The Beauty of Call Me By Your Name [Guest Poster: Chloe]

While I tend to be more passionate about television as a medium for storytelling, occasionally I find a film that I am so excited and inspired by, that it is all I can think about for weeks. Call Me By Your Name is one of those films. It is a beautiful and nuanced bildungsroman that is just as endearingly romantic as it is heartbreaking. It is the type of film that demands repeat viewings, in-depth discussions, and will leave one feeling surprisingly hopeful and changed.

Before one even examines the film on a narrative level, the location, music and cinematography are enough to qualify it as great. The small Italian city of Crema is the ideal location for the film, with its cobblestone streets and beautifully landscaped country sides. Having the right location is imperative, because it is as much a vehicle for telling Elio and Oliver’s story as the dialogue. While I have not seen any of Luca Guadagnino’s previous films, I understand his unique style, based on the cinematography of CMBYN alone. He utilizes wide, expansive shots and uses the camera as a window into Elio’s world without it ever becoming part of that world. While some filmmakers use the camera to establish first person point of view or treat the camera like a narrator, Guadagnino doesn’t do either. We are invited into Elio and Oliver’s worlds, but only from a distance. We feel immersed in their story on a narrative level, but never a cinematic one. It is through his use of the camera that Guadagnino is able to establish a consistent tone.

Another way that the film establishes itself tonally is through language. It is an Italian film with French influences, and utilizes Italian and French throughout as a vital storytelling component. Even the musical interludes in the film are of both French and Italian origins. Music then becomes an integral part of the storytelling process as well. Sufjan Stevens’ original songs “Mystery of Love” and “Visions of Gideon” are lyrically and narratively compelling on their own, but become especially important during the scenes in which they are played. When the lyrics “I have loved you for the last time” play while Elio cries in front of the fire, it serves as both a heartbreaking reminder of Elio’s state of mind after his phone call with Oliver, but also as a moment of emotional catharsis for him and the audience. While we can already see the pain, resignation, and eventual acceptance written on Elio’s face, the song emotionally elevates the moment even further. It is easily one of the best moments of a film filled with beautiful and significant moments.

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Call Me By Your Name is the way that the it establishes its narrative. In most stories, narrative exists through conflict and has rising action that leads to some type of emotional climax and resolution. While CMBYN has some of that, for the most part the film is made up of moments that are either equally significant or equally inconsequential. The film is fundamentally about a moment in Elio’s life where he is growing up, figuring his life out, and falling in love. It is merely a snapshot of his entire existence. So while his relationship with Oliver is beautiful, loving, passionate and significant, it is just one of many importance aspects of Elio’s young life. We, as an audience, are only seeing a glimpse of his life and all its complexities. It is for that reason that the film places no additional importance on any one scene. Watching Oliver dance to “Love My Way” is treated with as much emotional significance as Oliver and Elio’s first kiss, or the first time they sleep together. Even the final scenes of the movie feel like they are of equal importance. While Mr. Perlman’s speech to Elio in the film’s final minutes seems to resonate more with an audience because of what he is saying, the film maintains a consistent tone. If anything, it is what makes the scene feel even more powerful. It is evident that this isn’t an average conversation between father and son, but within the context of the film, it might as well be. It is a conversation about love and acceptance, but it is also like any other conversation Mr. Perlman has with Elio throughout the film. He is consistently supportive and open, and the scene at the end only makes it more apparent.

The film treats Oliver and Elio’s relationship as profound without commenting on its long-term significance for both characters. It is evident that both men will be eternally changed by the love that they have shared. But ultimately, even Mr. Perlman stresses that Oliver and Elio’s relationship was “everything and nothing.” Their relationship was meaningful and passionate for the brief moments that it existed, but would not have worked in any other moment in time (even if we all wish that it could have). It is important that we as an audience understand that, and the final scenes serve to help us understand. The ultimate impact that Mr. Perlman’s speech and Elio’s scene in front of the fire have on us is one of catharsis. They help us grapple with the significance of Elio and Oliver’s relationship at the same time the characters do. It ultimately sends the somewhat clichéd but effective message that “it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” The film effectively captures that rare and fleeting feeling of being in love, and everything that happens when it falls apart. It leaves us feeling sad but ultimately fulfilled with how everything turns out.

While the story itself is very compelling, what really sells CMBYN as a great movie is Timothee Chalamet’s performance as Elio. It is rare to see in someone so young, but Chalamet has instincts that you would expect from a person with a lifetime of acting experience. Chalamet manages to convince us that he has that experience through his hard work and raw talent. He captures every nuance of Elio’s internal struggle, primarily with his eyes and other facial expressions. Even if you have not read the book the film is based on, you understand exactly how Elio is feeling (be it frustration, disgust, lust, or pain) by even the slightest changes in his eyes. It is evident that going into the filming process, Chalamet not only had a firm grasp of who Elio was as a character but also used his own interpretation and discretion to make the performance more layered. Chalamet commits himself so fully to the role that you almost forget that Elio isn’t a real person. It is refreshing to see a performer who is so dedicated to their work that it ultimately enhances the entire viewing experience. Chalamet turns what would have been a decent movie into a great one by bringing his best work to every scene.

Ultimately, Call Me By Your Name is a beautiful exploration of love, longing, and adventure during a single Italian summer. The film never tries to be anything more than that, which is why it works so well. It does not always feel particularly profound (especially with some of its dialogue) but it also does not have to be in order to still be enjoyable. When the film slightly struggles from a slower pace in the first hour, it makes up for it with astounding visuals and timely music. It is a remarkable film that is bound to emotionally resonate with me for a long time to come.

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We Are What They Grow Beyond: The Coming of Age for a New Star Wars [Contributor: Melanie]

Warning: Spoilers for Star Wars: The Last Jedi lie ahead.

The thing about this series is that it spans 40 years. That’s a long time to keep something going, to hand it down from one generation to the next. But Star Wars endures and with Rian Johnson’s addition to the series it does more than that. It thrives. It’s a tale that has always ever been a story told in the traditions of epics and legends of our world. It was a story of spaceships and laser swords rooted in the human tradition of a call to adventure, a meeting with a mentor, and face down with that which holds the most power in life of our hero. The Last Jedi does not break this tradition, no story ever could. It’s encoded in the DNA of our storytelling that we walk through the steps of a Hero’s Journey but Johnson’s film does everything it can to make you second guess the clean and quick nature of this story telling method and ask yourself… well, where do you want the story to go?

“Why are you here, Rey from nowhere?” 

The fact of the matter is, I’m not entirely convinced that they didn’t change Rey’s backstory during the mysterious rewrite period in early 2016 when filming was delayed so Rian Johnson could rework the script. I saw this because a lot of supplementary material pointed to Rey having an actual plot connection to Kylo Ren and what happened at the temple. But, if she ever was a Skywalker or Kenobi, it’s evidently been tossed in favor of the story of Rey from Nowhere. She is a King Arthur, complete with her own proverbial sword she pulled from a proverbial stone, but no Uther Pendragon to gift her a birthright, no connection or obvious place to the story she’s inhabiting. (That is, assuming, we take Kylo Ren at his word. After all, we didn’t find out about the twins until Episode VII and that was after an uncomfortable twincest scene in Empire so fake outs happen...).

Is it such a bad thing? We all, myself loudly included, wanted a heritage story with a fight for the Skywalker legacy (or even the Kenobi one). And we still might get it. Perhaps the story of Rey’s shrouded heritage isn’t over. But let’s assume it is, what does it mean for Rey? We know she has major abandonment issues. That apparently lead to some identity issues as well. Maybe she herself was hoping to find herself a member of the Skywalker family. What she learns is that her parents were anonymous drunks who traded away their child for money and died in some anonymous graves in the desert (again, according to Kylo Ren).

There’s more weight to her choices now. Being a Skywalker is about reacting, making a choice under a predetermined context of good and evil. They all faced the same forked path: darkness or light. Rey is a blank slate. She comes from nothing, her heritage does not matter, so all that matters is what she chooses to do. And it’s clear her choices are not about Sith or Jedi, darkness or light, but simply about what is the right thing to do. She’s setting up her own Skywalker legacy and the black and white of the original films and prequel trilogy faded away with Luke Skywalker under the twin suns. Rey’s not picking sides or worrying about making one wrong move and letting it “forever dominate (her) destiny.” She’s just trying to protect her friends.

So why is Rey from Nowhere here? Well she’s got a job to do, people who are counting on her, and friends to protect. And I’m kind of super on board with that. The Jedi did not own the Force, though they behaved as though they did. If the failures of the Jedi and the failures of Anakin Skywalker are to be purged from the new narrative, it will have to center on someone untainted by a connection to either of those things. Or at least someone who believes she is unconnected to it all.

This film did not paint our hero in a gray light so much as it painted her in a human one. The Jedi asked for perfection and instilled it since birth in their disciples. The result was a group of warrior monks for hire who thought their moral high ground and perceived control of the Force put them above others. The Order is gone. But a single Jedi - the last Jed i- someone who utilizes their connection to the Force for protection and light, got away on Crait.

“It surrounds us, and binds us…”

We know from scientific over explanation in the prequels that the ability of certain individuals to feel and manipulate the Force happens at the cellular level, something present in the DNA. Which makes it sound infinitely less cool but let’s run with this for a second. Traits are handed down, eye color, allergies, cheekbones. But on the macro level we hand down generational attributes. All humans became bipedal, became hairless, became intelligent. And we all know we come from the same family tree. The Force, I imagine, will act in the same way. It’s a genetic trait, a rare mutation. But it’s also something connecting the entirety of life in the galaxy. The Force is in everyone, with a select few who can actually wield the abilities it offers. We see at the very end of the film there will be others, a future generation of Jedi under Rey’s tutelage.

But… if everyone’s super, then no one is.

Perhaps it’s the converse to the Rey Nobody argument. The Skywalkers were a unique bunch. The Jedi were already rare but the Skywalkers, a family line literally born out the Force itself were even more unique. And we all want our characters to be special, to be the chosen one. Rey is the person who happened upon Anakin’s lightsaber. It may have well happened to any one of those children we saw in the last seconds of the movie who show apparent Force sensitivity.

There’s a cultural need for our heroes to be divinely ordained. Odysseus was favored by the gods. King Arthur was chosen by the Lady of the Lake. Even Harry became the subject of prophecy because he was literally chosen to be the one it referred to by Voldemort. We want to believe there is a cosmic purpose to our heroes, the possibility of superhuman uniqueness. So was it the will of the Force that BB-8 came across Rey and the adventure began? Or was it just luck?

For all of Rey’s importance in The Force Awakens, this movie strikes down everything about herself she thought might be special. Ben is the only Skywalker. Snoke simply wants to use her to get to Luke. Luke himself does not consider even her unique and powerful abilities worth teaching. She wrestles with that lack of importance in the scene in the cave. When Luke entered his own cave to face down the demons in his head, it was Vader and the possibility of himself becoming him that he fought against. When Rey did it, it was the repetition of seemingly millions of exact copies of herself, painting her as one of thousands who could wear her face, do what she does. It was her fear of no identity that she looked down in the mirror.

But the film paints this as a good thing. Yes, anyone could be standing where she is. Anyone could have found the lightsaber. But she is the one standing there. She was the one the lightsaber obeyed when it was called by both her and the grandson of its original owner. And with our young friends at the end of the movie, showing us there are still allies in the galaxy for the Resistance and a future for the Jedi, show that, as Maz says, hope is not lost today - not in Rey’s underwhelming personal truth nor in Luke’s departure - it is found - in Rey’s natural inclination to care for her friends and the sense of fellowship that bonds the Resistance.

“Heir apparent to Darth Vader.”

*snort*

Anyway… Kylo Ren does have a lot in common with his grandfather including emotionally manipulative relationships with the women in their lives and a thirst for control of the galaxy. In Anakin’s story, at least he thought he was doing something good. It was misguided and stupid, but he believed politics and the Jedi both to be corrupt and wanted to establish peace and order. Kylo Ren basically just wants to prove that his dumb af choices weren’t made for nothing. He got himself up his own creek with SEVERAL paddles thrown at him but decided to ignore them all and see this thing through. Where Anakin asked Padme to join him because his entire effed up decision making process was based on protecting her, Kylo asks Rey to join him simply because he wants attention from someone who he thinks will understand him.

And Rey is having none of that.

A story that could have so easily slipped into a damaging tale of siphoning emotions for the sake “saving” our bad boy with a good heart, Rey literally slams the door on his face. This is especially good considering it was a HIGHKEY problematic move to have Kylo Ren tell Rey that he, essentially, was the only person who would ever find her important. Her terms were clear: she came to recruit him to the Resistance, not redeem him, not save his soul, or any other bs like that. When he refused to be an ally, she noped out of that situation and went back to help her friends. She pities him, she does want to help him, but only if he will help himself. If he’s not going to meet her halfway, she’s got more important things to do.

Ultimately, Kylo Ren’s story is about a bratty kid who took his temper tantrum a bit too far and now doesn’t know how to pump the breaks. He grew up in a busy household, we know that Han and Leia both had careers to attend to and sent him to Luke in the hopes that Luke could give him the attention and training he needed. But Leia checked in regularly at the Jedi temple, we know from Bloodlines. She received holos from her brother and son until, one day, they stopped coming. For his part, Luke made a very poor snap decision and Ben’s actions to defend himself turned into an act of violence that murdered dozens of innocent students. He then went on to murder an entire village on Jakku, play party to the creation of a devastating weapon of mass destruction that destroyed an entire system, and murdered his own father.

He’s a piece of crap. But he’s a complicated piece of crap.

Is he worth saving? Probably not. He seemed to have made his choice here when Rey offered to help him several times. He was pretty quick to flip the switch then, angrily ordering her ship to be blasted out of the sky when he spots her again. Are we done with this line of thinking though? Doubtful.

The Force Awakens was about a return to our familiar world. The Last Jedi was about crossing the threshold and leaving that world behind. This is a character-driven Star Wars trilogy that, as look warned us, doesn’t always go the way we think.

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The Carmilla Movie Review: The Ghosts of Carmilla’s Past Won’t Define Its Future [Contributor: Melanie Moyer]

“Every love story is a ghost story.” — David Foster Wallace

Spoilers for The Carmilla Movie are included below. Read at your own risk.

If I tell you I’m thinking of a 19th century work of fiction penned by an Irish author about a European vampire who becomes obsessed with a upstanding young woman, you would guess Dracula right? But everyone’s favorite count was late to the party (alternative title: Dracula Shows Up to Vampire Media 15 Minutes Late With Starbucks But Gets to Be the Poster Boy). About 26 years earlier, Joseph Sheridan LeFanu penned a story about a century old countess who exercises her vampiric thrall over a terrified young woman.

Fast forward to 2015 when an independent web series out of Smokebomb Entertainment reimagines the story in a modern-day university, takes back the predatory lesbian trope, showcases a plethora of queer identities on screen, and wins a Canadian Screen Award, several AfterEllen Visibility Awards, and racks nominations at the Streamys and Shorty Awards across three seasons. Now it’s a full-length film set five years after the end of the series where Laura and Carmilla are snug in their domestic life in a Queen East apartment before Laura is beset with strange dreams of Carmilla’s past lover, and Carmilla herself is biologically regressing from certified homo sapien back into a vampire.

Many great horror films personify the past in its villain. Freddy Krueger serves as the demon of children’s dreams as vengeance for his (completely justified) murder at the hands of local parents, Mrs. Voorhees stalks counselors at Camp Crystal Lake in revenge for their neglect allowing her son to drown, the demon possessing Regan comes straight from Father Merrin’s past and attacks Father Karras’ lack of faith, and even home invasion films like Get Out portray a man trying to right the untimely death of his daughter. There’s more than one way to tell a ghost story.

So how does Carmilla look at the ghosts of the past?

On the one hand, with literal ones that just won’t let Carmilla be after 300 years of being kind of an jerk, as well as her own ghost of millennial confusion (same). And the film makes what will likely be a polarizing choice to answer the question of if Carmilla deserves her human life and if she even wants it. Ultimately in our Happy Ending Override, Carmilla gives up her life to free the ghosts she conjured up, trapped in a netherworld of nightmares, making the point that her humanity — her ability to age alongside Laura — wasn’t the point of their happy ending. There’s this great bit from Syd Field that makes the point that while descriptors and aspects make up characteristics, the character themselves is the choices they make. I think that’s potent here where Carmilla’s humanity isn’t defined by her pulse, but by her choice to act on empathy. A choice that, for once, had absolutely nothing to do with Laura and actively went against Laura’s wishes. Yay development!

This film effectively undoes that clean break at the end of the series, though there are hints (such as Laura’s report on the discovery of a fountain of youth and Mattie’s post-credit scene setting up for more stories) that there might be workarounds to the gut-wrenching possibility that Carmilla will have to watch all her friends die after all. This particular bit of self-sacrifice didn’t come with a reverse switch, but the movie tells us that’s okay.

And then, on the other hand, there are the ghosts of Carmilla’s own literary past.

By going back to the events of 1872 novella, this modern adaption literally stares down its problematic first life. In that context, it’s a powerful image to open with: The Laura of 2017 — a feminist and queer icon for the internet community — looking at her (literal) mirror reflection... the 19th century version who history will remember as a victim of predatory lesbianism. It’s yet another win for the queer community taking back its own history. It cleans up some parts, like presenting Elle (the “Laura” of the original) quite in love with Carmilla, rather than having an existential crisis over her attraction as she does in the novella. It also shows our present-day Laura kind of enjoying the bits of the novella where Carmilla slunk about at night like a seductress, “terrorizing” her. I mean, granted, the non-consensual blood drinking and the lying was still pretty Not Great™ but gone is the Laura who tried to chop off Carmilla’s head because God forbid she have a crush.

This film also made a great point that we are the makers of our own unhappiness. Elle was unwilling to accept her own role in her death, attempting to shove the memory away and blame the thing that she could actually get her hands on. The issues of Carmilla’s continued vampirism were nothing more than what-ifs Laura conjured up based on societal expectations and her own quarter-life crisis. Carmilla herself was the one who forced the ghosts to manifest when a therapist (who probably should get their license revoked) forced her into some exposure therapy before she was ready. Some problems are very real, but many of the ones our characters go through here required introspection and communication, not spells, five-year plans, or a magical broach.

Beyond all that? This movie was just a ton of fun to watch and I hope Smokebomb gets to make more content in this universe (rumors about a young adult series). You can find the original web series on the KindaTV YouTube channel and the film itself is streaming on Fullscreen and available for purchase here.

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Goodbye Christopher Robin is the Tear-Jerking Film You Expect it to Be [Contributor: Megan Mann]

Deep in the hundred acre wood, a boy and his bear would spend the day. They would search for honey, think in their thinking spot, and visit with all of their animal friends: a pig, a tiger, a donkey, an owl, a kangaroo and her joey. They would sing merry little songs, show each other love, and support and dole out wisdom that would last for decades to come.

Between the pages of A.A. Milne’s globally beloved storybook, Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh shared a friendship that was truly magical. After all, Pooh once said that “the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” And he took up a major chunk of Christopher Robin’s heart for all of the world to enjoy.

But for the real Christopher Robin, the friendship that defined his life was one he wished he’d never had.

In Fox Searchlight’s new film Goodbye Christopher Robin, we learn of the Milne family and how the story of Winnie the Pooh (and Tigger too) came to be the most beloved story of all time the world over — including all of the complications that came with it.

A.A. Milne was a man who fought in World War I and struggled to put the front behind him upon returning to the bustling city of London. Now we know this affliction as PTSD, but at the time he believed he, his socialite wife, and their young son needed to leave the noise and find more peace and quiet in the countryside of Sussex. But the noise didn’t stop. He found himself unable to work, and when he did, it was on a book about peace around the world and avoiding war.

While he contemplated how best to write this, his wife could no longer take the countryside and resolved to return to London until he was fully back at work and has something to show for it. Coincidentally, it was at this time that their son (who is nicknamed Billy Moon)'s nanny had to tend to her ailing mother before she passed, thus leaving father and son alone in the house. It was during these precious few weeks that Billy shares about the lovable creatures of the hundred acre wood with his father. And their lives change forever.

I knew going in that Goodbye Christopher Robin was going to be an absolute tearjerker. And let me tell you, my fine movie-going pals — it was. The family drama tugs at your heartstrings, the story will move you and — at least for a person like me who has been a nanny for years and developed an extremely close relationship with the children — the story of Billy Moon and Nou, the two who inspired the first poem Vespers that lead to Winnie the Pooh, really got me going. I mean, this is coming from someone who also cried the moment they showed Winnie and Piglet, when he named them Tigger and Eeyore, and when his mother presented him with Kanga and Roo. So while the emotion in the film is absolutely there, what I am trying to say is that you may not cry as hard as this emotionally unstable human did.

It was a deeply informative film. It took us to a time in British history coming off of one war, learning how to piece itself back together again, only to find themselves thrust into one far worse than before. Sure, it was about the Milne family and how we ventured into the wood in the first place, but it was also about how the stories of Winnie and his friends changed the way an entire country coped with that extremely tumultuous time in history. As someone who has been familiar with these characters all of my life, it was eye-opening to see it from a new perspective and observe just how intense the fervor was when Winnie-the-Pooh was first released and how it has sustained itself as the most beloved children’s story of all time.

The film was also just beautiful to look at. Shot in the English countryside, director Simon Curtis gives you such a stunning visual that draws you in and makes you believe this magical, fictional world of the hundred acre wood is real and accessible. He makes you realize how easy a place like that lends itself to the imagination. The story, beautifully written by Simon Vaughan and Frank Cottrell Boyce, would not have had such an immense impact had it not been for the cast. Domnhall Gleeson, a wildly underrated actor, brings the vulnerability of Milne’s suffering and his ability to maintain an imagination to life in a wildly nuanced performance. And his socialite, status-driven wife Daphne was fully realized by Margot Robbie.

But the performance that truly shined was done by Will Tilston, who played the young Christopher Robin — the boy who created the story he wished his father had written for him and no one else. He broke your heart and made you cry, but made you laugh too. He made you believe that he really was that attached to Nou, the nanny that raised Billy (played by Kelly Macdonald). Believe me when I say that this kid is bound for greatness in the acting realm.

Goodbye Christopher Robin packs a serious punch and isn’t a film you should go into if you’re looking to have a good laugh. It’s a heavy film, despite the inclusion of Winnie the Pooh, and deals with familial struggle, mental health, war, and how there’s hope even in times of war. It will remind you why these characters have stood the test of time and make you want to visit your old friends. This movie is truly special and I would be disappointed if it doesn’t make the rounds this upcoming award season.

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Gifted is a Sweet Film About Love and Sacrifice [Contributor: Jenn]

(Photo credit: Fox Searchlight Pictures)

When I first received the press information about Gifted, I was already hooked. It looked like my kind of film — funny, sweet, and featuring exceptionally talented actors. I was fortunate enough to see an early screening of the movie last night (#pressperks), and our theatre absolutely adored the film. I did, too. Gifted is the kind of film that’s reflective of life without being overtly cheesy or preachy. It reminds us that family isn’t just who you’re born into; it’s also who you choose. And with so many complex themes weaving effortlessly through the film, the end result is a sweet story about what it means to really love the people around you and make sacrifices for them.

Note: the following contains some major spoilers for Gifted. Read at your own risk!

Gifted tells the story of Frank Adler (Chris Evans), a man who is raising his niece, Mary, (Mckenna Grace) after his sister’s passing. Mary is a child prodigy in mathematics, but Frank wants her to have a normal life — to socialize, make friends, and go to a normal school. Frank’s estranged mother, Evelyn (Lindsay Duncan) doesn’t see things that way. She believes that Frank is squashing Mary’s potential and that the little girl will eventually get so bored and resentful for restricting her gifts. A custody battle ensues between the mother and son, pitting family against family.

I think the thing that strikes me most about Gifted is the way that the film doesn’t have a specific “villain.” Initially, we’re poised to believe that Evelyn is a villain — that all she wants to do is loan Mary out, in Frank’s words, to “think tanks, to talk nontrivial zeroes with old Russian guys.” We’re led to believe, because of Frank’s sarcasm and disdain for his mother, that she’s only doing this to benefit her. When we learn that Evelyn was also a mathematics genius, and her deceased daughter, Diane, was also one, it’s easier to understand why she wants what she does for Mary. It doesn’t excuse the way that she goes about it, but it was really thought-provoking. Evelyn sees Diane when she looks at Mary. And she sees all of the potential Diane could have had, if she had only stayed alive longer. (Diane, we learn, takes her own life.) But while Evelyn may not be heartless, she isn’t right in the way that she tries to affect Mary’s life.

During the court hearing, Evelyn goes on a long-winded, angry story about how when Diane was 17, she prevented her from running away with a young man she was in love with. Evelyn even went so far as to file kidnapping charges against the young man. The reason is pretty clear: Diane was subtly seeking a sense of normalcy among her prodigy-laced, isolated life. She craved human interaction, but Evelyn thought that doing so would diminish Diane’s promise. So she subtly trapped her daughter into throwing all of herself and her life into work.

It’s why what Frank says at the end of the movie hits like a punch to the gut, but we’ll get there in a bit.

Based on the trailers for the film, we’re expected to believe that all of Frank’s motives are honorable. And truly, Mary is happiest with him — she’s herself, and (as she says) Frank wanted her before she was a genius. Frank acquired Mary because his sister stopped by one night with the baby. After returning home from a date, Frank found his sister on the bathroom floor, and the baby on the couch. It’s heartbreaking, but Diane’s life was marked by her genius that when she solved her problem, she had no idea what else she would do with her life. We don’t ever see Diane in the film, apart from photographs, but it’s easy to feel empathy and pain for how trapped and isolated she must have felt.

Frank knew this. He partially blames himself for not really seeing it, but he understood the life his sister led and he doesn’t want that for Mary. He believes Diane wouldn’t want that for her either — that she would want her daughter to have fun and play and be a kid. Again, that doesn’t mean Frank always does what’s right.

It’s stated that the reason he gained custody of Mary was because he spitefully took her across state lines, away from Evelyn. He didn’t want to have to fight his mother, so he took the baby away and raised her on his own — with help from his faith-filled neighbor, Roberta (Octavia Spencer). Frank is such a complex character. He’s extremely intelligent and it’s revealed late in the movie that prior to having Mary, he was an assistant philosophy professor. He knows the value of intelligence but also the value of normalcy. While Evelyn accuses him of wanting to bury Mary’s gift, part of that is true. On her first day of school, Frank tells Mary not to show off. But show off she does, by proving to her teacher (Jenny Slate) that she can do complex math in her head.

While it’s easy to see the humanity in Evelyn (a presumed “villain” in this story), it’s also easy to see the flaws within Frank. He’s stubborn and sarcastic, and in some ways, he does tell Mary to pretend to not fully be who she is. But he’s loving. He’s the one person who is willing to make sacrifices for Mary in this movie. His life is forever impacted by that little girl, and watching Evans portray such a damaged, broken character who is bettered by the love of a child is satisfying.

(Photo credit: Den of Geek)

The twist in the movie comes when the custody arrangement is reached — a compromise has to be made, and neither Evelyn nor Frank get to keep Mary. She, instead, is sent to a foster family about 25 minutes away from where Frank lives. Evelyn tells him, coldly, that it’s better than what Mary had when she lived with him. But, spoiler alert, Frank learns within a few weeks that the foster family isn’t exactly an impartial third party in this arrangement — Evelyn is staying in their guest house, hiring tutors for Mary without Frank’s consent or knowledge.

I was actually genuinely surprised by the revelation, and our audience was too. It was another example of the ways in which Mary was being manipulated by her grandmother. But then something happens — Frank presents Evelyn with the paper that Diane finished on her millennium problem. Evelyn is in disbelief, because Diane didn’t finish. She couldn’t have. She would have published it and told the world. Then Frank reveals a harsh truth: Diane made him promise to not publish the paper until Evelyn died.

(At this point, our entire theatre made an audible gasp together, I swear.)

Frank tells Evelyn that she gets to now spend the rest of HER life defending Diane’s conclusion and cementing her legacy. Which means that Frank gets to raise Mary, because Evelyn won’t have time for that. As Frank leaves to let Evelyn decide what she wants to do — raise Mary and forfeit the paper, or call MIT and begin the process of defending it to the mathematical community — the woman breaks down. It’s an intensely intimate and touching scene, because she rummages through a box and finds all of Diane’s handwritten notes. Evelyn hasn’t really grieved the loss of her daughter, properly. Despite all of her flaws, Evelyn loved Diane the best way she knew how (even if it wasn’t the right way) and this paper is the last thing connects the two of them.

Gifted might be predictable in a lot of ways (there’s a happy ending, of course; the romance between Frank and Mary’s teacher, Bonnie, is pretty predictable but made more endearing because of the chemistry between Evans and Slate), but it’s elevated by the acting between Evans and Grace. Both are exceptionally talented, tapping into those emotional moments with relative ease. Our theatre was collectively sniffling at a few different places toward the end. Both also nail the deadpanned humor that the film has (the line that got the most laughs in our screening is a line delivered by Mary to Bonnie). Chris Evans might be the big draw to this film — and his performance is exceptional, so you should see it if you’re a fan of his — but make no mistake: Mckenna Grace is its star. This young actress carries every scene she’s in with the kind of grace (no pun intended) and poise of an actress three times her age. She’ll make you laugh and she’ll yank at your heartstrings. Her facial nuances and comedic timing are exceptional, and there’s one scene in particular where she’s screaming and crying that will have you dissolved into a puddle of tears. The chemistry between Evans and Grace was important to nail, because I needed to believe these two were pseudo-father/daughter. And that chemistry exceeded my expectations.

So while it might not be revelatory, Gifted is a heartfelt film about love and sacrifice and family. Bring tissues, but prepare to leave the theatre feeling a sense of hope. And that’s the most I can ask for after seeing a movie.

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Tale as Old as Time: A Roundtable Review of Beauty and the Beast [Contributors: Jenn and Chelsea]

Beauty and the Beast is a beloved Disney classic that was recently remade into a live-action film starring Emma Watson, Dan Stevens, Emma Thompson, Kevin Kline and many more talented individuals. But with every remake, there is always a risk: will it live up to the original? Though the live-action film has some differences from the animated one, it still — in the opinions of Chelsea and Jenn — holds up. Below, we talk about what we loved about the original, and how the remake compares.

Okay, give it to me straight: what are your thoughts on the live-action remake overall?

Jenn: I absolutely loved it. The animated film is so beloved to me, and Belle is my favorite Disney princess (I mean, hello, she’s the Sacred Princess of Reading). And I thought that the remake did a really good job of modernizing the classic, in a way, while still remaining true to it. It was a re-imagination of sorts, but not a departure from the things that made the initial film so popular. Everything worked really well, I think, overall.

Chelsea: Okay so, Beauty and the Beast (1991) is one of my three favorite films of all-time. I have tattoos inspired by the film planned for the future. I knew going into this live-action iteration that it would in no way compare to the original and to just shift my expectations into it being a reenactment rather than an inspired by film. Having changed those expectations the day Emma Watson was cast really helped get me hyped for the film and lead to me thoroughly enjoying this version. I loved just about every moment of it including some of the new songs and little changes they made to Belle’s backstory to help fill in the gaps. There were only a few awkward inflection moments during the recreations of “Be Our Guest,” “Beauty and the Beast,” and “Something There” that really threw me off, but I am also very attached to the original soundtrack and those slight differences were bound to throw me.

What was your favorite change the live-action remake made to the original?

Chelsea: I really enjoyed how Belle was even more headstrong and spoke out against Gaston and for herself. Belle was already quite the little feminist and vocal in the original, but those little Hermione-esque moments really drove home that Belle wasn’t a Stockholm Syndrome princess and was in charge of her own agency. Also, making Le Fou a character with motivation and being torn was way more interesting than him being the fool that blindly support Gaston. Disney did right by him by making him a queer character and giving him that story arc of being the tentative sidekick. I was very impressed.

Jenn: I agree with Chels about Belle. I thought giving Belle the backstory of being an inventor and her father as just being the lonely man was creative. I never really liked how her father was just seen as the bumbling fool in the original film. I thought that change was subtle and small but it really helped to make Belle a more well-rounded character and her father more sympathetic. Both ended up being in charge of their own destinies, which I really appreciated. The inclusion of the Enchantress throughout the film as an outcast was also really small but poignant. I loved the fact that she played a significant role and was a widow — this seemingly insignificant person in a seemingly insignificant town had more power than anyone else in the entire film. It was great.

Totally agree with you, Chels, about Le Fou’s motivation. I think I was most pleased with his arc as a person. The original film made him, again, such a bumbling fool. But that Le Fou was able to identify Gaston as a monster in “The Mob Song” was such a powerful moment to me. It really allowed him to develop as more than just a foolish sidekick, blinded by loyalty.

The 1991 film had some plot holes (okay, quite a few) that the live-action film addressed. Which one did you appreciate most?

Jenn: I think my favorite plot hole was addressing the fact that not every object in the castle was once a person. Belle talking to the hairbrush made me crack up. I also really enjoyed the plot hole about the location of the castle, too. I always thought, “It’s so weird that most people don’t know how to get there/it takes so long but Belle can get there in ten seconds.” When I went out to dinner after with my friends, I brought that up. And my friend’s husband was like, “No, actually, the horse is the only one who knows how to get there.” And I had a moment of being like, “WOAH THAT IS SO TRUE.”

I really liked that they addressed Gaston’s behavior as potential PTSD, and that the Beast was no longer an eleven-year old boy.

Chelsea: Gaston’s backstory of coming back from the war and possibly having some PTSD really worked for me. They gave him some extra moments to try to rise above the villainy and it lead to some great character moments and dynamic scenes from Luke Evans. Having the Enchantress there for the entirety of the story and filling in that Beast age gap and why nobody knew about the castle were also nice little touches that only added to the story. They weren’t overt in changing the original story but they also made it make more logical sense.

How was the casting of the film? Would you cast any roles differently?

Chelsea: Literally everyone was perfect, I will fight people about Emma Watson. I don’t need her to be Celine Dion because her personality fits the role and she can carry a perfectly fine tune. Luke Evans was the real treat I didn’t know was there. Who knew that the villain from Fast and Furious could ham it up and sing like that?

Jenn: I will also fight anyone who complains about Emma Watson. The woman has literally played two of my major female heroines (Hermione and Belle), so she’s perfect. I liked Dan Stevens as the prince. I’ll admit that I initially was worried about Luke Evans. Gaston, in the original, was so buff and that’s part of who he is (it’s even in the song — he’s “roughly the size of a barge”). But Evans was super surprising to me, because he really embraced Gaston’s personality and I think, to me, that made up for the fact that he is a bit smaller than I expected Gaston to be. He got the villain on a deep level and I really loved that. Josh Gad was the perfect Le Fou, and all of the castle characters were FLAWLESS.

The music of Beauty and the Beast is iconic, and with the inclusion of new songs, the remake had the chance to soar or fail. How would you grade the musical elements of the film?

Chelsea: I’d give the new songs a solid B. There was no way they could add new songs around these iconic ones but they did a perfectly fine job at adding new things to keep the pace of the film. Props to them for getting Celine Dion back to sing one of them. I do love that they managed to get Audra McDonald to sing more than I thought she would. Her rendition of “Beauty and the Beast” with Emma Thompson was delightful. Ewan McGregor cannot really sing though. There’s no good way around that one. They needed that to be a James Corden type of actor that can be fun but also belt it out when needed. Ewan was the clear weak link in the cast.

Jenn: I might skew it a little higher than you, Chels, just because of how much I love “Evermore” and have had it on repeat. The new songs might not be iconic, but I don’t think they were out of place, which is all you can ask for whenever you have original music in a film. I loved Emma Thompson singing “Beauty and the Beast.” And Dan Stevens was a surprise, because he did a great job. I love Emma Watson but I wish they hadn’t autotuned the crap out of her. She sang “How Does a Moment Last Forever (Reprise)” live apparently, and it didn’t sound bad. That’s my main complaint with the music. She’s not a bad singer and Belle doesn’t have to be a master-class performer, but the film didn’t even let Emma Watson try without over-tuning her voice.

Be honest: did you cry? At what parts?

Jenn: As soon as the opening chords of “Beauty and the Beast” played, I started crying and couldn’t stop crying throughout the entire ballroom waltz. It was just beautiful. I had chills. (Also, my friend’s husband said he got chills during that scene too so you know it was good.)

I also honestly got a little weepy when the servants changed into the household items (seemingly) permanently. Belle’s song at her childhood home also tugged at my heartstrings. All of the girls I went to see the film with sat together, with the boys on the end, and you could see us wiping back tears during several parts.

Chelsea: During almost every song but for good reasons. Just the great production value and seeing those iconic moments with Emma Watson as Belle really were a joy to watch. The end portion where the last petal falls and the Beast briefly dies also got me good.

Jenn: Chels, that last petal falling wrecked me too.

Is there anything else you’d like to add that you enjoyed about the film overall, and/or wish had been done differently?

Jenn: Mad props to the costume designers on this film. That yellow ballgown is iconic, and I love the way that the film modernized it and yet still stayed true to the original. I want Belle’s earcuff in that scene and her hairpiece, too. Like, now. Like, link me in the comments if you’ve found it on Etsy or something.

Overall, I really enjoyed all the little nuances in the film that I’ll have to appreciate more in a re-watch. The music is still as iconic and enjoyable as the 1991 classic, and I felt like a child watching the magic of the film unfurl in front of my eyes in new ways. The story is still just as beautiful and the message about loving yourself and loving others for who they are on the inside is just as necessary in this day and age as it was then. 10/10 would see (and will see) again.

Chelsea: I’m so happy this film is making all the money. I’m generally hit and miss about this remake culture but I really feel like the right care was put into this one and that it all came together pretty nicely. From a filmmaking standpoint, I thought everything was beautiful and that I was transported into that cartoon from my childhood. The cinematography, production design, and wardrobe were gorgeous. The cast really had fun in their roles and they knew they weren’t there to make anything more than the original.

I think a better director could have saved some of those musical numbers from being as awkward as they were but Bill Condon has proven he can deliver a hit, so who am I to argue with his hiring. I know I’ll be seeing this again in the future and it’s something I can take my nieces and nephews to see that is fun and not a dumb animated film like The Secret Life of Pets or Minions.

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Beauty and the Beast: Then and Now [Contributor: Melanie]

Did I decide before walking into Beauty and the Beast that I was going to enjoy the heck out of all two hours of it? Yes. Was I correct? Yes. I own several editions of the 1991 film and saw the Broadway show twice. I was first in line for this movie. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an excellent film by any stretch of the imagination — which is unfortunate because the original held the distinction as the only animated feature nominated for Best Picture for almost 20 years before the Academy enlarged the nomination pool. But, this isn’t a movie meant to be looked at for its merits within the world of academic cinema. It’s more like the flesh on the bones of the original that so clearly plays to millennials who owned the original on VHS and grew up alongside Emma Watson.

It felt, in a lot of ways, like the screenplay was checking off boxes of all those lovely, glaring plot holes the original had floating around. Timeline contradictions? Handled. Is every single piece furniture in the castle a once-person? Nope, answered. Why exactly do the villagers — and LeFou — blindly praise Gaston? Turns out they don’t. Where is the Enchantress for the rest of the movie? A lot closer than you think. And on it goes.

But that’s not all this movie does. It offers backstory we didn’t have before on a number of characters. Belle’s father is less of a bumbling inventor and, in fact, a quiet and lonely artist whose daughter is all he has left of the woman he loved. Turns out Belle — as with her fairy-tale counterpart — was born in Paris. Her starving artist family was broken up when plague took her mother and her father was forced to flee to protect his daughter.

Gaston is a war hero (you know, from The War™ that always seems to have taken place just a few years before the start of all our fantasy movies) that feels a bit too big for the small town he’s retired in and — according to Luke Evans — might be suffering from some PTSD that informs a lot of his impulsive actions. LeFou probably gets the most depth of all as Gaston’s friend and sidekick (who often is found attempting to imitate Gaston’s charm and presence) who slowly turns on his buddy (and unrequited love interest?) when he realizes just how unhinged and downright evil the man has become (“There’s a beast running wild, there’s no question/But I fear they’re all monsters released” he sings during a new refrain in “The Mob Song” while glaring at the village’s fearless leader).

And then there’s the Beast himself (once again unnamed though some interviews list him by his original, if unused name, Prince Adam) gets a bit of backstory as well. Like Belle, his mother died when he was young; but he was left, instead, with a loveless father who raised him to be a pompous, narcissistic, and shallow young man. On that front, even his budding relationship with Belle gets a makeover. While the initial thaw in their ice was, as before, the wolf attack and subsequent Intimate Healing (thanks TV Tropes), they bond over shared pain and loneliness and a love of the escape that books and stories can bring (sometimes literally thanks to an enchanted spacetime bending atlas the Beast uses to allow Belle to see her childhood home in Paris once more).

So how does it stack up with all these additions? Well there is a certain amount of beauty (ha) in the simplicity of the original. Even if we have many Buzzfeed listicles telling us just how much that movie made absolutely no sense when you pick it apart for just 30 seconds, it, very weirdly, worked. The fact of the matter is, you’re redoing a classic, so no, it’s not going to be as good. But it sure was a ton of fun to watch. And the great thing about this version was that a lot of care found itself in the script of the film. Writers Stephen Chbosky and Evan Spiliotopoulos wanted to give the why to a lot of character choices made in the original that we were willing to take for granted. Belle’s decision to take her father’s place was the result of guilt (as in the original fairy tale, she asks for a rose that her father tries to pluck from the Beast’s garden), the small mindedness of the village and their dull everyday lives were also the result of the curse, Gaston’s attraction to Belle is far less cartoonish and rooted in some complicated psychological problems on his part.

This felt like a real movie, a real story. And with echoes of the 1946 Jean Cocteau version alive and well in the visual imagery of this edition, it makes for a very entertaining night at the movies.

The original was bit of an accidental masterpiece for Disney and responsible for a whole new age of animation. But, the funny thing is, for most of its production and even a bit of the final product, Beauty and the Beast was kind of a dumpster fire.

The story of this film begins all the way back in the 1930s when Walt was first considering adapting it after Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs took off well with the American public. Attempts to adapt it went well into the 1950s but animators and storyboard artists found it too much of a challenge to conceivably adapt (gee, I wonder why). It was only after the success of The Little Mermaid and Who Framed Roger Rabbit in the late 1980s that they decided it was time to give it another shot.

Halfway through production of this film, everything was scrapped. In 1989 the project, which had been in the works since 1987 was starting anew with directors Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise. For a film with a 1991 release date, this might as well be no time at all to complete the project. Evidence of this time crunch is visible in the film’s many plot holes and recycled animation at the end from Sleeping Beauty. But, the film found new life in the form of Alan Menken and his handpicked lyricist, Howard Ashman, a genius of a man who would posthumously become a Disney legend. The inclusion of these two cemented the film into a musical rendition, steering away from the more classical, Jane Eyre-style approach for a lighter, Broadway-style musical.

But Ashman’s contributions were about more than just his incredibly clever lyrics. It was him who first suggested the servants of the castle actually be made into full characters and not just faceless appliances wandering around. It was also through this collaboration between Ashman, Menken, Wise, and Trousdale that the inclusion of the male suitor as the story’s main antagonist was introduced in the form of Gaston who represents another great departure for Disney: the traditional male protagonist as the villain, which had all sorts of undertones in the changing gender dynamics of 90s workforce. This new version was approved in 1990, giving them a little under two years to get the project done.

Production, compressed, took place across California, Florida, and New York (where Ashman was slowly dying of AIDS complications). As with much of the production of this film, the scene that would become the film’s most iconic moment, almost never came to fruition. Beauty and the Beast represents the first (well, technically the second) collaboration between Disney and Pixar. Did you ever notice that the ballroom scene utilizes crane shots and sweeping camera pans? That’s thanks to the CAPS technology developed by Pixar that allowed them render 2-D characters into a 3-D environment that would mimic the omniscient camera of live-action. The technology only worked enough for use in one scene, and that nearly didn’t come to fruition with the “ice capades” back-up plan that would have seen Belle and the Beast simply dancing under a spotlight.

As for that iconic music? Well Menken and Ashman wanted the movie to resemble a Broadway musical (it’s no wonder it eventually ended up there). The chose distinct styles for the songs (“Belle” is an operetta piece, “Be Our Guest” as a traditional chorus line number, and “Beauty and the Beast” as a solo ballad) and recorded the music with a live orchestra as opposed to dubbing the vocals in later. But there’s stories in the music as well. “Be Our Guest” was originally going to be sung to Maurice before they decided using a showstopper on a minor character was a waste. And Angela Lansbury originally didn’t think her voice and character were right for the title track and had to be convinced into recording a demo. That one take was the one that ended up in the film and went on to win an Oscar.

Disaster struck when Howard Ashman eventually succumbed to his complication with AIDS before the film was finished. But a moving dedication to his work was featured in the credits: “To a man who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul.” The production continued and found itself selected to be shown at the New York Film Festival with only 70% of it complete, the 30% filled in with rough animation and storyboards.

The result was a 10-minute standing ovation.

The rest, as they say, is history. The film went on to be nominated for Best Picture and won two Academy Awards, three Golden Globes, and five Grammys. The American Film Institute has featured it on four of its best-of lists and been nominated for four others and the National Film Registry selected it for preservation in the Library of Congress in 2002. And it didn’t stop there, it went on to become Disney’s first stage musical after the success of the Disneyland stage show (which, fun fact, was originally staring future Wicked star Stephanie J. Block as Belle).

So, what’s the takeaway? Well, without Beauty and the Beast Disney would be in a very different place. A remake of it, while may be misguided or completely miss the mark (it does not, however) is not there to be seen on its own or even there to be completely compared to an original that changed Disney animation in the 90s and millennium. This version is simply there to remind us why we loved the original in the first place with an updated set of eyes (Belle’s all about dat education reform for both little girls and hulking Beasts) and to prove that there’s a reason this story is still a timeless work of art.

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Table 19 Is Unexpected... And That’s a Good Thing [Contributor: Jenn]

WARNING: The following contains spoilers for Table 19. Read at your own risk.

I decided to see Table 19 for one reason: Anna Kendrick. It's no surprise to anyone I know that I've got a soft spot for this hilarious, talented, tiny actress. When I got press releases for the film, I knew it would have to be added to my list — in spite of the fact that it looked like your run-of-the-mill rom-com. What I found was that while the film is not flawless and could use some refining, it is anything but expected. Eloise (Anna Kendrick) is a lot different than I anticipated, and each character at the titular wedding reception table has their own secrets and baggage (some that I saw coming and some I did not — my companion seeing this film, however, did call some of the twists). While romance is a part of this story and ultimately an important one, Table 19 is ultimately a film that focuses on the quiet inner-workings of people putting on facades to deal with the things that are difficult. It's definitely a character-centric film, especially in the last hour; and when the hijinks fade, it's easy to become extremely invested in each of these individual journeys.

So let's get some of the plot out of the way first: Table 19 was promoted as a cutesy, cheesy little rom-com where Eloise attends her ex-boyfriend Teddy's (Wyatt Russell) sister's wedding, of which she was formerly the maid-of-honor. As the promos lead us to believe, the wedding features Eloise meeting a handsome stranger (Thomas Cocquerel) and falls for him. I assumed the story would drag on, with lots of jokes and gags between Kendrick's character, Cocquerel, and the rest of table 19, but I was actually pretty surprised when Eloise meets this handsome stranger, kisses him, and then he flees the reception within the first half of the film.

Because while the promotional material would have us believe that this film is a love story between Eloise and her handsome stranger, Huck, it's not at all. Partially because it turns out that Huck doesn't exactly tell Eloise who he is, but also because the first unexpected reveal comes in the form of Eloise's secret. She's pregnant with Teddy's baby. Jo (June Squib), the bride's former nanny, observes Eloise and discovers this fact. The rest of the table rallies around Eloise, telling Teddy off for dumping her via a text message when she told him she was pregnant.

We can stop here a moment to discuss what I really loved about this film: the complex relationship between Teddy and Eloise. We're predisposed to hate him based on the trailers. He dumped our heroine, after all, in a text and must be a terrible person. And while Teddy isn't exactly a knight in shining armor, we see that he's real and he's aware of his messes. There's something to be said about the way Table 19 promoted itself — luring me in, thinking that a whirlwind romance at a wedding reception with a handsome stranger was what I wanted, and causig me to immediately bristle against the ex-boyfriend. But what's so brilliant about the fact that the film makes Huck (that handsome stranger) the bad guy and redeems Teddy. It reminds us that reality is so much messier and infinitely more complex than some fantasy we've concocted in our heads.

Everyone has secrets and everyone has issues, but the way we handle those makes all the difference. Self-actualization is important and throughout Table 19, we see Eloise and other characters fight against the mistakes and oversights that their emotions might have caused them to make. As the main character in this story, I love the fact that Eloise comes to the realization that she unintentionally hurt Teddy and also unintentionally emphasized the fact that she thinks he's a failure. It, again, would have been easy for this film to be a rom-com about finding a new guy and getting swept up in the romance of it all. Grand romantic gestures do happen in the movie, but Eloise's ultimate decision is to fight for those she loves. And Teddy eventually realizes to do the same.

The relationship between Teddy and Eloise isn't perfect, but that's kind of what makes it so beautiful in the end. Relationships require you to fight for them. And that's something that threads through another story in the film — the one between Jerry (Craig Robinson) and Bina (Lisa Kudrow). Secrets come out for everyone in the movie (most impressively, there are a few scenes where characters air their secrets in different pairs and groups), but for these two, there's another layer. Bina decided to attend the wedding in the hopes of having an affair while there. She and Jerry don't really communicate well, and their marriage seems to just be stagnant. They run a business together, but there's no passion or communication anymore.

When Jerry discovers Bina was there to have an affair, they confront one another about their marital issues. In a pretty powerful scene, the two realize that they don't actually even know one another anymore. Jerry claims he's the same person Bina married, but she rebuffs him by saying that he doesn't love her anymore. Jerry, meanwhile, claims that Bina is not the woman he married and that she's changed, too. It's a rather sad scene because of how realistic it feels. If you aren't careful, you'll miss that the person you're in a relationship with is changing — for better or for worse. The only way to prevent that from happening is by acknowledging issues and confronting them. Jerry and Bina had to learn how to be vulnerable — completely vulnerable — with one another in order to save their marriage.

Even though it seems like Jerry and Bina get their happily ever after (an issue I take with most films is that the solution to marital problems is often oversimplified, and Table 19 does fall into this trap too), it's clear that it requires work and sacrifice on each of their parts to make that marriage a success. Their story was probably the most unexpected, yet enjoyable parts of the film. Since Table 19 takes place at a wedding, the Jerry/Bina story was a nice juxtaposition. While one happy couple begins their life together, another couple considers calling it quits. Lisa Kudrow and Craig Robinson absolutely nailed this story and made their characters more empathetic and relatable than any other actors would have been able to do.

There are a few minor stories that don't need too much depth to them, given how heavy half of the characters' stories are. One of the characters is Rezno (Tony Revolori) who is a socially awkward teenager who is forced by his mother into attending the wedding, even though she's not present. Rezno and his mother are incredibly close in that borderline weird way. But when you learn that Rezno's absentee father recently passed away, it makes sense that he's a little less stable. I didn't care much for Rezno as a character because he's the very archetypal awkward teenage character you see in these kind of movies. There's also Walter (Stephen Merchant), the nephew of the father of the bride — and a convicted criminal. Walter is also incredibly socially awkward and understandably so. (Sidenote: I think having two really socially awkward and unstable characters in this small of a group might have been a misstep on the part of the film.)

But even though we know Walter's secret early in the film (that he's in jail), we don't know why until a little bit later. And the result is indicative of Walter's personality. He's kind but too trusting, which is what landed him in jail in the first place. Merchant is probably the strongest comedic presence in this film and I wish that he had been utilized a bit more. Nevertheless, Walter's story was an unexpectedly sad little tale.

And finally, speaking of unexpectedly sad, Jo's story might take the cake for the saddest one of all. We learn — once our motley crew decides to skip out on the rest of the reception and spend the day exploring the outdoors together — that Jo is dying and that she's afraid the bride, Francie (Rya Meyers) doesn't even remember her. Ultimately, Jo's is a story of living a life that you're remembered by. She's a caring old woman, who gives Eloise much-needed advice. The juxtaposition here is also not lost — that Eloise is bringing life into the world just as Jo prepares to leave it. June Squib's presence in this film was seriously needed and I'm thankful that her character served as a mentor to the others.

Table 19 isn't a groundbreaking film by any means. It's pretty much tanked on Rotten Tomatoes, but I was honestly more impressed with it than I thought I would be. The marketing was smart in order to lure me in, assuming it was just another run-of-the-mill rom-com. But the stories that are being told are complex and not self-contained. The characters leave the wedding and adventure on their own. In the process, they learn more about life and love than they expected to. Eloise thought that she wanted a perfect guy to sweep her off her feet, but she realized that she's just as messed up as the next person. A ragtag table of people taught her that life is messy and complicated and you shouldn't punish yourself or others because of that.

Finally, Francie and her new husband get the chance to visit table 19. While the group assumed they were at the table because they were rejects — unwanted outcasts who didn't belong anywhere — it's clear that this isn't how Francie saw them. She spoke to each one of them by name, remembering little details about their lives. In a film in which every main character assumes they're unwanted because they're damaged, it's refreshing to see a moment in which they're all celebrated.

Because in the end, that's what Table 19 is really all about: celebrating the brokenness, messiness, and complexities of life and love.

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Get Out Isn’t Just Scary — It’s Socially Relevant Too [Contributor: Jon]

While horror these days has slowly been making a comeback with hits like The Witch and Split, it's rare to see a horror film anymore that hits you effectively on a deep level. For me, there hasn't been a horror movie that's really left me shaken since Black Swan came out in 2010. That film not only scared the living daylights out of me, but also made me think on the ramifications of what I had just witnessed on screen. Since then, no other horror film has left me feeling genuinely scared and enthralled. That is, until Get Out.

Get Out is the directorial debut of Jordan Peele (yes, THAT Jordan Peele). The film focuses on Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), an African-American man who is dating Rose (Allison Williams), a white woman. Chris and Rose are about to go meet Rose's family for the weekend. Chris is uncomfortable about the trip, as Rose has not told her parents that he is black. When they arrive at Rose's house, her parents Dean and Missy (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener) painfully try to relate to Chris by saying things such as "if I could vote for Obama a third term, I would" or using slang such as "my man" or "this thang," making things more uncomfortable. However, as the weekend continues, Chris begins to realize something stranger and more sinister is lurking beneath the surface of the family. And that leads to some disturbing revelations about the family's history.

I fully realize that last paragraph sounds incredibly vague, but we're not here to spoil this film. Because this is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the best movies I've seen all year thus far and one of the most genuinely unsettling and disturbing horror films I've seen. Period. Peele has crafted a terrifying film that doesn't make the enemy a ghoul or a demon or some other supernatural entity, but rather a very real and — in today's society — socially relevant monster: racism.

The film tackles the subject so carefully and everything is well-executed. It tackles certain aspects of racism and presents them in a hyperrealistic state. What Peele does so well is build that tension slowly throughout the movie. There are moments of genuine discomfort when you not only see the actions Rose's family take, but what they say. Even if their intention may, at first, seem to be harmless, you can't help but feel the awkwardness and unease that Chris feels — a feeling that only gets amplified throughout the rest of the film.

Peele never lets things feel preachy, though. Rather, the movie breaks down any comforts that one may have within themselves and their own personal bubble, and forces the audience to take a hard look at how others perceive the world . Rather than go for massive, in-your-face scares, Peele opts to go for a slower burn. He builds tension, which reaches a fever pitch in the final 20 minutes. There are jump scares throughout Get Out, but they never feel cheap. They feel genuine, and well-timed during moments of intensity. Peele takes a lot of influence from the works of psychological-horror filmmakers like David Lynch and inspiration from films such as The Stepford Wives and Guess Who's Coming to Dinner.

Peele, remembering his comedic roots, sprinkles moments of comedy throughout the film. However, they almost never detract from the film. Instead, they provide moments of levity for some of the darker parts of the picture. The only complaint I would have in the film is a certain scene involving Chris' best friend Rod (Lil Rel Howery) and the police. For a brief instant, the moment does take you out of the film's experience. But only briefly, before you are put right back in the middle of the tension.

The acting all around is absolutely phenomenal. There is not a single weak link in this cast. Daniel Kaluuya is one of the biggest standouts, as he is just mesmerizing to watch. From the moment the film begins, we're immediately drawn to him and how he reacts to the world around him. Kaluuya's scene with Catherine Keener in the beginning is one of the highlights of the film overall. Allison Williams is a blast to watch too. Williams does a good job at playing the innocent bystander in all of this, even if — in some moments — you feel just as uncomfortable with her as you do with the rest of the family.

In regards to the family, both Bradley Whitford and Caleb Landry Jones (who plays Rose's brother Jeremy), are terrifying to witness. In Whitford's case, he plays Dean as more of a woefully out-of-touch dorky dad, only trying to make things more comfortable for Chris. As the film progresses though, he still keeps up the dorky act, but it feels creepier and sinister. (Side mote: Bradley Whitford has now been in two of the best horror films this decade with this and The Cabin in the Woods). In Jones' case, he is full-on psycho from the moment we meet him. There's no subtlety in the performance or the character — only that Jeremy is bad news from the moment he enters the frame. In fact, Jones feels very reminiscent of The Joker in more scenes than not, which isn't a bad thing.

Finally, Howery is delightful in the handful of scenes that he's featured in. Coming in as the comic relief, Howery brings some much needed lightness to the film, as his interstitial moments with Chris lead to some often hilarious conversations — and an even more surprising moment between him and Chris toward the end of the film (it is best to see this film with a packed audience, as it provided a much more fun theater experience).

Get Out is easily one of the best films of the year, one of the best horror films made in this decade, and one of the more important films to come out in a while, especially given the social climate of today. With so many reports and stories that you hear on the news involving racism, the film not only works as sharp social commentary, but as also a genuinely disquieting horror film. It's an impressive debut for Jordan Peele, and one can't help but be hopeful and excited for his long and fruitful career behind the camera.

GRADE: A 

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La La Land is a Beautiful, Immersive, Heartwarming Musical Journey [Contributor: Megan Mann]

I love musicals. I especially love the old Hollywood musicals that swept through cinemas at an alarming rate during the golden era. There’s something about them — how over-the-top they are, how they made it so simple to dream of someone saying they loved you with a well-choreographed song and dance — that just sets my heart aglow. I watch Meet Me in St. Louis every Christmas Eve, I plant myself in front of the screen when Seven Brides for Seven Brothers or Singin’ in the Rain comes on, and regularly sing showtunes in my daily life.

So you can imagine my excitement when it was announced last year that Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling would be starring in La La Land: a throwback to the old Hollywood musical. Color me even more excited when I found out that it was the opening film for this year’s Chicago Film Festival.

La La Land begins on a sunny California day on a traffic-choked freeway. We hear music coming from various cars until it stops on just one car whose driver starts singing. She exits her vehicle and starts to sing and dance through the cars. Suddenly, many others are joining in in perfect synchronicity. It’s a beautiful day, the music is flowing, the choreography is in motion and then it’s back to business as usual and we see a pretty redhead practicing her lines. As the traffic starts to move, she fails to notice and instead hears the blare of a horn behind her. The man who blared the horn maneuvers around her giving her a dirty look and Mia — the woman — is less than enthused.

After learning that she’s an actress with a coffee-shop-on-a-movie-lot day job and he, Sebastian, is a jazz musician sulking about the loss of the perfect location for his own club, the two cross paths after Mia leaves a party and hears music streaming from outside a club. Sebastian is playing and she recognizes him as the guy who had honked at her earlier in the day. They have a sour meeting and once again part ways.

When they find themselves at the same party, she attending and he playing in a truly terrible 80s cover band, they finally take the chance to have a civil conversation. It’s sweet and simple and ends in a wonderful song and dance overlooking the Hollywood Hills as they look for her Prius among the hundreds of others. Mia tells Sebastian that she works at the coffee shop on a backlot and when he shows up a few days later, they take a stroll and learn a little bit more about each other.

After a night of jazz and lively conversation, the two enter into a whirlwind romance that is lovely and saccharine. The two learn and grow from each other and encourage each other to pursue their dreams. They also have one of the most magical musical numbers that is reminiscent of the Golden Age of cinema. But it’s not all daisies and cupcakes. Much like a real relationship, problems occur and you hope against hope that they’ll wind up together.

La La Land was a very special film. It had me laughing, it warmed my heart, and it hit me right in the feels. It was written in a way that made the audience feel like these characters were your friends and you were seeing the visual representation of the highs and lows that you talked about on the phone with them. It was immersive in a way that I hadn’t experienced in awhile. You just wanted to reach through the screen and say, “Hey, it’s okay. This is going to be okay.” The film broke your heart as often as it made it swell.

It also will resonate with millennials as they struggle to find their place in the world. As a generation that works in extremes — in this case being majorly overconfident or wildly insecure — it will get you on an emotional level. We struggle to make it in our chosen fields and we struggle to make time for a relationship. We try to find a balance, but oftentimes it’s difficult to strike that. Wrestling with what’s important at what time and dealing with the stress of it all can take a toll on the important aspects of your life. La La Land is thought-provoking in that way and certainly had me crying as Mia confesses that she’s worried that she’s not good enough to make it.

So in that respect, I somewhat understand why as I walked out of the theater I heard older audience members saying that they had anticipated so much more from the film. Older generations did not really deal with the stress of finding the perfect balance between everything — struggling to find a proper job and being painfully insecure about ourselves, our futures, and where we’re at in life since our successes and failures are so readily on display for the world to see. I do understand that that aspect of the script didn’t really strike a chord with older viewers.

And that’s okay! A film doesn’t always have to be a home run with every age demographic. However, the leads are Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone; two actors who are not going to be dealing with much material that is beyond their age bracket. That simply wouldn’t make sense, nor would it even be believable. For those worried about the script and its content, I would recommend taking it with a grain of salt and appreciating it for what it is. It’s a movie, not Tolstoy.

But something that all audience members can agree upon is the musical aspect of the film. La La Land was truly reminiscent of Old Hollywood glamour. It had grandeur and emotion. Not a single number felt inorganic. What writer/director Damien Chazelle (writer/director of last year’s Oscar-winning Whiplash) did so wonderfully is weave in the song and dance in a way that seemed natural to these characters. It never felt forced. In one number, you even see Gosling help Stone change her shoes from heels to dancing Oxfords.

And the songs! The songs were written so well and had a great deal of emotion. Two separate songs had me in tears, including one that was interlaced throughout the film that had me smiling in the beginning and crying by the end. Chazelle really put a lot of heart into this film and it’s obvious between lyricism and story.

While Gosling and Stone are obvious virtuosos, it’s Chazelle that we should be watching. An Old Hollywood musical in a time where the musical sinks more often than it floats was a colossal undertaking and for it to work so well was an accomplishment. After the underdog success of Whiplash, his follow-up needed to be something equally as spectacular. And for someone who loved that film, I can attest to the fact that La La Land does, in fact, showcase his monstrous talent and is on par with the uniqueness of its predecessor.

I would certainly recommend La La Land for anyone who loves music, wants a film that they can relate to, and loves a good love story. It takes you out of the everyday and on a magical ride. Even if you just really love Ryan Gosling’s face or Emma Stone’s humorous delivery, this is a great night out. Plus, if you see it this month, you’re already ahead of awards season which this is already all over, between Critics Choice and Golden Globes already.

This holiday season, fall in love through song and dance with a story of struggle and romance. Where could you possibly go wrong?

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Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Review (Alternatively, Muggles or Wizards: People Are Vile) [Contributor: Melanie]

It’s a pretty dark message to take away from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but they did say this was going to be a darker rendition of the wizarding world. After all, it took four movies before Harry Potter managed to snag a PG-13 rating and we kick off this new franchise already at that benchmark. And it’s not surprising — my theater on Thursday night was filled with 20-somethings and up, and the world is a far different one than the last time I sat in a theater six years ago waiting for a Harry Potter premiere. This shows in the more all-encompassing themes as well. While the original series focused heavily on love, friendship, and sacrifice as it pertained to your own choices, this film looks at the guilt of society as a whole.

Naturally, this is where the Americans come in.

The American wizarding community — under the government of MACUSA (Magical Congress of the United States) and its president Seraphina Picquery — is, naturally, incredibly partisan, stratified, and controversial. Many of the unfortunate parts of the real U.S. government are reflected in MACUSA’s policies. While the British Ministry of Magic allows the interaction and cohabitation between Muggles and wizards, so long as the Statute of Secrecy is not broken, MACUSA forbids fraternizing between wizards and no-mag’s, including the outlaw of intermarriage. While America is not the only country in the world with backwards marriage laws, they have been featured and criticized on the world stage as an archaic compared to fellow Western countries. So it goes with the magical side of the country as well.

Further, the form of execution we see attempted to be carried out during one sequence is particularly cruel. The use of a pretty dangerous looking Pensive-like mass sedates the victim into actually wanting to step in to the flaming vat of death (it’s also ironic that the capital punishment for a witch is being burned to death). The British counterpart to this world is not innocent either, as the Dementor’s kiss figured heavily as a barbaric and incredibly torturous way to be put to “death.” Now, Grindelwald may be to blame for the fact that you can apparently just say “execute them” and it happens, but there also seems to be a lovely lack of due process in this world as well. However, that might have just been the product of writing cuts, since this movie was already pushing two and a half hours.

The worst offense, however, comes in the form of a new element added into the Harry Potter canon: the Obscurus. This creature is, tragically, a human being, and — even more tragically — a child, as Newt points out the oldest known Obscurus (before Credence’s reveal) was age ten. These beings are the product of centuries of prejudice against magical beings, when many children were forced to repress their nature. The result was an uncontrollable mass of angry, tormented energy with incredibly destructive tendencies. The parallels draw themselves, of course.

The worst part about this, however, is in how these children are treated once they’ve reached this point. The Obscurus is seen as another entity entirely — a creature — despite the fact that an Obscurus is still, at their core, a human, and able to transform back into a human state. MACUSA, however, operates on a kill-on-sight policy when it comes to Obscurus. And despite Newt and Tina’s best efforts to calm Credence down and offer help (efforts that were, tragically, working) the MACUSA Aurors stepped in to obliterate the young man. The purpose of Newt as the only protagonist we could have in this world becomes clear.

Newt is nothing like Harry. Where Harry was headstrong, courageous to a fault, and generally outgoing among his peers, Newt comes across as a quiet young man, unable to hold eye contact with anyone for too long, who speaks very quietly. He prefers to presence of his creatures inside the small zoo he’s created in his briefcase and actively avoids interactions and friendships with other people. It’s hinted that, while he’s always been this way, this introversion may have been encouraged by bullying during his school years and the estrangement from his one friend, Leda Lestrange. It is fitting then, that this person who seems a passive misanthrope and who casually names humans as the most dangerous creatures on the planet, should be the one to face down something only he can truly see as human.

But, sadly, sometimes the lesser parts of society win. And after a very startling November that proved to be a very painful time for a lot of people, it’s a poignant moment watching Newt reach out to this person and start to make strides toward progress, only to have it dashed away and destroyed by a louder, more powerful group of people.

The film is a message to those who were children when Dumbledore spoke of the magical power of love, now looking at a darker world where — it seems — love sometimes doesn’t always win. We watch Newt fail, but that failure is less sticking than his quiet kindness and persistent loyalty to his friends and those he believes need his help. For him, animals are the true innocents in the world, and the Obscura blurs the lines between the cruelty of humanity and the natural innocence of animals. That ultimate connection was not quite made yet in this movie because it was clear that the world in which Newt inhabits is not yet ready for his big heart.

But, as there is in our own world, there is hope.

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