Thursday, March 28, 2019

Us (2019): The Liberation of Them





There are some films or pieces of television you just have to dive right into in terms of discussion after viewing. Us (2019) is one of those films, and this is exactly what director/writer/producer Jordan Peele intended when making this movie. He wanted people to leave the theater and talk about it, not only what they thought, but what they felt. So much of Us is left to the left brain to analyze and the right brain to absorb. It is a film that defies logic and yet makes perfect sense beneath the surface. It is not meant to be as clean-cut as Get Out (2017), and this will undoubtedly frustrate fans and critics alike. Peele likes this anger I believe, because he believes something useful can come from it and so do I. One of the things that the film does share in common with Peele's first directorial debut is that nothing on the screen is incidental. From the wardrobe the characters wear, to the food they eat, even the television they watch, everything has a double meaning as it should in a film so enamored by the idea of duplicity. The film is very little about race in some ways and yet contains undeniable racial undertones. What is the story of the Tethered if not a reimagining of the system of slavery the United States was built upon? Peele's agenda is never a simple one however, and as many other reviewers have pointed out his messages get a bit garbled in Us compared to his first effort, but these faults are forgiven by the sheer pulchritude of his thematic ambitions.

Peele isn't trying to shame anybody in this film, the same way he wasn't attempting to shame white liberals in Get Out. Shame doesn't get you very far, enlightening does. Peele wants to have a discussion, and he starts it by taking a mirror, holding it up to our faces and asking what do we see? This is essentially his goal with Us, that audience members of all races and social classes reflect on themselves, their privileges, their talents even their looks. Who has paid the price for your successes, who are pained by your pleasures and who's beauty is diluted by your micro-vanities? Us is about the act of claiming responsibility for one's actions and the dangerous degrees to which we go to cover our indiscretions and forgo accountability. It's about the decisions of the few impacting the humanity of the masses. It's a horror film that frightens you for all the right reasons when you look at it from certain angles and unsettles you regardless of whatever the hell angle you're watching it from. These are the things and people we turn our heads from. Us shows that at some point, you have to turn your head back, either by will or by force.


Much like the many contradictions within the film's narrative, while I urge people to talk to one another and even themselves immediately after seeing Us, I also advise them to let the film sit with them for a while. Us is a film best left to germinate inside the mind. So while those initial conversations are important, have follow-ups because what the film was on the first impression may not be what it is to you sometime later, especially if you begin to research into other reviews and analyses as I did. That is why I'm not giving my more traditional review to Us, because much of what I feel about it since seeing it this past Saturday has been said or is now influenced by others. Instead, see this as more as an act of advocating rather than a film review. I advocate not only for this film and the compelling intellectual dialogue that it offers to its viewing audiences but also for cinema, in general, that is capable of stirring such emotions, discomforting and unapologetic as this film manages. We need more movies that make us second guess, make us question, make us want to be part of the solution and not just the problem. I wondered if Jason had any of these thoughts as he looked at his mother in a crucial shot at the end. Did he wonder what he himself would become someday? Did he see himself in his mother's choices, or did he see something else?


When my mother and I left the theater, discussing the merits of the film as we walked across the parking lot to our car, we were confronted by an elderly woman of color panhandling. Much like those around us, we shook our heads curtly and continued on our way. I can't deny that as I took a seat in the car, still warm from our drive there, a thought occurred to me:

Much like the Tethered, are we doomed to the repetition of our actions, or are we able to break free? We hold the gold scissors too right, and perhaps we just choose not to use them? We choose not to use them because we have the luxury of choice, of autonomy. Peele's film, to me was an examination and a critique on how we utilize these societal gifts, regardless of their effects on others.  






Wednesday, March 6, 2019

Mid 90's: Childhood Post-Mortem






It always really feels like a New Year after Award Season has concluded, at least creatively speaking. My brother came for a surprise visit this weekend from his home in Seattle, and after going out for pizza and pasta with the family and watching the New York Islanders lose in such a way that reinforced the reason I prefer fictional scripted entertainment over live-action athletic events, we decided to watch a movie. First, we indulged in one of our shared favorites Out Cold (2001), a comedic reimagining of Casablanca (1942) set at a ski resort. The film features a hilarious early-career performance by Zach Galifianakis in a supporting role. Rewatching it now that I'm older and more mature I find the potty-humor in it even funnier in a strange way because I understand the absurdities and subtexts underlining it all better. Once that film concluded, we felt are attention spans, and alcohol blood-levels were in reasonable enough area to take on another cinematic endeavor. This time we went with a film neither of us had seen yet, Mid90s (2018). 

Written and directed by actor Jonah Hill the film tells the story of a 12-year old boy named Stevie living in Los Angeles with his mother and older brother Ian, who is somewhere between an emo/guido-hybrid. Stevie is searching for his place in the world. His relationship with his mother and brother are at arms-length, that is when his brother is not physically abusing him to degrees that are certainly beyond the playful wrestling my brother and I used to partake in during our childhoods. Stevie finds acceptance in a group of skateboarders at a nearby skate shop. They take him in almost on an internship-like status, allowing him to be privy to their so-funny-because their so offensive- conversations without outright granting him membership into the pact straightaway. We watch Stevie arc as he tries to adapt himself into the world of these rowdy outsiders while still holding onto some semblance of his own slipping innocence. 


While I wished the film delved more into the toxic relationship between the two central siblings and resolved its climax in a less predictably "friendship never ends" manner, I very much appreciated its non-judgmental observations of young male culture. I enjoyed the film's depiction of the 90s just before our social consciousness as a country truly began to evolve and consider the value of PC-minded culture as well as its authentic representation of adolescent identity conflicts. Honestly, however, one of the most enjoyable and entertaining aspects of the film was its heavy nostalgia factor. What better film to watch with my older brother than one that reflects the world we grew up in, warts, Ninja Turtles and all? The cinematography, shot in 16mm film harkens back to a time when the value of movies wasn't constantly on an academic merit system for myself. It is a time when movies were just movies, and during Mid90's I felt allowed to recall the beauty in this kind of viewing perspective fondly. While I love the craft of storytelling, and while that craft is most certainly applied to the plot of Hill's film, with some faults admittedly, I yearn for days when I could explore the world the way Stevie does. The days when my young eyes opened wide to the wonder of it all, even the ugly parts. 

Not everyone is as fortunate as Stevie and Hill's script utilizes secondary characters to demonstrate the many different walks of life that may bring a young man to behave the way these boys do. These characters have depth and substance that could have so easily been left on the cutting room floor, but Hill and his team recognize and appreciate the importance of their inclusion within the narrative. While the film could've taken the time to explore them even deeper, the short runtime almost makes you savor every frame a little bit more. I'm so glad I got to watch it with my brother and to be given the opportunity to go back, for a brief time to the days when Super-Nintendo and social acceptance were of the highest priorities. Hill's film doesn't dismiss these details as trivial or inconsequential instead. He makes a case for how they shape who we are by placing a looking glass over who we were.