Toy Story 4: You've Got a Friend in Yourself

Yesterday was my last day of being 23 years old. Something felt incredibly appropriate about going to see the latest and potentially final installment of one of the most entertaining and impactful film franchises of my entire childhood and likely my life. I knew Toy Story 4 (2019) had gone through the ringer pre-production wise with the constant script, directing and casting changes plaguing the film throughout its development phase. I was still nonetheless eager to see what was in store for these characters that I had believed I had already said goodbye to almost ten years ago.

One of the first things I knew about this film was that it would reintroduce Bo-Peep, a character that was extremely poorly utilized in the franchise prior. Bo-Peep was the embodiment of the damsel in distress trope. She had little to no autonomy and was all look and no substance. Well in this new age of feminist cinema it is no wonder why Pixar, who continues to work towards having more progressive and inclusive depictions of the world we are living in, would choose to give her character a serious reinvention upon her reintroduction. This film isn't about Bo's character arc; however, not really. By the time we meet her, she has already gone through her self-transformation. She is enlightened and tough, while still having the caring and affectionate nature that made Woody and us fell in love with her all those years ago.

Toy Story 4 is very much Woody's film, even more so than the second entry in the franchise in which he learned about his past. Plot-wise, this actually works to Buzz's disadvantage as his subplot about listening to his inner consciousness comes off as more of an afterthought than a fully emotionally effective character arc. Jessie similarly has little to do in this fourth chapter, and the worst thing about that is we don't get a team-up between her and Bo-Peep that no doubt would've been on par with some of the great action sequences Buzz and Woody got to partake in during Toy Story (1995). This film is a character study, one that consistently does not have to be as deep or profound as it is. It may not feel as memorable in terms of witty dialogue that derives endless laughter from both adults and children alike (although there is still plenty of that to be had here) and its plot occasionally underserves many franchise favorites, but this film presents a serious dilemma that can impact a person of nearly any age. At what point in life do we tell ourselves that it is time to stop always taking care of "them" and start taking care of "us?" Toy Story 3 (2010) was very much about letting go, but Toy Story 4 shows us how so many of us in life are so preoccupied with what others have, we don't realize what we are losing in the meantime. The scariest thing about this notion is that while Woody and the gang will likely live forever, we are not as fortunate. So the film tells us to go out and make a change today. Make a choice, and for once in life know that it is alright to choose yourself. Those that truly love you, those that you have cared for, will continue to love you to infinity and beyond.

Forky's plotline adds another psychological layer to the film as a whole, presenting us with a humorously relatable existential crisis about discovering one's identity in an ever-changing world. It is also through him that Woody comes to make such courageous decisions about where his life should go from here. For many people, they never get to the place, mentally that Woody is able to tap into by the film's conclusion. They lack the support system and essential life skills that help a person realize when it is time to leave the past behind and take steps towards an even brighter, and yes a little frightening, future. In many ways, Woody's story in this film can be seen as advocating for all those suffering in life, be it from poor mental health or other everyday hardships such as addiction or grief. We recognize that if Woody can take the difficult first steps that are necessary towards self-improvement than we all certainly can. It is never easy, and Toy Story 4 never feels like it argues that change has to be, and that is one of the greatest life lessons it invokes throughout. It is acceptable to hurt, to lose and to not feel good enough, but only for a certain amount of time. At some point, we have to stop seeing ourselves as "trash" and start seeing what others find so enriching. We have to find our inner "Friend" to trust in alongside all the physical ones that surround us every day.

While Toy Story 4 will be hailed for its lively voiceover performances, immensely impressive animation and an overall atmosphere that celebrates all things that made the original franchise so great, it should really be lauded for its thematic statements about self-love. We spend our whole lives living for others without ever giving ourselves a chance to live for ourselves as well. Woody has always been a source of comfort for children, he certainly has been for me, but now more than ever I saw him as a true hero, someone to admire and aspire to because through his bravery I saw hope for my own.

Unplanned's Plan: Hollywood and Abortion Continue to Collide in America

Today I am going to be doing something I do not typically do on my blog. I am going to discuss a film that I have not personally seen. The reason I have not seen it is not because it wasn't available at a theater near me. I had to drive with my parents almost 30 minutes away from my home to see Room (2015), a film in which Brie Larson ended up winning Best Actress for because none of my local theaters played it long enough. Unplanned (2019) on the other hand was available at a theater just 10 minutes away from my house for weeks, even though it had an abysmal marketing campaign as most television networks refused to air its trailer or television spots. I didn't see Unplanned because purchasing a ticket for such a film is the antithesis to my ideology as a brother, son, friend and general human being. Many had expected Unplanned to fly under the radar and glide swiftly into cinematic obscurity. Unfortunately, that is not what happened.

Unplanned finished 4th at the box-office its opening weekend and exceeded box office expectations by making back its six-million dollar budget in less than a week. Then again, when Christian church groups throughout the Midwest are selling out movie theater for private viewings, whether or not those seats are actually being filled, is it shocking that such a modest film could achieve such feeble feats? That really is what Unplanned's entire concept is centered around at the heart of itself though, making the unsurprising feel shocking.

Unplanned tells the "true" (there aren't enough parentheses in the world) story of Abby Johnson, a former Planned Parenthood employee who left the company after witnessing first-hand a gruesome abortion of a 13-week old fetus. Abby then joins the ranks of a pro-life group dedicated to stopping Planned Parenthood in their crusade to destroy life for their own selfish profits.

The holes in Abby Johnson's story are so numerous you'd think they were in a mid-2000 Shia Labeouf film. Planned Parenthood's records do not match Abby's account of the events, which have changed over time to justify her argument better. Now, of course, we could argue that Planned Parenthood doctored the documents, but for what purpose? The abortion that Abby claims to have witnessed wasn't illegal, because abortion isn't illegal in this country, yet.

Side Note: One part of Abby's story that changed over the years was the race of the girl receiving the abortion in question. Abby later clarified that she was African American. We should then all applaud her for ensuring that when the film was made, she made sure they casted the role accordingly with an African American actress, except she didn't. The actress in the scene, along with most of the actors featured in the film is white.

Many have sought to accuse Unplanned of being a propaganda film. From the clips I've seen, including the pivotal abortion scene mentioned up as well as the film trailers and articles I've read about it, my assessment argues that it does not meet the criteria for a propaganda film. Propaganda films are made to dispense often falsified information to sway the opinion of the mass population. Unplanned seems to show little to no interest in changing people's minds on abortion. It's merely a film interested in giving a bullhorn to the emphatic opinion that life begins at conception and those who deny such a notion are complicit and sinful. There is no compelling thematic core to the film because its themes are seen at the surface level plain as day and are repeated through monotonous uninspired dialogue. Abortion is terrible, Planned Parenthood is evil, and we would all be the wiser if we stopped supporting a woman's right to choose what to do with her own body. Unplanned was made for one audience, and one audience only and those are the exact groups that "sold out" theatrical auditoriums for private viewings to watch it. It is a gluttonous, narcissistic, morally bias, snooze fest. And yet it should scare the Constitution-loving shit out of you.

What is frightening about Unplanned is not that it did well. We just discussed that the majority of audiences that went to go see it, already agreed with it on an ideological standpoint before they bought their popcorn and sodie-pop. What is scary about Unplanned is how candidly it plays with the truth and its sheer lack of interest in exploring any other perspective but the Pro-Life stance it unapologetically takes. It is not interested in race, health or economic class and how these crucial factors can influence and directly impact a woman's decision to get an abortion in the first place. Abortion is wrong, through and through, that's all folks, let the credits roll. It argues that Planned Parenthood makes most of its profits off abortions even though we know due to plenty of available factual evidence that this is an incredible falsehood, debunked years ago. The film never attempts to be self-reflective, to consider how its viewpoint may play a significant role in the very situation it is vehemently trying to prevent from happening. That is because the audience seeing Unplanned doesn't need a mirror held up to them. They know exactly who and what they are and could care less about the profound effects their imposing beliefs have on the health and safety of others. If they did, they would call out Unplanned and all of the lies and misdirection's present in its plot.  

The states of Alabama, Georgia, and Missouri all presented legislation this week that would seriously constrict a woman's right to get an abortion. Doctors (and some patients) could receive jail time for participating in such procedures, even if they went out of state to do it. The high ranking legislators, Governors, Senators and other politicians making these incredibly rash and highly dangerous decisions find the concerns I listed above as inconsequential as Unplanned does within its narrative. Why might that be? Why do those who claim to hold life in such high regard show such little consideration to those who bare life itself? You won't find the answer to that question by watching Unplanned. You won't likely find it by watching any film or piece of episodic television leaning on either side of the abortion argument. You'll only find your answers by asking these people themselves. Inquire to not just the politicians, but the everyday folk as well, the people who bought a ticket to watch this extremely problematic film. Only through those discussions can we hold each other accountable for what we believe, and find some semblance of a "compromise that doesn't include violating a woman's right to make her own choices regarding her physical and mental health. That's the plan we should be making. For once, skip the movies and watch what's happening in the world around you today.

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.  

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.

Berlin, I Love You (But I Can Hardly Recognize You)

In this month of celebrating love, relationships and the quality of grocery store-bought chocolate, a film centered around romance in one of the most beautiful and culturally enriched cities of the world sounds like ideal viewing. The Cities of Love Franchise started several years ago with Paris Je T'aime (2006), and its intentions were as clear as one can be on a first date. Create a film that centers around a specific city around the world, bring together a group of talented and diverse directors, writers and actors to produce several short vignettes set around this beautiful city and illustrate not only the power of the scenery but the unique power of love itself. These films act as a love letter to the cities in which they are set. Subsequent entries following the first endeavor in Paris have had varying success in achieving these cinematic goals, but none seems to have failed in the way Berlin, I Love You (2019) has. For a film that has been in pre-production for almost five years, it is incredible how underdeveloped and underwhelming the film comes off as. While its star-power both behind and in front of the camera may not match that of previous entries in the franchise, this is no excuse for the end results, which border on offensive depictions of a city that has already experienced enough tragedy. The ten segments which populate the film range from mildly interesting to inexplicable misfires in cinematic storytelling. Furthermore, the film hardly makes any real attempt to get the audience to fall in love with the city itself, showing the occasional historical landmark or picturesque landscape as a backdrop to one of its subpar shorts. If it doesn't let me enjoy the stories, at least let me enjoy Berlin!

It should be noted that while previous entries have contained entire segments spoken in the native language of the region in which they are set (with subtitles provided of course) Berlin, I Love You has only a handful of moments in which any character speaks German and few of those moments are even related to the main plot that the narrative is currently following at the time. Because of this, we often find native Germans speaking English to one another in thick accents for no discernable reason other than to convenience other actors and English-speaking audience members. Secondly, a majority of the film's segments follow the journey of foreigners, rather than those who live in Berlin and consider it their home. While the thought of watching a character experience and fall in love with a city for the first time is a lovely notion, most of these tourist wannabes are undeniably boring. In "Berlin Dance" Jenna Tatum plays an unengaging tourist who performs an unengaging (and distinctly non-German) dance with a street performer who, yes you guessed it is just as unengaging as her. Their characters and arcs serve no feasible purpose other than to add some familiar faces to the film's roster and take up running time. None of it serves any of the intentions listed in the franchise's manifesto above. Other segments like "Love is in the Air" (disturbing on multiple levels) and "Lucinda in Berlin" (cute, but ultimately hollow) similarly fail at presenting us with stories and characters that feel exclusive to the city. These short films could honestly be set anywhere around the world. Aimlessness becomes the norm throughout the movie to the point that you are just grateful to hear some tiny reference to the infamous Berlin Wall.

The one segment that contains some semblance of gravitas not surprisingly features two of the biggest names in the cast, Helen Mirren and Keira Knightley. "Under Your Feet" deals with a different sort of love, their segment tackles the subject of the ongoing immigration crisis in Germany. Knightley's character works at a refugee center and brings home a little boy to spend the night, much to the chagrin of her xenophobic mother (Mirren). The segment is a bit quick to the punch in terms of Mirren's character having an emotional epiphany not only on the boy, but on her relationship with her daughter, but unlike so many of the other shorts, this one actually feels as though it has something relevant and meaningful to say. It is the grounded performances from these two fine actresses (and the young boy) that allow the segment to be the best of the bunch. While it is a little odd that the immigration crisis is being seen through the eyes of other foreigners (they are not from Berlin) this segment offers a tiny glimpse at the admirable motivations once behind these ambitious film projects. Sometimes that most beautiful love is that which we selflessly give to strangers as well as to the ones we love.

Other segments attempt to be relevant only to crumble under the weight of the responsibility to a substance. "Me Three" is a feminist flop in which a group of women discuss misogyny and harassment in a late-night laundry shop. Their perspectives are so one-dimensional and their evolutions as characters so erratic and unconvincing that scenes like this make more of a mockery out of the feminist movement than celebrate the advances it has made in the last several years. A similar mockery occurs in "Sunday Morning" a segment in which cis-gendered actor, Diego Luna portrays a transgender woman who catches the eye of a sexually questioning sixteen-year-old boy on his birthday. He wants to know what it is like to kiss a boy, and despite her insistence that she is not a boy, she gives him what he wants. Aside from the fact that cis-gender actors should NOT be portraying transgender characters, the entire scene just feels tonally wrong and a missed opportunity in what could've been a thought-provoking dialogue not just between the characters, but between the film and its audience as well. It is scenes like these that make you wonder what the current intentions of the franchise truly are if any? Have they in fact strayed since that trip to Paris in 2006? Does it want us to fall in love with a city, its history and its potential to sow love and romance into its war-torn roads or much like a crumbled up tourist guide lying beside a garbage can, is it just trying to sell us the cheap goods, the false experience? Recent entries seem to have leaned toward the latter, but I still hold some hope in my heart because at the end of the day the old phrase still rings true, "Cinema, I Love You."

PS - The end credits tease that LA is the next destination so at least that should save most of the talent travel fare.

The Outliers of The Oscars

The 2019 Oscar nominations just came out on Tuesday morning, and they finally gave us something else to talk about besides who the hell will be hosting the damn live event. Many of the nominations, such as Lady Gaga for Best Actress and Spike Lee for Best Director were welcomed and acclaimed victories for the huddled masses. As per usual the huddled masses also found plenty to grieve about and with good reason. This year's omissions and snubs show that while the Academy and by a larger point the entertainment industry itself is making strides towards rectifying past wrongs they still have a ways to go in terms of being considered a beacon of true inclusion and diversity within the film business. 2018 brought us so many films that featured faces and viewpoints that we are not used to seeing on the big screen. It brought us into communities of colour and showed us that superheroes fighting for their technologically advanced African village of Wakanda in Black Panther (2018) could be just as enthralling and inspiring as a troubled orphan in bat-suit swinging across Gotham City. It gave us a heartfelt love story set in Singapore that united not only Pan-Asians but the entire world into falling in love with its cast of energetic characters in Crazy Rich Asians (2018). Furthermore, this year gave us popular entertainers showing us their capabilities in various occupancies. John Krasinski, once lauded only for his successful comedic efforts proved himself as a screenwriter, director and dramatic actor for his work in the masterly crafted horror film A Quiet Place (2018). Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga both took on new career responsibilities for their work in A Star is Born (2018). Yet something about this year still feels lacking, backwards. Oscar nominations yesterday showed that the Academy might be opening its eyes a bit wider, that isn't saying much when they've been squinting for the past thirty so years.

While talent does undeniably play an essential role in being recognized by the Academy, it cannot be denied that money and influence play an even larger role as well. A film that does not engage in a voracious award season ad campaign has little luck in being adequately recognized by the Academy and its members. This is not to demonize a film or its marketing team; it's merely an inevitable truth. You stand a small chance against the likes of pop culture titans like Emma Stone or even the band Queen if you're movie doesn't have the financial requirements to match their global significance, let alone surpass them in some meaningful way. The Academy, much like the film industry itself is all about who you know and how well you can get them to know you even better. Talent is a prerequisite, but notoriety and marketability are extracurricular advantages that are impossible to escape even for the stars themselves. It is why it's hard to picture someone like Emma Stone ever returning to comedies like Easy A (2010) again when her current clout seems to demand she take on projects that will only garner serious, critical buzz. I don't mean to imply that the grass isn't greener on the other side of success, it is, but with that comes the expectations of the townsfolk for the gardener to keep giving that grass its shine. Where does that leave other less fortunate and yet still unquestionably vital pieces of cinema then? Where does that leave up and coming female directors, performers and writers or people of color in the same position? Well, it leaves them unaccounted for by the Master of Ceremonies at these various televised programs of recognition. Still, it doesn't dilute their vitality, at least not to those who truly appreciate great filmmaking, beyond the importance of critical acclaim and award recognition.

Here are some films this year that were snubbed for the most part by the Award Shows, especially the Oscars but are nonetheless still great achievements in filmmaking that speak about things much more significant than just box office revenue.

The Hate U Give (2018):

While the film was always unlikely to garner much award recognition with its moderate box office success and controversial subject matter, The Hate U Give is a film that more people should be talking about in and out of Hollywood. The film covers not just the topic of police brutality but dives into other racially related issues, including those having to do with socio-economic class and interracial relationships. It's young lead, Amandla Stenberg gives a performance filled with strength and wisdom far beyond her years. The Hate U Give would perhaps have been a bit stronger in its depiction of real-life issues had it taken off its kid gloves more often than it does throughout the plot. Still, the film sparks conversation and visualizes injustices found on streets across America on a big screen for all to see and draw their own conclusions from. The Hate U Give calls upon the young and old to stop this self-created plague that is killing innocent Black Americans more and more with each passing year. An Oscar nomination could have helped elevate the discussions the film is trying to have. However, without it, I still have faith that people of all races, inside and out of the industry will ensure that this topic remains pertinent on a massive scale as it should. In an extremely divisive time in our country, films like this one act not as an escape from reality, but as an emphatic wake-up call to acknowledge our reality and make vitally necessitated changes to it.

Hereditary (2018):

Toni Collette's performance in this horror film could be considered career-defining if the actress already didn't have so many excellently revered performances in her back catalogue. Instead, Hereditary feels like something else, something unsettling. It gives us an un-sanitized look at how a family unit can be broken down, piece by piece until all that is left is the pieces of shattered heartbreak used to cut one another until they all bleed dry. It shows a matriarch incapable of doing the one thing every mother is supposed to be able to do, keep her family together. Hereditary's horror elements are quite secondary to its psychological ones. By the film's end, it becomes evident that the horrific happenings are merely vessels used by the filmmakers to explore fractured family dynamics and how a woman so deeply damaged can only hold herself up for so long before breaking down. It is how many women I imagine have felt many times before, whether they are mothers or not. With this past year being a boiling point for women across the entertainment business in regards to unfair workplace treatment and sexual harassment, Hereditary can almost be seen as a victim's last hurrah. While its female protagonist fails in her attempts to save her family, she does manage to expose the misogynistic hypocrisies that relegate women so often to second fiddle, professionally and within the narrative structure of horror films as well. While the ultimate antagonist of Hereditary is a male demon, it is women and the powerful, influential forces of motherhood that make it a true cut above the rest in terms of terror.

Beautiful Boy (2018):

A Star is Born managed to make some accurate depictions of drug abuse and addiction, as well as providing an emotional commentary on the negative influences within show business that encourage such behaviors. Beautiful Boy grounds addiction even further into reality by slowly and painfully examining the struggle to survive. Just when you think the main character, played phenomenally by Timothee Chalamet, has kicked his addiction, the addiction comes back around. It kicks him right back, even harder as the film presses forward towards an emotionally tolling conclusion. While Hereditary showed us the pains and sacrifices of motherhood, this film displays the underappreciated necessity for a nurturing father in the life of a troubled boy. The film avoids cookie-cutter morality by concerning itself more with accountability than blame-placing. Should his father have been more involved in his life, should he have been less? Addiction is something that can possess anyone, in any lifestyle, at any time, and the film is more interested in illustrating the resilience to survive possessed both by the drug abuser and their loved ones than just lecturing about what the right things to do are in these precarious situations. The fact that this is based off a true story proves that a film can't encapsulate the entire tumultuous experience of addiction, but it can give a good enough glimpse for us to realize that those struggling need our support, our love and our respect.

Won't You Be My Neighbor? (2018):


One of the biggest surprises of the Oscar announcements was the omission of this incredible documentary on the late and great Mr Rogers. The film not only details the creation of his groundbreaking television educational program but explores the man's never-ending passion for feeding and developing children's imaginations. It paints him as a flawed, but an endearing progressive advocate, using his skills not just to make people laugh in delight, but think. Documentaries often struggle to find an audience beyond those that typically enjoy them, so it is with complete bewilderment that we all are lamenting the exclusion of an excellent piece of non-fiction failing to be recognized in its ability to educate on the past and inspire us for the future.



These overlooks from the Academy are not surprising for the most part, nor are they the last of their kind to ever occur. No matter how open-minded or progressive the Academy gets there will likely always be troubling omissions, such as these, and the important thing for us to do is not allow the Academy, or any other award show, to dictate what constitutes as cinema worthy of our consumption. The nominations matter to the extent that they give us an idea of what is tracking in the industry, what kind of stories and performers are receiving notoriety. What is selling and who is performing well among the masses. Still, they should not be taken as a final judge and jury of talent. I believe any multi-award winner across the board would agree that these awards are to celebrate film and actors, not anoint them as unequivocally superior to other works of visual performing art. Quite plainly what I'm saying is, watch movies that interest you, that speak to causes that matter to you and those you care about. Celebrate the cinema you deem worthy of celebration, regardless of what others, including the Academy or Rotten Tomatoes or even your own family and friends, think or tell you. The Academy may have a lot to learn, and it may take years to do so, but we can better educate ourselves today, right now. We can look past the politics of award season and find the winners of our own hearts. The only films worth watching are the ones that change us, that move us towards thoughts and ideas we've never had before. These are the Best Pictures, not by virtue of a gold statue but by a virtue created by our inner selves.