Moonrise Kingdom

To say that Wes Anderson is both detailed and blissfully random understates his skillfully unique storytelling mode.  Anderson has, over his many films, indicated areas of obsessive interest in family and the finely nuanced conveyance of  both detail and surprise as means of narrative.

In Moonrise Kingdom, his attentive obsessions reach a new peak of delight, dark humor, and poignancy.  Bob Balaban is our gnome narrator.  The camera tracks sideways to reveal interiors of homes, scout tents and local views.  Our alternative narrator is a guided recording of the musical families of an orchestra, which becomes both commentary and counter-point to the eccentric families that we meet: the Bishops, Frances McDormand and Bill Murray (both quietly hilarious), and the Khaki Scouts, headed by a wonderful Edward Norton. Bruce Willis is understated as Chief of Police.  He is an action figure dappling in inaction until action becomes necessary and compelling.  Tilda Swindon as Social Services takes a great turn in Salvation Army blue uniform, and is clearly having fun.

The warmly yellow light, varying scales of lighthouses, specific scout badges and the tender depiction of romance between two very serious 12 year olds (excellent Jared Gillman and Kara Hayward) add up to an immensely enjoyable romp through family systems, enduring friendships, and wilderness skills (with a record player, many books and a lovely hot dog picnic).  Tents are zipped from inside and outside, plaid is everywhere, including the interior of tents and one cross, many pajamas and robes and pairs of pants.  Plaid is a complex intersection of color and pattern, detailed and rich, just like this lovely and very fun film.

A Separation

The brilliant Iranian film, A Separation, opens with a couple requesting divorce from an unseen judge behind the camera's view. And thus, the viewer is immediately immersed in a narrative delivered by indirection, layers, covering and uncoverings (often literal coverings as this is Iran, where women's heads wear head scarves at the very least). Revelations and retractions inform every interaction.

The camera remains interior in focus, in that every scene is within an apartment, a car or a judicial chamber. The palette is subdued, even when dialogue becomes heated. There is an intimacy that respects the hidden aspects of lives and characters, a separation between the public and the private.

Rifts between classes, religious dedications, genders and means of communication are conveyed with subtle power. The layers of lies, half-truths and secrets, as well as mistaken intentions, add up to a beautiful vertigo that never confuses. The swirls reveal rather than obscure.

All the performances, especially those of the children, are quietly riveting. Nuance and suggestion hold a delicate balance. There are no "bad guys", just the complexities of human interaction, with all the potential separations of individuals seeking justice on large and small scales.

The final moments devastate and resonate long after this excellent film concludes.

Pina, again..

There are very few films I want to see more than once on the big screen. Pina haunted and informed me to a degree of required re-viewing. It is like a dream you await to replay in the night, a fractured, lovely lyric you recall upon waking, vague fears that leaden then oddly lighten your limbs, and universally human gestures played out to the rhythms of mortality. Pina demands and deserves attentive viewing as well as repeat viewing.

"You just have to get crazier" Pina Bausch

Pina 3-D

If you have even a vague interest in dance or theatre or life, you must race out now and see Pina. This film will devastate you, change you, cause you to question your essence, and potentially bring you to the tides of joy.

Pina Bausch challenged the limits of expression via dance. She utilized elements and emotion, space and expression, like no one else. Wim Wenders' film, sadly begun shortly after Pina's untimely death, celebrates her intensity and integrity with textural and spacious locations, widely diverse music as narrative, historical and current footage, great wardrobe choices, and clear, non-intrusive camera work. Descriptions fall short; experience is necessary.

Or, as Pina said: "dance, dance, otherwise we are lost".

The Adventures of Tin Tin

The Adventures of Tin Tin, a high energy treasure from Steven Spielberg, combines motion capture and 3-D technologies for a surreal yet effective story delivery. Like the books by the Belgian artist Herge' upon which the film is based, the visual point of view shifts and swoops somewhat vertiginously, but always in service of the adventure. The light and space and motion haven't the clunky aspect of animation nor the limitation of live action. Nearly impossible things can happen with ease.

Tin Tin, a young journalist of indeterminate age, no visible human family, and an infinite curiosity, is ably assisted by his equally curious dog Snowy. Tin Tin and Snowy meet a host of characters both devious and delightful, and utilize nearly every form of transport available in the 1940's: motorcycles, fabulous cars, propeller planes, cargo ships, lifeboats, zip lines made from laundry ropes, just to name a few.

Spielberg is wired for detail, and the format and feel of this film give him a canvas for details galore. Unfortunately, John Williams composed the musical score. He is so tedious and unoriginal that he steals from himself, and serves Spielberg's need to interpret action for us all too willingly.

My other minor reservation is the relentless pace, which becomes close to frantic in the second half. Although the action rarely pauses in the books, a reader can look away or close the covers for the night. One begins to weary without a respite, and thus potentially lose appreciation for the many visual puns and plays. Still, despite small concerns, this is an exhilarating and high-spirited ride!

Hugo

Light, time and cinematic magic are gorgeously portrayed in Martin Scorsese' Hugo, a delight in film for all ages. Before the opening titles even appear, we are welcomed to a world of rich texture and continuous transition. A boy with luminous eyes watches from inside a luminous large clock face the motions of the City of Light. This boy, Hugo, resides within the clockworks of a train station in Paris. Worlds within worlds ensue in portrayal, all to magnificent degrees of delight.

The production quality on this film is extraordinary. Although I did not view it in 3-D, I was utterly transfixed and convinced by the reality conveyed and the characters depicted. Asa Butterfield portrays Hugo and Chloe Grace Mortetz plays his friend Isabelle. They are both superb and very well directed. Hugo watches (and takes care of clocks), Isabelle reads and extends his social world. She provides connection, he deepens her observations. They both explore time, narrative and theatrical magic, each in their own manner.

The priggish and prudish Station Inspector, a terrific Sasha Baron Cohen, looms like a shadow of obsessive and heartless time keeping. His injured leg has a malfunctioning leg brace. Thus, he is the ideal monster in a system of potential mechanical magic.

And, at the heart of all this beauty and wonder is Scorsese' deep love of film, the history of film, and the value of film as a story telling and transformative device. After a lifetime of filmmaking, Hugo expresses his dedication and love with a luminous gaze.

The Descendants

In hands of lesser skill, this film that addresses mortality, property, marital infidelity and teenaged rebellion might easily have gone to melodrama or sobbing sodden sap. Instead, director Alexander Payne delivers a poignant, wryly humorous and very non-formulaic story with a fine ensemble of players.

Payne has a film history of allowing his mid-life and adrift men to negotiate the perils of Big Questions (About Schmidt and Sideways) in unpredictable manners. In The Descendants, he again avoids easy Hollywood formula answers, and allows the primary character, Matt King (an excellent George Clooney) to be adrift, sympathetic and deeply credible.

Clooney is amply supported by the girls who play his smart and rebellious daughters Scottie (Amara Miller) and Alexandra (Shailene Woodley). These girls don't play cute. They are feisty and funny and utterly believable. Nick Krause as their necessary stoner sidekick and buddy is quietly excellent and a great addition to the balance of characters. The script and the performances add up hilariously and poignantly without any whiff of sappy excess.

There are some wasted shots and some unnecessary tangents, but it all adds up in the end in a very satisfying manner. Locations are a bit confusing for those of us who know Kauai and the Islands, but no matter. The point is made that even perceived Paradise includes life problems.

The Big Questions are approached with wry humor, minimal melodrama, and no shortage of respect for all characters, even those of questionable morality. The final minutes are all one would hope for in quiet resolution.