minute. The thing about those suckers is that they don’t become a problem until they get old enough to influence culture on a mass scale.

I’ll admit I’m coming into to the Hunger Games phenomenon completely blind, but I read Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” when I was in middle school. By the time I was in 9th grade, I had read Richard Connell’s “Most Dangerous Game”. A few years out of high school, I read Koushun Takami’s manga Battle Royale and saw the first live action film.

Suffice to say, very little about Gary Ross’ well-crafted adaptation of the first book in Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy is very original, but to tweens who have not even seen an edited cut of Stone Cold Steve Austin’s The Condemned, it’s probably a revelation. But, since when has originality ever been a prerequisite for quality?

Hunger Games tells the tale of a post-apocalyptic world where the cast of Cirque Du Soleil has subjugated 12 regions, known as Districts, in the landmass once known as North America after quelling some vague human rights rebellion. As punishment for demanding basic human and civil rights, the Capitol, located in the heart of what was once Denver, requires each District to offer up one male and female between the ages of 12-18 as tribute, a participant in a survival of the fittest battle between lethal teens from each District known as the Hunger Games. To prevent her young sister from becoming tribute, skilled hunter and archer Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) of the Appalachian-esque District 12 volunteers to be tribute. Along with the male tribute for her district, Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), Katniss is transported to the Capitol in preparation for the games, in which 23 tributes go home in boxes. Katniss and Peeta are prepped for the battle of their life by drunken former champion Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) and compassionate stylist Cinna (Lenny Kravitz). Once the games begins, no amount of help can save Katniss and Peeta from facing overwhelming odds and almost certain death, as they try to bring a sliver of hope to their District.

Director Gary Ross has crafted a fairly austere adaptation of Collins’ novel. The film is possessed with an earthy quiet that is all but shattered when one of the clown-faced aristocrats from the Capitol invades the screen. Ross spends an almost detrimental amount of time building character and fostering our investment in these poor children who are being sacrificed for reasons far beyond their comprehension. In the moments of quiet, the characters all seem possessed with an unrelenting melancholy, and these are the moments where Ross’ direction truly shines. Beyond these moments, Ross drops fumbles a bit. The action is rarely thrilling or inspired, and any seasoned action movie aficionado will know every beat before it happens. However, thanks to Ross’ character building, the action scenes retain a baseline tension because Ross has worked overtime to make the audience care about characters, some of whom have only been briefly sketched.

The character work in Hunger Games is what really carries the film, and much of its success is due to the commendable work of Jennifer Lawrence and a fine supporting cast. Lawrence brings the stoic dignity that made her work in the similarly Appalachian-set Winter’s Bone so powerful. As Katniss, Lawrence is admirably principled and heroic despite doing only a few measurably heroic deeds without assistance, a problem which also plagued one Harry Potter. Josh Hutcherson has a bit more meat to his role as the neglected, conflicted Peeta, who is a far more interesting character to watch than everybody’s favorite archer. Hutcherson does well, but, just like his character, is unfortunately overshadowed by Lawrence’s more easily likable Katniss. Woody Harrleson plays up the roguish scamp angle as the obviously tormented Haymitch while Lenny Kravitz is one robe shy of his mystical negro badge as Cinna. Despite the predictability of their roles, both make amiable effort at making each character show signs of measurable depth and likability. Unfortunately, Elizabeth Banks, Wes Bentley, and Donald Sutherland fare less favorably as a clown-faced twit; pompous TV producer; and the slimy, heartless Big Bad, respectively.

Despite a few weak performances, Ross’ direction and the work of Lawrence and Hutcherson combine to make the Hunger Games more than the sum of its parts. As a rumination on the culture of youth, entertainment, and the sacrificial nature of both, Hunger Games has some merit, but it is hardly the revelatory take the marketers would have us believe. While Ross’ film goes a long way towards improving Hunger Games odds at cementing its place as a international phenomenon, any one old enough to have seen or read any of the prior versions of this age-told tale may be underwhelmed by the familiar plot, yet they could do far worse things with their time than giving the Hunger Games a chance.