Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (Inarritu, 2014)

I love superhero movies. I grew up on Tim Burton's Batman and watching X-Men: The Animated Series. I get really excited in the weeks leading up to the latest Marvel release, and I firmly believe that Nolan's The Dark Knight Trilogy remains one of the best series in cinematic history. 

As such, I found Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's concept for Birdman quite intriguing: what would happen (or, he argues, what is happening) when an actor famous for playing a superhero tries to break into the real world of acting? Can he simply drop the cape in favor for a spot in the latest art film? Or will his following demand nothing less than a gagillion sequels to his most famous role? 

If that wasn't enough, in the most brilliant bit of meta-casting possibly ever, he hired Michael Keaton to play the titular star. Keaton, who became a household name playing the Dark Knight in 1989's Batman and its 1992 sequel Batman Returns, has never regained his footing after playing arguably the world's most popular superhero. He had Beetlejuice and Mr. Mom before, and he had Jackie Brown shortly after leaving Gotham City for good. But there was nothing really meaty for Keaton to chew on after Batman, nothing to challenge him as an actor. 

Ironically, the greatest performance the actor has ever given wouldn't have worked nearly as well without Batman. 

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is one of the standout movies of 2014, with tremendous acting from its pitch-perfect stars and some of the most gorgeous cinematography ever shot. It looks at the very relevant issues of our cultural obsession with superheroes, and makes us question our own importance in the universe.

It's a striking critique about superhero culture and fandom, but it's more than just that. It would have been very interesting to stop there, and just look at the Golden Age of the Superhero Movie. The film takes the argument one step further, however, by also assessing the state of prestige work, and at the stuffiness around what we called "art". The film did extraordinarily well in not only Los Angeles, but in New York City as well, where the film takes place. It makes fun of Broadway actors and critics, and their irrational fear of Hollywood invading their turf. It's a satire of both the movies and the stage, and you need to understand this in order to get the full grasp of the film.

Michael Keaton plays Riggan Thompson, an actor most famous for playing a superhero and now trying to make a comeback by directing, writing, and starring in a Broadway play. He's haunted by the voice of Birdman, who both encourages and degrades him, and has to deal with a neurotic producer (Zach Galifinakis), his psycho mistress (Andrea Riseborough), and the self-conscious actress Lesley Shiner (Naomi Watts). Lesley's husband, the critically acclaimed stage actor Mike Shiner, (Edward Norton), also joins the cast, but proves to be an egotistical nightmare who's high-brow thinking causes tension with the other cast and crew. And, on top of all that, Riggan's family life is in shambles: his ex-wife (Amy Ryan) keeps trying to enter the picture, and his daughter Sam (Emma Stone) is fresh out of rehab and forced to work with him on the production, much to her disdain. 

Riggan begins to have a psychotic break after his play earns poor initial reception and the actors cannot seem to get along. Meanwhile, Mike and Lesley are having marital problems, and as a result Mike grows fond of the spunky Sam. Riggan tries to hold his life together, but everything with the play seems to be going horribly, making him question the point of what he's trying prove. 

The acting ensemble is absolutely phenomenal, led by Keaton's sure-fire-Oscar-winning performance. He's angry, depressed, hilarious, optimistic, and unsure all at the same time, and the result is volcanic. Edward Norton is also a lock for an Oscar nod, though I was less fond of his performance than Emma Stone. She brings a vibrancy to the picture, and adds an element of fun amidst the darkness surrounding the protagonist. Stone steals every scene she's in, and her abrasive dialogue and strong personality works incredibly well. The other actors do some great work as well, though its the three former superheroes that have the best parts. 

I've heard the film was created to look like one long shot, with the cuts hidden in the editing. I was pretty skeptical about this, until I learned who the director of photography was: Emanuel Lubezki. That's right, the creative genius behind Gravity is back in Birdman, and his work in the Cuaron movie seems like target practice when compared to the elegance of this Inarritu film. Believe it or not, this movie actually looks like one long, continuous shot. I counted only a handful of incidents where the film cuts, and I'm curious to hear how many there actually were. Regardless, this filmmaking is insane when you think about it. How they pulled this off is a minor miracle, and it's only with divine magic that I can attribute such astoundingly gorgeous work. 

The film uses the film-length long shot to its advantage, making the story seem claustrophobic and significantly uncomfortable. The sets are tight and narrow, and the dressing room is shot so that it always feels like its getting bigger and bigger. We desperately want the cameraman to cut away, to move far from where we are, but we're stuck in that room until another character opens a door or moves into another area. Kudos to the actors once again for being able to work under such strict conditions as a continuous long shots, having to traverse the immense, tight set and get to their next spot before the camera gets there. In any situation, this is some of the most brilliant filmmaking I've ever encountered, and I'm still wondering how they ever possibly pulled it off. 

The editing ensures that we think the film is indeed in one long shot, cutting together clips, visual effects, and scenic transitions to make the final product seamless. It moves at a sort of dream-like time, highlighting the movie's grand imagery and intriguing uses of light. There's an existential dread in the editing, forcing us to keep moving through these characters days with no breaks. That's not to say that the film is boring; rather, it's a fascinating new way of making movies that will hopefully inspire filmmakers to try and replicate the marriage of cinematography and editing featured in Inarritu's film. 

Drums seem to be playing a big part in film scores this year, and like Whiplash, the percussion adds a heavy intensity to the narrative. In Birdman, it's erratic, hectic, and seemingly random beats that adds a layer of confusion to Riggan's ever-degrading psyche. There's also hints of orchestra in some of the more emotional scenes, which compliment the action but overall are not as effective as the drum sets. 

Like the meteor that you see crashing down in the first frame of the picture, Birdman is an out-of-this-world dramedy with some of the best filmmaking in recent memory. Keaton is awe-inspiring, and it's equal parts fun and horrifying to think that Riggan's life is how Keaton probably feels trying to escape the shadow of the bat. 

Sometimes, the unexpected virtue of ignorance is going to see something you expect to be horrible, but end up loving. Other times, it's seeing something you think you'll love, and end up having a revelation about your own passions and place in the universe. Birdman is a film for film lovers, a mind-blogging movie about moviemaking, and cinema in its most original form.   

Annabelle (Leonetti, 2014)

I've only recently gotten into horror movies, but have immersed myself in the greats. Films like Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Child's Play, The Omen, and Paranormal Activity all bring something unique to the genre; but, they all suffer from the problem of too many sequels. 

Last summer's scarefest breakout, The Conjuring, barely missed the cut of my top 10 movies of 2013.  It's a thrilling movie that's terrifying to behold and fun to witness. It pays homage to classic horror movies, while also crafting new ways to scare you. It's actually a good film- a rare feat in the usually shlocky horror genre. 

One of the most disturbing elements of The Conjuring was the Annabelle doll, which appeared in the first 10 minutes before disappearing until the film's final act (and even then only showed up for a few moments). The focus wasn't on her, but she was hardly forgettable; in fact, many people cite Annabelle as the scariest part of the movie. Warner Brothers felt strongly enough about her apparently though, because shortly after the critical and commercial success of The Conjuring they announced a spin-off starring the doll. Suffice it to say, fans of the original film like me were curious and excited for the prospect of having an entire film dedicated to the smiling toy. 

Unfortunately, Annabelle is about as wooden as it's titular doll.

The acting is second rate, the story is uninteresting, and the visual effects are sloppy. But worst of all, the filmmakers completely did away with all the components that made The Conjuring so terrifying. Much like Psycho and The Exorcist, director John R. Leonetti take a fantastic concept and turn it into a disaster. 

Set a few years before the Ed and Lorraine Warren get their hands on the doll, Annabelle tells the story of a young California couple dealing with freaky occurrences. It serves as a sort of origin story for Annabelle, as we learn that she originally was a rare doll that the pregnant Mia (Annabelle Wallis) has been seeking for her collection. The doll gets imbued with supernatural abilities when a group of satanic cultists invade the home of Mia and John. The devil (not just the more believable evil spirit in The Conjuring) himself takes over Annabelle, and as its powers grow, so too does the level of terror inflicted on Mia, John, and their baby. 

The Conjuring mastered the art of keeping things hidden, letting the audience imagine their own nightmares taking place in that particular household. It never shows actual demons like Annabelle does, nor does it give into tired plot devices to progress its story. 

Not to mention The Conjuring had great performances from Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson, while Annabelle features C-level talent from people who I'm pretty sure failed out of acting school. Alfre Woodard and Tony Amendola do their best, but they're not working with much help from either the cast or the crew. 

Granted, nobody goes to a horror movie expecting a work of art. They go to get the living daylights scared out them, right? Well, that's another strikeout on Annabelle's part. Other than really two moments, the movie is just not scary. The doll seems silly by the end, and a lot of that has to do with how poorly the director uses her. A lot of times, she's just sitting there staring, and does nothing to elicit a reaction from anyone other than the wimpiest of viewers. 

The Conjuring certainly merits a sequel. And perhaps Annabelle is just a fluke, meant to tide us over until The Conjuring 2 comes out next October. But I wish they would have just waited to actually create a good movie. Annabelle's character works really well in the original because she's in it so infrequently, and isn't the driving force of the film. She's there just to freak you out, and reference other horror creations like Chucky in the picture. 

The Conjuring had such great potential as a franchise starting point, with James Wan at the helm and Farmiga and Wilson returning film after film as the Warrens- real life paranormal investigators that have inspired generations. Annabelle is their most infamous discovery, and her inclusion in The Conjuring worked as a minor role. As evidenced in Annabelle, however, we learn that she cannot hold her own as a major star. 

If you want a good horror movie for this Halloween, go check out The Conjuring (or see it again, because as I learned this past week, it's still great fun and scary as all get out). Otherwise, ignore the box office receipts and pretend Annabelle doesn't exist as anything more than a placefiller for AMC's FearFest from 2:00-4:00 on a Tuesday afternoon. 

Whiplash (Chazelle, 2014)

As someone who spent a good amount of their high school years involved with the band, I can tell you how powerful the imagery in this film was. I could taste the wetting of the saxophone reed (my instrument of choice), and could smell the spit as it hit the floor from the trumpet. I played "Caravan" in jazz band, and I remember the nuisance of tuning everyone to the same key. 

That being said, I never, ever, in all my years of musicianship, had a teacher as nasty as Terence Fletcher. 

The scariest villain of the year is not in a superhero movie, and he's not trying to take over Earth. Instead, he's a tormenting demon obsessed with perfection, pushing his students to their absolute threshold. J.K. Simmons is reason enough to see Whiplash, though the movie is excellent beyond his unforgettable role. Miles Teller is a good performer and a refreshingly unsympathetic protagonist, but his main accomplishment is being able to go toe-to-toe with Simmon's Fletcher without fading into the background. The two of them have an electric chemistry, and their war crackles with psychological intensity.

Andrew Neyman (Teller) is determined to be the greatest drummer in history, and spends his days and nights pounding on the drum sets. He attends a prestigious music conservatory, and eventually catches the eye of top jazz instructor Terrence Fletcher (Simmons). Fletcher has a reputation for being incredibly picky in his choice of students, and at first seems kind and generous towards Neyman. But after Neyman witnesses how abusive the insult-hurling Fletching is, he finds himself trapped in a nightmare with one of the most intimidating teachers ever featured on the silver screen.

Simmons has been a reliable character actor for years (as I previously noted, he's the best part of the Sam Raimi Spider-Man movies), and it's cool to see that he's landing on the top of everyone's predictions for Best Supporting Actor. In a category designed for villains and scene-stealing characters, Simmons fills both of those requirements as the terrifying band teacher who flings criticisms almost as fast as furniture. He's the clear antagonist of Whiplash, yet he also has a reason for abusing his students so heavily. It's a fun and scene-stealing performance that will more than likely earn Simmons the chance to steal the show from his co-workers, much like he has in his performances for decades. 

Director Damien Chazelle settles into his second feature as if he's been making pictures for decades. Each scene builds dramatically from the previous, and each shot emphasizes the student's dynamics with Fletcher. His own screenplay dabbles briefly in subplots such as Neyman's father (Paul Resier) and girlfriend (Melissa Benoist), but their only purpose is to build onto Neyman's mental transformation. It's an intense story that's riveting to experience. 

The band scenes are well orchestrated, and played beautifully. You'll want to visit a jazz concert after seeing this film, as well as quickly download "Caravan" and the titular "Whiplash". Teller stands out by literally pouring sweat, blood, and tears into the music, and his frequent playing shows that he's not faking it. 

Whiplash won the top critic and audience awards at Sundance Film Festival, and for good reason- it's a thrilling look into the fierce competitiveness and cutthroat nature of the music industry, and an uncommon commentary on the lack of competition for students who earn accolades just for showing up and trying their best. As Fletcher says, "There's no two words more harmful to the English language than 'good job'". A very uncommon message for the usually optimistic Hollywood, and featured in a movie that's equally fascinating and disturbing to watch. 

Simmons, we'll see you on February 22, accepting the Oscar for Best Actor in a Supporting Role. 

Gone Girl (Fincher, 2014)

Hitchcock is cursing out the heavens for not letting him live long enough to direct such a juicy, twisty mystery.

In the vein of the Master of Suspense himself, David Fincher does marvelous work with Gone Girl, one of the best mysteries of recent years. Based on the best-selling novel by Gillian Flynn (who also wrote the screenplay), the film is a startling look at love and marriage, told in the moody atmosphere that Fincher films often adapt.

Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) is the husband of the recently-missing Amy (Rosamund Pike), and he is slowly becoming the lead suspect. As the film progresses, the audience learns how flawed their marriage was, and with each new clue Nick comes closer to being arrested. His twin (Carrie Coon), a dedicated detective (Kim Dickens), and a popular defense attorney (Tyler Perry) are the only friends Nick has in a country captivated by "Amazing Amy"'s disappearance.

Spoilers should be avoided like the plague; the less you know about the plot, the better the suspense is. There's enough twists and turns in the screenplay to circle the planet three times, and there's some really poignant dialogue and powerful symbolism. The movie also plays with narration in really interesting ways, and it's fascinating to watch the story unfold. It's hard not to get swept away in the thrill of the story, and the solid adaptation makes sure of that.

This is arguably the best performance Ben Affleck has ever given. For a man who's won accolades for directing, his acting has never been stellar. However, perhaps due to his own run-ins with the crazed media during "Bennifer", Affleck is totally believable as the questionable Nick. From his controversial smile in front of Amy's poster, to his constant reminders that he did not do anything to his wife, the Oscar-winner proves he is indeed capable of a good performance if the right role appears.

I have been a fan of Rosamund Pike since her first appearance as Bond girl Miranda Frost in the 2002 movie Die Another Day, and I'm so happy she's finally getting the recognition she deserves. She is captivating as Amy Dunne, featured in flashbacks and re-enactments of past diary entries. Amy is easily the most complex and fascinating character in Gone Girl, and fans of the novel will not be disappointed by her depiction on the silver screen. Pike gives my favorite female performance of the year so far, and has a very good shot at being at least nominated for an Academy Award.

Other actors such as Perry, Dickens, and Neil Patrick Harris also do memorable work, though the two leads steal the show. The supporting characters exist in the narrative just to give a moral line between the contrasting views of Nick's reality and Amy's diary. Coon is the only standout performance besides the married couple, as the hilarious yet devoted twin to Nick.

David Fincher has a strong following, and Gone Girl proves that he's one of the greatest directors in the industry today. While he's had some middling box office success in recent years, his work is almost always beloved by critics. His infamous control of actors comes through yet again, and he does not waste a shot. He never reveals too much at any given time, ensuring the maximum amount of suspense possible. Also, pay close attention to the opening credits: they're very short, and each line only appears on the screen for half a second before it disappears. It sets up the tense nature of the film ahead, and makes viewers notice each cut.

If there's one fault with Gone Girl, it's the length. At nearly two-and-a-half hours, the ending especially prattles on without end (grant it, a large Coke will do that to you, and I'm sure with a pause button the movie would seem a lot shorter). Besides that, the editing is fantastic, and there's a deliberate pacing to the story. Not a scene seems unimportant, and you won't want to miss a second.

Some of the themes addressed in the film include the problems with modern marriage, society's obsession with beautiful missing people, economic problems in everyday life, and the lasting effect of parents on humans even as adults. It feels very contemporary in it's ideas, but the story itself is a classic thriller. It's entertaining, fun, and a cultural phenomenon that needs to be experienced and discussed.

The Master himself is lamenting that he will never be able to work with Rosamund Pike- the perfect Hitchcock blonde.