Jeremy Beck, Author at MovieManifesto

The king of the world shows us a magnificent new one in Avatar

December 27, 2009May 30, 2024 Jeremy BeckReviews

Perhaps the most breathtaking moment in James Cameron’s Avatar – a movie that takes the breath from its awestruck audience with startling regularity – occurs roughly 45 minutes into the film. It introduces us to Neytiri, a blue-skinned warrior with amber-gold eyes and a supple 12-foot frame. Perched gracefully on a tree branch, Neytiri has spotted an intruder (who happens to be Jake Sully, our story’s hero), and she moves silently to eliminate the threat. Pulling her bowstring taut, she is poised to strike when, suddenly, something catches her eye: a wispy, jellyfish-like organism, floating delicately in midair. The ethereal life form drifts toward Neytiri, eventually settling on the tip of her arrowhead. Neytiri, for reasons unknown to us at the time, takes this as an admonition of her combative instinct; she lowers her bow, and Jake Sully is allowed to live a little longer.

This is a beautiful scene. It takes place in complete silence (with the exception of James Horner’s soft, reverent score), yet it constitutes a moment of both exquisite suspense (what will happen?) and slack-jawed wonder (just what are these creatures?), plus it effectively advances the movie’s story. But the scene is particularly noteworthy because it is possible – indeed probable – that none of what we see was ever actually filmed, instead constructed within the confines of a computer. (I use the word “confines” loosely, as Avatar suggests that any alleged boundaries of computer-assisted filmmaking may in fact be illusory.) Yet watching the scene unfold, I never for a moment questioned the authenticity of Neytiri, the tree branch, or the wispy creature. I was simply transfixed on what was happening, wondering who this Amazonian was and why she suddenly refused to kill.

A moping moon, but some light still shines through

November 24, 2009April 28, 2019 Jeremy BeckReviews

“It was pretty terrible. I really enjoyed it.”

That was me, one year ago, on the phone with my father, giving him my brief and not entirely rational assessment of a little movie called Twilight, which has now become America’s latest mega-franchise – the second installment, New Moon, raked in a cool $142.8 million this past weekend, good for third all-time behind The Dark Knight and Spider-Man 3. And while I’m impressed (and more than a tad awed) at the remarkable commercial success of the Twilight films, I have to admit that I’m a little confused as well.

Mainstream movie nut that I am, I’m generally a sucker for the studio-manufactured charms of a big-budget, multi-volume, special-effects-laden blockbuster franchise, but I can’t confess to being a devotee of the Twilight saga. Maybe that’s because it isn’t marketed to my demographic (I am not, in fact, a lovesick teenage girl, despite my occasional indulgence in emotionally devastating female-empowerment pop music). More likely it’s that I haven’t read Stephenie Meyer’s books (partly because I hardly read anything these days, partly because even Meyer’s ardent fans seem to concede that the novels are poorly written). But most of all it’s that, in all honesty, I don’t think the Twilight movies are very good.

A child imagines wild things, shrouded in mystery

October 19, 2009April 28, 2019 Jeremy BeckReviews

“I’m expecting your review of Where the Wild Things Are in my inbox by noon tomorrow.”

That was my buddy Brian two days ago, and while he wasn’t offering me a salaried position at a major newspaper in exchange for my commentary, I was nevertheless pleased to learn – as I always am – that someone wanted to know my particular opinion of a film. But he wasn’t the only one. A number of people I know have expressed enthusiasm about Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s beloved book, including those who are rarely enthused about movies.

Of course, this sense of intrigue isn’t unique to my personal sphere of contact; box office estimates pegged Where the Wild Things Are to earn $32.5 million this weekend, which places it eighth all-time among movies opening in October (ignoring inflation). This is, if you’ll pardon the pun, a rare beast. Oftentimes, when intrepid directors resolve to transform a classic childhood text into a movie, audiences tend to grumble. (There’s a reason Encyclopedia Brown has thus far failed to decipher the map to the multiplex.) Yet for whatever reason – perhaps a savvy marketing campaign (the trailer made excellent use of Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up”), perhaps a viewing public starved for an imaginative work – the standard outcry that often accompanies the transfer of a landmark literary work to the screen has in this case been replaced by exuberant anticipation.

“Right when he got it in the door.”

September 22, 2009April 28, 2019 Jeremy BeckFeatures

(Warning: The following post contains heavy spoilers for the sixth episode of this season of “Mad Men”. If you watch the show, ensure you watch the episode before reading.)

Yesterday, my buddy Pat asked me if I’d watched this week’s episode of “Mad Men” yet. Due to a confluence of obnoxious circumstances, I ashamedly admitted that I hadn’t. He then encouraged me to watch as soon as possible, suggesting it might be the best episode in the show’s’ history. “Mad Men” being one of the best television programs of the modern era – and Pat being a notoriously harsh critic – this was no small claim.

Now, I believe that when people hear from a reputable source that a certain piece of art (movie, TV show, book, etc.) is “can’t-miss” per se, they’re subject to a curious combination of heightened anticipation and gnawing anxiousness. Expectations are obviously raised, but there inevitably comes a nagging sensation that those expectations somehow aren’t being met – not because the art isn’t actually providing a strong level of entertainment or pleasure, but because there’s a voice in the back of your mind asking, “Should I be enjoying this even more?”.

So upon hearing Pat’s news, I got quite excited, and I have to confess that for the first 40 minutes or so of the episode, I kept wondering if I might be missing something. (This is in no way a rebuke toward Pat – I may be spoiler-crazy, but I have no issues with someone who simply expresses his enthusiasm. Really.) It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying the episode (I certainly was); it was just that I was waiting for it to distinguish itself from the rest of the season’s exceptional caliber.

And then the secretary ran over the British guy’s foot with a lawnmower.

I mean, wow.

Looking Toward Toronto (and away from trailers)

September 10, 2009April 28, 2019 Jeremy BeckFeatures

Not being the traveling sort (unless Disney World is involved), I confess that I’ve rarely thought to myself, “You know what? I wish I were in Toronto right now”. This week, however, Roy Halladay’s town hosts the venerated Toronto International Film Festival, and I wish I were north of the border, because the lineup looks freaking fantastic. Sundance used to be the preeminent film festival in the North America, but the Canadians eclipsed Robert Redford’s ski-bonanza some time ago. As such, Toronto is now the definitive destination for late-season film fare.

Why should you care? Because movies that play in Toronto invariably figure into the cinematic landscape during the final three months of the year. For whatever reason, it’s now standard practice for studios to backload their schedules and release their higher-quality productions during this time (thus creating “Oscar Season”). Whatever your opinion of the Oscars themselves, it’s hard to argue that the strongest movies of the year don’t arrive in theatres after September. (At least for the most part. Avid blockbuster supporter that I am, I freely admit that the summer season can house terrific entertainment – more on that in a future post – but I nevertheless acknowledge that from a pure volume standpoint, October through December is the clear winner.) And a significant number of those films appear at Toronto’s now-epic festival. Read More