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I'm Thinking of Ending Things: Analysis

12/17/2021

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by Sebastian Tow
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Director Charlie Kaufman’s  I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a film that will leave some viewers feeling like they experienced a bad acid trip. Others may be unsatisfied, even angry after sitting through two hours of confusing pseudo-thriller cinematography and countless plot derailments. Others may try to theorize about what it all meant, but the unifying feeling among every viewer will be one of perplexment.

The film begins with a long ride through a snowstorm. In the car is a young woman named Lucy (Jessie Buckley) riding with her boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemons) on their way to meet his parents. The film mainly follows Lucy and Jake’s narrative, but it cuts back and forth between seemingly unrelated scenes of an old janitor. First he is in his home, eating breakfast, watching TV, and getting ready, but for the majority of the film his scenes take place in the highschool where he works. The film’s structure continues in four discernable parts, each part descending further into plotlessness and consequent confusion. After arriving at the parents house, an uncomfortable dinner occurs between the couple and the parents, constituting the second part. After the couple leaves, they stop for ice cream, even though they are in a blizzard. After driving further, they stop to dispose of the ice cream in the parking lot of a highschool. The couple shares a moment outside of the car in the snow, and when Jake sees a man inside the building spying on them - the janitor -  he goes in to confront him. This is the bridge to the fourth part of the film, the denouement, when Lucy goes in after him, and the plot following her breaks down completely, ending in a series of surrealist scenes centered around Jake and the janitor. This is a vastly simplified summary, since the complexity of signs and metaphors contained within the movie is immense. 

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The general verdict on the meaning of the film is that it is only a portrait of the inner workings of Jake’s mind, that all the symbols of the film are merely extensions of a distorted and lonely male psyche. But I think that this interpretation leaves out a secondary orientation at work in the film, the orientation of Lucy. We see the film through Lucy's eyes, and as she realizes that she is really just a projection of Jake's mental space, we do as well.  I’m Thinking of Ending Things could be read as a more elaborate version of the standard Hitchcockian story of a woman who intrudes into the psychological world of the male protagonist, as in Psycho and The Birds. Lucy enters into the psychic space of Jake as it were, materialized by the parent’s house.

The basement symbolizes his subconscious, or his Id,  just as the format of Norman Bates house in Psycho. At a closer examination, Jake’s parents house is akin to the Bates’ house as the representation of the three Freudian levels of the psyche often portrayed implicitly in films: the Superego, the Ego, and the Id. The Superego being the upstairs where the parents reside, their presence acting as a force detached from Jake, and the Ego being the middle floor of (somewhat) normal appearances. The parallel is clear when Jake attempts to stop Lucy from going into the basement. Like in Psycho, when Marion finds Norman’s mother’s corpse in the fruit cellar, once Lucy finally goes down to the basement she finds janitor uniforms in the washing machine. This symbolic object is what Jake tries to hide from her, tries to stop her from finding. It is the traumatic object that holds the key link between Jake and the janitor, who are two sides of the same coin. The basement, a mix of Jake’s Id and subconscious drives, is the reservoir of repressed symbols.

There are constant binary symbols that connect along the timeline of film, symbols that act as the central metaphors for Jake and the janitor’s subjectivity. For example, Lucy recites a poem of her own composition for Jake during the car ride at the beginning of the film. Later on, she finds a book of poetry in Jake’s childhood bedroom that contains the same poem, making her, and the viewer, unsure of whether she is just a figment of Jake’s mental space. Jake’s parents seem to age during the dinner, and at the end of the film Jake stands on stage in front of an audience of everyone he knows, all wearing highschool level production age makeup. This bears reference to the highschool production of Oklahoma that is referenced throughout the film. One of Oklahoma’s central characters is Jud, the dumb, disliked outsider who fails to win the affection of the heroine. The janitor has consistent fantasies about the musical, and Jake sings Jud’s depressing solo about failed dreams in the last sequence of the film, when he’s up on stage caked in age makeup. In the janitor’s last scene,  he walks naked down the highschool halls following an animated pig filled with maggots, making reference to the earlier scene when Jake explains to Lucy that maggots ate his parent’s pigs alive. All these connected signifiers point to Jake and the janitor's feeling of being the lonely outsider, and this is the central concept aimed at by the film.
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What if we are to invert this and orient towards the meaning of the film through Lucy’s eyes? The obvious question of what is reality and what is not is not so important. Once it is understood that all the events of the film take place in the fantasy space of (Jake and) the  janitor, what is interesting is to see how this is symbolized. Despite the whole landscape of the film residing in the mind of Jake/the janitor, it is nonetheless explored through our gaze via Lucy. Lucy is both a symptom of Jake/the janitor’s psyche, and the intruder in it. She is the object cause of Jake/the janitor’s desire, and yet she is autonomous of them, and the schizophrenic finale represents this deadlock in Jake/the janitor’s relation to Lucy as the signifier of a lack of love. From Lucy’s point of view, Jake and the janitor’s inadequacy and loneliness is a projection of Lucy’s low opinion of her boyfriend, and doubt about his personality. In this way, Jake’s attempts to cover up his inadequacies and Lucy’s persistence at finding them constitute the psychoanalytic notion of ‘the abyss of the other’, the unbridgeable gap between the psyches of two people. So while ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ signifies the janitor’s breakdown towards death in the end, and ultimately his and Jake’s despairing loneliness, ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things’ to Lucy signifies her doubt about her relationship, and ultimately the irreparable gap between the desires of two people. Lucy is the perspective central to our experience of the film, but external to the meaning of it. She is the ex-timate core of the film, both within and without the central semantics of the film’s structure; this can be seen clearly by reading the cinematography closely. The disorienting form of the film is paradoxically reliant on the oscillation between Jake/the janitor’s and Lucy’s perspectives, leaving I’m Thinking of Ending Things open for a plethora of interpretations. 

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Demon Slayer Movie Review

12/10/2021

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by Aaron Argot
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Spoiler Warning for Demon Slayer: Kimestu no Yaiba: The Movie: Mugen Train.
Trigger Warning: Depictions of suicide.
Demon Slayer: Kimestu no Yaiba: The Movie: Mugen Train (Haruo Sotozaki, 2020), which will be shortened to Mugen Train for all intents and purposes, is a film filled with action and emotion, great story elements and themes, and beautiful animation and sound direction. This Japanese film, at least visually, supports my belief that animated films carry the most freedom and potential to be the best that they can be. The story is set in Japan at the turn of the 20th century, in a fantasy world with a population of demons lurking in the shadows. Demons are former humans who feast on humans to get stronger. They all have the power to regenerate, and some possess a wide array of supernatural abilities. It is the job of the Demon Slayer Corp to ensure the safety of humanity by destroying demons through the use of decapitation or sunlight. 
Mugen Train follows the main cast of Tanjiro, his sister Nezuko (who has turned into a demon, but is docile), Zenitsu, and Inosuke, as they join the Flame Hashira (one of the most powerful Demon Slayers) Kyojuro Rengoku on the Mugen train to investigate and hopefully stop demon attacks that leave people missing. Despite following mainly Tanjiro, this film is about Rengoku. If you had seen the series beforehand, which is definitely recommended, you actually do not know that much about Rengoku, and his character is explored in the film. Also if you have not seen the series and go into the film blind, the first 15 minutes of the film give audiences a pretty clear view of each major character as well as the world they live in, and is done in a way not to make the viewer who has done their homework bored. As the film progresses you do get to learn deeper aspects of characters.
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One of the things that I appreciate about this film is that it takes place almost entirely on the train. But, it still manages to have diverse locations so it doesn’t get stale. There is a long sequence at the end of the film that takes place off of the train and right next to it. The train also shifts halfway through the film to where it looks completely different. The main villain of the film, ends up putting the protagonists to sleep early on in the film, so a major part of the film are the dream sequences. Speaking of the dream sequences, they serve as great insights into various characters through backstory elements and/or symbolism. In Rengoku’s dream he relives a memory that gives important information into how he is as a character. We also get to see everyone’s “Realm of the Subconscious”, which is like a window into a person’s soul. Rengoku’s realm is filled with essentially fire and brimstone, while Tanjiro’s is filled with water which one can walk on and a bright blue sky with puffy clouds. I love the subtle and stylized nature of things like this, as it takes “a picture is worth a thousand words” to the next step.
    A lot of emotion comes out in Tanjiro’s actual dream sequence, where he gets to be reunited with his family, who all had died at the beginning of the series. While this is another great way to fill in first time viewers of the main character’s past, it also serves as a great character moment as Tanjiro starts to come to his senses. The internal struggle he faces when he eventually realizes he is in a dream and has to leave his family behind again is a highlight of the film. Another interesting and particularly heavy note, which also highlights Tanjiro’s character is the way to forcefully exit the dream, which is to die or essentially commit suicide. Tanjiro slices his neck to get out, and then does it more than once as he has to fight Enmu, the demon that put everyone to sleep. He does it so many times that he has to be saved from accidentally doing it in the real world. Even Enmu admits that it takes incredible mental fortitude and says that Tanjiro is “out of his mind.” Despite what it may look like to some, I do not think that it glorifies suicide and instead does the opposite. To make someone have to kill themselves in order to leave the dream is cruel and incredibly hard, which is why Enmu looks so surprised and exemplifies how motivated Tanjiro can be.
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Mugen Train is filled with a lot of spectacular action sequences, and it all ends up being satisfying. Every sword swing or punch is fixated upon and holds weight. This is due to the direction, animation, and sound design. Animation as a genre lends itself really well to having near perfect direction, as you aren’t framing and filming the shots in the real world, which makes it way easier to do what you want to do. The animation of the action is a major part of what makes this film a true work of art. Everything is so beautifully crafted and really takes you into the story and into the world. Even the 3D CGI elements blend well with the 2D elements. The sound design of every hit also makes each impact feel, well, impactful. Paired with the background music that plays throughout the film, this film is an aesthetic masterpiece. During the fight against Enmu is where a lot of the action of the film is. It is where each of the main characters can shine with their attacks and it is also where the animators can shine. However, I feel like every aspect of the film is exemplified in the last and best sequence, the final fight between a new demon who shows up, Akaza, and Rengoku.
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This last part of the film takes place after an event that one might think would end the film, with the train getting derailed. But this takes you beyond your expectations by bringing you past the Mugen train so it feels as if it is almost a bonus sequence. However, this makes the whole film. As previously stated, the animation and direction teams can set up shots  very precisely. This allows for some of the hardest closeups you can imagine to really get the emotion in a character’s face. This fight has every aspect of the film that I like, only elevated. The deeper battle Rengoku and Akaza are having also makes it that much better. Both combatants are very steadfast in their beliefs. Akaza believes demons to be superior due to their strength and regeneration, while Rengoku believes humanity as well as the fact of death are beautiful things and does not take Akaza up on his offer to become a demon. The fight ends with essentially both of them being proven right, as Akaza basically takes a net zero damage, and Rengoku ends up dying but holds him off long enough for him to have to escape, with zero casualties. The film ends along with Rengoku’s arc as he fulfilled his duty and inspires the next generation. This fight puts the nail in the coffin for why this is a film about Rengoku. With him being the first in the film to make an attack, having a dream sequence that was actually a memory, and seeing as how Mugen Train encapsulates almost all of what we see of Rengoku in the Demon Slayer series. You go into the film not knowing much about the character, to come out of it absolutely loving and missing him. 
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Mugen Train is a beautiful, fun film with themes of humanity, perseverance, responsibility, and death. It is a fantastic continuation of a great series as well as being incredible as a stand alone film. A lot of things happen that will satisfy both veterans and newcomers to the story. The story and characters are simple yet don’t feel one-note, and everything aesthetically is almost perfect. I would highly recommend watching all of Demon Slayer, but even if you just watch Mugen Train, you will not be disappointed.
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The Power of the Dog: A Review

12/3/2021

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by Mason Leaver
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The Power of the Dog is a film that understands the importance of simplicity. The story is straightforward, the cast small, the performances understated - powerful, but not “flashy.” This emphasis on simplicity lends The Power of the Dog a “slow-burn” tone, allowing the drama and tension to build between the four main characters over the entire two hour runtime. It is an adaptation of a book by the same name, and director Jane Campion has delivered a film with a distinctly literary quality. The Power of the Dog is a western which takes its time to focus on the simple and intimate story of a handful of characters, and it’s intensity of focus leaves the audience with a deeply rewarding experience.
Power is the story of four individuals living on a cattle farm in 1920’s Montana. Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons) are brothers, the owners of the cattle ranch. We are given a sense that the brothers were once close friends, but have drifted apart as George has grown more accustomed to a comfortable life and a desire for a family. Phil, meanwhile, is strictly dedicated to the ranching life, and is often very cruel towards others. The film frequently references the story of Remus and Romulus, the brothers from the ancient Roman myth. The brothers’ relationship is further strained when George falls in love with Rose (Kirsten Dunst), who runs a small inn that the brothers stop at. After marrying Rose, George invites her and her son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) to stay at his and Phil’s home. Tensions rise as Phil seeks ways to make the lives of Rose and Peter miserable, and as Rose’s mental health begins to decline.
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The four central characters of The Power of the Dog
Without much exciting spectacle or action to lean on, The Power of the Dog relies heavily on the performances of its main characters. Thankfully, each actor rises to the occasion. Cumberbatch has played villains in the past, such as his performances in Star Trek: Into Darkness or The Hobbit, but this is the first role I have seen him in where he feels genuinely frightening. The intensity with which Phil hates Rose is detailed subtly in Cumberbatch’s performance. In a similar film such as There Will be Blood, Cumberbatch would be given a scene in which he explodes dramatically in anger. However, in this film, Phil is much more reserved, only shouting occasionally to scare others off. Most of his time spent is subtly manipulating Rose and going out of his way to bully her. Plemons and Dunst (who are married in real life as well as the film) play off of each other remarkably well. Plemons manages to capture a certain kind of melancholy stemming from his utter devotion to Rose. Dunst, meanwhile, demonstrates a different sort of melancholy as she slowly slips into alcoholism and depression. 
Besides its performances, the film also has a great deal of artistic merit in its visuals and music. The cinematography of the film is sprawling and vast, featuring beautiful landscapes filmed in New Zealand, passing as Montana. Cinematographer Ari Wegner has an excellent understanding of when to pull the camera wide to show the gorgeous vistas that the characters occupy, and when to punch in for a closeup on an actor’s face that communicates a great deal without ever speaking a word. Much of the interaction between the characters happens in silent gazes and stares, and Wegner captures these movements with precision. Another stand out aspect of the film is the score. Written by Jonny Greenwood (of Radiohead fame), the score builds an atmosphere of dread and tension throughout the film. The music is mainly composed of instrumentation that would be typical in a Western, but Greenwood spins these leitmotifs in such a way that the listener is always just slightly on edge, slightly unsure of what is next. 
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Benedict Cumberbatch stands in front of the vast New Zealand landscape
The Power of the Dog is a film which shines in every aspect. Beyond its technical mastery of the art form, the film’s pacing allows for a fresh tone not often seen in modern westerns. It’s slow and brooding pace creates a world which feels lived in and real, a sense that the characters that we see are complex individuals. Director Jane Campion has arranged a compelling drama that strikes a balance between visual beauty, nuanced performances, and an intriguing story.
The Power of the Dog​ is available now on Netflix
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Reverence & Revision: David Lowery’s "The Green Knight" in Conversation With the Original Poem

11/19/2021

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by Ned Kuczmynda
When works of literature are brought to the silver screen a common litmus test revolves around the fealty paid by the adaptation to the source text. Faithful films are praised for being true to the original story, but those that deviate are often panned and viewed as artistic compromises. One such example is Robert Zemeckis’ Beowulf (2007), which took many liberties with its adaptation of the ancient poem. Similarly divisive was Baz Luhrman’s Romeo and Juliet (1996) which transported the classic play into a heavily stylized gangster-epic.
These films’ failures to win the approval of devotees indicates that despite being thousands of years old, ancient works are not exempt from the confines of the source. This is what makes David Lowery’s screenplay for The Green Knight (2021) so daring. His film is not just a recreation of the Arthurian original but a response as well. Despite many major deviations from the events of the source material, the film is true to the heart of the myth and embodies a similar tone despite its occasional alternate events.
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King Arthur (Sean Harris)  at the head of his round table
David Lowery understands the importance of context. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was a story told to represent the ideals of the society that birthed it. The poem represents three things that were of utmost importance to Medieval society: physical prowess, chivalric honor, and chastity. Lowery seems to isolate those specific aspects of the play, offering his own revisions for how they are portrayed, and raising questions about how much of their value persists in modern society.
In the film’s most famous scene, the Green Knight enters the room, and makes his fateful proposition. Gawain’s acceptance is not bold, it is scared and reluctant. As he takes to his knees the Knight raises his axe in offering. Gawain refuses, instead using Excalibur to deliver the deadly blow. In the text Gawain sees an enemy kneeling in submission as much less of a threat. He confidently raises the axe and mightily strikes downward.

Gawain grips to his ax and gathers it aloft--
The left foot on the floor before him he set--
Brought it down deftly upon the bare neck,
That the shock of the sharp blow shivered the bones
And cut the flesh cleanly and clove it twain,
That the blade of bright steel bit into the ground (421-426).
​

Curiously, the story that the people of Gawain’s village seem to latch onto in the film with their stories and puppet shows is much more akin to the myth, in which Gawain’s smiting of the Green Knight is an act of bravery, not of fear.
A year later, when Gawain embarks on his journey he is almost immediately set upon by teenaged bandits. Instead of fending them off, they subdue Gawain, taking everything from him and leaving him tied up to die. Lowery uses a clever time lapse here showing the seasons passing as Gawain slowly starves to death on the forest floor, unable to escape his bonds. Suddenly he awakes from his morbid dream, but the message of what could have happened is clear. The quest nearly ended before it even began.

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Lowery shows us a vision of Gawain’s quest going horribly wrong
Lowery’s Gawain does not just subvert the average moviegoers idea of what a knight should be, he undercuts what one would have been historically. Throughout the film, different characters see Gawain, and expect strength from him; after all knights are meant to be armor clad saviors. Gawain is a coward carrying armor and weapons that aren’t his, riding a horse he acquired on loan from his uncle. In doing this, Lowery also manages to subtly castigate the notion of a benevolent warrior. We don’t see much actual armed conflict in the film but we do see the aftermath of one of Camelot’s battles. All the glorious heroes have ridden off, and Gawain travels through a field of smoke and slain bodies.
The second major change that Lowery makes is to Gawain’s moral character. The mythical Gawain, though powerful, is known for his rectitude. Lowery robs him of that too. We first find Gawain in a brothel. We learn that he frequents it and is particularly close with a woman named Essel. Despite their relationship Gawain refuses to make any commitment to her. Then there is his on-screen motivation: which is solely for himself. Arthur asks him prior to the Green Knight’s entrance to tell him a story, and Gawain responds that he has none. His willingness to take the Knight's challenge can be seen as a response to the desire to finally have a story of his own to tell. Standing in contrast is Gawain’s speech in the text in which he begs Arthur to let him take on the challenge. “My body, but for your blood, is barren of worth; / And for that this folly befits not a king, / And it is I that have asked it, it ought to be mine,” (357-358). Here, his sole motivation is for King Arthur’s honor, and this is shown by the way Gawain demeans himself in the process of asking.
After Gawain beheads the Green Knight, and becomes a celebrity, he uses his new fame in the worst ways. He carouses about in bars, trying to drink away the threat looming in the future. At another part of the film Gawain is faced with the opportunity to help a ghostly damsel in distress. He asks her what she will do for him if he completes this task for her. Her response is likely the same as the audience’s “Why would you ask me that?”. Gawain does eventually oblige but such a question is one that would likely not even enter his mind in the poem.
A central attribute to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is the way our hero is tested along his journey. The Gawain Poet pits him against two tests. The most obvious is the beheading test: how will he answer the challenge to take a knee before the Green Knight and meet his axe? The second is what is colloquially known in Gawain scholarship as “the love test”.
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Lady Bertilak (Alicia Vikander) “tests” Gawain (Dev Patel)
In his travels, Gawain comes upon a mysterious castle, with a very hospitable lord. He invites Gawain to stay for three nights. Because it is near Christmastime, he proposes a friendly game. When he returns out from hunting each day, he will give Gawain whatever he catches. In return, Gawain must pay him back with whatever he happens to receive while he is gone. Each night while the lord is away, his wife enters Gawain’s bedchamber, and tempts him. He resists each time, only accepting kisses – one the first night, two the second night, and three the third --  and nothing more. However on the third night, she gives him a magical girdle, woven with an enchantment that will protect him from the Green Knight’s blade. When it comes time to make good on their agreement, the lord of the castle gives Gawain a deer, a boar, and a fox. For each of those, Gawain gives the lord the kisses he received, he withholds the sash.
David Lowery’s changes to this portion of the story are perhaps the most jarring, probably because one could easily say that Gawain decisively fails the love test. He allows much more than a kiss, but an act of sexuality that concludes with the lady exclaiming “you’re no knight!”. Gawain does not make good on his agreement however, instead he leaves the castle in a hurry and runs into the lord on his way out, at which point the lord takes his kisses, indicating that he knows more than he is letting on.
Also worth mentioning is that Gawain’s encounter with the spirit of Saint Winifred practically constitutes a third test. Winifred is a woman who was brutally raped and murdered by a nobleman, who beheaded her and threw her head into the spring. When she meets Gawain, she asks him if he will retrieve her head from the spring. He does, and this bodes well for the quality of Gawain’s character. Here Lowery gives Gawain an opportunity to offer dignity to a woman who has been starkly wronged by a powerful man.
Finally, Lowery changes how Gawain reacts to the most important test - facing his death at the hand of the Knight. Like in the text, Gawain kneels down, and flinches at the first blow. In the text, Gawain braces himself for a second blow, and the Knight swings, but does not complete the strike, simply saying that he was seeing how Gawain would react. In the film however we receive an extended alternate ending sequence a la La La Land (2016), in which Gawain runs away from the second blow. He leaves the Green Chapel, mounts his horse and rides back to Camelot, where he is received as a hero. He inherits Arthur’s throne and becomes a powerful ruler. As the years progress we see evidence of his conquest. Finally, invaders come to Camelot, breaking down the castle door. Gawain removes the magic girdle from his waist, and his head dramatically falls from its shoulders.

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Gawain’s vision of himself as King
We flash back to reality and Gawain, still kneeling before the Knight, removes the girdle. He urges the Knight to finally make good on his promise. The Knight thanks Gawain for his honesty and says, “off with your head”. What happens after that, unlike in the text, is left ambiguous for us to infer. In the text, the Knight merely knicks Gawain’s neck, and spares him, chiding him for keeping the girdle a secret (he doesn’t take it off in the original version). In the film, we cut to black.
Lowery’s motives are ambiguous. One could assert that he is simply varying the story of Sir Gawain for the sake of telling something new. Although he does accomplish this, Lowery’s revisions to the story are part of the conversation he is having with it. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight became the classic poem it did because it addressed something that was of serious concern to people in that society. Gawain’s fealty to the code of chivalry, and steadfastness in doing right save his life in the end.
Lowery gives us a modern myth in which we don’t know what Gawain’s fate is. Whether he lives or dies is left up to the imagination. Throughout this film Gawain fails time after time to do the right thing, and at the end as he looks death in the face, he does what is honorable. He may still die; we don’t know. Lowery wants us to know that doing the right thing won’t save us, but right or wrong death will come for us. He invites us to consider what kind of death we want to have. 

Image Credits:
Wonderland Magazine
Vox
Geek Girl Authority
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The Last Duel: A Review

11/12/2021

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by Mason Leaver

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Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence and Sexual assault in The Last Duel 

The Last Duel (2021) by Ridley Scott is a complicated work to review. It is a film with incredible spectacle and action, beautiful cinematography, gripping performances, and a compelling narrative. At the same time, the story deals with a subject matter that is so horrific, it’s hard to analyze any part of the film save for it’s handling of this event. In his latest film, Ridley Scott rides a fine line between creating an epic and sensationalizing assault, between denouncing brutality and highlighting it, between criticizing medieval values and oversimplifying modern values. Nevertheless, he has succeeded in threading the needle, though not without the occasional misstep. 
    The Last Duel focuses on the story of the historical duel between the French knight Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon) and squire Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver). After Carrouges’s wife, Marguerite (Jodie Comer) accuses Le Gris of violently raping her, Carrouges challenges the squire to a judicial duel, to “allow God to decide” who is lying and who is telling the truth. Carrouges and Le Gris were once friends, but the film shows how the two slowly fall apart over the years. This takes up the majority of the runtime, and plays out as a complicated medieval court soap opera. The characters and their relationships are complex, and the politics of medieval France are played out carefully and dramatically. ​
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The film is structured in three chapters, each offering a different character’s perspective on the events. The first chapter focuses on the perspective of Carrouge, and the second shows Le Gris’s. The final chapter is titled “The Truth”, featuring the perspective of Marguerite. What we learn through these repeated viewings of events is that both men have horribly misunderstood Marguerite and have horribly mistreated her, culminating in Le Gris raping the woman. As we learn more about the two men and their history, we begin to realize that the reason for this duel may just be a pretense - it is suggested that the two men just want a reason to try to kill each other. Using this repeating structure allows the audience to progressively gain a better understanding of the characters and their motivations in a unique way. At the same time, it naturally creates a three act structure, culminating in the climax of the titular duel. After the duel, the film wraps up so quickly that it feels as if the film may have been better served by ending on the conclusion of the duel, rather than trying to fit in additional content. 
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                                                                     Carrouge (left) and Marguerite (right)
    One of the most outstanding aspects of The Last Duel is the incredible scale of the film. Ridley Scott frequently features massive set pieces that depict a Medieval France that feels lived in and real. Likewise, the war scenes and battles feel epic in scale. The film cost around 100 million dollars to make, and this huge budget makes the film feel as grand in scale as some of the Biblical epics of the 1950’s. Likewise, the final duel of the film feels extremely gritty and personal. The scene is dynamic - the positions of the two duelists shift and change throughout the fight, offering a tense and dramatic conclusion. It feels like Ridley Scott brought much of what he learned from making Gladiator (2000) into these scenes, though this film’s combat feels a bit weightier and more brutal than the combat of Gladiator. ​
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                                                                  One of the intense duels in “The Last Duel”
    As I stated previously, it feels like Ridley Scott is walking a fine line in this film. The scenes are gorgeously shot and feature huge set pieces and high drama. At the same time, the film is centered around some horrific events and depicts the horrible conditions that women lived in during the Medieval times. Scott simultaneously uses these events to critique the modern treatment of women, suggesting that many of the barbaric tendencies of the Medieval world have persisted to this day. Scott’s decision to show the assault not once, but twice, may seem to some viewers to be gratuitous. Indeed, I do wonder if this was necessary; it feels as if the film would have been just as powerful without showing us the scene from Le Gris’s perspective. Nevertheless, Scott broached a very difficult subject with a level of finesse and sophistication, even if I do not agree with every decision he made throughout, as I would have advocated for removing the assault scene from Le Gris’s chapter. Ultimately, it will be up to each viewer to form an opinion on what is in good taste and what is not. 
    The Last Duel is a film which features deep truths, challenging content, beautiful cinematography, excellent performances, and a compelling drama. It is a shame, then, that the film has done horrendously at the box office. The film has grossed just $23 million out of the initial $100 million budget. It is upsetting that more people are not seeing the film. If films like The Last Duel are going to be made in the future, audiences need to show their interest and appreciation by attending these films in the theater. A film like The Last Duel deserves to be seen on a big screen, in order to capture it’s grand scale. I cannot recall a film in recent memory which feels quite as large as Duel, and I fear that we may not see another for some time as a result of it’s financial failure. Regardless of its box office struggles, the film remains a deeply engrossing epic, worthy of seeing in a theater. ​
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The Danger of Movie Remakes: The Guilty (2018) vs The Guilty (2021)

11/12/2021

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by Reed Milliken

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The Guilty (2018, Gustav Möller) is a Danish drama crime thriller about an emergency dispatcher and former police officer, Asger Holm, who answers an emergency call from a kidnapped woman. When the call is suddenly disconnected, the search for the woman and her kidnapper begins. The Guilty (2021, Antoine Fuqua) is an American drama crime thriller about an emergency dispatcher and former police detective, Joe Baylor, who answers an emergency call from a kidnapped woman. When the call is suddenly disconnected, the search for the woman and her kidnapper begins. Sound familiar?
The following article includes spoilers for The Guilty (2018) and The Guilty (2021). Viewer discretion is advised.
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When a movie is remade, a new version of an already made movie is created to tell the same story using a different cast and alters the theme or changes the story's setting. Remakes are by no means a new concept, but my grievance towards them first started when I saw that Bong Joon Ho’s six-time Academy Award-winning, South Korean drama-thriller, Parasite (2019), was being remade into a TV show on HBOMax. With the film’s laundry list of awards and overwhelmingly positive reviews, Parasite (2019), is the closest thing to a masterpiece we have gotten in the last ten years.
So, you may ask yourself, if this movie is so good, why would it need to be remade? In this situation, where the remake involves taking a foreign film and remaking it in English for an American audience, the answer is simple. People don’t want to read subtitles. Joon Ho acknowledges this and even goes as far as to mention it in his acceptance speech for Best Picture at the 2020 Oscars, “Once you overcome the-one-inch barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” (Joon-Ho, 2020). From a personal perspective, this is very true. Movies such as House (1977), Train to Busan (2016), and The Guilty (2018) are all amazing films that I wouldn’t have watched if I was afraid to read subtitles. A film being made in a foreign language isn’t always the reason for remaking a movie, but it is one of the most popular. A prime example of this involves the two films I want to discuss today, The Guilty (2018) and The Guilty (2021).
The Guilty (2018) was produced in Denmark and was therefore released in Danish. This version of the film has been very well received by audiences and critics alike; mostly due to its style of storytelling is. As mentioned before, The Guilty (2018) follows an emergency dispatch operator named Asger Holm as he tries to help a woman who has been kidnapped. However, the camera never leaves Holm’s perspective, and every aspect of the kidnapping story is heard over the phone. By keeping the story within the operator's room, we're forced to picture the rest of the story in our heads. This made for an entirely new film-watching experience, almost combining the charm of reading a book with the luxury of watching a film. ​
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Unfortunately, The Guilty (2021) is not many of these things. Released three years later and in English, this version of the movie has not been as critically successful as its father film. Furthermore, there are a plethora of differences between the two when it comes to the story and how it is told. In what I assume was an effort to differentiate itself from its predecessor, The Guilty (2021) does not use as unique of a storytelling method. For starters, the camera is taken outside of the operator's room, therefore ruining the magic of being able to picture the situations on the other end of the line for yourself. My father, who I watched The Guilty (2018) with at the time, as well as myself both really enjoyed being able to picture the action for ourselves. On top of being able to experience a unique filmmaking experience, this technique also was beneficial to building tension. With fewer cuts between different locations, and not truly knowing for sure what is going on the other end of the line, we both found ourselves captivated and immersed in the severity of the situation. Not only does the camera stay with Asger the whole time, but we do too, feeling each twist and turn just as Asger is experiencing it. Going back to The Guilty (2021), by leaving the operator’s room and cutting to other locations, the suspense, at least for me, was ruined. Therefore, a large part of what made the original so special and so unique became absent in the remake. I encourage filmmakers to distance themselves from the original work when producing remakes, but not so much so where the intrigue is lost. 
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Furthermore, the differences lie deeper than just what you see on screen, as a lot of the meaning and context behind The Guilty (2018) is lost in its adaptation. For starters, there is a change in the name of the main character. In the Danish version, the emergency dispatcher is named Asger, while in the American version, he’s named Joe. This may not seem like too large of a change, it even makes sense for an American name to be chosen for the American version, but a lot of depth is lost in this translation. In Danish, the name Asger means spear, deriving from the Old Norse elements Æsir or ás, meaning "gods" and geirr, meaning "spear". This name is a proper reflection of the character, a spear is a pointed weapon made for quick, violent jabs. As we find out by the end of the movie, the reason Asger was put on dispatch duty was because he killed an innocent teenager by gunshot. His name reflects the reason he was put in the position we see him in the film. As for the American version, the main character’s name is Joe. In English, the name Joe just means an ordinary man, i.e. the phrase “just your average Joe”. While it could be argued that the character was named Joe as a juxtaposition to his true nature, I don’t think it’s that deep. 
My main reason for not making a mountain out of a molehill is that this isn’t the first time a meaningful name has been stripped of significance in favor of the name Joe in an American remake. Oldboy (2013) is a Spike Lee directed remake of the Korean mystery thriller Oldboy (2003), directed by Park Chan-Wook. In the original, the main character’s name is Dae-su, which means “to get through one day at a time”. Oldboy (2003) follows Dae-su as he is imprisoned for fifteen years, leading his name to signify the long, slow-paced life that he lives. Changing foreign names to a more common American one in this context is a no-brainer, but it’s unfortunate to see the new name choices become stripped of meaning when the originals held such significance. ​
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On top of this, the twists and turns of the plot of The Guilty (2018) are copied, in some cases, word for word in The Guilty (2021). Therefore, anyone who wishes to watch the original after the remake will have the story spoiled for them, removing one of the most compelling parts of the movie, the tension. It could then be argued that the target audience for the remake are those who have not seen the original, therefore being able to enjoy the twists and turns as I did while watching the original, but I argue that if nothing is changed to the plot of the story then why does it need to be remade? If there are only aesthetical changes made to the film compared to the original, then is remaking it worth it? Again we go back to the issue of subtitles, but there are much easier ways to make foreign films a bigger appeal to English-speaking audiences, such as dubbing, rather than remaking the whole movie from the bottom up.
A common trend I noticed while perusing reviews for The Guilty (2021) is that those who hadn’t seen the original enjoyed the remake much more, those who had seen the original enjoyed it much less, and vice versa. What this means is that remaking a movie can damage the original work it was based on. The common intent while remaking a movie is for the story of the original to be more easily viewable by a wider audience. Instead, remakes are damaging the original films by making them less enjoyable for those who watched the remake. If remakes accomplished what they set out to do, then that would be a different story.
The length in time between the release of the original and when the remake gets greenlit is another large issue with remaking a movie. There were only three years between the release of The Guilty (2018) and The Guilty (2021). If a remake is made long enough after the original that modern-day technology can make a significant difference in the look and feel, then remaking the movie feels more worthwhile. Godzilla (2014) was released 60 years after its predecessor, Godzilla (1954) In the time between the two movies, there were vast improvements to almost every aspect of filmmaking. Godzilla (1954) brought the Kaiju to life through clever puppetry and suits shot on film, whereas Godzilla (2014) utilized CGI and VFX and was shot on digital. When you boil it down, both movies are the same when it comes to story, but due to these improvements, the look, style, and feel of the movies are vastly different. With only three years between the two versions of The Guilty, there was nothing new to bring to the table from a production standpoint.
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When foreign movies are remade by an American studio and there is no ulterior motive other than to introduce the story in a more easily digestible form to American viewers, producing the remake doesn’t feel as worthwhile. Going back to that quote by Bong Joon-Ho, if someone isn’t willing to jump that one-inch hurdle to watch a great movie, then maybe they don’t get to watch that movie. It may seem like I’m gatekeeping, and maybe I am, but running around the hurdle instead of jumping over it by remaking it in English, only for a more bland version of the movie to be produced is a terrible way to overcome that obstacle. It not only ruins the original for those who watched the remake first, going against what the remake set out to do, but it strips the original of all of its meaning and importance. If Hollywood continues this trend of remaking film after film, creating a more dull and bleak version each time, how long is it before these stories are lost in the very thing that set out to make them known? I leave you with this question: would you rather jump that hurdle and preserve the movie’s true nature, watching a great film in the process, or run around it and watch a mediocre movie instead?
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Midsommar: An Occult Examination of Grief

11/5/2021

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by Emma Zeller
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Ari Aster stated that the concept for Midsommar (2019)  came to him after a breakup of his own. The first time watching the film I was in shock, but the second time around it was easier to pick up on the details Aster placed within the film.  
One night Dani (Florence Pugh) is sitting by her computer worried about her sister's well-being, she calls her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) a boyfriend who is too afraid to end his long-term relationship, later Dani receiving a horrific call at her entire family, including her parents and sister are dead.  Realizing she has no one left in her life she must stay in her rocky and unstable relationship. On the other hand, Christian and his college friends planned a trip to Sweden with their friend who is a native and wants to take them to the Midsommar festival. Dani is made aware of her boyfriend's trip at a party, when they return home the conversation turns sour and given the circumstances Christian feels obligated to invite Dani both unaware of the events about to unfold.
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The audience goes through all the events at the same time as Dani, this causes the viewer to feel Dani’s despair. Throughout the film all Dani wants is Christian’s full attention and devotion. Even when she starts to understand the Cult’s deepest intentions, she still seems to compromise her will for Christians. In the second half of the film, Christian is chosen and rugged by one of the cult’s young women who wants to have a baby. A ritual is performed while Christian and the women have intercourse, simultaneously Dani is searching for Christian to voice her concern and sees him cheating on her. This causes Dani to spiral, and she realizes their relationship has reached the point of no return. She fully realizes with her family dead and Christian no longer being committed to her that she is truly alone, which may be the most terrifying part of the film. At the end of the film when Dani accepts her fate and becomes at peace there is a distinct disconnect between the audience and the protagonist. Dani’s smile in the final sequence represents her full acceptance and the complete disconnect into the cult Which instills more fear into the audience. 
Midsommar is about Dani grieving her relationship with Christian. While rewatching the film and knowing the final scene, I was able to follow Dani’s stages of grief throughout the film. There is a sequence where Christian states that he is going to a party and says Dani does not have to come if she does not feel up to it. Dani denies she is feeling unwell and proceeds to go to the party. The following two scenes show Dani and Christian at the party, then arguing about his trip to Sweden. Once they return home Dani begins to get angry at Christian and when she feels him pulling away she begins to bargain so he will stay. Throughout the whole trip in Sweden Dani is Depressed and feels guilty for asking Christian to go home because she is afraid. It comes to a breaking point when she catches Christian cheating on her with one of the women in the cult. The final sequence, as Dani watches Christian burst into flames, she smiles. This is her full acceptance of her pain and loss. 

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The concept of grief and watching the stages that Dani goes through, without Christian’s support, was the scariest part the second time viewing it. Dani’s smile in the final shot of the film  invoked fear in many of the viewers. Ari Aster rooted this film in Dani and Christian’s breakup while adding folk horror elements to almost give the viewer the worst-case scenario when it comes to a breakup. 
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Eternal Recurrence: The Philosophy of the "Timeloop" Movie

10/22/2021

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by Mason Leaver
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The “time loop” film is a science fiction subgenre which can often feel recycled, but, when done properly, can reveal deep truths about the human condition. In recent years, using a time loop as a narrative device has become increasingly popular. According to Wikipedia’s list of films featuring time loops, 40% of (listed) time loop films released since 1983 have been released in the past 5 years. I expect that as filmmakers reflect on the Covid-19 quarantine, more time loop films will emerge, trying to capture the dreadful repetition of that time in our lives. Besides being able to speak to our recent experiences in quarantine, time loop films can also speak deeply to the human condition, by forcing us to examine our lives in a new way. I want to focus on two films which use the time loop trope to explore deep philosophical concepts. 
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Palm Springs (2019) is the story of a man and a woman stuck in a time loop, forever repeating a wedding that they were both invited to. Nyles (Andy Samberg) has been stuck in the time loop for countless repetitions- so long that he has become completely accustomed to it. After Sarah (Cristin Milioti) becomes stuck in this cycle along with Nyles, the two begin to reflect on what the purpose of their life is in this strange repetitive existence. Nyles has embraced a nihilistic ideology. He does whatever he wants each day as the loop repeats itself, entertaining whatever whim he might have. Nyles does emphasize that pain still matters. When Sarah inflicts injury on someone, and gets Nyles injured in the process, Nyles protests, saying that the pain that they experience is still real, and to be avoided. One of the things which makes Palm Springs such an interesting use of the time loop trope is the fact that the characters are forced to relive their failures each and every day. Nyles must wake up and be reminded that he is a lonely man who is being cheated on. Sarah, on the other hand, must be reminded that she was sleeping with her sister’s fiancé on the day of their wedding. Both characters are constantly confronted with their worst mistakes, and seek to get out of the loop because of this constant reminder. 
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Nyles passes the time by drinking and floating around, day after day. 
One of Friedrich Nietzsche’s most important ideas was his concept of the “eternal recurrence”. The basic concept which Nietzsche invited his readers to consider was the idea that time would repeat itself endlessly, cycling over and over again, for eternity- an eternal recurrence. Any actions which you take in this lifetime would be endlessly repeated in the future, and have already been endlessly repeated in the past. While scholars disagree on what Nietzsche had in mind when he articulated this idea (whether he was proposing an actual view of the nature of the universe, or merely a thought experiment), Nietzsche does use this concept to make us reflect on the nature of our lives. If our lives were to be endlessly repeated, would we feel happy about it? If not, Nietzsche suggests that this suggests that we have been failing to live a good life, and that we ought to reconsider how we live. In Palm Springs, we see an example of the sort of lives which Nietzsche would critique through the eternal recurrence. Each day, Sarah must wake up and relive the mistakes that she has made. Both Nyles and Sarah are confronted with their regrets and mistakes, and are forced to repeat them. Through the use of the time loop trope, Palm Springs examines Nietzsche's concept of the eternal recurrence.  
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Another film, About Time (2013), uses a time loop trope in a slightly different way. After he discovers that he can travel through time, Tim (Domhnall Gleeson) begins to relive his life in order to make it perfect. The method of time travel is fairly interesting- Tim enters his own body at a previous time in his life, and can change things as he likes from there. At first, Tim uses this ability to set up a perfect life- manipulating events to meet a girl and fall in love, to get a good job. But as time goes on, Tim actually begins to change his approach to time travel. Rather than redoing everything to be just as he’d like it, he lives through his day twice. The first time, he lives the day normally. After the day is done, he redoes it, this time appreciating all the small details of the day, changing little things here and there to adjust it to be a bit better. But as his life continues on, Tim decides to stop using his time traveling ability all together, choosing to simply live his life in appreciation of all of the small, happy details of life- no do-over needed. 
In About Time, we are given a more optimistic view of the eternal recurrence. When Tim is given the opportunity to live his life over and over again, exactly how he would like it, he chooses to create a life that would be ideal for him. Once he chooses to not go back in time anymore, simply living his life out in the first try, Tim begins to live the life that Nietzsche wanted us to aim for through this thought experiment. Tim begins to live a life that he actually would be satisfied to repeat endlessly. And we know this because if there was anything that he wasn’t ultimately satisfied with, he could always go back and change it. But by living deliberately and in an attitude that sees meaning in the small details of life, Tim constructs a way of being that leaves him satisfied. The point of Nietzsche’s idea of the eternal recurrence was to encourage us to live a similar sort of life. 
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Tim stops rewinding time, choosing to live in the present
What is behind the popularity of time loop movies from the 1980s to the present? I believe that this trope is popular because it makes us aware of just how free we are. Existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote about how man is overwhelmingly free. When we live our lives, we discover an enormous number of options that we might pursue. We limit ourselves because of what is expected of us, what we tell ourselves we are capable of. But in reality, Sartre says, there is an incredible variety of possibilities that we encounter in our everyday lives. When we realize this near-infinite possibility, we can become stuck in one of two ways. We might be caught up in our current situation and limitations (what Sartre calls facticity) or we can be paralyzed by the overwhelming amount of possible choices we could make (our transcendence). Sartre saw this as a fundamental problem for humanity, saying that humanity is “condemned to be free”. The time loop film exposes this fundamental tension in the human life. When we watch a film where a person endlessly repeats a day, we can see just how many choices one can make in a single day- how many different ways one’s life could be, if we just made more radical choices. The “time loop” film is a science fiction subgenre which can often feel recycled, but, when done properly, can reveal deep truths about the human condition.
For more on Nietzsche and the Eternal Recurrence, you can read our review of True Detective 
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Malignant - Review

10/8/2021

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by Reed Milliken
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 Malignant (James Wan, 2021) is a mystery horror that uses practical effects, fight choreography, and brief musical cues to pull of Wan’s scariest movie yet. Malignant also features hints of various genres to great effect; buddy cop, murder mystery, and action are all things you can expect to see. Malignant follows widow Madison Mitchell as she suffers from heinous visions of gruesome murders, only to discover that these waking dreams are in fact horrifying realities. Malignant (2021) is great at reminding you just how scary a horror movie can be. Director James Wan serves up the most bloodcurdling, spine-chilling, hair-raising movie of the year so far through his use of great cinematography and fight choreography.
The following review contains spoilers for Malignant, and contains imagery that may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
To me, Malignant feels like an episode from a prime-time TV cop show where the main characters stumble across some spooky supernatural elements only to have it end with a logical, yet still far-fetched, explanation to all of it. This is by no means a complaint, just an interesting observation on some things that stood out to me while watching. Malignant and a prime-time cop show have many similarities in terms of structure, characters, and plot. Furthermore, a lot of the camera setups feature wide shots and crane shots and a majority of the cast are no-name newbies. While these are not critiques of the movie, they are all aspects very reminiscent of a cheap production with a narrow deadline; furthering my comparison between Malignant and a prime-time TV cop show. Unfortunately, this does bring along a few problems I commonly find within these types of shows, the performances are weak apart from the lead, the writing is sloppy, the set pieces are basic, and the lighting is nothing special.  

​However, director James Wan didn’t let the aesthetic of the movie inhibit his ability to spook; a couple of sequences from the beginning of the movie are some of the scariest in recent memory. Another area of achievement for Wan is the majority of the production design; the vision-shifting effect and the design for Gabriel as a whole are unique and were a great touch. Speaking of Gabriel’s design, the scene where he fights everyone using the back of Madison's body is a very unique concept and adds the perfect touch to all of the fight scenes. Wan did not hold back on the gore, and it made for some gruesome kills. The gore was done practically, which is always appreciated from horror movies as CGI blood has nothing on practical blood in terms of feeling authentic.

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Maddison during the aforementioned "vision shifting" effect
Unfortunately, some nice-looking blood doesn’t completely forgive the poor CGI found in other aspects of Malignant. Exterior shots of the mental hospital, for example, looked like something stripped from an indie horror game. Another issue is some of the story beats felt a little divergent from the main plot. Take the underground city, for example, it was a cool set piece and concept, but it didn't have anything to do with the story and ended up just feeling tacked on. 
This is more of an observation than a critique, but the main theme sounds exactly like “Where Is My Mind?” by The Pixies, almost to the point where I thought it was the song the first time it played. On the topic of sound, there is an orchestral echo riff that is played anytime something spooky happens, it’s reminiscent of the classic Psycho (1960) soundtrack, and while it worked well for me the first couple of times it was used, it was over-utilized and became stale by the end of the movie. 
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The reveal of Gabriel poking out from the back of Madison’s head was gnarly; it was like if the reveal at the end of Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone (2001) was rated R. I can see myself talking to people ten or twenty years down the line and referring to this as "the movie with the evil parasitic twin" or something along those lines. Also, much like every other movie these days, it was clear they were setting up a sequel with Madison telling Gabriel she'd be ready next time he comes back. Which, if Madison doesn’t just get a lobotomy and remove Gabriel within the first 20 minutes of the next one, you can all expect a very sour follow-up to this review.
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James Wan with members of his crew behind the scenes of Malignant
Malignant is James Wan’s eighth feature horror film, and his tenth feature film overall. I still think my favorite of the bunch is Aquaman, one of his two departures from horror, but The Conjuring (2013) is a close second. It seems like over time Wan has been slowly refining his horror filmmaking skills. His first feature, Saw, is a horror staple and one that I make a note to watch every Halloween. The Conjuring is a masterclass in horror and I did not expect to enjoy it as much as I did. I can tell that Malignant is the love child of all of Wan’s prior work. He’s slowly taken the best of each of his prior films and perfected his craft, creating perhaps his scariest movie in the process.
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James Wan behind the scenes directing Malignant.
Here’s what I took away from Malignant: James Wan has been at the game for nearly 17 years and he’s still putting out stellar, genre-defining work. Malignant may lack in some minor aspects, but the horror in terms of the practical effects, fight choreography, and overall scares is unmatched. Wan is truly the best at what he does, and I can’t wait to see what he puts out next.
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Get Ready to Rumble: Analysis of Fight Scenes in Film

9/30/2021

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by Aaron Argot
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What makes fight scenes so appealing and have so much weight? People tend to love fight scenes because they are generally the scenes of the film that have the most and best action, and many people may write them off as just the carriers of action. Not that delivering action is at all a weak point or a shallow appreciation of fight scenes, but fights in films often have a greater meaning and purpose to them. Most people actually do notice these things, and sometimes the more it is hidden, the better. The best fights will elevate their respective film, and there are many ways fight scenes can do this. Some of those include the rather surface-level purpose of story progression, displaying the film’s themes, focusing on specific characters, using it as a means of exposition, and to show spectacular aesthetics. Most great fights, such as these 21st century fight scenes, have a combination of these, have all of these, or have even more purpose. ​
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The fight scene between  Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi at the end of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (George Lucas, 2005) shows how fight scenes can be used as a means of story progression. This is the most basic purpose of fight scenes, and generally every one should have this. This fight, however, while doing so much more, is the embodiment of that. This fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan is the bridge between the prequel and sequel trilogies, since this happens at the end of the last film of the prequels. The impact of this scene also comes from context, most viewers in 2005 had already seen the original trilogy and know that Anakin becomes Darth Vader, but they do not know how. Throughout each prequel film, that question is on viewers' minds, and is slowly answered through the three films. This fight after Anakin is named “Darth Vader,” yet still does not have the signature look. The end of the fight is where more insight is given into the look of Vader. It is also the outcome of this fight that would have shaped the entirety of the next three (and eventually six) movies, or could have had them not happen all together. And since everyone had everything connected, it changed the way people think of the original trilogy if only slightly due to what you learn about characters like Anakin and Obi-Wan. This one fight is the culmination of all that happened in the prequels, as well as foreshadows the second fight between them in Star Wars: A New Hope. I think that is the main part that makes this fight so impactful in the series. The fight also has the record for the longest sword fight in film history, which also might be why it is so iconic.
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Po utilizes his stark differences in battle
In any one on one fight, it is often a fight between ideals and character differences, and in film, those ideals and differences are aligned with the overall themes as well. The fight between Po and Tai Lung at the end of Kung Fu Panda (Mark Osborne and John Stevenson, 2008) displays the themes of the film brilliantly. Po and Tai Lung are dramatic foils for one another, which contributes to the themes of this film. Tai Lung is the antagonist of the movie, is a leopard, and seemed to be very naturally gifted in the art of Kung Fu from an early age. In contrast, Po is the protagonist, is a panda, and was a fanboy of the kung fu masters, The Furious Five, before getting to train with them, being very bad at it at first. Uniqueness is a major theme of the film. Everyone is different so not everything is going to work the same way for everyone and everyone has different strengths, a lot of the times coming from our differences. Another theme is similar in that “there is no secret ingredient”, no secret to greatness, it all comes from you and what makes you unique. The fight starts off, with Tai Lung at the temple at the top of the mountain, fresh off of his victory against his and Po’s master, Shifu, who is also the thing that connects them. Po meets him at the top, but is visually winded by the climb, highlighting differences between them as Tai Lung basically has everything going for him, while Po seems to not. The entire battle between them is them fighting over something called “the dragon scroll”, which is said to hold the secret to limitless power, which Po already knows is blank and only a reflexive film. Throughout the fight, Tai Lung’s experience shows through his tendency to outmatch Po in traditional fighting techniques. However, Po’s panda nature, being plump and bouncy, allows him to use unique techniques to keep pace with Tai Lung, even defending him from the technique that beat the Furious Five. Eventually Tai Lung gets the scroll and discovers that it is blank, which angers him, something that could be described as his fatal flaw. This, paired with Po’s nature, allowed him to get the upper hand against Tai Lung, and ultimately defeat him. This fight is natural talent and entitlement vs. uniqueness and optimism, and with the film’s themes of uniqueness, it is clear who the victor would be. The fight’s expansion of the film’s core themes during the end of the film help it to display those themes more clearly, making a better overall film.
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Just like how Po and Tai Lung’s characters made the fight have more weight, characters in every fight and fight scene are truely what make or break it. Who they are and who they are fighting, as well as things like the reasons for doing so can all blend to make for fight scenes to have awesome character moments. Or the fight itself could be a character moment. One of those fights is Iron Man (Tony Stark) vs. Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War (Anthony and Joe Russo, 2018). This is a fight that has been, as a generous estimate, hyped up since 2012, since Thanos showed up in the end credits of The Avengers (2012). But for all of the hype surrounding this fight, it was relatively short, only lasting about two minutes, a testament to Thanos’ strength. Earlier in the movie, Tony states that Thanos has been inside his mind for six years. Going back to the hype statement I made, Tony’s statement here attributes the hype to more of an in-universe hype, as it is unlikely a lot of people in theatres were thinking about a Tony Stark vs. Thanos faceoff after the first Avengers. But with that context that Tony gives, you still feel the magnitude of six years of buildup when Tony and Thanos finally fight one on one. The PTSD that Tony felt after his experiences in the first Avengers has fueled a lot of his problems in MCU installments after that. Thanos was the source of the attack on New York in that film. So when Tony responds to Thanos’ statement saying they were both “cursed with knowledge”, with “my only curse is you”, it holds a lot of weight. And that is the moment that he finally has a clear head about what happened back then and is determined to fight that head on. So even though Thanos dispatched Tony in just two minutes, Tony won in that aspect. That is the reason why lots of people thought Tony was going to die in that instance, as it seemed like his character arc had more or less been completed. This scene is so important because of what we know about specifically Tony’s character and what he’s had to go through, and that six years of buildup also enhances the scene incredibly. The fight not only elevates the film, but the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe.
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Grey realizes what his body is capable of
The next fight that uses fight scenes to communicate exposition comes from a film that came out in the same year, Upgrade (Leigh Whannell, 2018). The fight scene from this film is one that has been dubbed “The Kitchen Scene.” This scene is the first time that the main character, Grey, fights with the help of the artificial intelligence chip implanted in him. With verbal permission, the A.I. can take over his body and fight for him. In the film, Grey is trying to get revenge on the people who killed his wife and left him formally crippled, and he finds himself in the house of an enemy who then comes home. Grey starts off the fight unaided, and is very clearly losing. But, then the A.I. in his head says that he can help and he needs his permission in order to do so, which Grey gladly grants. What follows is the obvious improvement of Grey fighting prowess as his movements become almost comedically robotic, effortlessly overpowering and ultimately killing his adversary. The main purpose of this fight is to let Grey and the audience know that using the A.I. to fight is a real option in the future and could be very helpful in Grey’s mission to get revenge. This becomes a crucial detail, arguably the main detail, later in the film, and the film introduced it the best way it could, with a fight scene.
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Rengoku prepares an attack, displaying incredible visual effects
The final fight I want to talk about is also the most recent, which is Rengoku vs. Akaza, from Demon Slayer: Kimestu no Yaiba - The Movie: Mugen Train (Haruo Sotozaki, 2020). This fight expertly explains how fight scenes in films can be used for aesthetic purposes. Of course, this fight also has elements of every other point previously mentioned, but what really stands out is how visually stunning it is. Mugen Train is an anime movie, and animation has incredible flexibility with all the technical aspects of filmmaking. With things like camerawork, in some ways it is easier to get the perfect shot. Being adapted from drawings not only gives you a good framework, but allows you basically take out the technical challenges of the aspects of some shots. But what shines through is the animation, the thing that sets it apart from live action movies. This circles back to the general premise that fight scenes are enjoyable because they are concentrated pockets of action, and this fight takes that to the extreme, until you are tilted back in your seat in awe. Music and sound design are also important factors in the aesthetics of a fight scene, the music that plays during the fight is exciting and works incredibly well. The sound effects of different fantasy-inspired attacks also work seamlessly with the animation. It is hard to explain aesthetics further than just saying they are incredible without seeing it, or without going into an incredible amount of detail. But, this fight scene illustrates perfectly how the aesthetics of a scene like this are just as important if not more important than the other aspects listed. The aesthetics can be described as the thing that sells you on the reality of what is happening, and the crazier the content the more challenging it is, but it is also that much more rewarding. The aesthetics of this fight help to accentuate all the other important aspects of the fight, making the fight itself, as well as the film, that much better.

A lot of times the fight scenes in films become staples or descriptions of those films, and that is no mistake. Fights are inerrantly a clash of ideas or motives. The possibilities of ways to work with that in film are almost endless. Some of the ways filmmakers have thought to utilize fight scenes are things like progressing the plot, something baseline but still very important. Another way is to use the clash of two or more characters to better display the themes of the film, which makes it perfect for most audiences to understand. There is also the use of fights to highlight certain characters, and for them to have great moments that help to flesh them out. Fight scenes can also be used practically in a storytelling sense of giving the audience and the characters in the film information crucial due to the fight’s occurrence. The filmmakers can also use fight scenes as a way to construct awesome aesthetics, something all good films have, especially 21st century action movies. A fight scene is often the most memorable part of a film, and if done correctly, can elevate that film to even greater heights . A good fight could possibly be what makes certain films iconic for how that one scene impacts the rest of the film as a whole.  

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