Animal Instincts: The Mind of Darren Aronofsky

December 05, 2022 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

There are endless ways to unpack heavy themes using metaphor in movies. Just like James Cameron employs the Terminator to examine our reliance on technology, Darren Aronofsky uses animals to expose the heart of human frailty. From black swans to ‘roid-raging rams, his protagonists are spiritually vulnerable outcasts on a quest to reclaim the humanity within—or die trying.

This high-concept storytelling device can be traced back to ancient theological texts like the Bible and the Book of Enoch, both of which depict animals allegorically to represent the many spectrums of human nature. Some of Aronofsky’s films even tackle these subjects head-on, such as 2014’s Noah and 2017’s Mother!

With this in mind, the acclaimed filmmaker returns to big screens on December 9th with a poignant drama unsurprisingly titled The Whale. Premiering at the Venice Film Festival, Aronofsky’s latest was met with overwhelming praise for Brendan Fraser, the once-luminous star you might remember from The Mummy and Encino Man. His towering performance as the film’s protagonist Charlie has been widely regarded as the resurrection of his career, although many critics have condemned Aronofsky’s portrayal as empty and stigmatizing.

To provide further context, The Whale follows a 600 lb. gay man who attempts to rekindle a relationship with his estranged teenage daughter (Sadie Sink) amid growing health concerns. For those familiar with Aronofsky’s movies, it’s clear that he’s drawn toward the provocative side of human drama. From eerie tales of corrosive ambition to gut-wrenching tragedies about drug addiction, his films are deeply immersive character studies that seek to unspool the mortal coil.

“It is often said of directors that they are control freaks. Aronofsky goes one better: He’s a loss-of-control freak. His films are immaculately calibrated surrenders in which his heroes splinter and break upon the rocks of their own consuming obsessions.”

Tom Shone | New York Magazine

Aronofsky stormed onto the indie scene in 1998 with his debut film Pi, a low budget black-and-white thriller that assured his reputation as a scrappy new writer-director with craft and preternatural vision. It shined a light on his uncanny talent for creating stylish thrillers with layered psychological depth on a modest budget, the core virtues that would eventually define his trademark.

Just like his heroes Stanley Kubrick and Terry Gilliam, his movies often begin and end with the human mind. They follow outcasts whose obsessive tendencies lead them into pits of self-destruction. As they fight to claw back every inch of hope that once gave them equilibrium, they yearn for a fulfillment that’s just out of reach.

For Pi’s protagonist Max Cohen, that fulfillment comes in the form of his fixation on the mathematical patterns found in daily life. As a reclusive soul who can only understand human behavior through the lens of his own obsession, the film does a phenomenal job detailing his gradual descent when he comes upon a discovery that uncoils his neurotic existence.

Through word of mouth, the film became an object of cult fascination and the first film ever to be downloaded for sale on the internet. With all its scrappy 90s intrigue, Pi established the template for Aronofsky’s filmmaking career, igniting a fuse that sparked well into the following century.

“For me, the promise of independent film is the ability to experiment. Because the money is independent. I think the best way to get recognition is to do something out there, to push the edges. Unless you hit it — and do something traditional really well, it’s going to be nothing.”

Darren Aronofsky | IndieWire

With his confidence as a filmmaker blooming, Aronofsky scaled up his vision for a stylish sophomore feature entitled Requiem For A Dream, a film you probably recognize for its notoriety as the greatest anti-drug PSA ever committed to film. This crushing adaptation of a novel by Hubert Selby Jr. follows a trio of heroin addicts in New York City whose personal aspirations are blurred when their reliance becomes increasingly dire.

While its crippling depiction of drug culture makes Euphoria look like Paddington in comparison, the film’s key takeaway is its underlying humanity. Where Pi follows an antisocial recluse, Requiem For A Dream observes characters from up close that an audience will inherently empathize with; in spite of their imperfections, they have motivations and backstories that establish a grounded sense of three-dimensionality.

Since the film’s pathos hinges on humanity, Aronofsky avoids depicting his characters as burnouts or degenerates. Instead of distancing the audience, he’d rather lure us into the cockpit of their headspace and tighten the throttle, even after they’ve spun out with an inevitable chance of impact. He’d go on to repeat this gritty psychological approach with films like Black Swan and The Wrestler.

For someone with such a conscious understanding of human nature, it’s curious that spiritualism is a recurring theme in Aronofsky’s work, especially given his agnostic beliefs around subjects of faith. Religious motifs such as original sin, divinity, immortality, betrayal, redemption, and finding life’s meaning are central themes of his more fabled works in the spiritual triptych of The Fountain, Noah, and Mother!

In some respects, he’s the perfect guide to ferry us through such vast topics; with an impartial baseline, Aronofsky translates the fantasy of religious myth as a function of the human psyche. Perhaps best illustrated in 2006’s The Fountain, the story chronicles one man’s (Hugh Jackman) sprawling cosmic quest to defy mortality and find the key to eternal life.

Boasting a $35 million budget, The Fountain was a monumental stretch in Aronofsky’s scope and creative capability as the first studio-funded feature after his two introductory films. Thanks to some impressive art direction, its visual language is one of splendor, cosmic beauty, and vibrant colors that complement the overall breadth of the story he’s ultimately trying to tell.

Despite its trio of parallel narratives, the film’s structure bears resemblance to an ancient parable with an overarching theme: natural law will always prevail over man’s attempts to defy mortality. By establishing an allegory of mankind seeking immortal wisdom, Aronofsky’s epic fantasy highlights our primal fear of universal forces and ultimately results in a powerful tale about finding acceptance in the face of inevitability.

For Darren Aronofsky, the underlining principles of his films run parallel to his personal beliefs as an avid environmentalist. Being an outspoken advocate for animal rights, it’s no wonder he finds ways to incorporate them into his work so organically. From his intimate human portraits to his bold sweeping epics, animals are the symbolic expressions of Aronofsky’s deeper meditations on human psychology.

For Black Swan’s protagonist Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), the title creature represents more than just a part she’s trying to attain. As a ballet dancer in New York’s most prestigious and competitive dance company, perfection is a non-negotiable condition. In order to perform at the highest levels, Nina must embrace her long-suppressed darkness and abandon her inhibitions—no matter the toll it exacts on her mental stability. Aronofsky’s career-defining thriller is an immersive plunge into the mind of a dancer with ambition that’s all-consuming.

Two years prior, he took a similar approach to The Wrestler, a vérité sports drama that follows Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke), a faded icon of 80s pro wrestling that hits an existential crossroads after suffering a massive heart attack. The Wrestler is an intimate character study that humanizes Ram as a big-hearted brute with invasive anxieties about dwindling relevance, steroid addiction, poverty, loneliness, and regret over the strained relationship he shares with his estranged daughter.

On the other end of the scale, Aronofsky’s 2014 Biblical adaptation Noah is a magnificent tale that uses animals to express purity. As a filmmaker who normally focuses on smaller stories, Aronofsky took a sharp turn into the massive world of creation mythology. In Noah, the filmmaker depicts its protagonist (Russell Crowe) as a man of steadfast faith who obeys a calling to escape a doomed planet that has forsaken its place in the collective consciousness by killing animals for sport and sustenance. By taking a Sunday School story and beaming it through a lens of staunch humanitarianism, Noah is a grounded yet epic distillation of Aronofsky’s truest aim as a filmmaker.

“I got connected to the story in such a deep way when I was in seventh grade. I had this English teacher. One day, she said, ‘Everybody take out a pen and paper, and write something about peace.’ I wrote a poem called ‘The Dove’ about Noah. Turned out, it was a contest for the United Nations and I ended up winning the contest and reading the poem at a U.N. convention a few weeks later. It was the first time I perceived myself as a storyteller.”

Darren Aronofsky | Washington Post

It’s easy to watch Aronofsky’s films and not see past the surface level downer-ism of bleaker stories like Requiem For A Dream. But there’s a visible poise at play that invites audiences to explore someone else’s headspace with unfettered access. In doing so, he challenges audiences to watch actively by thinking how his characters think and feeling what they feel when placed in their own respective hell, regardless of scale or budget.

As we eagerly await the arrival of The Whale this Friday, it might help to re-frame your viewing experience by putting it into context with the rest of his canon. As a master of depicting headspace, Aronofsky invites audiences to follow along through an uphill struggle that will help his characters find their own interpretations of humanity.

NEXT | Big Draws and Monkey Paws: The Meteoric Rise of Jordan Peele

Big Draws and Monkey Paws: The Meteoric Rise of Jordan Peele

August 19, 2022 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

Not too long ago, the thought of a sketch comedian writing and directing horror was inconceivable. After all, they’re completely different genres in two separate lanes with so little in common. Naturally, no one could have expected the outcome when Jordan Peele announced his move from an award-winning series into feature filmmaking. Yet here we are; five years into his creative odyssey, Peele’s work continues to excite, disrupt, and ultimately mystify.

Examining Peele’s prior work, it makes sense how his background in comedy helped shape his vision as a filmmaker. Immersing himself in a genre defined by extremity, his past work on Mad TV and Key & Peele molded his mastery at identifying archetypes and weaving them into exaggerated circumstances.

Clearly, he was really good at it; winning an Emmy for his work in sketch comedy, Peele’s prominence was elite as a writer/performer. Despite being draped in preposterous wigs, dressed in drag, or bearing false teeth, his comedy was unanimously recognized as one of the hottest commodities in the improv scene. In spite of all this, something within him remained unfulfilled; that’s when he and longtime partner Kegan Michael Key called it quits to explore their potential outside the realm of their Comedy Central series.

Two years after the split, Peele wrote and directed Get Out, a groundbreaking debut that follows Chris, a young black man (Daniel Kaluuya) who travels to meet his white girlfriend’s family, only to find their overt pleasantries hide a menacing secret. Scoring big with Oscar nominations in Best Original Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Picture on his very first outing, Get Out was a resolute entry for Peele that welcomed a whole new era of artistic expression.

“The best comedy and horror feel like they take place in reality. You have a rule or two you are bending or heightening, but the world around it is real. I felt like everything I learned in comedy I could apply to this movie.”

Jordan Peele | The New York Times

Aside from its ensemble cast, sharp humor, and nail-biting suspense, Get Out established Peele’s reputation as a storyteller with something important to say. Disguised as a puzzling psychological horror-thriller, it’s also a pressing study about racial tension at its core. Peele’s tight script and inspired direction navigate timely social issues with thoughtfulness, resulting in an expert blend of subversion and conventionality, both balanced in equal measures.

In an age of horror that was overpopulated by demonic possession movies, Peele and his creative team at Monkeypaw Productions rejected the blueprint offered by the Conjuring franchise in favor of slow-burning social commentary about the black experience in America—for a fifth of its budget. Released to widespread acclaim and spirited discussion, Get Out upended expectations by bucking against the trends of its time. And with it came a new generation of ambitious visual storytelling that uses metaphor to explore the modern human condition like never before.

Eager to keep the momentum alive, Peele set out to capitalize on his newfound success as a filmmaker of substance. His second creative venture was Us, another film that uses genre to convey a deeper message about society as a whole. Wearing the veil of a blood-curdling slasher movie, his sophomore feature explored family dynamics through the macro lens of socioeconomic status. In doing so, forced audiences to re-evaluate the blurred line between heroes and villains.

Us finds darkness beneath the sunny shorelines of Santa Cruz, where the middle-class Wilson family (Lupita Nyong’o, Winston Duke, Shahadi Wright Joseph, Evan Alex) are terrorized by their own vengeful doppelgängers. Modeled after an episode of The Twilight Zone, man-against-self becomes literalized in Peele’s full-blown horror film that examines the class divide between those with privilege and those without.

Earning comparable returns to Get Out though it wasn’t as well-received, the general masses seemed to have reached an agreement. While Us was a bold swing of creative ambition with a career-defining performance from Nyong’o, it was unfocused at times, which muddled the story it tried to tell. Yet still, it justified Peele’s aim as a filmmaker who boldly attempts to one-up himself with each new story. Each of them original, each significant in its own declarative right, regardless of critical consensus.

Thrust into the jetstream of his first two films, Peele’s intrepid momentum screeches to a halt as the COVID-19 pandemic forces him into a state of re-evaluation. Can movies survive this unprecedented standstill? Emerging from that headspace, he set out to write a love letter to the great American spectacle with Nope, a cacophonous sci-fi/horror movie about a pair of siblings who come face-to-face with a strange flying object over their late father’s ranch. Employing decades of influence in the well-treaded alien subgenre, Peele implores viewers to abandon their notions of an extraterrestrial thriller by adorning Spielbergian pageantry with a sharp and pointed twist.

Led by Daniel Kaluuyaa and Keke Palmer, Nope is a daring cosmic western that makes great use of its multi-layered construction. At its most basic level, it functions as an IMAX movie with deep visual immersion and supersonic sound design. Hidden beneath, there’s a thought-provoking study of society’s toxic addiction to spectacle and how it’s fed by a need to exploit others for our own monetary gain.

From one character’s incessant urge to make money from UFO sightings to a series of grisly flashbacks depicting a trained chimpanzee’s rampage during a live studio taping, Nope is earnestly pining for larger concepts. It’s the kind of movie that rewards multiple viewings; if not for the showy pomp of its spectacle, come back for the full comprehension of what it’s really trying to say.

Though it’s seen as an improvement over his last, Nope isn’t quite flawless. Like many other movies are guilty of, the atmospheric setup can’t match how its resolution takes shape in the third act. But its relentless commitment to ambition helps cement Peele’s prestige in the realm of stories that dare to stand out. Nope defies genre while still drawing a large audience, and it contains moral complexity without bordering on preachiness. Viewers can’t help but leave the theater with a palpable sense of awe for what an original movie can be in 2022.

“I really connect with Peele’s films: His approach to filmmaking is very much like an artist, like somebody who’s done a painting or sculptures. It’s very open-ended, but it has a direct view.”

Keke Palmer | The Washington Post

The 43-year-old filmmaker’s belated reach expands beyond his own directorial scope, with a CV that includes co-producing credits on HBO’s Lovecraft Country and a co-writing credit on Nia DaCosta’s Candyman reboot. Both are noteworthy projects that stand beside Peele’s own, by virtue of poise and execution. His work speaks for a voiceless generation of artists whose films reframe the context of contemporary American society by way of familiar narrative templates.

Taking his place among the boldest cinematic voices of the 21st Century, the former comedian now stands as a figure whose work is more than just postmodern—it’s inevitable. Enriched and inspired by decades of film history, his platform elevates a time-honored genre to give horror more relevance in our surreal new world. Building his edifice at the intersection of progress and tradition, Peele’s work interrogates how we navigate an eruptive social climate.

Next | The Jurassic Problem: A Franchise Reflection

A Casual's Guide to the 2022 Academy Awards

March 06, 2022 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

In case you haven’t heard—because there’s an actual chance you haven’t—the 94th Academy Awards is scheduled to air on ABC on March 27th. As a culture, we’ve strayed far from the days when the Oscars felt somewhat centered. They’ve taken a massive nosedive in mainstream popularity over the last two decades, culminating in a record low 9.85 million viewers tuning into last year’s show. For context, that’s almost 50 million less than those who tuned in to watch James Cameron’s Titanic clinch gold in 1998.

While there are countless reasons for the huge decline in viewership, many of which we’ll get into, the fundamental truth is that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is having a much harder time finding an audience in today’s landscape. In light of 2021 being a weird year in movies, the announced nomination slate might befuddle the general public who probably spent money to see maybe one or two movies last year.

Aside from a few notable exceptions, this year’s nomination slate is a particularly diverse array of movies that most people probably didn’t take the time to go and see. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to get you covered before everyone goes berserk about it on Twitter. Here’s an abridged guide to the movies, the stars, and storylines underlining the biggest night in movies.

The Storyline: The Academy introduces a “Fan Favorite Film” award voted by Twitter.

The Significance: Numbers don’t lie—Academy Awards viewership has tanked over recent years. Whether that’s due to a dwindling interest in film or the sheer diversity of avenues that we can now ingest entertainment, the bottom line is simple: in order to adapt, the Academy needs to make a dramatic shift in its recognition efforts. Having said that, implementing a Twitter vote is like recognizing the movies people actually watched with a “Great Try!” medal.

The Academy bears a time-honored responsibility of recognizing the highest caliber films each year but with movie theaters shutting down at such an alarming rate, the Academy now bears a wider obligation to the longevity of movies. If they’re not flexible enough to give so much as a nomination to the great movies that people actually went out and saw, they’re not just hurting the future of movies, they’re also de-incentivizing viewers from having any reason to tune in altogether.

Prediction: In all likelihood, Spider-Man: No Way Home will win this award. That way, the Academy can proudly claim that they gave commendation to a movie that surpassed Avatar in box office revenue, without having to compromise the sanctity of their Best Picture nominees. Having nominated Black Panther and Avengers: Endgame in years past, it wasn’t farfetched to believe they’d do the same for Spidey.

The Storyline: The Academy recognizes Kristen Stewart’s ascension from Twilight star to Best Actress nominee as Princess Diana in Spencer.

The Significance: Just like her franchise counterpart Robert Pattinson, Stewart has been on quite a run since her time in Forks, Washington. In the wake of her commercial launch point, she’s taken on a number of diverse roles from Joan Jett in The Runaways to a stoned action hero in American Ultra. Last year she finally got her first shot at award stardom as the Princess of Wales in a deeply unsettling historical drama-thriller directed by Pablo Larraín.

Though Spencer’s script is drenched in melodrama, Stewart portrays Princess Diana with a certain restraint necessary for the role. She exhibits a quiet agony that hides beyond her striking beauty, which help to illustrate Diana Spencer as a woman mercilessly bound by the confines of the British monarchy.

Prediction: Gone are the days when she was riding shotgun in Edward’s Volvo; Kristen Stewart has a long and illustrious road ahead of her. Despite her tireless promotion and her career-topping performance in Spencer, I don’t see the Academy awarding her over Olivia Colman or Penelope Cruz, both of which who have won previously.

The Storyline: Netflix doubles down on their chances at a Best Picture win with Don’t Look Up and The Power of the Dog.

The Significance: After 300 original films, 200 million subscribers, and 7 Best Picture nominations, a coveted Oscar still eludes the Silicon Valley-based streaming giant. This year finds their biggest betting odds of a Best Picture win with two contenders from some of the biggest names in the industry.

The former being Adam McKay’s Don’t Look Up, an apocalyptic satire starring Leo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence. The latter of which is a far more grounded, brooding, atmospheric Old West drama starring Benedict Cumberbatch, Kirsten Dunst, Kodi Smitt McPhee, and Jesse Plemons; and they boast the ultimate flex in that all of them are also nominated for performance Oscars.

Prediction: Don’t Look Up is a fun film with tremendous star power and massive popularity, but the Academy almost never recognizes comedy in the Best Picture race. Conversely, The Power of the Dog has a gigantic chance of taking Best Picture this year, among many other awards.

The Storyline: Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car has been nominated for four Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best International Feature, and Best Director.

The Significance: The Academy’s push toward broader recognition for world cinema reached its apex in 2020 when Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite took home four awards out of six nominations, becoming the first foreign-language film ever to win Best Picture. With the barrier broken for Asian cinema, Ryusuke Hamaguchi slipped into the jetstream with Drive My Car, a powerful drama and front runner in this year’s Academy Awards.

Here’s the thing: Parasite is an entirely different species than Drive My Car. Where Parasite had universal currency as a tense social thriller, Drive My Car is a consummate arthouse drama that mostly features people talking. While beautiful and thought-provoking, its emotional reckoning hits with the kind of quiet that makes you afraid to chew popcorn in a crowded theater. So if you’d rather watch this three-hour opus at home, you’re in luck—Drive My Car has arrived on HBO Max.

Prediction: Though it has steep competition in every category that it’s nominated for, I feel that Drive My Car is the biggest threat to The Power of the Dog in the race for Best Picture.

The Storyline: Kenneth Branaugh’s semi-autobiographical drama Belfast is nominated for Best Picture and Best Director. Can Branaugh take home either?

The Significance: The Academy has a soft spot for decorated filmmakers whose autobiographical films are crafted with sentimentality, much like Alphonso Cuaron’s Roma which famously won for Best Director but fell short of the Best Picture win.

Branaugh’s Belfast is a heartfelt ode to the enduring bonds of kinship amidst civil unrest in the late 60s. Told from the perspective of an observant young boy (Jude Hill), the film is clearly pulled from a thread of Branaugh’s own childhood experiences, having lived through the tumult of The Troubles in Northern Ireland.

Prediction: Belfast is a good wild card pick for Best Picture. If Branaugh falls short, he can always throw on a mustache and summon Hercule Poirot to investigate the voting body.

The Storyline: Questlove made his directorial debut with Summer of Soul. Will he be able to snag Best Documentary?

The Significance: Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson is a true renaissance man: he’s an actor, DJ, writer, social activist, and the Grammy Award-winning percussionist behind The Roots. Add director to that list with 2021’s Summer of Soul, an energetic documentary that explores the Harlem Cultural Festival of 1969. The music and arts gathering took place over the same Summer as Woodstock, though it has since evaporated from the cultural awareness.

Summer of Soul examines the shared perspectives of unity and struggle through the eyes of attendees and artists who headlined. Over the course of one fateful weekend, all of Harlem came together in a cathartic musical healing experience just one year after the assassination of MLK Jr. Questlove brings three days’ worth of lost footage to light, resurrecting the long-forgotten memories of a festival featuring some of the biggest names of its time including Stevie Wonder, the 5th Dimension, Sly & the Family Stone, Mahalia Jackson, and Nina Simone, just to name a few.

Prediction: If Jonas Poher Rasmussen’s Flee doesn’t win Best Documentary, Questlove better make some room on his trophy shelf next to his three Grammys. For anyone interested, you can find Summer of Soul streaming on Hulu and Disney plus.

The Storyline: In an effort to combat the decline in ratings, the Academy announces they’ll be shortening their televised ceremony.

The Significance: Filmmakers and fans have been widely disavowing the Academy’s controversial decision to shorten the televised ceremony as a means to streamline the broadcast. In doing so, they’re making the deliberate choice to exclude eight separate categories from the telecast, including Film Editing, Makeup and Hairstyling, Original Score, Production Design, and Sound.

This isn’t the first time the Academy has tried to do this; infamously the 91st Academy Awards also opted to present four categories during commercial breaks, which resulted in criticism so profound that they reversed their decision just a few days later.

Prediction: Because of their increasingly misguided decisions to institute regulatory changes that no one asked for, the resulting backlash only points to a prevalence of distrust from the artists who are meant to be celebrated, which could affect their subsequent participation altogether.

The Storyline: King Richard is Will Smith’s third shot at Best Actor. Third time’s a charm?

The Significance: After falling short on his past nominations with Ali and The Pursuit of Happiness, Will Smith gives what is arguably his finest performance in King Richard, a biopic about Richard Williams, the enigmatic father of Venus and Serena. As we follow the twin tennis prodigies from a concrete hellscape to the biggest courts on the world stage, Smith’s work distinguishes itself as a tear-jerking display of veteran acting chops.

Last November, the movie was given a day and date release simultaneously in theaters and on HBO Max. Since then it has found mass appeal, with many critics citing the power of Smith’s transformative performance. The Academy also nominated them for categories in Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Supporting Actress for Aunjanue Ellis.

Prediction: Hard to call when you’re going up against Denzel Washington and Benedict Cumberbatch. My guess is that one of those three takes it home. If Smith does win, he can finally avenge his lack of recognition for Wild Wild West.

The Storyline: AppleTV+ officially enters the awards race with Coda and The Tragedy of Macbeth.

The Significance: Now that the Apple overlords have found their breadwinning series in the Emmy-winning Ted Lasso, they’re throwing their name into the hat for feature films with their strongest year to date. In 2021, they distributed seven movies through their proprietary streaming platform, including two award contenders in Sian Heder’s Coda and Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth.

Both of Apple’s films are nominated for three awards apiece including Coda for Best Picture and The Tragedy of Macbeth for Best Actor in Denzel Washington. The latter should be no surprise, as Denzel is always marvelous with a great script, and in case you forgot: Shakespeare was a pretty good writer. But the inclusion of Coda is a watershed moment, with a primary cast that is mostly comprised of deaf performers.

Prediction: Denzel is a force of nature but he has competition for Best Actor. It’s also worth noting that Shakespeare hasn’t been on the podium since Shakespeare in Love won Best Picture in 1998, which is not even a joke. Joel Coen’s adaptation has a bigger chance of winning in the technical categories for Best Production Design or Cinematography.

Coda is a big underdog in the race for Best Picture. The film has been well-received and it’s widely adored by people who’ve seen it. If it wins, it’ll be a celebratory affair for the deaf community in their onscreen representation. Troy Kotsur, however, has the biggest chance of winning for Best Supporting Actor, who’s slated to become the second deaf actor ever to take home an award.

The Storyline: Paul Thomas Anderson is recognized in three major categories: Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Original Screenplay for his work on Licorice Pizza.

The Significance: The Los Angeles-born and bred filmmaker is no stranger to the critical spotlight; at 51 years of age, he’s racked up nine Oscar nominations, including three respective nods in each major filmmaking category—though famously, he’s never won.

His latest film Licorice Pizza is a scrappy coming-of-age tale set in the San Fernando Valley in the 1970s. The film drips with delightful nostalgia and glides on its strong lead performances by newcomers Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman, the son of late PTA alum Phillip Seymour Hoffman. While the film infamously details a controversial relationship between a teenage boy and a 25-year old girl, it stands as one of PTA’s most personal and endearing works.

Prediction: Despite how immaculate his body of work is, it’s important to acknowledge that he probably should have won by now. But that’s the Oscars, where even the biggest legends get stiffed. Just look at Al Pacino; if he couldn't win Best Actor until he went blind for Scent of a Woman, maybe PTA’s time just hasn’t come yet. If I were to guess, I’d say his strongest chance is for Best Original Screenplay this year.

The Storyline: Do believe the hype. Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story is as good as people say it is.

The Significance: How silly we were to think that Steven Spielberg lost his fastball. Sure, the argument could be made that he hasn’t directed a bonafide classic in nearly two decades. But let’s not forget that he’s credited with pioneering the modern-day blockbuster. And at the ripe age of 75, his gift is still giving, resulting in one of the most masterfully executed musicals of the 21st century.

Spielberg’s iteration of West Side Story boasts many flourishes of deeply inspired filmmaking: his colors are more vibrant than they’ve been in years, the camera movements are more dynamic, and its young ensemble is enthralling in their song, dance, and performance. As a comprehensive directorial effort, West Side Story is the strongest Spielberg has been since Saving Private Ryan. The Academy seemed to agree, nominating it in seven categories that include Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Supporting Actress for Ariana DeBose.

Prediction: I think Spielberg has a great shot at winning Best Director for the third time. If you didn’t get to catch this in theaters, you can log onto HBO Max and Disney Plus to find out for yourself.

The Storyline: No love for Ridley Scott; the 84-year-old director was fleeced for both of his films of 2021.

The Significance: Age is nothing but a number for Ridley Scott, the decorated filmmaker who has stayed busy since lockdown commenced. From The Last Duel to House of Gucci, both of his 2021 releases were met with strong critical praise, though neither was recognized in this year’s Oscars race, aside from a Best Makeup and Hairstyling nod for the latter.

Given Ridley Scott’s extensive history of award recognition, it perplexed many that neither was nominated in technical or acting categories. While the word-of-mouth reputation has been famously contentious, the critical valuation praised The Last Duel and House of Gucci as well-executed craftsman movies with dynamic performances, masterfully staged sequences, and noteworthy effort in costuming and production design.

Prediction: House of Gucci may have a shot at Best Makeup and Hairstyling but due to the Academy’s controversial effort to shorten their broadcast, sadly none of us will be able to see it.

The Storyline: Encanto vs. Flee: an animated showdown for the ages.

The Significance: Of all categories, the clash for Best Animated Feature Film is probably the one most visibly impacted by the inequality of exposure due to big studio marketing.

For all intents and purposes, Encanto is the textbook Disney product; ever since its arrival on Disney Plus, its influence has become literally unavoidable. On the other hand, Jonas Poher Rasmussen’s Flee was a big hit at Sundance, though received almost no commercial buzz whatsoever.

Upon watching both, it kind of makes sense: one is a kid-friendly culture piece with a catchy soundtrack, the other is a harrowing documentary about a young gay man escaping war-torn Afghanistan. Flee’s narrative unfolds with devastating execution that unpacks some incredibly dense themes of war, masculine identity, religious persecution, and a home you can’t go back to. Though they’re both animated movies that celebrate multiculturalism, only one is told with pulverizing honesty.

Prediction: Sorry Lin-Manuel Miranda fans; in all likelihood, Flee—which is also nominated for Best Documentary and Best International Feature—deserves to win in this category. To see for yourself, catch it on Hulu streaming now.

The Storyline: Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World was one of the most critically beloved movies of 2021. Will it take home an Oscar?

The Significance: In all reality, this might be the first you’re hearing about Joachim Trier’s darkly humorous romantic comedy, but among certain circles, it’s been one of the most discussed movies of the decade so far.

The intelligently scripted Norwegian film follows a young woman in her late-twenties (Renate Reinsve) as she navigates the existential peril of finding oneself at a crossroads in life, love, and opportunity. Its chaptered narrative structure is a profound exploration of that awkward but relatable phase in your life where sometimes you’re left with no choice but to “do you”.

Prediction: While it’s also nominated for Best International Feature, Trier’s best chance of competing will find him toe-to-toe against PTA for Licorice Pizza in the Best Original Screenplay category.

Next | Life Lessons We Can Learn From Movies' Most Prolific Stoners

Bedsheet Revelations: A David Lowery Deep Dive

July 30, 2021 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

David Lowery is one of the most fascinating storytellers of the modern filmmaking era. Touting five highly intriguing feature films with a sixth releasing today, the writer-director’s artistic vision taps into the human experience with acute perception. His movies are deep explorations of imaginative worlds, inhabited by subjects whose perspectives are often driven by love, purpose, and personal attachment. These dreamlike dimensions are beautifully shot with boundless originality and stark visual elegance.

This keen sense for capturing humanity with such moody distinction is perfectly suited to Lowery’s latest project, the hotly anticipated The Green Knight, set to release today on July 30th. This sprawling fantasy epic delves into the Arthurian exploits of Sir Gawain (Dev Patel) as he embarks on a quest to vanquish a legendary foe. While The Green Knight is clearly built on a wider breadth of scale than his previous films, it’s deeply rooted in the same sense of spiritual crisis—a journey to find self-worth through pursuit of eternal greatness.

Given the scope of his latest endeavor, it’s become clear that few directors today have the bandwidth to tap into their creative instincts in the way Lowery can. Entry to entry, his body of work is reinforced by a deeply felt artisanship. Between the lines, you’ll find connectivity between their visual expression and thematic significance—a pairing that is often used to establish tone, build dynamics between characters, or mirror internal feelings. While his films haven’t achieved an overwhelming amount of mainstream success, his place in the pantheon of contemporary filmmaking goes unquestioned. Let’s revisit the five distinguished films that comprise David Lowery’s prior canon.

St. Nick (2009)

In the faraway plains of North Texas, 19-year old David Lowery wrote and directed Lullaby, his first short film, equipped only with a deeply embedded love for cinema but no previous experience whatsoever. For several years, he’d go on to collaborate on a number of local projects that circulated regional festivals until finally, he got the opportunity to make his first feature film entitled St. Nick in 2008. This tender, sweeping arthouse drama paints the lives of two runaway siblings (Savanna and Tucker Sears) living in squalor to escape a troublesome reality in the American southland.

This micro-budget drama was made for just $12,000, but its lo-fi minimalism speaks to Lowery’s natural talent for visual storytelling. Dialogue is used sparingly, which forces the narrative to play out through meticulous shot and scene direction. Every withering tree, every tortured expression, each discernable nuance evokes imagery and emotion through the eyes of children who navigate a desolate, colorless world.

Lowery’s phenomenal grasp on artistic control results in a superlative quality that embeds itself into all of his ensuing work. In what would eventually come to define his inherent style, St. Nick introduces a powerful dynamic between visual sadness and youthful wonder that observes life’s jagged edges with a uniquely woven perspective.

The film was praised at South By Southwest though it mostly dissipated from the popular consciousness, considering how few people saw it. Even now, the film can only be streamed through one proprietary streaming service. But much like his pint-sized protagonists, Lowery’s stories would persist and continue exploring the beauty in human struggle.

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (2013)

Beaming with creative propulsion after St. Nick’s understated critical success, Lowery established Sailor Bear, an independent production company in 2011. Soon thereafter, he began work on a new love story with classic sensibilities; a doomed romance with old-timey evocations of bluegrass mythology.

Driven by a pair of impassioned performances from Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck, this 2013 indie drama follows Bob Muldoon, an outlaw who escapes incarceration to reunite with his lover Ruth and newborn daughter. Emotionally provocative and beautifully shot, this film approaches the Bonnie & Clyde mystique with an Old West feel and a foundation in grounded realism.

Having made its initial run in the 2013 film festival circuit to unanimous acclaim, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints is the definitive launchpad of Lowery’s career. Not only does he manage to tell a captivating story with a well-known cast on a shoestring budget, but from a technical perspective, his eye for cinematic composition reaches new heights of maturity. Each shot is constructed with purpose and feeling, creating an ambiance that looms over its star-crossed lovers.

Peppered with the rustic warmth of a timeless old folk song, the film’s visual energy hits you like warm desert air. Though Lowery chooses to emphasize the unspoken intimacy between two lovers entwined in their own little world, the Texan atmosphere engrosses you in their lover’s plight. This tender intimacy is a staple he returns for the ongoing length of his career, though his stories only grow in scale.

Pete’s Dragon (2016)

With a resume soundly building, Lowery is eventually approached by Disney to re-examine a beloved fable lost to time. The end result is a melancholy daydream through peaks and valleys of pain and hopefulness, a scary world through the eyes of an inquisitive kid whose story elicits equal shades of Steven Spielberg and Spike Jonze.

This contemporary retelling of the 1977 classic follows Pete (Oakes Fegley), a young boy who finds companionship with a mythical dragon after a fatal car crash leaves him orphaned and stranded in the forest. Though tonally, it’s slightly gloomier than your average Disney movie, it carefully retains their essence of mysticism and childlike wonder.

Beautifully filmed through lush, green filters of Pacific Northwestern mist, Lowery lent his perceptive eye to a grand-scale project in the major studio system. This artistic dexterity helps paint Pete’s odyssey as not just a spirited adventure movie, but a cathartic meditation on childhood adversity. By wearing the disguise of a whimsical Disney dragon movie, it can simultaneously succeed as a contemplative study on the importance of family.

With a stellar supporting cast that includes Bryce Dallas Howard, Karl Urban, and Robert Redford, the film went on to become Lowery’s first commercial success, earning $143 million in global box-office revenue. In light of its monetary accolades, the movie also exudes an unwavering artistry about it. Despite working within the rigid framework of a towering media syndicate, Lowery’s distinguished ability to create noble and respected movies proved his worthiness for wielding bigger and bolder projects.

A Ghost Story (2017)

Immediately after working with Disney, Lowery retreated into a dimension of esoterica to make one of the most brilliant avant-garde films of the last decade. This gloomy drift into the cosmic void follows a widow (Rooney Mara) who struggles to piece her life together after the death of her husband (Casey Affleck), whose spirit is resigned to linger in the home that they shared. Slow-burn but fully absorbing, this supernatural drama is a melancholy snapshot of grief, mortality, and the passage of time.

Infamously known for a five-minute segment where Rooney Mara eats pie in total silence while the blanketed ghost watches from an adjacent room, A Ghost Story is unconventionally crafted—admittedly speaking, its audacity might test some viewers’ patience. But for those who allow themselves to grapple with its larger concepts, they’ll find a uniquely thought-provoking experience at its core.

A Ghost Story’s central themes bear the existential weight of infinity, but by affixing our perspective to a standing bedsheet with eyeholes, this comical representation finds belonging in the space between simplicity and self-seriousness. While some might complain about its avant-garde craftsmanship, its silliness never strives to be better than its audience.

Breathtakingly shot, Lowery’s slow-crawling camera patiently digests the full spectrum of its surroundings. This conscious technical choice speaks to its thematic meditations on time and where we ultimately fit in the vast equation. These deep, metaphysical notions lie at the very center of A Ghost Story, a powerfully eccentric film that has something genuine to say about life, death, and the transcendental struggle to just let go.

The Old Man & The Gun (2018)

If there’s any validity to the observational judgments about Lowery’s work, it’s his tendency to lean toward darker, gloomier projects. A majority of his films have a slightly depressive allure, which lends itself to the tone or a deeper metaphor to be extracted within. His most recent entry breaks away from this mold by taking a more lighthearted approach and giving a monumental send-off to the illustrious career of Robert Redford, a true screen acting legend.

Redford’s effortless charms bring life to the movie’s magnetic antihero, Forrest Tucker. He’s a geriatric bank robber who, at the ripe age of 74, goes on the run from a lawman (Casey Affleck) hot on his trail. The film capitalizes on Redford’s charismatic appeal to its maximum extent, playing on all the pre-existing mythos that has accumulated over his decadent 50-year run.

Announcing his retirement shortly after the film’s wrap (despite his brief cameo appearance in Avengers: Endgame just one year later), Redford’s final starring role is a cherished farewell to an immortal luminary of cinema. Blending the sly charms of Bob Woodward with the smarmy fortitude of Sundance Kid, the elderly Forrest Tucker embodies a devilish but lovable archetype that doesn’t really exist in movies anymore. His portrayal

Lowery’s sharp direction enlivens The Old Man & The Gun with levity, style, and the carefree bounce of a freewheeling jazz album. In direct contrast with his previous work, Lowery assembles this film with an upbeat effervescence to mirror Redford’s infectious charisma. It subsequently garnered overwhelming acclaim from critics and fans alike, even earning Redford a Best Actor nomination at the 76th Annual Golden Globe awards.

With a resume like this, it’s no wonder Lowery has taken the reins on such imaginative projects as The Green Knight or the upcoming Disney retelling of Peter Pan & Wendy. His body of work is a stunning assortment of stories that ultimately mirror his preternatural vision: the world through a lens of endless possibility.

Next | The Definitive Works: A Sean Connery Retro-Schpective

New Horizons: How Movies Can Teach Us to Start Over

January 31, 2021 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

At the dawn of a new year but still staring into the barrel of sustained uncertainty, we find ourselves grappling with a hefty notion: is it possible for us to cling to hope despite the ongoing despair? As we move past what’s being colloquially recognized as the worst year of our lives, we’re left dealing not only with the lingering fear, but the unquestionable fallout of our collective trauma. If you feel like I feel, 2021 probably still seems disturbingly surreal and with our perceptions of time caught in the purgatorial vortex, we can sometimes find difficulty grasping onto the moment and learning how to proceed with refreshed optimism.

As hard as it is to contend with the fact that patience really is the only remedy, how we choose to pass our time can provide temporary ease to keep the lingering fear at bay. While cinema can be used as a helpful tool for distraction, engaging in its nuance can help reframe your perspectives on the situation at hand. Much like a playlist on Spotify, if what you watch is curated with care and intention, moviegoing at home can be a powerful cathartic experience when you’re facing adversity. The question is—where should you start?

When the good news seems sparse, remind yourself: optimism is created, not given. One way to refine your disposition is to immerse yourself in a mindset conducive to one key concept: “fresh starts”. And what better way to explore this notion than to pursue an index of movies whose deeper meanings can actually help you see that light at the end of your tunnel? Beneath all good films are poignant lessons we can stand to learn from—the teachings they advocate can grant enlightenment to those who are receptive to its underlying message. These films are flexible in structure and genre but their transformative properties are evident in the resonating thoughts we’re left with for hours after the credits have rolled. Join me in this exploratory dive into these cinematic lessons on what it means to brave new storms with a hopeful heart.

Lesson 1: Embrace new frontiers with open arms

Everybody Wants Some (2016) - dir. Richard Linklater

Richard Linklater’s spiritual sequel to Dazed and Confused is a raucous love letter to the best days of our lives—and the entanglements of being too caught in the moment to notice.

Told from the viewpoint of an enthusiastic college freshman (Blake Jenner) in 1980, he and his new friends discover the joys and complications of your first taste of unsupervised freedom. Everybody Wants Some is a delightful portrait of life’s new phases and the myriad ways in which we navigate them. Using wit, humor, a crackling roster of diverse characters and a groovy retro soundtrack, it buzzes with infectious energy that is sure to achieve a future cult status that might just rival its predecessor.

From Dazed to Before Sunrise, Linklater’s films are an encapsulation of moments that explore human interconnectivity through communication; this movie’s youthful glow is a veiled study of the people we meet and the lessons they teach on approaching life’s exciting new chapters with open-mindedness. The film’s closing remarks leave us with a resounding spark to embrace our unknowable future with an insatiable lust for life.

Lesson 2: Cherish warm memories of the past but learn to push forward when you need to

Up (2009) - dir. Pete Docter

Despite its reputation for being so heart-wrenching it’s borderline unbearable, Pete Docter’s high-flying fable has gained universal praise for its boldness about recontextualizing our most painful truths with wonderment and spectacle.

Following a grumpy old widower (voiced by Ed Asner) fulfilling his beloved wife’s lifelong fantasy of finding forgotten paradise, Up was Pixar’s introduction to animation that refuses to shy away from the harsh realities of our mortal coil. The underlying meditation helps us reason with grief at the counterpoint of honesty and fantasy, so its message has a tangible effect on viewers of all ages.

From Carl and Ellie’s adolescent courtship through the ladder of life’s inevitable milestones, Up crescendos to a dazzling journey into the unknown, with a palpable human element at its core that implores audiences to reflect on their own lives in the process. Through life’s peaks and valleys, Carl’s arc is a portrait of what it means to sift through our dredges with a grateful heart for the memories that sustain us. His acceptance of this universal truth is a poignant reminder: there’s always a Paradise Falls for those brave enough to seek it.

Lesson 3: Channel your demons through expressive creativity

Poetic Justice (1993) - dir. John Singleton

The late John Singleton was a filmmaker who left an immeasurable imprint on cinema; his work, his voice set out to deliver an unflinching vision of the black experience in America with artistic clarity and deep characterization. His sophomore feature Poetic Justice is a searing drama that wasn’t as well received as Boyz N The Hood but also approaches weighty social topics with an empathetic touch.

The film unfolds through the eyes of Justice (Janet Jackson), a young hairdresser. Though she mourns over the senseless murder of her boyfriend, she finds solace in writing poetry. When she’s reluctantly roped into going on a road trip with Lucky (Tupac Shakur), a troublesome postman, they both learn what it means to open up and heal their pain through creativity.

Janet Jackson and Tupac deliver painfully vulnerable performances that anchor the film’s thematic statement on nourishment through expression. Singleton’s body of work is a subtle exploration of the destructive ways in which human beings can choose to interpret suppression; some channel through anger, some through resentment or violence but his films try to remind us that at the end of the day, all we have is one another and the ways in which we connect. Poetic Justice may be overshadowed in the archive of Singleton’s work but its resonating message reminds us that creativity is a gift, and expressing it is a prism through which we examine our pain. And much like a kaleidoscope, it’ll turn the broken pieces into brilliant fractals of shape and color.

Lesson 4: Leave behind that which no longer serves you

Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008) - dir. Nick Stoller

Who says a movie that so prominently features full-frontal male nudity can’t teach you profound life lessons? This Apatow-produced comedy follows Peter (Jason Segel), a depressed songwriter as he attempts to cure the breakup blues by taking a spontaneous trip to Hawaii, only to find his ex-girlfriend staying there with her new beau.

It may be profane and outlandish but Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a very funny movie that genuinely has something to say on the subject of starting over. Moving on is an exercise of your ability to endure hardship and try again; this film, at its core, is an anthemic celebration of that human resiliency. Sure, not everyone can relate to being broken up with while standing naked in your living room but the same type of pain is felt by anyone who’s ever had to confront some form of life-defining difficulty.

The essence of comedy is to make a caricature out of your most personal shortcomings; without pain, humor doesn’t exist. In that spirit, Peter’s uphill struggle to overcome his breakup and move on to something new is a humorous representation of a realistic concept. By taking himself out of his comfort zone, he begins to gain perspective on the issue and with it, an awareness for the superfluous weight we all tend to carry around with us. By the end of the film we reach a uniquely profound conclusion: know when it’s time to shed the excess and find your joy in life again.

Lesson 5: No one gets through this life alone—lean on loved ones when you need support

Midsommar (2019) - dir. Ari Aster

This deeply twisted fable is an unconventional pick, but its underlying framework is an abstract lesson on how to start fresh. Ari Aster’s sinister folk tale is a hallucinogenic trip into the mind of Dani (Florence Pugh), a trepidatious young woman who’s begrudgingly whisked to a rural Swedish commune for a lavish midsummer festival with detached boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) and friends. Bearing witness to the village’s macabre and drug-fueled ceremonies, their sanity dissipates as they quickly begin to realize this festive hellscape isn’t exactly the party they were looking for.

Much like Hereditary, Ari Aster’s follow-up is depraved but enchanting to watch, a true statement of bold indie moviemaking. The film’s shock value amassed buzz and a cult following that took over conversations by storm, but the reason it still resonates with so many people is its sub-narrative commentary on the things that we cling to in times of despair.

What makes Ari Aster such a unique storyteller is his ability to blend intense family drama with unspeakable horror. Because of these dramatic roots, audiences are engrossed in Dani’s plight—a layered character with a complex arc and background; she’s a broken soul in the wake of an unspeakable family tragedy who seeks refuge in a toxic, floundering relationship. As the film unfolds, we follow her down a twisted path that shatters her constitutions but more importantly, teaches her a profound lesson on the bonds worth clutching onto in times of helplessness. These teachings permeate its colorful surface, invading your perspective so vividly that by the end of the movie, you’ll somehow feel a guilty peace with the morbid atrocities happening onscreen. By hook or crook, Midsommar will plunge its way into your brain and interrogate your fundamental understanding of what community means, standing proud as a brilliant example of a film that doesn’t need to be conventionally “happy” to impart a deeper life lesson.

Lesson 6: Life is fleeting, so live it on your terms

The Truman Show (1998) - dir. Peter Weir

Of all the films most frequently mentioned every time a “movies that’ll change your outlook on life” list is assembled online, maybe none are spoken about with such reverential praise as late 90’s fan favorite, The Truman Show. Peter Weir’s cerebral dramedy was a showcase that not only demonstrated Jim Carey’s true range as a performer, but captivated us with its thought-provoking ideas and questioned our understanding of autonomy and free will.

The film follows Truman Burbank, an average joe whose entire life has been closely captured by an endless array of hidden cameras and broadcast as a fabricated reality show to viewers worldwide, though completely unbeknownst to him. When Truman starts questioning the validity of his life’s ostensible narrative, he goes on a quest to disprove the predetermined fate he’s careening toward by any means necessary.

While Carey’s comic magnetism plays a huge part in how closely it still resonates with fans almost a quarter-century later, The Truman Show has remained a permanent fixture in our consciousness because of its metaphorical density. The film proposes a distinctly original take on people as living in a sort of terrarium—an artificial construction where reality is presented as something chosen for us, an entity out of our control. Truman shows us that only through deliberate action can we break through and construct our own free will. This reconfiguration of our worldview is an exploration of starting over, for the simple fact that it helps remind us that life is uncertainty—but uncertainty is a blank canvas. And if reality is, in fact, something we have any agency over, let’s fill that canvas with the colors of a life worth living.

The Definitive Works: A Sean Connery Retro-Schpective

November 24, 2020 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

On October 31st, cinema lost one of its brightest burning stars in Scottish acting legend, Sir Sean Connery. At 90 years old, he lived a long and notable life that, despite the dated nature of the lifestyle he outwardly represented, left an indelible impact on film and culture as a whole. His cherished legacy that spans almost half a century introduced an acting style (and excessively overdone impersonation) that found its way into the popular consciousness and carved new pathways for generations that followed.

Largely identified as the very first (some would say best) James Bond, his towering presence built new dimensions around super stardom by exhibiting the radiant and dynamic energy he’s characteristically known for. His effortless charisma and dashing sense of style created an image that redefined perceptions of mid-century masculinity but took on controversial new meanings over the course of time. Despite this, Connery’s career took him in a number of intriguing directions that shifted the cultural meanings of that image. To celebrate this one-of-a-kind career, we’ll be exploring five of his definitive films that outline his trajectory and solidified him as one of cinema’s eternal icons.

Goldfinger (1964) - dir. Guy Hamilton

After the success of Dr. No in 1962, Connery rose to monumental prominence and immediately became a fixture of the industry. Based on Ian Fleming’s captivating spy novel, Dr. No featured Connery in his breakout role as MI6’s most luxurious secret agent; his commanding onscreen presence was a strong introduction for the world’s most electrifying new action star. He came back to reprise this role in the two consecutive years that followed, with Goldfinger serving as third in the James Bond franchise. First in the franchise to earn over $100 million in box office revenue, Goldfinger follows the exploits of our suave secret agent as he goes toe-to-toe with the titular crime lord and his bowler-cap slinging sidekick, Oddjob.

Having been in the role for three years by this point, his radiance reaches an apex that could aptly be described as invulnerable; his swagger is unwavering and his elegance is unparalleled by any other movie star in his era. The camera gazes in admiration on his tall and sturdy frame, capturing each crinkle of the devilish grin he’d imbue, the razor-sharp glimmer in his eye reflected the alluring danger we knew him to be capable of. His image stood for something larger than life itself; in a time that was dominated by status and powerful men, this role became the beacon of class and masculinity. Calm, cool, collected and in control, Connery became a sex symbol who defined the gold standard by which all men wanted to be measured by—though over time we’d find that it came at a hefty price.

While the role was a showcase for Connery, it’s proven to have aged quite poorly, famously sparking dispute over the problematic ideals it portrays of an era that openly reinforced misogyny and devaluation of women. Butt slaps, overt sexual innuendo and general objectification are not rarities in the Bond-iverse. While it’s important to never shy away from these transgressions, it’s also important to view the Bond films with an understanding of what his character is meant to represent: the tailored suits, the Aston Martins, the shaken martinis—James Bond is a steward of lifestyle and luxury. To truly appreciate this series’ true value, we have to process it in proper perspective, with a clear understanding of how far we’ve come since the 1960’s. For many, its age factor has been diminished by these ideals, though it doesn’t negate the lasting cultural impact of Connery’s contributions to the discourse of entertainment. And as Connery began to outgrow this image, his career began taking shape, as did the intrigue of the vastly more complicated roles he became associated with.

The Offence (1973) - dir. Sidney Lumet

As time went on, Connery began to resent his responsibilities as James Bond. In an effort to shed the image he felt trapped in, he started taking on a multitude of interesting projects in the 1970’s that began showcasing his true talent as an actor. In order to execute this vision, he wanted to team with filmmakers who could capitalize on the full range of his acting potential. Seeking collaboration with acclaimed NYC-based auteur Sidney Lumet, Connery knew that if anyone could help him reinvent his image, it was the genius behind 12 Angry Men. First teaming in 1965’s war drama The Hill, their creative marriage reached its peak on their sophomore follow-up, The Offence. This gritty psychological thriller follows a distraught police detective through the darkest case of his career; when a child molestation suspect is apprehended, the detective’s suppressed rage unfurls in this harrowing exploration of the depths of the human psyche when pushed to the brink of its limits.

Despite its mainstream underappreciation, the brilliance of this film is that it presents a sobering look at the unflinching realities of Connery’s Bond mystique. Like 007, Detective Johnson is shown to be a committed, unstoppable force of sheer will and carries out his mission with bulletproof invulnerability. What makes it an effective divergence is its ability to provoke deeper thought on the bleaker sides of criminal justice. While Johnson tries hard to retain his moral position, the overexposure to grisly violence blurs his sense of judgement and brings out something sinister in him. His headstrong aggression isn’t glamorized—it’s uglified. For the first time in Connery’s career, he uses his infamous fortitude to convey a man hanging onto his reasonings by a thread, grinded down to the soul by the horrors of human injustice.

For Connery, this bare-knuckled noir did more than shed his Bond persona, it solidified his place as one of the greatest actors of his generation. It was complex to a degree that audiences weren’t used to seeing out of actors who were typically associated with one specific role, and for Connery to break that mold was a colossal step forward in his career. Think of it this way: if the Bond franchise was Dazed & Confused, then this was his True Detective. The Offence sealed his place as a great dramatic actor but as age became more of a factor, Connery began to embrace his new frontiers in a vastly different way.

Time Bandits (1981) - dir. Terry Gilliam

The early 80’s were a transitionary period for movies and pop culture; after the release of Star Wars in 1977, entertainment was defined by corporatized, grand scale entertainment that appealed to imagination and wonder. The ushering of this new blockbuster age found Connery’s super sensation fading gradually into the backdrop of the culture machine, though he still retained powerful pole position within the industry. In a critical move that would shape the next phase of his career, Connery’s self-awareness led him to roles that softened his image. Combining forces with Terry Gilliam, the silly mind behind the Monty Python films, Connery lent his talents to the critically applauded Time Bandits. This fun romp of a fantasy adventure follows a young history bookworm as he zips through dimensional portals, braving wild and dangerous landscapes throughout world history.

In the film, Connery makes a cameo appearance as the brutish but caring King Agamemnon who assumes care of the young boy when he finds himself in Ancient Greece. Mindful of the impossibility for audiences to shake Connery’s brutish presence from their memories, Gilliam knew rather than to reinvent it, he must instead leverage it in a way that serves his signature lighthearted, humorous filmmaking style. The role shows a warmer side to his alpha demeanor, which humanized the man once thought to be the epitome of testosterone fueled self-seriousness. The playground of fantastical creativity allowed for Connery to retain his essence, but to play it off with just the right balance of whimsey and trademark fury.

In his long and storied arc, this particular phase of Connery’s career was especially pivotal in the sense that there was an extreme shift in his cultural meaning. This was the point where audiences knew that Connery had achieved veteran status, and that this cameo appearance would set the tone for how audiences perceived him moving forward. Why do we cheer when we see Sylvester Stallone in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 for thirty seconds? Because modern audiences know that once upon a Cold War, he fought Ivan Drago in Soviet Russia. By the time Bandits came out, Connery was universally recognized as a seasoned icon, worthy of the unexpected cameo in an adventurous, self-aware comedy. Having fully embraced this new plateau, the later part of the decade finds Connery in a fun co-starring role that most fittingly showcased the legend status in all its charismatic glory.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) - dir. Steven Spielberg

While almost thirty years had passed since first emerging onto the scene, Connery’s star power reaches a second peak in the late-80’s. Teaming with the biggest filmmaker of the century in Steven Spielberg, a visionary who’s always known how to capitalize on the most beloved characteristics of his cast, Connery’s magnetism coalesces magnificently in a showcase of both charm and humor. Sharing a screen with Hollywood’s favorite hotshot Harrison Ford, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade follows the iconic archaeologist on his continued adventures in search of the Holy Grail, a proverbial artifact rumored to grant everlasting life.

Third in the quadrilogy and most lucrative film of the decade, Crusade features Connery in the definitive late-phase role of his career playing the stubborn father of a globetrotter with a knack for finding himself in precarious situations and booby-trapped temples. Spielberg immerses audiences in another treacherous world of global expanse and childlike wonder that, even when considering his distinguished resumé, still serves as the benchmark for all adventure movies. While Crusade’s action-packed set pieces remain untouched as a milestone of the genre, its high regard is largely in debt to the performances of Connery and Ford. These titans of machismo have palpable father-son chemistry; their witty interplay is an endearing snapshot of the love, dysfunction and sacrifice that often come with complicated family values. From E.T. to Gremlins, this tonal modesty was an earmark of 80’s entertainment and this movement helped soften the opacity of Connery’s reputation.

His performance as Henry Jones set the stage for the twilight of Sean Connery’s career as a featured mentor; his presence became a reverent symbol of wisdom and guidance in the same way Mark Hamill did in the new Star Wars trilogy. His star power never really diminished, it rather reshaped into another form. While it was atypical for him to share top billing with another A-lister, Crusade gave viewers an unmistakable sense of the passing of a torch from one action star to the next. In many regards, he and Ford were mirror images of one another, both placed on similar paths at two different points in time. Their intersection was monumental and the result was highly lucrative, though Connery’s fifth and final phase took a slightly different approach to explore the concept of duality.

The Rock (1997) - dir. Michael Bay

So here’s the thing: The Rock is far from Sean Connery’s final film; in the spirit of productivity, he made nine movies in the last eight years of his career, culminating in 2003’s catastrophically mediocre League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. For the Scotsman whose roles were known for being larger than life, perhaps a more satisfying closure can be found in his creative marriage with larger than life action director Michael Bay. Hot from the hype of his debut feature Bad Boys, he quickly put his name in the hat for Hollywood’s premier action director. His follow-up pairs Connery with everyone’s favorite wild man Nic Cage as they infiltrate an Alcatraz stronghold to stop a rogue USMC general from launching weapons of mass destruction into San Francisco.

With special effects progress on the upswing, Michael Bay taps into a vein of sensory indulgence that James Cameron prospected in 1991’s Terminator 2: Judgement Day. Bay pushes the envelope to its explosive new limits and The Rock becomes a landmark for the action movie renaissance based solely on the concept: “let’s just obliterate everything and see what happens”. Co-stars Connery and Cage are exactly what you’d expect together—their collective insanity is hard to take your eyes off. Their scenes unfold like a series of hilarious improv sketches with back and forth spitfire pacing and a playful aggression that reflects their strong mutual awareness for one another. If Connery passed the torch in Crusade, then Nic Cage intercepted it and ran it 5000 miles in the opposite direction in The Rock.

While The Rock isn’t a likely candidate for the AFI Top 100 List, you can bet it’s become a staple of the action movie genre and a beloved keepsake in the hearts of movie fans worldwide. It’s even been inducted into the Criterion Collection. While there will always be a special place for movies with groundbreaking cultural impact, the modern generation was raised in an age where sensationalism is necessary to offset the pervasive cynicism. This film is vulgar, violent, in many ways tasteless but above all, it’s a hell of a lot of fun. And that’s just about everything you could ask for in a “turn your brain off” action movie.

The film’s massive cult following helps reinforce Sean Connery’s generational appeal: he rose to fame as a symbol of class and sexuality but through decades of exploring a number of roles that began to showcase his talents and diversify his image, he became something different entirely. This diversity gave way to a relativity, an inroad for modern audiences to latch onto. For the peculiar nature of this unassailable journey, despite the controversies, Sean Connery’s legacy as a performer will never, ever be remembered as just an artifact.

What Lurks Below the Surface: "Jaws" in the Age of Social Distance

July 04, 2020 by AJ Mijares in Deep Dives

A resounding *chomp* shook the theater and sent the crowd shifting visibly in their seats. The visual onslaught prompted audible gasps. Through a slit between fingers, I saw the crimson waters. My palms felt slick and my blood ran cold, but I didn’t really care; my undivided focus was on the tension in the room...a frantic energy, an aura so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

It was that day I learned the captivating grip of what the cinematic experience could be. I’ll never forget watching Renny Harlin’s aquatic adventure, Deep Blue Sea.

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In hindsight, maybe I was hereditarily disposed to have a fascination with shark stories--even genetically modified ones that have a taste for mega famous movie stars.

Flash back to a sweltering Summer in 1975; my dad, 15 at the time, scraped together what funds he could to participate in what was being commercially touted as the must-see experience of the Summer. When Hollywood’s most eager rising filmmaker, twenty-seven year old Steven Spielberg took on directing efforts for the film adaptation of a best-selling adventure novel, he overcame the challenges of a famously burdened production that not only went on to break records, but laid the foundation for an entirely new movie industry moving forward.

Raking in $470 million at the box office worldwide, Spielberg’s film Jaws became the highest grossing smash hit of its time. Aside from making people afraid to ever touch water again, it created the formula for what we now know as a Summer Blockbuster.

With an unprecedented $2 million marketing strategy that saturated mainstream media outlets, Jaws was the first monumental moviegoing event with an associated phenomenon attached. Its captivating thrills ensnared audiences globally and re-wrote the roadmap for how studios distribute their biggest films. With its lasting sensation and groundbreaking box-office success, Jaws established the blueprint for what we still classify as a must-see zeitgeist...or at least we did.

Swing back to 2020 where the altered complexion of our new reality leaves the movie industry in grave uncertainty, putting the future of the cinematic experience as a whole in questionable limbo. Undergoing a painful metamorphosis, society finds itself engaged in a series of struggles against a relentless onslaught of social unrest and the looming threat of a lethal pandemic.

In a hazy new world where each day unfolds with an overwhelming sense of fear, I hope to nurture a haven from the existential dread through appreciation for the art that helps remind us why we so desperately need entertainment in dark times. With Summer in full stride, we reflect on some key elements that make Jaws a strangely relevant but thoroughly enjoyable classic at the 45th anniversary of its original release—though it still doesn’t measure up to Renny Harlin’s underwater opus, Deep Blue Sea.

Fear of Uncertainty

The mounting concern of our present state has thrown a wrench in the gears of perceived normalcy, as paralleled by the film’s main protagonist—police chief Martin Brody. Jaws unfolds through his eyes when he’s thrust into confrontation with an uncontrollable force he can’t quite understand.

When his ordinary life as a devoted family man in idyllic Amity Island is rudely upended by the arrival of a man-eating shark that prowls the harbor stalking its prey, Brody must abandon his comfort zone and reluctantly take to the open sea with his two mates: the cocky academic Hooper and the salty sea dog Quint in an effort to slay the menacing beast.

Brody’s initial instinct to the bloodshed awakens the implied trauma he sustained as a former NYPD cop. Those demons and the subsequent fear that it brings manifest themselves through unhealthy coping mechanisms, mainly drinking—and if there were a single frame of the film more emblematic of the spirit of 2020, it’s Brody in despair guzzling red wine out of a pint glass.

Mrs. Brody looking like the concerned Rite Aid cashier as I buy my fourth bottle of cheap merlot this week.

A partial factor of Jaws’ lasting entertainment value lies in its ability to tell a compelling story without relying solely on spectacle. While, sure, it’s admittedly thrilling to see a 25-foot behemoth crunch into the stern of a capsizing boat like it’s a hardshell taco, the essence of all truly great horror lies in its ability to find a relatable human element. That element sometimes eludes viewers at first or second glance but reaches their subconscious from a level that’s not always obvious at face value. Though most of us can’t relate to what it’s like being terrorized by a sea creature, we can all find commonality in Chief Brody’s mortal struggle to maintain control and find resolve in the midst of uncertainty.

Immersion & Catharsis

While a film’s deeper meaning can serve to provoke inward reflection, its ever-reaching power can transcend the fourth wall to create a living, breathing sensory experience. A transaction occurs between the film and our brains; what we see with our eyes, what we hear with our ears, what we build with our mind can poke at emotions and stimulate psychological responses that manifest themselves in physiological ways. This very real response is the reason horror fans..well, love horror movies--it helps purge the conscious mind of the fears we face in real life.

As legend would have it when Jaws made its gargantuan splash, it famously targeted the fears of a beachgoing Summer audience, as exemplified by the now universally recognizable promotional image used for nearly every single piece of its marketing content.

From John Williams’s foreboding main theme to the haunting imagery of a young boy’s bloody raft washing in with the tide, the film’s most engaging horror elements prey on subconscious fears of our inability to control the forces of nature. The film’s portrayal of sharks as cruel, deadly and uncaring inspired a generation to never want to set foot in water again. According to common cultural lore, its very release caused a downward trend in beach attendance that very Summer.

The immersive visual element of the film’s out-to-sea portion remains a staple in its use of space and atmosphere. A large part of the film takes place aboard a shabby fishing vessel, the Orca, as it bobs up and down a vast stretch of ocean. Much like Alien’s (1975) Nostromo hurtling through an empty black void, Jaws set the gold standard for blockbuster horror in solitary locations.

Floating on a boundless stretch of sea with no land in sight, the film illustrates the terror of isolation by effectively trapping you on a hunk of buoyant steel in a slow, disorienting cradle with an incomprehensible force lying nearby in wait. The madness and tension it awakens in our three distanced heroes is sure to strike a chord with stir-crazy viewers trapped in their apartment, belching tequila breath and howling songs into the night like a couple of drunk sailors.

Lasting Merit as a Political Statement

Through the gunsmoke of social struggle, we still battle an unseen enemy as COVID-19 shows no signs of slowing. While states begin to open up tentatively, massive ideological rifts have formed between those who firmly believe in city closures in the name of public safety, or reopening in an effort to avoid a full scale economic meltdown. This ethical dilemma is mirrored in one of Jaws’ most enduring motifs that bears striking resemblance to the current state of our global affair.

A crucial thematic element of Jaws is the underlying motivation of people in power--specifically, that of Amity’s incumbent mayor, Larry Vaughn.

In a tight-knit New England beach community where the crux of their economy relies on Summer tourism, the two primary factors behind Vaughn’s most critical decisions are money and reputation. When the remains of a local teenage swimmer washes ashore mere weeks before July Fourth, Vaughn, thinking solely in terms of economic consequence, refuses to shut the beaches down--much to Chief Brody’s chagrin but met with support by various business owners in the community. This decision ultimately leads to further bloodshed.

While the man-eating shark is clearly used as hyperbole, it represents underlying themes that are still just as resonant today, but with implications that have potential to be innumerably more fatal. In a time characterized by deepening ideological polarity, individual priority has proved to be a big indicator of stance. While more states begin to open up and reported deaths soar past the 100,000 mark in the US alone, we can’t help but draw connective lines to the potentially grim downsides of a Capitalist mindset.

The Blockbuster Prototype

For years prior to our present day turmoil, we’ve been undergoing a transition in the way we ingest and define entertainment. In a digitally connected age where streams of content are perpetually churned and spoonfed to us from the comfort of our own homes, most of us feel no obligation to go out and experience a film unless it has instantaneous commercial recognition like Avengers: Endgame or spectacle event marketability, like anything Christopher Nolan touches.

As theater chains tremble under the weight of an indefinite disruption due to COVID-19, studios are forced to suspend the release of their biggest projected films until further notice. Meanwhile--prospective audiences, weary from endless months spent cooped up at home in restless desperation, are flocking to take part in alternative means of pastime entertainment by rebooting an artifact long thought to be extinct.

Last weekend, 45 Summers after its initial release, Jaws swam back into 187 drive-in theater screens across the nation, grossing over $516,000 in revenue. While the concept may seem like a novelty relic from an ancient past, Jaws’ continued success in the drive-in movie theater resurgence and its recent addition on the HBO Max streaming platform indicates agelessness, a proven influence and global appreciation that transcends all notion of time.

In simplistic terms, the true legacy of Jaws lies in its undeniable rewatchability; the scale and spectacle of this brisk two-hour creature feature somehow always feels like a fresh experience, regardless of year. A major factor in that timelessness is its ability to distinguish itself from the entertainment of its time; while it’s not actively trying to be as existentially ambitious as 2001: A Space Odyssey (1969) or as ancestrally poignant as The Godfather (1972), Spielberg approaches a high-concept premise with a masterful balance of childlike wonder, gripping intensity and stunning execution that made audiences fall in love with how much fun the moviegoing experience could be.

For all intents and purposes, Jaws was rolled out to be a home run. As previously mentioned, Universal took a big swing by investing $2M in the marketing of this film, whose mythical production hiccups were once thought to be the ultimate undoing of everyone involved.

Nevertheless, Jaws burst onto the scene on an unprecedented 460 screens across North America and fundamentally popularized the key tenets of Blockbuster film structure: a harrowing hero’s journey set to the tone of an Oscar-winning musical score that features cutting-edge special effects, a slew of tremendously complex, multi-layered characters and maybe most importantly, you can never underestimate the power of a witty one-liner:

You have to admit even John McClane would be proud of this line.

To Make A Long Story Short...

The quality of a film’s appreciation value over time is most aptly measured by the sum of its moving parts—sometimes literally. The legacy of Jaws and its animatronic antagonist stands out as a monolith of pop culture phenomenon whose groundbreaking influence on the movie industry built an everlasting legacy that formed the foundations of entertainment as we know it and cemented Steven Spielberg as one of Hollywood’s most prolific filmmakers.

The half-century span of Jaws’ continuous reign is cold, hard proof that it simply does not age. Its ability to trigger emotional and sensory response pioneered the moviegoing experience and helped us understand how entertainment gives fleeting shelter from the hardships of life. But with all its praise and definitive universality, did we ever get Roy Scheider doing an end-credit rap song like LL Cool J in Renny Harlin’s Deep Blue Sea? I think not. Catch up, Spielberg.