Batman v Superman: A Cross-Examination

Full Spoilers for Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

So...I enjoyed Batman v Superman. A lot of the gripes about the movie are understandable (i.e., they most definitely are not made up), but the interesting thing is that they are coming from two distinct camps: reviews by comic book geeks complaining mostly that the film has taken liberties with the characters and plots it is based on, and your more traditional movie critic review which criticizes the film’s plot, acting, directing, etc. There are a lot of people who express both points of view, but I separate them now in order to demonstrate that this movie is really getting it from all sides. After seeing the film, I’m a little perplexed by some of the big criticisms I’ve been reading (although I’m generally more sympathetic to those from the “movie critic” side, as you’ll see below), so I’ve picked four of the most common complaints I’ve heard and I’m going to attempt to answer them to some extent below.

Criticism 1: The Plot Makes No Sense

I suppose this goes hand-in-hand with “the plot is dumb,” but I’m not willing to die fighting on that hill, because the plot is dumb, and I guess I don’t mind. The more salient question is: is the plot really less sensical than your run-of-the-mill superhero movie? Really, is it more dumb than the most popular, most acclaimed superhero movies of all time?

I’ve heard “Lex Luthor’s plan makes no sense” a lot. But did the Joker’s plan make sense in The Dark Knight? (I won’t even discuss Bane’s plan in TDKR) I’m not blind to degrees, and I will admit that Lex’s plan is at least one degree more absurd than the Joker’s, but my point is to ask if we should consider a plot that doesn't stand up to close scrutiny the downfall of a film, especially the a superhero movie? (Yeah, I said it!) The Joker in The Dark Knight is an antagonistic force, a reaping of sorts for Batman, and the embodiment of a worldview. Lex Luthor is the same in Batman v Superman: he is a response to Superman’s choices in Man of Steel. He is important for the challenges he presents to Superman, not for the specifics of the process he goes through to present those challenges. I understand for some people it's the case that if the logic is not airtight, then they can’t enjoy the movie, but I would say that perhaps those people should be asking themselves if they are applying a different measure to the plot of BvS than they have applied to the acclaimed superhero films of the past.

How far do we want to take these plot breakdowns? In one of the more extensive breakdowns/bitchfests I’ve read about this movie, a writer for Gizmodo made fun of the plot surrounding the Batmobile chase scene, and in the process ended up basically making fun of movies for existing:

"This whole scene exists solely so the movie can have the government ask if maybe Superman should be regulated, which exists solely so the government can get in involved with Lex Luthor’s attempt to build an anti-Superman weapon, which itself exists solely so the government can say 'Hey, stop making that anti-Superman weapon,' which exists solely so Lex can illegally important a big hunk of kryptonite, which exists so Batman can try to steal it in a giant action set piece..."

…which all exists solely so that they could make a Batman v Superman movie! Oh my God! Yes, sorry to disappoint you, but they decided to make a Batman v Superman movie and then they reverse engineered it from there -- a muse did not descend from on high and suddenly inspire them to write it. Oh, and those comics you love so much? They decided in advance that -- despite only having writers lined up for the next couple of years -- they are going to release them every month from now until kingdom come (wink wink). So if you notice that the plots possess certain qualities that make it feel like someone made them up...well, it’s because someone did.

Take, for example, Marvel’s The Avengers. The purpose of this movie (much like the comics it is based on) is to entertain, to pander a bit to nerds and geeks by showing iconic Marvel characters joining together. Never mind that it’s against a character-less CGI army of aliens, never mind that the certain plot beats make no sense (So Loki chooses to poke Tony Stark right in the arc reactor causing his mind control to fail?), never mind that it’s clearly engineered to have a laugh line or applause line every ten minutes minimum. Never mind because it’s an enjoyable film, and if you leave the theater nitpicking plot logic then you are missing the point.

If there’s one thing that sets BvS apart from the critically acclaimed Batman movies I mentioned above, it’s that Batman Begins and The Dark Knight -- and to a lesser extent The Dark Knight Rises -- explore some really profound ideas. And BvS, while it floats some interesting ideas during its running time, never really develops them to any significant extent. But did The Avengers even really try to explore any interesting themes? I suppose there's the question of how do you work with others, but I find myself unsatisfied by the film’s lone answer to that question, namely that people will join together in the face of a threat to all life on Earth (kinda trite if you ask me). For all the mockery that the “Martha” exchange in the BvS fight has received, at least it provides a moment of empathy between Batman and Superman. We get an emotional connection between our two protagonists, not just a “Oh shit this a huge threat we’d better help each other” team-up moment (although we also get that).

However, I will extend an olive branch to the other side and admit this is hilarious:

"Clark Kent gets a funeral in Smallville, while Superman gets a giant military funeral in DC, despite the fact that he failed to keep the Capitol building from blowing up and the government decided to nuke him."

So yes it's true that some parts of the movie display laughable logic, and while it may surpass Nolan's Batman films on the absurdity scale, I think it's in good company there with most of the recent (and most celebrated) Marvel Studios films (you don't have to look far for a video or blog post eviscerating the plot logic of any one of those movies).

Finally, let me address everyone who is saying that The Dark Knight Returns has a better Batman vs. Superman fight, or that Doomsday was cooler in the comics: stfu.

Criticism 2: It’s Boring/Lacks Action Sequences

I put these criticisms together for a couple of reasons. One, I suspect that a lot of people who feel the movie is boring would’ve liked more action sequences. And two, because I did not think the movie was boring, and in fact I find most action sequences tremendously boring.

So my fellow moviegoers talked a lot in my showing, I guess because they were bored. It’s true that the movie was a bit talkier than something like the Avengers, but still I can’t relate. To the extent that I had trouble following it, it was because the other people just wouldn’t shut the fuck up while I was trying to listen to the dialogue.

Besides, plentiful action sequences in a superhero film often add up to a bad movie; better they're fewer and more meaningful. Otherwise, the movie descends into a meaningless CGI orgy. It's for this reason that the big fight at the end of Avengers: Age of Ultron sucked, and the end of Captain America: Winter Soldier sucked except for the fight with Bucky, which was emotional and placed some doubt in the mind as to the exact outcome. Similarly, the end of Man of Steel sucked until Superman killed Zod, because that was unexpected.

Also, to the criticism that the three heroes of BvS didn’t “work together” well in the final action scene: is it not the corniest thing in the world to see heroes put their powers together to defeat the villain? Does every film need to have a childish Voltron/Captain Planet moment where the heroes combine their powers to become unbeatable? Well then where are all the people praising how the Fantastic Four defeated Julian McMahon’s Dr. Doom in the reviled 2005 movie (you have to specify which reviled Fantastic Four movie you're talking about nowadays)? “Oh man Human Torch went supernova like they told him not to do earlier and made Dr. Doom really hot and then Invisible Woman put him in a force field and then Mr. Fantastic used his stretched out form to aim water at him and freeze him it was soooo dope.” No. Fuck that. Wonder Woman used a lasso to restrain Doomsday while Superman stabbed the motherfucker. That’s what you get -- that’s teamwork enough.

Criticism 3: The “Batman Kills People” Issue

It’s always interesting to me that people celebrate Batman beating people the shit out of people almost to the point of fetishization, but somehow it ruins everything for them when he kills someone. It’s a bit like talking to someone who enjoys watching a porn star take a finger in the butt, but is outraged to see a porn movie featuring an anal sex scene.

I, for one, am relieved that I didn’t have to sit through a bunch of stupid contrived nonsense where Batman uses borderline magical gadgets or some such thing in order to prevent the death of a bunch of fictional henchmen. Is this what people really enjoy about Batman? The campy ways he comes up with to avoid killing people? No doubt that Snyder is very selectively applying the “What if this were real?” lens in these films, but this is one place where I find it a relief. Someone who were waging a war on crime would not be taking the time to do mental gymnastics to figure out how to keep each criminal he encountered from dying. The Daredevil Netflix show walks up to that line on a lot, and DD's fighting street-level crime exclusively. But when you have a Batman who has been fighting crime in a tank-car and a stealth fighter for twenty years -- well, someone’s gonna die.

A lot of people (i.e., da geeks) would probably respond to that by questioning my Batman bonafides. And frankly, I don’t give a fuck. But I do feel like it’s important to note that this a large part of the reason this version of Batman exists at all is to provide a foil to Superman (whose father passed down to him in Man of Steel the creed of the House of El: the belief in the potential of every person to be a force for good). Accordingly, his methods and the extremes to which he will go are one of the main ways in which the two are contrasted. I guess I’ll be revealing my relative lack of comic book lore mastery when I say that I don’t really know a better way to contrast them. From what I read in this article on Vulture, it seems like they were basically the same character (except one dressed as a bat and had no superpowers) until certain writers decided to explore the idea that Batman might have a different philosophy on how best to combat crime. So Batman began to be depicted as the one who was more willing to break the law, and the one who desired that criminals fear him more than anything else. This, as far as I can tell, is perfectly compatible with the version of Batman depicted in BvS: he is more willing to cross lines in the fight against crime.

Some people who have seen the film are suggesting that Batman has been murdering criminals for the entirety of his twenty-year career. As far as I could tell, the film was suggesting Batman went through some profound changes and crossed that line at some point after he had begun his anti-crime crusade. For one, he gives a speech to Alfred about how he has lost faith in people after fighting crime for so long. Second, it is made clear by the shot of the old Robin costume that Robin is gone, probably killed by the Joker. And finally, Alfred also suggests that Bruce Wayne is struggling to control his rage toward Superman as a way of explaining his branding and other violent actions. I think it's very reasonable to assume that this version of Batman was much more hopeful and less violent earlier in his career.

In my opinion, the movie does a pretty good job of having its cake and eating it, too. It positions Batman as an effective antagonist to Superman, but it's also able to make their conflicts feel more meaningful because really they are dual protagonists. Most superhero movies have clearly delineated good guys and bad guys, and as a result the process of watching the movie becomes a process of waiting to see how the good guy will win. For the audience, it doesn’t really matter what the character goes through or how difficult it is to win, unless the idea of hearing one or two lines in the next film about how the good guy “doesn’t trust people anymore” or “had a bad experience” in the last film before he/she goes onto defeat the new villain strikes you as revolutionary storytelling. (To use the Nolan Batman films as an example again: one of the greatest successes of TDK is that it has such a compelling conflict that it makes you wonder if Batman will have to break his “one rule” in order to defeat Joker and Harvey Two-Face, and in fact he does end up killing the latter.) More often than not, clearly delineated good guy/bad guy groups drain all suspense from action sequences, making them feel like filmmaking by rote (as I said above). But in BvS, the time we spend getting to know both characters and the fact that we are well-aware of the clash of philosophies taking place gives the physical fight weight. And for those who are complaining that the reasons that were concocted by the film's creative team in order to get Batman and Superman to fight are silly, well, just imagine how contrived it would have been if they had matching philosophies vis a vis crime fighting from frame one.

Criticism 4: Superman Is Short-Changed/Has No Character Arc

The fact is that Superman is limited in his screen time because there is a lot of other stuff happening in this movie. I was able to accept that. If you were not, you didn't like this movie.

It’s also a fact that he is dealing with a lot of the same issues that he was confronted with in Man of Steel, which can make it feel like he’s going nowhere. But the issue he’s dealing with is a huge one, and it’s one that I think has probably been dealt with better in these two films than in any superhero film in recent memory. As someone somewhere in the many places on the internet where I’ve read about this movie said (sorry for not properly crediting you, mystery internet person), this version of Superman does the right thing. The complaint that he does not is invalid. In the one instance when he fell into a gray area (i.e., the Metropolis fight at the end of MoS), the writers did their best to address it head-on and have him deal with the consequences. So the core struggle of this Superman is not "Do I do the right thing?" but rather: how do you reconcile knowing you are doing your best to help with the condemnation of others? And how do you deal with the accompanying feelings of isolation? The complexity of any possible answers to these questions is compounded by the fact that a) Superman is an alien and can expect that he will never fully be accepted b) Superman is a figure of global importance, so everyone has an opinion, and c) a lot of the criticisms are legitimate (e.g., Superman said repeatedly in MoS that he would not be a tool of the government, but as Senator Finch points out in BvS, it is justifiably unnerving to the people of Earth to see him operating unilaterally). If Henry Cavill as Superman seems dour, it is because these questions hang over his every choice. Under this type of scrutiny, who wouldn’t wonder if it were even worth trying, if they were doing more harm than good? I suppose the answer is Superman wouldn’t wonder, but frankly I think that after this film I am on board with a version of the character that does worry about these things. Could they have devoted more screen time to Superman? Absolutely, because these are questions well worth exploring (hence why they have been touched on in two films in a row). But to say there is nothing going on with Superman in this film is just wrong.

The climactic moment in the development of this theme comes toward the end of the film, when Superman is about to sacrifice himself to finish off Doomsday. After struggling for two films with the question of acceptance over his head, Superman has a moment of clarity; a moment of acceptance. Knowing he is likely to die in the conflict with Doomsday, he turns to Lois Lane to tell her he loves her. And then he says, “You are my world.” For me, this line (mocked by many of the critics I’ve read) had a clear purpose: Superman was telling Lois that he wasn't holding out hope any longer for everyone in the world to accept him; that he knew was always going to be a figure of controversy, that he knew he was always going to be judged. Saying to Lois that she was his world was his way of saying that all of the acceptance, all of the refuge, all of the love he had longed for he had found in her. In Man of Steel, Superman had embraces Earth as his home. In Batman v Superman, he accepts that not everyone on his home planet is going to love him, and he dies having acknowledged that one person did, and it was enough. Now I understand that this may not resonate with every viewer on an emotional level the way it did with me, but I think intellectually it’s quite an interesting and mature take on the theme of isolation. So again, there are definitely things going on with Superman in this movie -- it was not written by idiots.

That being said, probably the most glaring mistake in the film (and the one that does make you wonder if it was written by idiots for a second) is one that involves Superman, and it is one that has been pointed out by many people before me. In the scene where Superman goes to Capitol Hill, we are led to believe that he will stand before the Senate committee and explain himself and his actions. As someone who has been critical of Man of Steel, I was excited to hear Superman’s point of view. While Man of Steel had plenty of opportunities to do so, it never really succinctly stated Superman’s mission on Earth or his point of view on humanity (I always assumed the filmmakers decided not to try since they probably could not have measured up to the elegance with which Marlon Brando as Jor-El explained Superman's purpose in Superman: The Movie). Surely, I thought, we are going to get an impassioned speech from Superman, and I’m sure many of you were thinking the same thing. Of course, we now know that we were being set up for a swerve -- the speech never occurs because the committee hearing is blown up by Wallace Whateverthefuck. And it’s a shame, because the swerve could’ve been equally effective -- more effective, even -- if it had occurred after a speech in which Superman explained his vision for what he and the people of Earth could accomplish.

In Conclusion...

A lot of people have been surprised by the divisiveness of this film. In one notable instance, Ethan Anderton of Slashfilm took to the blog to lament the backlash against critics of the movie. It’s worth a read, but you should know in advance that it is written in a tone that suggests the audience for the piece is morons. Everyone has a point of view, and I don’t hold that against a critic. But when you act like we all think that “great movies” means the same thing, you’re talking nonsense. As Anderton says, one’s take on a film is subjective. It’s an opinion. So this was not an attempt to persuade anyone they should see Batman v Superman as I do -- if you didn’t enjoy the film, you’re not wrong obviously. But it seems to me that this film was even more highly anticipated than I thought, and the disappointment some people feel is being channeled into making arguments that are basically saying the film shouldn’t exist. So I've offered people a different point of view on the film, one that may speak a bit of their language of “movie critic” (or, more accurately, “wannabe movie critic”). Perhaps it will convince the comic book fans that Snyder and Co. don’t so badly misunderstand or hate these characters. Perhaps it will say to the film’s detractors that while it's not a great movie, it's a good one, and can we please just enjoy it now? As Anderton and other critics know, you can tear apart any film if you like. Who knows? Maybe in forty years all of the movies we watch now will be considered shit.

MOVIE REVIEW: Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go is based on the 2005 novel by Kazuo Ishiguro. It tells the story of three young people -- Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy -- who grow up together at a boarding school called Hailsham House in the English countryside. They have no families, nor do they have any exposure to the outside world. They are clones, bred for a single purpose: to provide organs to extend the lives of the natural-born population. As a result, they themselves live haplessly short lives, few of them living past their mid-twenties.

While it has a decidedly sci-fi slant to its premise, Never Let Me Go functions as a character study as much as a dystopian cautionary tale. As adults, Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy are beautifully embodied by Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley, and Andrew Garfield respectively. Each character is unique in the way in which they deal with their lot in life. And it is a great credit to the actors that each one is relatable.

Kathy, our protagonist, reminds us of ourselves in many ways: she makes the best of her life, even as she can't always make sense of it. We follow her through all stages of her life as she tries to learn herself and unfurl the mysteries of those around her, Ruth and Tommy in particular. Her problems, while they are undeniably fantastic compared to our own, and magnified due to the abbreviated nature of her life, resonate with us because we have felt all of the same feelings.

Ruth makes for a very interesting foil to Kathy. They have many of the same questions, and many of the same hopes and dreams, but they carry out their lives in very different ways. Ruth gives into that urge which we all have that pushes us to forsake others and only look after our own happiness. Much like the society in the story, which cares not for the organ "donors," Ruth decides early on that she must wrap herself in herself if she is to achieve happiness and avoid suffering, which in her case is the suffering that comes with being alone. That all-too-familiar fear of being alone is something that we all live with and must resist, as it tempts us to be ungrateful for the many good things in our lives and leads us down a path to disaster, as the film shows.

In my opinion, Keira Knightley gives the strongest performance in the film. Ruth is a far cry from her usual roles: we are used to rooting for Ms. Knightley, but Ruth is a far more polarizing character. Ms. Knightley brings to Ruth a convincing air of superiority that helps us understand why Kathy is envious of her, and she is equally effective in the scenes where Ruth's facade is dropped. In these moments, Ruth's desperation is truly unnerving. Additionally, Ruth's third "donation" is one of the most haunting scenes of the entire film. The way the doctors handle her and the other donors like livestock makes for some disturbing imagery, and makes us consider how cold we can be if permitted.

Tommy is an awkward but relentlessly cheerful young man who prides himself on being a good donor. But it is through his story that we most clearly perceive the movie's message about the importance of living life to the fullest. The movie deals openly with our ability to ignore injustice, and Tommy's character arc deals with the other side of that coin: our propensity to create hopes and believe hearsay if it will distract us from the meanness of our fate. However, when we distract ourselves from reality we blunt our ability to live the type of life that will truly make us happy. As he sees the end of his life rapidly approaching, Tommy is filled with emotion and screams out in agony. He finally unleashes his rage about his fate, and we can venture a guess that he is also railing against his own role in limiting the amount and quality of his time with those whom he loves.

The message of the movie is neatly embodied in its title. The film implores its audience to hold on to the things and the people they love in the limited time they have. The message is passed on through the performances, and subtly helped along by a sharp score from Academy Award winner Rachel Portman. Additionally, some of the cinematography (especially later in the film) is breathtaking, a fact which -- given that director Mark Romanek cut his teeth in the world of music videos -- is unsurprising but no less pleasant as a result.

All of our lives are precious, and all of our lives must end. To deny the beauty of another's life imperils one's own -- not in the literal sense, but in the more important sense that it removes from our lives so much richness and introduces indelible impurities that render them less worthy of being lived. We all have cowardly urges to try and enhance our lives at the expense of others. But to do so misses the point of life completely, and such attempts are ultimately doomed to fail. As Hailsham's headmistress tells Kathy and Tommy, "There are no deferrals. There never have been." Never Let Me Go is a film that poses the deepest of questions: How are we to spend the limited amount of time that is given to us? It is a film that attempts to show the preciousness, beauty, and ultimately the fragility of this human experience that we all share. And it succeeds. This is what makes it an exceptional film.

I give it a 9 out of 10.

MOVIE REVIEW: Hamlet (1990)

I have been enmeshed in Shakespeare's Hamlet for the better part of a month now, as my teacher and I are working through a unit on the play in our 12th grade English class. This makes about four times I have read the play, and one time I've seen it performed (that one time being when I watched a filmed stage production starring Kevin Kline). When one watches or reads a play that many times, faults that weren't initially apparent inevitably reveal themselves. All one can hope for is that in those multiple experiences with the play, the beauty of the its triumphs will grow exponentially and thereby overshadow its shortcomings. Hamlet is a play that accomplishes this, and so I don't hesitate to call it a magnificent work.

However, my experience with Franco Zeffirelli's 1990 film was much more limited until recently. I had seen clips of it, and I knew that it starred Mel Gibson, Glenn Close, and Helena Bonham Carter. But it wasn't until my teacher told me she was going to show it to our class that I decided to sit down and watch the entire film. In brief, I was disappointed.

Mel Gibson as the title character in Franco Zeffirelli's Hamlet

The main source of my disappointment is the casting of Mel Gibson as Hamlet. I feel Mel Gibson is a world-class actor. He is very competent in both comedy and drama: an achievement not many actors can claim. But in my humble opinion he is not the right actor to play Hamlet. His masculinity and Australian gruffness do not work in his favor. Those qualities make it very hard for me to accept him as a pensive, introspective royal with a tragic tendency to delay action. And while I think it's wonderful for actors to try new types of roles, the reality is if they do so, they must really disappear into the role. Mel Gibson does not disappear into Hamlet. In fact, it is one of his lesser performances. Until I saw him in this role, I didn't notice his trademark "heavy breathing occasionally interrupted by exasperated dry swallows" acting technique (but by the end of the movie, it was all I could think about every time he was on screen). Aside from a slight British accent, this is Mel Gibson, doing the movie star thing and playing himself.

Truthfully, he is very good in some scenes, most notably the climatic scene with Gertrude (set in her bedroom). But on the whole, I prefer a somewhat more effeminate actor for my Hamlet. And I prefer a more masculine actor for my Laertes. Nathaniel Parker plays the part in this version of the story, and he comes across as pretty unintimidating. One of the main purposes of the character of Laertes is to serve as a foil for Hamlet, and to demonstrate through his decisive action how pathetic Hamlet really is. When you take a pasty Brit with long hair and a high voice and you put him up against a bearded Mel Gibson, that dynamic is pretty much destroyed.

I was also annoyed by the way some of Hamlet's lines were moved around. Most notably, the "Get thee to a nunnery" lines have been divided into two distinct parts. In the film, Hamlet says part of it to Ophelia when they meet in the castle, and the remainder later on after the play. I can't really see why Zeffirelli does this; it serves only to irritate those who know the play well enough to detect the change. The "To be or not to be" soliloquy was also moved so that Hamlet gives it after the aforementioned meeting with Ophelia, as opposed to before. This change bothered me less than the others because I saw a certain logic to it: in the play the soliloquy comes before he realizes Ophelia has agreed to spy on him, whereas in the film it comes after. Having Hamlet contemplate suicide after he has been betrayed by everyone, including Ophelia, makes a certain amount of sense.

One thing Zeffirelli gets absolutely right is the casting of the supporting roles. It should come as no surprise to anyone who has seen any of her other performances that Helena Bonham Carter is great as Ophelia, particularly in the scenes after she has gone mad. Her performance in those scenes evokes a perfect mixture of creepiness and pity. Glenn Close is also very good in the part of Gertrude. I was especially delighted with the moment when she realizes she's been poisoned. You can see her face change as she goes through a series of shocking realizations: that she's been poisoned, that she wasn't poisoned by just anybody but by her husband, that he was also trying to poison her son, and that he was the one who had poisoned her first husband. It sound silly in writing, but it looks great on film. Alan Bates turns in a very capable performance as Claudius, particularly in the later scenes where Claudius and Laertes plot against Hamlet. He is super slimy and just evil -- the serpentine side of his character is on full display. I also have to single out Paul Scofield, who plays the ghost of King Hamlet, for special praise. He brings so many things to his few scenes: a palpable suffering, a deeply-felt sense of longing, a quiet rage, and a truly otherworldly aura. And thorough it all, he manages to be both frightening and sympathetic.

Helena Bonham Carter as Ophelia

Additionally, the sets and the costumes are extraordinarily beautiful. The movie just looks fantastic, and for a fan of the play it's a thrill to see the story brought to life like this. I honestly could not tell if they were on set or on location sometimes (Scotland and England stand in for Denmark, and I hope for the sake of the Danish people that their countryside is half as breathtaking).

But on the whole, the movie suffers from the abridgement and reduced running time. Characters don't have enough time to develop, and key subplots are dropped. When one reads the play, Hamlet's inaction is positively agonizing. But when the play is reduced by half its length, it doesn't have quite the same effect. His inaction is less pronounced, and his rashness is more apparent. His killing of Polonius and his appearance at Ophelia's funeral are much more upsetting here than the reading of the play because we don't know Hamlet's mind half as well. Some might welcome the chance to judge Hamlet purely by his actions, but I've always felt that the great strength of the play was the way in which the audience was able to explore the mind of the protagonist -- a mind more fully developed than those of most real persons we meet -- and then struggle with the task of passing judgment on him.

I would still recommend this movie to fans of the play, if only because of the costume and set design (both Oscar-nominated). But it is not a great adaptation of the play. I give it a 7 out of 10.

MUSIC REVIEW: Neighborhoods (Deluxe Edition) by Blink-182

You'd be hard-pressed to find someone in their 20s who hasn't heard of Blink-182. They had a string of hits in the 2000s that made them one of the most successful bands of the decade, right up until the announcement of their "indefinite hiatus." That is the point at which, for most people, they fell off the face of the Earth. However there remained a large contingent of fans who kept their fingers crossed hoping for the return of Blink and a new album. And there was a new generation of Blink fans reaching adolescence who had torn through Blink's back catalog and were ready for new material. So in early 2009 when the members of the band announced they were getting back together, there were a lot of excited fans, but even more questions. Could they recapture the popularity they had before their break-up? Could they create something that would satisfy new fans as well as old? What would the new album sound like? Now we have the album -- a brisk 36-minute disc called Neighborhoods -- and we have our answers. For all those distinct groups of fans who have been waiting eagerly and those former fans who may not even be aware of the album's existence, the answer is the same: Neighborhoods is a mediocre album. It is unlikely to win over many new Blink fans, and only a little more likely to satisfy their preexisting fanbase.

The album begins on a promising note with "Ghost On the Dance Floor" -- an uptempo track that leads off with a very short drum intro before we get to the guitars, which are classic Blink: cheerful but strangely wistful, transporting you back to your adolescence in suburban California (even though you didn't grow up there). New elements like synthesizers and a genuinely unexpected drum interlude let you know that you're listening to a Blink song in 2011, and not 1999.

After "Ghost On the Dance Floor," we get "Natives," a track which tries too hard and ends up feeling overly angst-y, before the album gets to "Up All Night" (the first single). As one listens to the chorus, it seems as if Blink are trying to touch on some more mature themes, such as the difficulties of maintaining a long-term relationship and the weight of the responsibilities of adulthood. And while there is a good song somewhere inside of "Up All Night," it is buried beneath verses of incomprehensible gibberish. (Sample line: "Everyone's cross to bears the crown they wear on endless holiday.")

Then we get one of the best two tracks on the album (the other being "Ghost On the Dance Floor"). "After Midnight" seems to be made from the same blueprint as the Blink hits of yore: a toe-tapping drum beat beneath singsong-y guitars, and lyrics that offer a promise of long-lasting love, even as they describe all the hallmarks of adolescent infatuation. It plays like a slightly more chilled-out "All the Small Things," and the band was very smart to make it their second single.

Next up is "Snake Charmer," a song whose rock-out guitars and sinister lyrics recall Tom Delonge's side project Box Car Racer. If it weren't for the depressingly Korn-ish outro, it would be a song worth recommending. (Mark Hoppus fans should check out "Fighting the Gravity," which sounds like a +44 track that was rightly left off their album.) After that is "Heart's All Gone," another uptempo song that doesn't fuck up too badly, nor does it impress in any way. Even as they wail away on their instruments and Mark Hoppus sings his heart out, Blink couldn't get much more than a "meh" out of me with this one.

"Wishing Well" is a sonically cheerful song that represents a welcome break from all the forced moroseness of the first half of the album, although it does have its fair share of emo gibberish ("I went to a wishing well / It sank to the ocean floor / Cut up by sharpened rocks / And washed up along the shore"). My advice is just to soak up the music and ignore the songwriting, especially since "Wishing Well" is the last enjoyable song on the album.

From here, the album changes gears and descends into paralyzing mediocrity. Tracks like "This Is Home" and "MH 4.18.2011" (which I'm guessing refers to the April 2011 issue of Men's Health magazine) are completely forgettable and will probably leave you wondering if Blink even knew what they were trying to accomplish when they made them. At some points in its second half, the album veers dangerously close to self-parody: "Love Is Dangerous" is literally just Tom DeLonge singing "Love is dangerous, love is so dangerous" over and over ad nauseam.

So what's the final verdict? Well, as one of those Blink fans who was devastated when the band originally broke up, this was an album I had wanted to hear for a long time. But by the time it came out, my excitement had somewhat lessened. And it lessened still more when I actually listened to the album. I guess in some ways I had moved on. And while Blink has learned a few new tricks since their last disc, ultimately Neighborhoods is dragged down by their teenage tendency to try to rip their hearts out of their chests on every song. It has the schizophrenia of a transitional album, which is fine if they can actually complete the transition on the next album. But the new Blink seems proud of their contradictory sound: the title Neighborhoods is meant to represent how each member of the band is a different neighborhood, though they all exist in the same city. Hopefully they can move into the same zip code on for their next album, and not just be happy with having a nice metaphor to explain their shortcomings.

Score: 2.5 out of 5

MOVIE REVIEW: Hobo with a Shotgun

So yesterday, I watched Hobo with a Shotgun.

If you're not familiar with this movie, I don't know if I can impress upon you how absurd it is. But if you can imagine the hyper-violence and grindhouse nostalgia of Tarantino, combined with the disorientation and paranoia of Terry Gilliam, topped off with just a dash of the wanton silliness and cult appeal of Napoleon Dynamite, you are on your way to getting a sense of what Hobo with a Shotgun has in store.

The clearest comparison is to Machete, another "intentional b-movie" that evolved from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez's Grindhouse project. However, I found Hobo to be much more enjoyable than Machete.

But the point is that this is a particular type of movie, and it's going to get drastically different reactions from different people. This is the type of movie where people are murdered with ice skates, and a pedophile dressed as Santa Claus roams the streets looking for victims. The world of Hobo with a Shotgun is a twisted version of our own -- a dystopia where there are no concepts of decency or right and wrong. This world is ruled over by a gangster named The Drake. Now it's never explained who The Drake is, or exactly how he came to power. All we know is that he's a big bully who rules through fear, and that's all we need to know to make it clear that the city is in need of a hero to stand up to him and his two sons, Slick and Ivan.

All of the performances in the film are actually quite good, but I have to say that Gregory Smith and Nick Bateman are especially good in the roles of Slick and Ivan. When your role is essentially to play a sociopathic version of Biff from Back to the Future (complete with Harrington jacket), you basically just have to bring a lot of enthusiasm and have fun with the part, which both Smith and Bateman do. Without giving away any of their crazy antics, I will say that they are unbelievably sadistic and completely irredeemable, and I enjoyed every minute that they were on screen.

But the movie is built in large part around its tone, which means it's really a director's movie, with the actors merely pitching in a bit to support the vision. Jason Eisener is a first-time director, and he acquits himself admirably. While the movie drags at parts and is ultimately overlong, I found myself unexpectedly refreshed by the way in which it rarely, if ever, winks at the audience or otherwise breaks the fourth wall. While Hobo is intentionally "bad," it never lets on that it's in on the joke. It plays as a glimpse into a bizarre parallel universe, and whatever laughs it earns derive from absurd characters being themselves.

And that's really the main question you need to ask yourself if you are considering seeing this film: Does this sound like a world you want a peek into? If you think it might be, I would recommend Hobo with a Shotgun. It lives up to the absurdity of its title and then some. I give it a 7.5 (out of 10).

MOVIE REVIEW: Ridicule

The second French film I watched this weekend was Ridicule, which won the 1996 Best Film award at the Cesars (French Oscars). I don't mind saying right up front that I thought it was great.

The protagonist of the film is the Marquis de Malavoy, a nobleman from a rural area of France who comes to Versailles and lives at the court of Louis XVI. His purpose at court is to get funding for his plan to drain the swamps on his family's lands, which he learns will require the King's approval. See, de Malavoy is a good noble, and swamps have a tendency to breed disease, which is killing his peasants.

But the real meat of the film is its depiction of court life, which I found to be quite unique. While we get the standard dose of conspiracy and political maneuvering, Ridicule makes a point of emphasizing the shallowness, hypocrisy, and asininity that pervaded Versailles in the years leading up to the French Revolution.

In the film, these qualities are embodied by L'Abbe (Abbott) de Vilecourt and his lover, Madame de Blayac (a wealthy widow), expertly played by Bernard Giraudeau and Fanny Ardant, respectively. They have risen to the top of the heap at Versailles due primarily to their eloquence and wit, which, as de Malavoy learns, are essential if one seeks to curry favor with influential nobles and, ultimately, King Louis himself.

Upon his arrival at court, de Malavoy is taken in by de Bellegarde, an older nobleman who teaches him the ways of Versailles. Never laugh at your own jokes, he explains, and when you laugh at others' jokes, you must keep your mouth closed (after all, laughing with your mouth open is so vulgar). Failing to come up with a retort after a witty remark at your expense is the fast-track to court purgatory. Always be on the lookout for opportunities to demonstrate your wit ("l'esprit") with a few well-chosen jabs at the expense of your fellow nobles, and you can quickly become the talk of Versailles and ultimately gain the King's ear.

The performances in Ridicule are excellent, and the very best comes from Mr. Giraudeau as the Abbott. He manages to create something very unique with the character, something I can only describe as a well-rounded caricature. And, despite being the embodiment of all that was wrong with the French nobility in late 18th-century France, he manages to pull off being strangely likeable and even sympathetic at times. His best scene in the movie is without a doubt his sermon to the nobles (including King Louis) in which he puts forth his proof for the existence of God. He gives his sermon with an unusual amount of gusto and dripping with adoration for himself and -- as much as you will want to be disgusted by him -- you will have a big, goofy smile on your face as you watch.

The actors are helped along by the amazing costumes and sets in the film, which looks like it was actually filmed at Versailles (I haven't been able to confirm this). As the film progresses, and de Malavoy works his way into the most exclusive circles, his wardrobe becomes increasingly intricate and ostentatious.

If I were so inclined, I could use this as a jumping-off point to seriously criticize the film. For, even as it excoriates the excess and myopia of the court of Louis XVI, the film is so damn pretty and fun to watch that its underlying message of conscience and sobriety can sometimes get lost. This is most apparent at the ending of the film, which I won't spoil except to say that it is quite abrupt, and you can almost sense the filmmakers rushing to get back to that core message.

But even taking that into consideration, I give Ridicule an 8.5 (out of 10).