Thursday, November 10, 2016

Moonlight and Doctor Strange

                         The Varying Difficulties of Being “Strange”

                                                     Reviews by Ken Burke

Take care, curious readers, for plot spoilers gallop rampantly throughout the Two Guys’ insightful reviews.  Therefore, be warned, beware, and read on when you’re ready to be transported to … wherever we end up.  Please protect your eyes from the dazzling brilliance.
                
                                                  Moonlight (Barry Jenkins)
               
This story of a young boy in Miami is initially about how he has inklings he’s gay, then as he grows into his teenage and young adult years that’s no longer a question, although this film’s not focused on sexual acts or much discussion of sexual identity; instead, it’s a tender, honest look at how a person tries to remain sane even when everything seems stacked against him.
                      
What Happens: This film is presented in 3 chapters beginning with “i: Little,” the nickname for our protagonist, Chiron (Alex Hibbert), a 10-year-old-boy called this because of his smallish-size and recessive-personality, not helped at all by already having questions about his sexual identity which doesn’t endear him to other kids, although Kevin (Jaden Piner) tries to be friendly and helpful.  When we first meet this troubled child he’s being chased by others his age—with no good intentions—until he finds refuge in an unlocked, boarded-up apartment which he’s able to secure against his tormentors who respond by throwing rocks through the 2nd-story-windows.  Suddenly, he’s saved by the imposing man we saw in the opening scene—Juan (Mahershala Ali), a Cuban-turned-drug dealer in this much-less-than-picturesque-Miami-neighborhood—which set the cinematic tone with its extreme-wide-screen-format that can give a powerful sense of a closeup on a character’s face (a tactic used frequently here) because the rest of the shot can be somewhat lost, in soft focus or unimportant background details while the striking facial-image commands our attention, made even more immediate when it remains an anchor-point of visual stability as the camera swirls around the character.  Little won’t say anything to Juan, so the concerned man takes him home where his girlfriend, Teresa (Janelle Monáe), gives Little some dinner, then lets him spend the night with them.  Next day, the kid finally admits where he lives, but when Juan takes him there his mother, Paula (Naomie Harris), hardly says a word to the man, saving her harsh talk later for her delinquent son.  She’s no paragon of motherhood, though, with most of her attention given to drug use and the man who shares her apartment, although Little has little to say to either one of them.  

 The boy begins spending more time with Teresa and Juan (one night he asks what a “faggot” is, leading to sensitive talk from these adults who both condemn the use of the word as well as try to encourage Little to accept himself as gay—if that’s his reality—although he’s barely old enough to really know what that means), with the man taking him to the beach one day in a scene that’s been described as being like a baptism.  This “ceremony” is an occasion of visual delight for us from an unexpected-perspective, as the camera bobs just below or above the surface of the water while Little finds his stroke, just as there are other uncommon aspects of this film, like the dialogue dropping out during Paula’s tirades toward Little as it’s clear we don’t need to hear the specifics of what she’s saying to understand the gulf it’s creating even as a marvelous spectrum of low-key-colors brings some vibrancy into the dark shots and hostile attitudes of this difficult home.  This section ends on a bleak note at Juan’s place another night, though, when Little verifies that this semi-father-figure’s the dealer selling crack to his mother, then he just silently leaves with Juan's face showing the misery he feels over his further contributions to this troubled boy’s distraught life.

 After what seems to be a scene transition with a fuzzy shot of a blue light flashing 3 times, the real change comes via a new graphic, “ii: Chiron,” which leads us into Moonlight’s next section where we jump ahead to our troubled-protagonist’s (now equally-well-played by Ashton Sanders) high-school-years as his miserable harassment continues, especially by bully-leader Terrel (Patrick Decile), although Kevin (now Jharrel Jerome) remains as a friend, bragging about how he’s serving after-school-detention because he was caught getting a blow-job from a female classmate in the stairwell.  Things also continue to be terrible at home where Mom’s increasingly strung-out, demands the money she knows Chiron’s gotten from Teresa (he still spends a lot of time with her, although Juan’s no longer around—a summary I’ve read of this plot says he’s now dead, but I can’t say I got that from any of the dialogue cues) just as Mom does everything else she can to raise a little cash for her habit (including selling herself, as well as anything they might have of value such as their TV set).  In frustration one night, Chiron rides a bus to the beach to get away from all his troubles when Kevin wanders up; alone in plain sight they share a joint, then a kiss (that Kevin initiates), then a hand-job for Chiron from Kevin.  Just as Chiron’s now hopeful that something good will emerge in his life, the next day at school Terrel intimidates Kevin into punching his friend which Kevin does in fear of becoming the victim himself.  After Chiron keeps standing back up rather than staying down as Kevin begs him to do, Terrel and his thugs stomp Chiron until running away as a security guard rushes over.  Despite his face being bloodily-battered, Chiron refuses to divulge the names of his attackers; he simply goes home to bathe his face in ice-water.  The next day, however, he storms back into the school (shown in long, tension-building-tracking-shots as he walks), goes up behind Terrel, picks up an empty chair, bashes it over his adversary, continues attacking him until Chiron’s held back, then taken away by the police with Kevin watching in stunned silence.

 For the final chapter of this film the implied scene change comes with a red light flashing 4 times, but the actual shift comes to us with a now-familiar-graphic; this time it says “iii: Black,” which takes us to 10 years later with yet another excellent actor—Trevante Rhodes—playing Chiron (this section’s title is from the nickname Kevin kept using for his close friend in the previous episode), who’s now quite-buffed-up (seemingly from lifting weights while in prison; we don’t assume that Terrel was killed but there must have been some serious charges after the attack), apparently has taken on Juan’s old occupation, wears removable gold teeth (just like his mentor), and seems to be driving Juan’s actual Chevy Impala.  He’s now living in Atlanta, sometimes visits his mother (either there or somewhere else in Georgia—Jenkins isn’t that keen on providing a lot of connective details but rather requires you to invest yourself more into the immediate moments of his narrative, with the fill-in-plot-points left to your assumptions) who’s in long-term-rehab; she’s looking for forgiveness, he’s not that keen on giving it but tries to understand the hell she was also going through when he was younger.  Then Chiron gets a surprise call one night from a likewise-older-Kevin (André Holland), still back in the old neighborhood but now working as a diner cook (a skill he picked up while in prison himself, with the crime not specified).  Chiron drives down to visit; business is slow that night so the 2 men are able to talk quite a bit around Kevin’s 1-man-duties as cook, waiter, and cashier—that is, once Chiron gets past his initial hesitation, having not seen Kevin at all since that fateful day back in high school.

 As their conversation warms up (aided by a couple of bottles of wine Kevin brings to the table), Kevin notes he has a baby girl by a woman they both used to know (seemingly he doesn’t live with her), then invites Chiron to stay the night at his apartment.  As the film ends, it's clear that the long-dormant-friendship between these 2, who truly love each other, begins to reassert itself with a shot of them sitting on Kevin’s couch, leaning slightly together as we leave them through a fade-out.

So What? Now that Nate Parker’s completely-different-film (review in our October 27, 2016 posting) that uses the same title as that of D.W. Griffith’s (1915) infamous-classic, The Birth of a Nation, has failed to live up to the great buzz it generated last winter when it was the big hit of the Sundance Film Festival—grossing a measly 15 million in domestic dollars (U.S.-Canada) after a month in release—partly due to resurrected-rape-allegations against Parker from back in his undergrad days (he was eventually cleared but controversy from the situation continues to haunt him, as explored in my earlier review); partly due to criticisms about both his skill as a director and his fabrication of the history he bases his film on; partly—I’m sure—due to the topic of an 1831 slave rebellion where dozens of Whites were killed not being the sort of content easily sold to today’s movie audiences in this hostile political climate we’ve endured for far too long (hopefully to ease up now the long-fought-battle for the U.S. Presidency is thankfully over, although with Donald Trump as the victor I cautiously await to see if he can repudiate his offensive campaign rhetoric), Moonlight emerges as a strong contender to help try to put the OscarsSoWhite controversy from 2015 somewhat to rest because with the critical acclaim this film’s generated (Rotten Tomatoes has 98% positive reviews, Metacritic's average score is 99%; more details in the Related Links section much farther below), Jenkins’ triumph should be in contention for several awards or it could become the inciting-incident for even more harsh protests than plagued last year’s Oscars if it doesn’t achieve such recognition.  
 Based on Tarell Alvin McCraney's unproduced-play, In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue (roughly 2006, it seems), with both playwright and filmmaker surprisingly from the same Liberty Square public-housing-complex in Miami’s Liberty City neighborhood, they found great incentive to work together to get this project out to the public although it was in pre-production and financing-limbo from early 2013 until late 2015; the final version was shot in a manner that reflects the resulting tight budget of the production, with the opening section offering the look of mid-definition-video at times, then becoming more fine-grained in sophistication as the film moves into its final segment, reflecting the arc of the story as Chiron evolves from put-upon “Little” to self-determined “Black,” even as his life has been put through enormous challenges before he’s even reached the age of 30.

 Whether you’re willing to see this extraordinary film about a young Black man who’s troubled about his emerging sexual interests (even though he’s not alone in his neighborhood in being curious about his body; even during the “Little” segment there’s a scene after a dance class where he’s encouraged into a room by Kevin as all the boys show their penises to each other [but not to us, although the adult concepts, the implications of sexual conduct—including a dream where Chiron sees Kevin having sex with a girlfriend—the drug use, etc. are enough to easily earn this film an R rating for simply presenting the reality that a lot of inner-city-folks face on a daily basis], but if actual homosexual romance scenes make you squirm don’t be too concerned because there’s only 1 of them here, presented very subtly even though it’s clear what’s going on between the 2 attracted teens)—as Chiron’s growing up in a brutal-environment where the best role models he can find are a drug dealer and his girlfriend—may depend on how tolerant you are about a life situation that likely doesn’t resemble what's lived by the usual arthouse moviegoer (which is the type of venue where Moonlight’s likely been playing for the last 3 weeks, in a mere 83 theaters so 
far, grossing just under $3 million domestically [its most likely source of revenue, given the long-standing-assumption that this kind of film doesn’t play well in the overseas markets, especially when compared to a more-accessible-blockbuster-contender like Doctor Strange, to be reviewed below]).  The acting quality here is all first-rate (especially Harris, who could easily be a strong contender for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar, depending on how her competition proves out over the next couple of months); when these superb performances are added to the emotionally-charged-story of this boy’s constant alienation even when he tries desperately to find some solace in his harsh existence we get a compelling look at unwarranted human misery, even as the deft articulation of all this through restrained scenes, revelatory dialogue, and striking cinematography (both my wife, Nina, and other reviewers have also noted the high quality of the mesmerizing soundtrack, which is an aspect of cinema that I must admit I just don’t notice enough when I’m taken in as much as I am by story structure, acting, and visuals, which are about all I can keep up with when watching this film while also furiously taking notes in the darkness so as to be able to write these reviews because most of what I’ve seen would evaporate by the next day if I tried to rely solely on memory) easily marks Moonlight as one of the great cinematic highlights of 2016 so far.

Bottom Line 
Final Comments: In this film—based on Jenkins’ life growing up in such a rough community with such an abusive mother coupled with McCraney’s play that speaks to his own difficult times in that same Miami neighborhood as a young gay man not accepted by his peers—we have found something that has firmly grabbed critical attention (although not connected with a large audience yet, which I can only hope will happen in the upcoming weeks), offering awards voters in various honoring groups later this year and early next an opportunity to praise a production that matches its honest explorations of a child’s undeserved-trauma in navigating his way through endless burdens with filmmaking of a seemingly-casual-but-searing-ability to cut to the heart of such difficulty, laying bare the general horrors that anyone who’s ever been put in the position of despised-outcast can feel a connection with as well as speaking to the specifics of an individual situation of isolation, made relatable even to those of us who understand Chiron’s situation only from a standpoint of abstract empathy rather than direct involvement.  It’s a subtly-powerful-experience, well worth the praise it’s garnered so far, but as our just-finished (in more ways than one, in my opinion) Presidential election has shown, success in the “polls” (in this case, critical consensus) doesn’t always translate into success with the actual voters (especially where films are concerned, if they don’t make enough of an impact at the box-office [just as other voters—of the political sort—want promises of success in their bank accounts, whether these promises are likely to have substance or not]) so we’ll just have to wait and see how this all comes together when Oscar and other groups' nomination ballots are mailed out in the coming weeks.

 As I bring my comments on Moonlight to a close I’m in the usual position of trying to conjure up an appropriate Musical Metaphor to speak in the form of another medium to something notable I experienced in watching the cinematic subject under review here.  Some of you might feel I should have used “Moonlight Feels Right” (from the 1976 album of the same name) by the group called Starbuck because of its use of lyrical imagery about “I’ll take you on a trip beside the ocean […] play[ing] the radio on southern stations […] 'Cause me and moon are itchin’ to play […] The moon’ll send you on your way” (so if that’s your preference here’s a version of it illustrated with nice photos of sunsets and night shots, or if you’d prefer just a video of the band in performance [along with some lovely moon pictures] here's that), my preference is to stick with a song that works very effectively in the film’s soundtrack, Barbara Lewis’ “Hello, Stranger” (from the 1963 album of the same name) either at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSa0EH0LiGk where you get the dual pleasure of seeing Barbara in performance along with lyrics subtitles in Portuguese or at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3Y1O9eVKRs which is just the aural version of the original recording.  In the film this pops up as Chiron’s on his way to finally reconnect with Kevin after their long hiatus, but to me it also speaks to Chiron’s life as he’s finally found some peace with himself, even though it’s come about only through the teen-torture that drove him to violently attack his high-school-tormentor, followed by who-knows-what in his prison years.  He’s been a stranger to himself most of his life, so he could easily be saying internally “It seems so good to see you back again How long has it been? It seems like a mighty long time [… but if this more-secure-Chiron’s] not gonna stay Please don’t tease me like you did before Because I still love you so [, my lost man].”  Seemingly, he’s found himself and Kevin after lots of lost years, which I can only hope will be his fate, just as I hope you'll eventually find this glorious (but hard to watch) film on your own.
                  
                                          Doctor Strange (Scott Derrickson)
                
A brilliant but egotistical neurosurgeon loses command of his hands in a car crash so he goes to Nepal seeking non-Western answers to his dilemma; instead he trains to be a sorcerer, a warrior of the magical arts, because his mentor reveals that some rogue trainees of hers are in league with an evil extra-dimensional being who's intent on absorbing Earth into his realm.
              
What Happens: (I’ll be recounting this movie’s events not completely in strict-screening-chronology but in line with the context of those events for [relative] brevity and clarity.)  Eons ago in a part of the multiverse of existences beyond our awareness, Dormammu (portrayed—with a nice touch of irony—in a digitized, transformed manner by Benedict Cumberbatch), an evil being from the Dark Dimension where time doesn’t exist (so that all who inhabit this strange zone can live forever), set his sights on absorbing our planet into his realm, only to be held at bay by the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) who’s been secretly drawing power from the Dark Dimension herself for a vastly-extended-lifetime in order to prevent this intended intrusion, which she’s done with the aid of other highly-evolved-sorcerers like herself through the spells cast on 3 buildings—Sanctums—in New York City, London, and Hong Kong.  With all this as background to actually be revealed as the movie evolves, we begin in the sort-of-androgynous-Ancient One’s secret headquarters of Kamar-Taj in Kathmandu, Nepal where her rebellious protégé, Kaecilius (Mads Mikkelsen), and his rogue henchmen kill the librarian keeper of her ancient texts in order to steal the pages from a book about a ritual that will allow Dormammu to enter our space because Kaecilius is infatuated with the desire for eternal life.  Meanwhile, back in Manhattan, we have Dr. Stephen Strange (also Cumberbatch), a brilliant, rich, groundbreaking, photographic-memory-enhanced neurosurgeon (as we meet him he’s successfully removing a bullet from the skull of a man wrongly-assumed to be brain-dead) who’s also a conceited asshole, even to co-worker/ex-girlfriend Dr. Christine Palmer (Rachel McAdams). However, one night while speeding his sports car to an important event he’s distracted while texting (That's a warning, kids!), has a terrible crash, then loses himself to despair when his hands are no longer functional for operations because of extensive nerve damage, so his career seems doomed.

 In the process of unsuccessful therapy, though, he learns of Jonathan Pangborn (Benjamin Bratt), a paraplegic who mysteriously regained mobility, so when Strange tracks him down he’s given the information that ultimately leads to Kamar-Taj.  (Pangborn attempted to be a disciple of the Ancient One but settled for drawing off his own font of mystic energy that keeps his body whole again.)

 Strange at first maintains his arrogant dismissals of anything that he doesn’t consider hard science (this mystic wants him to “reorient the spirit to heal the body”) but then he changes his tune when the Ancient One shows him the existence of the astral plane (where only his essence exists rather than his physical form), other realities (such as the Mirror Dimension) where space and/or time may exist in manners that defy our understanding of physics (which gets us into visuals that are even more extreme in their defiance of how we've come to comprehend 3-dimensional-space and gravity than what we've seen illustrated in Inception [Christopher Nolan, 2010]), as well as convincing him of the power of magic as a parallel force for protecting our planet against attacks that are usually dealt with in extensively-physical-ways by guardians like the Avengers (we’ll get back to that during the final credits).  Once convinced of all of these other realms of existence, Dr. Strange wants to be trained in their powers but the Ancient One initially rejects him because of his ego, alarmingly like that of Kaecilius, but then she relents, turning him over to Karl Mordo (Chiwetel Ejiofor) for training because they feel they may need what they perceive as his innate abilities to master this magic in their coming conflict with Dormammu (shades of Yoda and Obi-Wan Kinobi recognizing the innate strength of The Force in Luke Skywalker, but given that Doctor Strange has been inhabiting various Marvel Comics since 1963 I’ll just accept this as coincidence between related fantasy storylines rather than a rip-off).  Strange is a quick learner, worrisome to Mordo and new librarian Wong (Benedict Wong) because he’s pushing boundaries that they feel should be sacrosanct.  His desire to once again be in command of his future (with the assumption that learning enough of this magic will restore full power to his hands, as with Pangborn’s recovery), becomes useful, though, when his use of the powerful amulet, the Eye of Agamotto, and his wormhole-creating Fling Ring, land him in London as a counterattack against Kaecilius’ gang; he holds them off, with the active aid of the seemingly-self-aware Cloak of Levitation, until Mordo and the Ancient One arrive to help him.

 During the ensuring combat, the London Sanctum is neutralized, Kaecilius escapes after both sowing discord with these other sorcerers about the Ancient One’s use of Dark Dimension power (although he yearns for it himself, angry that “time kills everything”) and then mortally wounding her; she tells Strange that she violated the intended natural order to offer needed protection to our planet, feels that her death is now appropriate, essentially turns over her position of Sorcerer Supreme to her newest acolyte (reminiscent of Obi-Wan and Luke again), then dies, even after Strange whisks her to NYC for help from the long-unseen Dr. Palmer (who left Strange in disgust because of his insulting attitudes toward her, even after she’d been instrumental in his initial recovery).  Strange is then off to Hong Kong with Mordo and Wong, only to find that Kaecilius has already defeated the Sanctum there so Dormammu’s in the process of taking over our realm.  After some combat in which Wong’s killed, Strange uses his amulet to reverse time, restoring Wong and halting the incursion of the Dark Dimension (this bit reminds me of Kal-El’s reverse-rotation of Earth to turn back time and revive Lois Lane in Superman [Richard Donner, 1978]) but his spell becomes held in neutral by Kaecilus so Strange goes directly to Domammu where he creates a time loop (now we’re into shadings of Groundhog Day [Harold Ramis, 1993]) where the more powerful being keeps killing him only to have the situation repeated endlessly until, in frustration, he agrees to Strange’s bargain of breaking the spell in return for Domammu giving up on absorbing Earth; as he leaves, though, he takes Kaecilus and his goons with him, for an eternal existence that Strange implies will be as bad as what Robert Langdon just told us about Dante’s Inferno (Ron Howard; review in our November 3, 2016 posting).  
 With the crisis resolved, Mordo stalks off, disgusted with how Strange and the Ancient One violated the forces of nature, Strange returns his amulet (Wong says its an Infinity Stone—a powerful object that’s part of the greater Marvel Cinematic Universe of endless movies, giving them a sense of their interconnected comic-book-heritage) to Kamar-Taj then settles in as the NYC Sanctum keeper.  As the credits roll, we get 2 more scenes that set us up for further sequels: (1) Strange and Thor discuss allowing Loki to come to Earth as the Asgardians search for missing Odin, (2) Mordo takes Pangborn’s mystical power away, angry that Earth has “too many sorcerers.

So What? Unlike 
with the superheroes that I've always considered the prime players in the DC Comics multiverse—at least the ones I had the closest connections to back in the 1960s-to-mid-‘70s when I would frequently invest in their exploits (Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, the Flash, and other original members of the Justice League of America)—or even those few from over in Marvel’s territory that I occasionally paid some attention to (Thor, Spider-Man, the Incredible Hulk, even once in a while the Fantastic Four or the Silver Surfer), I know virtually nothing about Doctor Strange, except for his basic existence (which doesn’t amount to much because I didn’t even realize that his surname is actually “Strange”), so I’ve come to this character with almost as blank a slate as I had for (to me) the completely-unknown Guardians of the Galaxy (James Gunn, 2014; review in our August 7, 2014 posting).  What I can say about this type of movie, though, is it falls squarely into what I’ve taught in my Film and American Society class as a subgenre of Fantasy, which I call Myth as Reality, where it joins a lot of Disney classics whose plots depend on witches and fairies, tales where the protagonists at least seem to have divine origins (Wonder Woman, Thor), and narratives rooted in sorcery and other non-physics-based-phenomena (easily the various Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter adventures but also the Star Wars galaxy’s Force, despite George Lucas’ scriptwriters’ attempts at explaining this universal energy field as being something other than the Hindu/Transcendalist conception of the Oversoul, as well as the Green Lantern Corps in that there’s no way you can describe what’s they are in scientific terms).

 For the record I also include in this Fantasy genre the subgroup of Science Fantasy where attempts to justify a superhero’s powers lead to a quasi-rational-explanation (Superman—from another galaxy; Spider-Man, the Flash, etc., transformed by exposure to radiation, chemicals, etc.; X-Men—mutants with astounding powers that defy all laws of physics) that still fails to move these movies into the related realm of true Science-Fiction that deals with space exploration, viable aliens, etc.

 Sometimes, though, the Myth as Reality and the Science Fantasy folks find themselves in a situation of co-existence (as in the current Marvel Avengers movies and the upcoming Justice League releases from DC/Warner Bros.), with everyone just having to accept that their various supernatural characteristics constitute similar-but-separate-aspects in their various comics or cinematic universes (which also include ordinary—but still extraordinary—humans with some notable form of technological support, such as Batman, Iron Man, Ant-Man, Green Arrow, Hawkeye, etc.), so it shouldn’t be too “strange” within these particular Fantasy contexts for pure sorcerers (who survive with their wits, spells, various mystical objects, and Force-like sources of external power rather than some innate or transformed biology) to also join in with these other types of superheroes to either confront planetary-threats or become such themselves (although it wouldn’t likely be as acceptable for a costumed, radiation-mutated wallcrawler to show up in either the Hobbit or Hogwarts stories; it just depends on what sort of context has been established as to how far you can go in continuing to push its boundaries).  As that inter-final-credits-scene from Doctor Strange showed us, we can sometime in the near future expect to see such an amalgamation of the magical and the mythical when this powerful sorcerer joins forces with the Thunder God in the upcoming (intended for November 3, 2017 release) Thor: Ragnarok (Taika Waititi), along with a representative from the Science Fantasy subgenre, the Hulk, who should provide an interesting pairing with these other 2 manipulators of the physical world.  Exactly how much we’ll see of Doctor Strange in what’s structured as a Thor story we won’t know for about a year, but I guess anything can now happen in the interconnected Marvel Cinematic Universe, especially after we found most of the Avengers (along with other ultimate warriors who hadn’t previously joined that group) in the last Captain America movie, … Civil War (Joe and Anthony Russo; review in our May 13, 2016 posting).  No matter how much he interacts with Thor, though, we can count on Dr. Strange to be back in his own sequel, based on the great financial success of this debut-intro to this fascinating character.

Bottom Line 
Final Comments: In a mere 2 weeks of its release in various markets (some only just debuting the movie last weekend) we find that this version of the unique lifestory of 
Doctor Strange has already grossed $332 million worldwide with about $91.3 million of that from domestic theaters ($44.5 million came from China, the primary reason why the character of the Ancient One was changed from being an old Tibetan man so as to not offend this vast, lucrative market where anything that praises Tibet can lead to repercussions, although the filmmakers also noted that they didn’t want to perpetuate the Asian stereotypes seen in both this character and Wong in the original comics, which we can only hope is as sincere as their need to not alienate potential ticket-buyers [or government censors] in the world’s largest movie market, now that they’re open to capitalist subversion on their screens).  It’s also played well with the critical community, racking up a highly-commendable 90% of positive reviews at Rotten Tomatoes, a more likely (but still high for them) 72% score at Metacritic.  How well this rendition of a long-known, seemingly-beloved Marvel character plays with those much more invested in him than me, I can’t say, but with the immense talent of Cumberbatch in the lead role I couldn’t help but be intrigued with Dr. Strange, although 
I’ll have to agree with my insightful-wife, Nina, that his semi-love-interest (about whom he obviously still holds stronger feelings than he wants to let on, based on his attachment to a broken watch which we finally find out was a gift from Dr. Palmer) isn’t given nearly as meaty a role, so that even such a talent as McAdams comes off flat with the limited range of responses that she’s allowed to explore.  
But, then, that seems to be a problem for such girlfriends in all MCU movies so far, according to this analysis for U.K.’s The Guardian, despite the stellar track record for these cinematic superhero stories, where they’re now 14 for 14 in terms of solid critical and audience response, making it all the more clear why Disney was wise to add them to their already-huge-media-empire, where maybe they could violate my earlier-stated-boundaries by having Doctor Strange traverse space and time to meet up with Luke Skywalker in these new Star Wars episodes—don’t count on it, but then I never counted on a real-estate-blowhard/reality-TV-huckster becoming President of the United States either*; you should never assume the impossible where pitching a far-fetched-idea to the American public is concerned, no matter what the likely (dire?) consequences may be, as the eager buyers are always ready to pounce at any opportunity.

*Maybe a look back at a 2-minute-summary of how this seemingly-eternal-campaign evolved over the last couple of years can help explain how we collectively arrived at such an unexpected result.  I’m still too much in shock (and preoccupied with exploring Vancouver, B.C. real estate) to yet make any sense of it, but maybe you can do it.

 While Nina and I didn’t see Doctor Strange in 
3-D I can imagine that the couple of bucks in extra ticket expense might actually be worth it this time because at least with some of the shifting scenery in the Mirror Dimension scenes it seems like this would be spectacular with extra-added-depth, although I can’t tell if the whole experience would likewise benefit from 
such enhancement.  Overall, for a detail-packed-origin-story this introduction to Doctor Strange works very well (sadly for me, better than the same attempt with Green Lantern [Martin Campbell, 2011], in which a personal-favorite-character with a very thick backstory also had to be explained in the process of thwarting an Earth-endangering-villain, but it all proved to be more complexity than most moviegoers could tolerate) at the distracting-entertainment-level that it’s aimed at (which may give me good reason to attempt to go lose myself in it again rather than having to watch/read endless rehashes of this now-done-but-woebegone-election or—even worse—see press conferences with our “astute” President-Elect Trump [oh, well, I endured over 25 years of Nixon, Reagan, and the Bushes, so I guess I should be used to such insanity by now; at least the stock market seems to have recovered from its anticipated drop on election night so I don’t have to immediately start planning to climb a wall into Mexico to find a place I can afford to live]).  The production values in Doctor Strange are high, Cumberbatch and Swinton add class to a bunch of comic-book-magic-mumbo-jumbo, and the idea there may be other realities out there to explore rather than the one we’ll be enduring for the next 4 years is somewhat comforting at this point.  

 Rather than perpetuating this ennui about the Presidential election any further, I think maybe it’s best that I just wrap it all up with this movie’s Musical Metaphor which seems to me to be well-addressed by the Electric Light Orchestra’s “Strange Magic” (from their 1975 Face the Music album) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6f35OusJuI where you’ll find poor video quality but a solid account of the audio, even though the song’s almost all chorus rather than much in the way of lyrics yet the lines about “sailing softly through the sun in a broken stone age dawn [… while] walking meadows in my mind, making waves across my time” offer about as much sense as anything you’ll see in this weirdly-effective-movie's exploration of concepts far beyond normal comprehension.

 With that, I’ll bid adieu until next time, pondering whether Doctor Strange wasn’t able to prevent us from being swallowed up into the Dark Dimension after all, but if that did happen at least it came after the sweet victory of the Chicago Cubs in the World Series after waiting 108 years since the last time that they won this honor, so I still have something to celebrate.  For now, though, I’ll turn my thoughts to another city, where the isle of Manhattan gives its name to a cocktail that might help put my troubled mind at ease (not sure what I can do for Nina at this point, who’s literally sick to her stomach, possibly from these unexpected voting results—with little helpful change in the Congressional-landscape either) at least until the specifics are in place for CA to join other U.S. states in the legal use of recreational-marijuana as I drift back once again to thoughts of what we experienced at the Desert Trip music festival (wishing we could put our happy nights there into an endless time loop), as I try to become "Comfortably Numb" with Roger Waters (from the 1979 Pink Floyd The Wall album) while waiting until the 2018 election cycle to see if all these "Trump-eters" actually followed The Who’s directive of "Won't Get Fooled Again" (from the 1971 Who’s Next album) or will they just be waiting, along with Neil Young and me, to see what happens "After the Gold Rush" (from the 1970 album of the same name) when we’ll be looking for “a new home in the sun.”  All of these videos were recorded on the nights of the 2nd weekend—October 14-16, 2016 (you can get my full account of the Trip in the October 27, 2016
Two Guys' posting)—of that monumental event, which will remain much more memorable for us than November 8, 2016’s election returns that I’ll have to hope will someday produce something better than we’re imagining right now, although it may take the combined forces of Doctor Strange, Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Guardians of the Galaxy to help that come to pass or they’ll at least give us a reason to keep going to our moviehouses to lose ourselves in their various counter-realities as we await the emerge of some better Ancient One to again bring light into our darkness.
                   
Related Links Which You Might Find Interesting:
             
We encourage you to visit the summaries of Two Guys reviews for our past posts.*  Overall notations for this blog—including Internet formatting craziness beyond our control—may be found at our Two Guys in the Dark homepage.  If you’d like to Like us on Facebook please visit our Facebook page. We appreciate your support whenever and however you can offer it!

*We’re sorry to say that a Google software glitch causes every Two Guys in the Dark posting prior to August 26, 2016 to have an inaccurate (dead) link to the Summary page, but there are too many of them to go back and fix them all.  From 8/26/16 on this link is accurate, with hopefully not too much confusion caused by this latest stupid snafu from the Alphabet overlords’ programming problems.

Here’s more information about Moonlight:



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDa1IHqQdWk (25:20 interview with screenwriter-director Barry Jenkins, original playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney, and many of the actors from the film: Mahershala Ali, Janelle Monáe, Naomie Harris, André Holland, Trevante Rhodes, Alex Hibbert, and Ashton Sanders)



Here’s more information about Doctor Strange:



For those of you who might be like me and not have much background knowledge about Dr. Strange, here are some helpful links (in ascending order of length, so you can gauge how much interest you really have in this topic): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKtrxfkQVbc (Who Is Doctor Strange? [5:32]), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G960Q_RPyQ8 (The Insane History of Doctor Strange [7:55]), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyHfVYxF_xs (Top 10 Incredible Doctor Strange Facts [11:36], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT4NoBNY5pg (101 Facts About Doctor Strange [28:48])



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If you’d rather contact Ken directly rather than leaving a comment here please use my new email at kenburke409@gmail.com.  Thanks.

By the way, if you’re ever at The Hotel California knock on my door—but you know what the check out policy is so be prepared to stay for awhile. Ken

P.S.  Just to show that I haven’t fully flushed Texas out of my system here’s an alternative destination for you, Home in a Texas Bar, with Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker.
                               
WE DO OUR VERY BEST TO PRESENT THESE TWO GUYS POSTINGS IN A VISUALLY-CONSIDERED GRAPHIC LAYOUT, BUT EXTENSIVE TRIAL-AND-ERROR HAS SHOWN US THAT UNLESS YOU’RE READING OUR REVIEWS ON A MACINTOSH COMPUTER USING MAC OS X 10.10.5 AND SAFARI 10.0.1 YOU’LL LIKELY SEE A SLOPPIER PRESENTATION THAN WHAT WE INTENDED (but Google Chrome 54.0.2840.87 usually comes fairly close to our intentions).  OUR APOLOGIES FOR ANY INADVERTENT MESS THAT WE HAVEN’T YET FOUND A SUCCESSFUL WAY TO CONTROL.

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Inferno (and other important news you should know about)

                                             Departures and Returns 

                                          Comments and Review by Ken Burke
                 
 As I noted recently in my last (massive) posting (which featured a lot of "expert" commentary on my experiences at the Desert Trip music festival) I really try to not include much at this blog site that doesn’t have cinematic relevance of some sort, which is why I linked (but in a not-totally-serious-manner) the musical acts I saw at Desert Trip with relevant filmmakers.  Well, this will be another attempt at such to begin this posting—but with a more truly serious intention—to bring cinema to what’s clearly not a film review but instead a parting tribute to my very good friend/ Mills College colleague, Héctor Mario Cavallari, who died last week due to complications from pneumonia (like me he preferred to use his middle name [my first name is Larry—not Lawrence, you’d have to talk to my parents about that, except they’re no longer available for dialogues except through a psychic medium]).  An Argentine of Italian, Spanish, and Native South American descent (maybe some other heritages that I’m not as aware of; his paternal grandfather was from Ferrara, Italy, also home of one his favorite film artists, Michelangelo Antonioni), Mario and I shared a love of all things cinematic, good wine (although I’m more willing to buy the cheap stuff than he was), and hearty Mexican meals of margaritas and pork carnitas (although he was also fond of my homemade margaritas when he’d join my wonderful wife, Nina, and me for our annual celebrations of the Oscar broadcast or a screening of Picnic [Joshua Logan, 1955] on Labor Day*).  As a Professor of Spanish and Spanish American Studies he mostly taught language and literature but also offered classes on Spanish and Hispanic films, joined me and Nina (and a couple of other close friends) for regular Friday night ventures to the local theaters, and even collaborated with me on a couple of articles (one about intersections of communication and film theories, another analyzing the Cortâzer short story, Antonioni film of Blow-Up**).  You couldn’t find anyone—including professional film critics—who loved cinema more than Mario (he probably watched a DVD every night, even after having just seen something with us at a local moviehouse), so I feel totally justified including him within the realm of Two Guys in the Dark, but even if that weren’t the case I’d still use this space to say a public goodbye to a guy I knew for almost 30 years, who was almost like a brother to an only child like me.

*In tribute to both Mario and Nina (with their much greater fondness for this campy movie than me) I’ll offer one of their favorite scenes, the one based on "Moonglow", where "same old" Hal Carter (William Holden) suddenly finds himself dancing with sultry Madge Owens (Kim Novak)—before he seems to forget her name and calls her “Baby” about a dozen times throughout the rest of the story (there could be a drinking game in which you have to chug a beer every time he says that, but you'd get way too drunk to finish watching the movie).

**You’re welcome to 
go here to download the Blow-Up article; that is, if you don’t mind wading through the glop of its use of academic prose.

 Adiós, mi major amigo!  Via con Dios!  (Or at least may your preferred deity, the Universal Goddess take your spirit again to those great wineries you found in the Sierra Nevada foothills.)  Meanwhile, we can sing along with Paul McCartney while we embrace your memory with “Picasso’s Last Words (Drink to Me)” (based on the great painter’s goodbye to our world, from the 1973 Wings album, Band on the Run) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ud6JY0EeM5Q (including a quick reprise from another song on the album, “Jet”), both because you admired Picasso so much (as does Nina) and because these lyrics now relate to you as well.*  As with Picasso, your life will live on in the hearts of those who were so fortunate as to know and share some time with you.  That being said, I’ll shift to my only movie review this week (as I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with other matters).

*Here’s a reminiscence from McCartney and Dustin Hoffman on how this song spontaneously came about, a story about serendipitous creation that I know Mario would greatly have enjoyed.
                        
Take care, curious readers, for plot spoilers gallop rampantly throughout the Two Guys’ insightful reviews.  Therefore, be warned, beware, and read on when you’re ready to be transported to … wherever we end up.  Please protect your eyes from the dazzling brilliance.
                         
                                                            Inferno (Ron Howard)
                       
Once again, Tom Hanks portrays Professor Robert Langdon, famous Harvard symbologist, who this time wakes up in a Florence, Italy hospital room not knowing how he got there or why he’s being hunted by killers; in a complex plot that involves mysteries, deceptions, Dante, Botticelli, many narrow escapes, and a contemporary plague intended to reduce the world’s overpopulation, we also travel to Venice and Istanbul before all of our questions are answered.
                            
What Happens: We begin with a grainy Internet video of Bertrand Zobrist (Ben Foster) (whose name keeps reminding me of Chicago Cubs baseball star Ben Zobrist, briefly with my downtrodden Oakland Athletics until he [as usual] became valuable trade bait; now he’s a major factor in the Cubs winning their 1st World Series since 1908, even getting the MVP trophy for the Series) giving one of his doomsday-speeches about how continuing, unchecked growth of humans will soon overwhelm the ecology of our planet, bringing about climate collapse along with the end of our species (plus many others as the curtain of destruction falls upon Earth), with the voiceover question of “Do you love humanity enough to save it?”  (A foreshadowing of a critical question asked later in the movie of our protagonist: Is he willing to sacrifice half of his global neighbors in order to preserve the survivors for continuance into the future?)  From there, we find Zobrist (the story’s seeming-mad-scientist—well, he’s definitely angry, if not sort of insane—rather than the baseball player) on the run in Florence, Italy where he’s trapped at the top of a tall tower, but rather than reveal the location of Inferno (whatever it is), he falls backward to his death.  Cut to another crisis, where famed Harvard Professor of symbology (and art history; the latter a real discipline, the former not at all, surprisingly enough) Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) wakes up in a very disoriented state in a hospital where he’s told he’s recovering from a head wound caused by a bullet that grazed his scalp rather than entering it; as if that’s not bad enough (along with no memory of these events) he realizes that he’s also in Florence, not Cambridge, MA where he last can locate himself a couple of days ago.  Shot in a manner that mirrors Langdon’s confusion (rapid cuts, odd angles, some blurred focus)—made even more frightening by his constant visions of a woman calling for him to “seek and find” as the environment swirls into chaos of fear, fire, and destruction), the situation soon further intensifies as Vayentha (Ana Ularu), an assassin dressed in an Italian police uniform, marches down the hospital hall with homicidal intent, shooting a doctor in the process.

 Another doctor, Sienna Brooks (Felicity Jones)—a brilliant Brit working at this hospital—manages to get Langdon away from his intended killer 
(in a much, much more desperately-active-manner than the cool strategy displayed by Michael Corleone [Al Pacino] in protecting his hospitalized father, Vito [Marlon Brando] from a rival mob's hit squad in The Godfather [Francis Ford Coppola, 1972]; just watched it again a couple of weeks ago, hard to shake off its indelible imagery), gets away in a cab from the pursuing Vayentha, hides him in her apartment, then finds a “Faraday pointer” (a small projection device) hidden in his clothing.  When he activates it, they see a visual of Botticelli’s painting of The Abyss of Hell, based on the complex descriptions of this horror in Dante’s Inferno (part of the 1307 epic poem, the Divine Comedy); immediately, though, Langdon realizes that aspects of the famed 9 circles of this site of damnation have been strangely rearranged, with some added letters in various places, along with a notation about “looking through the eyes of death.”  Langdon contacts the American Embassy for help but Sienna tells him to give the address of a building across the street so as not to give away their location too quickly (he undermines that, though, by using her laptop while she’s showering to check his email for clues about his weird circumstances, which allows Vayentha to locate him, even as armed troops arrive at the fake address, based on the intercepted call that never reached the Embassy).  Once again, Langdon and Sienna are on the run, with what seems like 2 separate assassins after them (the military-like-squad turns out to be from the World Health Organization, led by Christoph Bouchard [Omar Sy]—who chased Zobrist to the top of that tower—unrelated to Vayentha, who’s under the direction of a clandestine group, The Consortium, headed by The Provost, Harry Sims [Irrfan Khan]).  Ultimately, they all end up at the Palazzo Vecchio where Langdon finds the same encrypted message in a huge Vasari painting as is inserted into the modified Botticelli projection, leading him to find answers in the actual death mask of Dante, on display in this huge palace-turned-museum.

 However, answers aren’t forthcoming because the valued mask is missing, surveillance video shows that Langdon and his prominent Florentine friend, Ignazio Busoni 
(Gábor Urmai), took it the previous night, and a call to Busoni’s office reveals that he’s now dead but, in a coded message left for Langdon, he’s noted the location of the mask.  (For once, I was trying to read the novel a movie was adapted from before seeing it, but in the case of Inferno this is as far into the narrative as I got before my screening day came around; my strong reactions to what I saw in the rest of it vs. what I later read in the book are explored in this review’s next section.)  Using a dangerous exit route across narrow beams through an attic in the Palazzo, Langdon and Sienna are stalked by Vayentha, but Sienna manages to trip their adversary who falls to her death in a huge room far below, as she rips through a painting suspended from the ceiling.  After Langdon deciphers Busoni’s clue, our escapees make their way to Florence Cathedral’s San Giovanni Baptistery, finding the Dante mask where Zobrist has written further hints as to how to locate his hidden Inferno device, which by now is understood as a deadly virus intended to decimate the human population, in a manner reminiscent of the Medieval Black Plague, so as to allow the survivors to rebuild society in a manner more conducive to harmonious co-existence with the planet’s resources (Langdon’s getting some of his short-term-memory back so the camerawork and editing are no longer emulating his confusion, but he’s still periodically having visions that imply impending catastrophe, inspired by the grotesque imagery of the Botticelli painting).  Meanwhile, back on his shipboard headquarters we’ve learned that The Provost was providing secrecy for Zobrist (guarded by Vayentha) in The Consortium’s standard “no questions asked” protocol, but decides to break his own rules to view the video that Zobrist intended to soon be released to worldwide media in which Sims in shocked to find his client detailing his deadly plan, showing the killer virus in a transparent pouch slightly submerged in some unknown location.

 Based on the mask’s clues, Langdon and Sienna go to Venice, hoping to find the Inferno virus hidden somewhere near a former doge’s grave in that vast city.  Somehow (I forget; my notes are no help either as things were moving fast at that point—well, actually, the plot moves at a constantly-rapid-pace throughout this movie, so if you decide to see it take your restroom break before it starts because you don’t want to miss anything, whether it be story elements or any of the gorgeous scenery which may soon have you contacting a travel agent to book a flight to Italy before that hard-hit-country has to cope with yet another devastating earthquake) they’re joined by Bouchard who tells them that they must beware of Dr. Elizabeth Sinskey (SIdse Babett Knudsen), head of the WHO, because she intends to grab the virus for herself, then sell it to the highest bidder.  Langdon soon realizes that it’s Bouchard who’s the traitor, so he and Sienna once again escape, arriving at St. Mark’s Cathedral in Venice where he’s told that the doge crypt they seek, Enrico Dandolo's, is actually in Istanbul.  Spotting Bouchard in pursuit of them, they attempt to escape through an underground passageway that leads to a grate holding them back from the plaza.  Sienna gets help to open the grate, allowing her climb to safety, but then shuts it on Robert, telling him as she rushes away that she was Zobrist’s lover, that all these clues were intended to lead her to the Inferno virus in case something happened to prevent him from releasing it.  Robert’s then caught by Bouchard and is about to be tortured to reveal Inferno’s location when he’s saved by The Provost.  As this point, things can get really confusing because even more of what we’ve "known" turns out to have been part of an elaborate setup by The Consortium to help Sienna after Zobrist’s death, without them knowing what these revolutionary lovers were up to.

 In the process of some exposition and helpful flashbacks we find that Langdon was contacted in Cambridge by Sinskey to help the WHO locate Inferno, with no clue at that point where it was, when it was set to be activated, or what it was intended to accomplish, but they did somehow have the Faraday pointer, although they couldn’t decipher the Botticelli image.  The Provost, worried that Langdon might help undermine whatever Zobrist paid The Consortium to protect, had him whisked away in a kidnapping (soon after the theft of the Dante mask), injected with a memory-loss-drug, faked the head wound, then set up the entire scenario of the hospital, Vayentha as assassin (she was shooting blanks), and Sienna as his rescuer, all in order to turn him away from the WHO as well as help Sienna finalize Zobrist’s then-unknown-project.  Further complicating all of this, Sinskey and Langdon were lovers themselves years ago but pulled apart, as she took her position with WHO in Geneva, because neither wanted to disrupt the other’s emerging career.  Now that they’re all (except Sienna) on the same side, it’s off to the famous Hagia Sofia basilica/mosque/museum where the sought-after-doge’s burial site with the sound of water running underneath leads them to the fabulous underground Basilica Cistern as a summer solstice concert is being held, all planned by Zobrist for the release of the virus which would then be spread by the many attendees.  In the struggle to locate Inferno, Sienna kills The Provost, then sacrifices herself to activate a bomb to rupture the virus bag, but Sinskey managed to get it contained in a pressure-proof-box so calamity is averted.  Langdon and Sinskey agree their careers will continue to keep them apart, but before heading home he returns to Florence to stealthily return the Dante mask (why he’s not caught on surveillance video this time I’m not sure).  All of this occurs in about 2 hours of running time, although 1 of my local papers said 160 min.; admittedly, the action is so dense that it feels like there’s more there than what you’ve witnessed, but I don’t mean that in a negative way.

So What? Unlike with my usual practice when novels are transformed into their cinematic equivalents—that is, 
I never read the books at all—in the case of Dan Brown’s Robert Langdon stories I’ve actually read all 4 of them (including The Lost Symbol [2009], which Howard and Hanks haven’t gotten to yet), although I began with how I usually do when I explore a narrative in both media, I first saw the movie of The Da Vinci Code (Howard, 2006), enjoyed it thoroughly then read the book (2003), which encouraged me to read ahead with Angels & Demons (2000) even before seeing the movie (Howard, 2009), presented as a sequel to … Code despite the reverse order of the books.  Given that both of these adaptations were fairly-faithful-renditions from written to audiovisual mediums I tried to break my usual pattern again by reading Inferno (2013) before seeing its filmic equivalent, but that provided complications in several directions.  My eager-reader-wife, Nina, managed to finish the Inferno novel just before the movie was released, but I got only halfway through it before we saw the adaptation yet I felt comfortable it was all falling into place in much the same manner while watching the movie unfold, except there’s a notable written character, Agent Cristoph Brüder of the SRS (Surveillance and Response Support, of the European Center for Disease Prevention and Control), seemingly at first another assassin—along with Vayentha—leading a team after Langdon I presumed to be further troops of The Consortium but I further assumed this written character could be Bouchard, with his soldiers as semi-WHO troops (which in fact they turn out to be in the novel, although technically they belong to another group not connected to the Consortium at all).  When I got back to the book, though, I was shocked to find out that after the halfway point of the plot the written and cinematic narratives of this story diverge in several significant ways.

 First (as long as you can tolerate even more of my Spoilers if you’re still planning on a reading of Brown’s work), in the book Elizabeth Sinskey is not Langdon’s former lover but instead is just a frantically-concerned-person hoping to stop a dreadful epidemic who’s turned to Langdon to help locate the virus before it’s released (he doesn’t remember his initial meeting with her regarding this crisis in either case, but there the similarities stop, even in appearance as in her novel manifestation she’s notably older than him, with long silvery hair—and in another of this story’s many red-herrings in either medium, she also is assumed for several chapters to be a hostage of The Consortium, until we find the soldiers with her are the SRS team, giving her requested injections for a medical condition, not attempting to keep her docile.  Second, like The Provost, Sienna also comes to believe that the virus must be contained but she rushes to Instanbul to destroy it herself, not trusting what the WHO or various governments might do with such DNA-altering technology, although she’s as fooled as everyone else about Zobrist’s actual date of release (she supports the concept, though, so I have to assume she finally decides it’s not right for one guy to determine the fate of the planet’s population, no matter how much she agrees with the outcome).  
Third—and most crucial regarding these notable presentational differences—in the novel, Zobrist’s virus is not only not intended to kill people 
but it’s also not set to detonate on the date everyone assumes; it’s already seeped out of its intentionally-timed-release-decomposing-bag a week earlier (the concerts in the Basilica Cistern, sponsored secretly by Zobrist, have gone on all week, where they've attracted many hundreds of virus-carriers to this well-located-international city so that Zobrist’s looming date is when his invention will have spread worldwide). Rather than being a biohazard-attack-device it’s an airborne-vector virus intended to penetrate human cells, modifying their DNA to produce sterility, Zobrist’s plan to reduce our planet’s excess population (somehow, though, it would only activate in about 1/3 of infected people and their descendants so our species would survive just reduce in size, as fewer people would be harmonious with available resources; I never could understand how this could randomly occur [or maybe this is where it all becomes pure sci-fi] nor what happens after the sterile people die off but the non-steriles keep reproducing, but in scenarios like this it’s best to not ask too many of these questions).  Finally, rather than being arrested for her part in this plot (as is The Provost in this version), Sienna works with Dr. Sinskey (who sees the value in Zobrist’s intentions, if not his methods) seemingly to manage the result of this change in human evolution for the benefit of the species, however that’s going to occur.

 This 3rd change from novel to movie noted above is, in the words of Robert Frost’s famous “The Road Not Taken” 
poem (1916), the one “that has made all the difference” because it changes the intent of the virus (to totally modify humankind, possibly giving us the option of truly controlling, directing population growth rather than just viciously killing off billions); it makes Zobrist seem a little less mad in his methods; it completely changes Sienna’s motivations and existence; it erases the standard-suspense-movie-“rescued from doomsday”-scenario that we’ve come to expect in such stories as well as erasing the past-connection between Langdon 
and Sinskey, whereas potential-future-Langdon-movies might even revive her as a love interest or collaborator with our bachelor professor if Dan Brown continues writing these stories while Howard continues with major shifts in content that completely confound these  novels' intentions (and deeper possibilities for contemplation of our collective future that the author has raised but are swept out of consideration in this streamlined-to-action-adventure-adaptation).  Given the tepid critical response (see the next section below for more details) and the so-far-mildly-enthusiastic-response at the box-office (at least domestically, but it’s being propped up quite a bit in foreign markets), we may not have to be concerned about any more of these Langdon-mystery-tales making it to a theater near you in the future, although both Hanks and Jones hold up their ends of the acting requirements quite well, just as Howard continues to demonstrate solid technical skills in polishing his product for mass consumption.  I guess Tyler Perry’s campy drag comedy of Boo! A Madea Halloween (grossed 52.6 million domestic dollars in 2 weeks of release) proved to be more appealing than stunning scenery and a lot of confusing plot twists, although Boo! …’s not that critically-embraced either (Rotten Tomatoes notes 23% positive reviews, Metacritic gives a 30% average score), but then not much I’ve reviewed lately—with my notably higher numbers, although only in the 3-3½-star-range—has been shown much love by my highly-critical critic colleagues.

Bottom Line 
Final Comments: Public consumption of the previous Langdon stories on screen when compared to reviewer tolerance was extremely varied in the results 
(… Code grossed $758 million worldwide, with an RT average of a mere 25%, 46% at MC; Angels … grossed about $486 million worldwide but its critical response was also miserable: 37% at RT, 48% at MC), with this new Langdon movie being no exception as 
the critical consensus remains pitifully low at a horrid 20% at RT, 44% at MC but now coupled to a relatively-limp-debut at the box-office with “only” $14.9 million in what's called the domestic market (the combined take from the U.S. and Canada); however, shortfalls at home may be made up with revenues from oversees as the worldwide total came in at about $147.7 million last weekend.  Once again, as I noted in my comments on the current The Birth of a Nation (Nate Parker; review in our October 27, 2016 posting) there are times when relevant distractions about a director’s worth as a human being make it hard to be objective about evaluating that person’s artistic output, just as notable twistings of verifiable historical facts (The Birth … again, Southside With You [Richard Tanne; review in our September 1, 2016 posting], Sully [Clint Eastwood; review in our September 15, 2016 posting]) can interfere with trying to just judge what’s on screen based on its own merits; however, I’m not usually put in the position of objecting to how a filmmaking team notably alters its adaptation source because I’ve so rarely read the original novels—even after the fact of seeing the cinematic version—but that problem does come into play this time, though, even as I finished reading the book (with all of the surprises coming in the part that I hadn’t gotten to yet) after seeing Howard’s version in the theater but before I got around to writing this review.  What I saw was a successful example of entertaining diversion where a complicated mystery needs to be solved in order to protect humanity from impending disaster, with lots of twists and turns that keep the plot explication from being too predictable (except for the assumption that somehow the movie’s bioweapon version of the virus will be contained, even if only by barely-last-second-heroics).

 What I read, though, was a much more interesting concept about a less-brutal-means of reducing human overpopulation which causes me to question—as so many readers of books-turned-into-films regularly do—whether what comes on the screen has been so bastardized (as a child of illegitimacy myself, I feel absolved to use this term without concern for your reproach, just as other normally-offensive-words have been reclaimed by those who are referenced by these hostile terms as a strategy of reducing their hurtful power, as best harmful speech can ever be neutralized) as to question the value of the starkly-different-denouement of Ron Howard’s Inferno compared to Dan Brown’s original.  Regarding the subject of overpopulation, both media versions of this story hit us bluntly with verifiable facts about how the human presence on this planet has grown in exponential fashion, reaching into the multi-billions just in recent times with fearful projections of further huge increases in the near future providing struggles for nourishment, water, inhabitable space, all the while trying to reduce factors of climate change that lead to increasing pollution, destruction of needed resources, and loss of land due to rising ocean levels.  As the book’s Dr. Sienna Brooks points out, our current efforts to address just the rising population aspects of this frightful dilemma are proving ineffective even with increased attempts at information about birth control because of the various forces working against that reasonable method of population-containment from religious prohibitions, tribal desires to increase certain clans, or simple ignorance of physiological facts in many underdeveloped parts of our planet (birth increases have slowed dramatically in much of the industrialized world, but that only sets up more of the migratory crises that currently enflame much of Europe as the downtrodden look desperately to other [limited] locations to escape the burdens of war, famine, and brutal governments that truly are a plague on their existences).  Somehow, we need to curb our programmed biological imperative to reproduce at such a rapid rate, as nature has little means to control our extensive breeding short of physical catastrophes and viral outbreaks.

 In Inferno’s written form, everyone who’s out to stop Bertrand Zobrist’s maniacal solution will eventually, essentially agree that his singular focus on overpopulation calls attention to a real problem, one that must be addressed and solved if we’re to keep from running this planet into extinction (long before we have the resources to even attempt to relocate even the privileged few to some other safe cosmic home), but they don’t feel that his unique, secretive-sterilization plot is an appropriate strategy for one billionaire scientist to impose upon everyone else without some form of cooperative dialogue.  (Although, given our species’ horrible history of such "cooperation" over the millennia since we’ve taken control of Earth, an easy argument could be made that trying to collectively reason through our difficulties is about as unlikely as sending ordinary jet airliners to the moon to establish survival colonies, magically creating atmosphere and water in the process—this intra-species-hostility is shown marvelously-well in a quasi-humorous-manner [with deadly-serious-overtones] at least as far back as in the hostile reception/global-governmental-non-engagement accorded alien-visitor Klaatu in The Day the Earth Stood Still [Robert Wise, 1951].)  Yet, once Zobrist’s sterility virus has taken root in the book, the implication is that cooler heads will attempt to manage the now-changed-DNA-situation, even though many of the current population will have no input into whether they can become child-bearers or not (unlike those of us who’ve voluntarily made that choice, for whatever our personal reasons may be) so management of this new reality will be difficult, even if the overall result is our only hope of planetary survival.  Brown doesn’t get into the complex ethical, moral, even pragmatic aspects of these issues, but just by raising the questions—even in this fictional context—he opens doors for dialogue that might not even be raised if the many non-scientific-minds among us don’t surprisingly-encounter such weighty concepts in the unexpected realm of popular entertainment.

 However, Ron Howard (along with screenwriter David Koepp) clearly eliminated all of that line of curious thought by simply turning the virus into a biological plague that could kill its victims before they even know what hit them (with fear intensified in both book and movie as various characters seem to us to have legitimate reasons to have already been infected with such a deadly-disease, even though those traumas are all explained away later as being connected to other, non-lethal medical circumstances).  This situation has been the source of narrative terror in many prior movies, so when the anticipated crisis is resolved (as it usually is, for example in Outbreak [Wolfgang Petersen, 1995], except for a few zombie-apocalypse-scenarios such as 28 Days Later [Danny Boyle, 2002] or I Am Legend [Francis Lawrence, 2007], but even there we find final hope for human survivors of these far-reaching-plagues) we leave Inferno simply showing us we’ve been on a familiar-thrill-ride where brilliant Professor Langdon has once again done something spectacular (as in The Da Vinci Code where he found human descendants of the marriage of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, thereby undermining the concept of Jesus’ divinity [but keeping it quiet so Christianity’s not publically challenged] or in Angels & Demons where he gets back on the Vatican’s good side by preventing an insidious plot to put a fanatic into the Papacy [although, again, without large-scale-public-knowledge of the details, plus the deaths of 3 Cardinals in the process]) that we can celebrate but won’t be detailed in the morning papers (or, more likely, Web-based news feeds).  The movie still works well (in my minority-opinion), accomplishing what it sets out to do, so I’ll stick with my initial thought of 3½ stars for great use of escapism (and luscious locations), but I’ll admit that after reading the rest of the book I can only wish that Howard had dared to go with Brown’s original directions, although providing a contemplative conclusion would likely have resulted in even less audience-enthusiasm that his actual choice has accomplished.

 It’s a shame that well-produced-distraction-entertainment (that gives us all some relief from constant preoccupation with the Presidential campaign's alleged email controversies and nasty groping accusations, all of which may soon be blessedly put to rest anyway) is so rarely used as a vehicle for raising audience awareness into serious, policy-based discussions that actually seek acceptable solutions for vital issues of the day (given that such well-attended-entertainment-venues now seem the best method for reaching the short-attention-span-audience of our modern, technologically-driven world), but, alas, that rarely happens, so maybe I should just be satisfied that academics such as Indiana Jones (if you recall that he actually does teach once in awhile) and Robert Langdon can be made into pop-media-heroes, admittedly with the former displaying a lot of physical prowess while the latter mostly makes strides of the mind (although he does stride quickly through Florence and other cities—as shown in several of these press photos available to me—thereby proving that even scholars can display some decent conditioning despite having been drugged by a nefarious underground organization).  See, kids, academia can be as exciting as the Marine Corps!  Just mix in a few pushups with your library research* (especially if you focus on 
picturesque countries with delicious food that you’ll never have time to eat as you rush from one desirable-location to the next).  A final exciting aspect of this review, though, will be the long-awaited-choice of a marvelous Musical Metaphor intended to speak to my experience with Inferno, which in this cinematic adaption is about one person’s determination to do a radical cleansing of the human race for our mutual benefit to achieve a breaking-through of the wall of uninformed or unconcerned inaction that’s kept us oblivious to our miserable fate for far too long.  Maybe I’m still reminiscing too much about the terrific time Nina and I had at the Desert Trip music festival a couple of weeks ago, but what comes to mind (possibly as a bit of a sarcastic jab at Howard’s safe-steering-away from the more substantial issues in Brown’s book) is Roger Waters' condemnation of building such walls in the first place, alienating ourselves (and our children) from breaking through to new understandings (as well as the more-subtle-messages, in not adapting the book’s actual content, that “saviors” such as Langdon and the WHO are simply perpetuating that “wall” by distracting us with tales of rescue that imply a return to the “wait until tomorrow to deal with this population problem” status-quo).  Accordingly, I’ll leave you with “Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2” (from the 1979 Pink Floyd album, The Wall) at https://www.you tube.com/watch?v=YR5ApYxkU-U, which you can use to either add to that ever-growing-enclosure or throw at it in hopes of liberating some new ideas (rather than just more “thought control”).

*Speaking of research, if you’re interested in knowing more about Dante’s Inferno but prefer the visual excitement of video games to reading centuries-old-poetry (in translation at that, unless you’re fluent in Italian) you might be interested in this animated feature movie (1:28:11) based more on one such game than the written version but still largely true to the original concepts of the author—with the Roman poet Virgil as his guide—although now as a heroic-warrior on a quest to rescue the soul of his lost love, Beatrice, from the underworld as he works his way through the 9 Circles of Hell (including the 7 Deadly Sins) in an environment akin to The Lord of the Rings’ dark world of Mordor, until Dante and Virgil leave this land of damnation to arrive at Mount Purgatory.
                
In Closing …
                
Now, in speaking of another wall, like I said at the start of this posting I try to not get into topics that I can’t somehow relate to the wide world of cinema, but I’ve been a bit limited in my viewing time this week so all that I’ve had a chance to see is Inferno (except for a return via Netflix DVD to the great documentary Janis: Little Girl Blue [Amy Berg, 2015]; review in our December 2, 2015 posting—whose subject will always “break another little piece of my heart”); however, I can brag about one other accomplishment which finally came to pass that I know Mario Cavallari would have appreciated had I been able to tell him about it—even though it has nothing remotely to do with cinema and despite the fact that he generally preferred drinking wine or margaritas (preferably the Cadillac version, further bolstered by an extra shot of tequila) to beer (except on hot summer days)—acknowledgement at San Leandro, CA's Englander Sports Pub & Restaurant where Nina and I have joined their elite society of beer connoisseurs who’ve tried all they have to offer from their 75 taps (they also have a few just in bottles but we’ve tried to stay pure in our quest, except where Belgians are concerned).  While we’d wander into this place periodically (not too far from our home in Hayward) and marvel at all of the brew-choices we also admired the plaques of those celebrated on the wall who accomplished the ultimate sampling task.  So, in October of 2014 we “set out on the road, seeking’ [our] fame and fortune” (to sample a line from Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song about another CA town, “Lodi” [from their 1969 Green River album*], but with no intentions of finding “a pot of gold,” just golden [or red or brown] liquid by the glassful), then returned most Thursday afternoons to get a couple of pints (we’d each get a new one, then share when the glasses were half-full—you never have to worry about being half-empty in a place like this) or more, then I’d take notes so that we’d have some reference for ordering by choice after we’d run the table (so to speak).  Logistics sometimes forced us to skip a week here 
and there, requiring us to take until February of this year to finally finish the course, with the further difficulty—if you’re still trying to keep it pure—of the pub regularly rotating some new product in so that trying to literally sample some of everything required adding to the original intention of 75 (we’re now up to about 105).  Finally, as winter was on the wane earlier this year we reached our goal, with the plaques then being ordered (over recent years, though, the place had discontinued the practice, so apparently no one else had attempted to perform this feat; our determination impressed the management, leading to our revival of the tradition as well as a slightly different style of plaque).  The next task was getting them onto the wall at a time convenient for the owners which finally happened while we were off at Desert Trip (hey, we go to the place to drink beer, not marvel at their home-improvement-skills); therefore, we can now share our triumph with the world (particularly my readers in the U.K., Ireland, and Australia, who really know how to appreciate this sort of thing).  Ironically, though, what I liked best when we started—Guinness for ales, Stella Artois or Kona Longboard for lagers—are still my favorites, although we’ve now found some tasty substitutes, such as Brother Thelonious Belgian-style Abbey Ale from the North Coast Brewing Co. in Ft. Bragg, CA, a few hours north of us (every sale of this tasty stuff helps support Washington, D.C.’s Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz).  I’ll admit that Bob Dylan snagged the bigger award with his Nobel Prize in Literature, but I’m still very pleased with how Nina and I have succeeded at one skill that we ‘ve honed from long-invested-experience.

*The situation in this song’s a lot more miserable than our experiences at The Englander (as always, no payola for us, just a good place to relax, sip a brew, eat some pub food, watch multiple screens of sports), but it’s too temping to resist singing along with one more time so belt it out with John Fogerty and the boys in memory of anywhere or anyone you’ve ever found yourself “stuck” with.
             
Related Links Which You Might Find Interesting:
                 
We encourage you to visit the summary of Two Guys reviews for our past posts.*  Overall notations for this blog—including Internet formatting craziness beyond our control—may be found at our Two Guys in the Dark homepage.  If you’d like to Like us on Facebook please visit our Facebook page. We appreciate your support whenever and however you can offer it!

*We’re sorry to say that a Google software glitch causes every Two Guys in the Dark posting prior to August 26, 2016 to have an inaccurate (dead) link to the Summary page, but there are too many of them to go back and fix them all.  From 8/26/16 on this link is accurate, with hopefully not too much confusion caused by this latest stupid snafu from the Alphabet overlords’ programming problems.

Here’s more information about Inferno:



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3oh6TjLRJQ (9:10 interview with Inferno original novel author Dan Brown)



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By the way, if you’re ever at The Hotel California knock on my door—but you know what the check out policy is so be prepared to stay for awhile. Ken

P.S.  Just to show that I haven’t fully flushed Texas out of my system here’s an alternative destination for you, Home in a Texas Bar, with Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker.
              
WE DO OUR VERY BEST TO PRESENT THESE TWO GUYS POSTINGS IN A VISUALLY-CONSIDERED GRAPHIC LAYOUT, BUT EXTENSIVE TRIAL-AND-ERROR HAS SHOWN US THAT UNLESS YOU’RE READING OUR REVIEWS ON A MACINTOSH COMPUTER USING MAC OS X 10.10.5 AND SAFARI 10.0.1 YOU’LL LIKELY SEE A SLOPPIER PRESENTATION THAN WHAT WE INTENDED (but Google Chrome 54.0.2840.71 usually comes fairly close to our intentions).  OUR APOLOGIES FOR ANY INADVERTENT MESS THAT WE HAVEN’T YET FOUND A SUCCESSFUL WAY TO CONTROL.