2019 is drawing to a close. Within a few months the Oscars will be upon us and I will write my annual piece reflecting on what I view to be the highlights of this year in film. This is not that piece.
Every since I started this blog, with an air of humour, I tried to be the guy to insist that I watched “films” not “movies.” 2019 was a year in which that joke-pretentious dichotomy was brought to the forefront. Indie and “big indie” releases continue to come out and impress viewers, but the cultural gap between the auterial and the commercial conception of film continues to widen. On occasions I’d walk into a cinema and every poster up was for a sequel to a previously established blockbuster: there was not a drop of bold creativity in sight.
Creativity and quality are of course not always the same thing. I regularly enjoyed my trips to the cinema in 2019; I’d say with a better success rate than I did a year ago. I will thus conclude my 2019 with a few cautious reflections.
- Disney is a souless corporation…though it may have its auteurs
My relationship with Disney over the past year has been a frought one. On the one hand I’ve become increasingly familiar with the animation studio’s catalogue and an increasing champion of its significance in film history. On the other hand, I’ve hesitated to be too much of a champion of a company that hardly needs assistance. For many today, Disney does not just mean a single animation studio, but also all the other properties the Disney corporation owns: Marvel, Pixar, Star Wars, The Muppets, etc. Like all corporations in our capitalist society, Disney seeks to increase its profits and to outcompete other filmmakers. And on some occasions this means prioritizing commercialism over creativity.
I strive towards a new ethic of film criticism: one that tries not to take outwardly negative attitudes towards the painstakingly developed products of filmmakers, no matter how flawed they may be. The odd big-budget film, however, can stir up particular frustration in me. In 2019, that film was Disney’s remake of The Lion King. Given the chance to rework a popular story with an exciting, black-majority cast, someone in the production line ultimately decided that creatively wasn’t worth the trouble and/or the risk. Disney knew that simply putting The Lion King in theatres would reel in prophets, and it decided that the potential disappointment of film fans, eager to see how this modern fairy tale would evolve with time wasn’t worth considering. For myself the disappointment was both personal and empathetic. How, I wondered, must director Jon Favreau and screenwriter Jeff Nathanson have felt about having been given the chance to work on a beloved story, only to be told that the true depths of their creative talents would not be employed?
But as Disney bumbles through an age of sequels and remakes, that does not mean it is a studio devoid of vision. In 2013 Disney released a film called Frozen that unlike many of Disney’s past animated classics, had a single screenwriter (Jennifer Lee), and only two directors (Chris Buck and Lee). Frozen succeeded in part because Lee found an entertaining, if simplistic, way of reproducing classic Disney while also moving the studio into the modern age. In 2019 Lee and Buck returned to their roles to tell Frozen II, a film that used a slightly unconventional narrative structure to add a political twist to the Frozen-cannon. I suppose the lesson here is that while Disney may be a machine, if a machine is big enough, its bound to contain a range of valuable components.
- Marvel is cinema…if it wants to be
While Disney may be film’s leading monopoly, it is one of its subsidaries, Marvel, that has
become eponymous with contemporary cinema. Or should I call it cinema? Earlier this year, Martin Scorsese remarked that Marvel movies were not “cinema,” but “theme parks.” The film gossip community inevitably picked up on Scorsese’s comments and attempted to portray them as the start of an insult battle. That isn’t how his comments were meant to be understood however. What Scorsese meant is that Marvel movies occupy a shared film-scape, occupied by popular characters and created to secure long-term rather than in the moment profits. Metaphorically, they are quite like rides at a theme park: and there’s nothing wrong with theme parks per se.
Marvel did good for me this year. I found Captain Marvel enjoyable, and after committing to watching most of the studio’s releases I had as thrilling an experience with Avengers: Endgame as anyone could. That said, “thrill” is a theme park experience. Looking back, I found Avengers: Endgame to be most cinematic in the moments leading up to and immediately following the encounter with Thanos in his garden. That scene was surprising and thought provoking, but its overall significance was erased as alternative timelines were brought in and Thanos’ character was retinkered.
What’s intriguing about Marvel, however, is that if it so aspired to, it could bridge the cinema theme park gap. Indie director Chloe Zhao (The Rider) is directing upcoming Marvel film The Eternals, and while alas she wasn’t tapped to the write the film’s screenplay, it is possible she and/or other auteurs like her could be given that chance further down the road. Taika Waititi (What We Do in the Shadows, Jojo Rabbit) for instance, was only the director for Thor:Ragnorak, but he has now been given writing duties for Thor: Love and Thunder. Marvel is an ambitious studio. Its primary ambition may be to build its theme park empire, but it will gladly prop up artistic talent along the way if that talent can be reconciled with its broad vision.
- Kelvin Harrison Jr may have been typecast in the best way possible
And now to move away from the titans. Over the course of this year, I’ve seen a number of actors kept busy. Marriage Story co-stars Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver were also featured in Marvel and Star Wars blockbusters respectively, not to mention their
work in Jojo Rabbit (Johansson) and The Dead Don’t Die (Driver). The most striking recurrence for me of 2019, however, was Kelvin Harrison Jr.
I had last seen Harrison in 2017 when he portrayed the adopted son of a strict in father in Trey Edward Schultz’s psychological horror film, It Comes at Night. In that film Harrison established himself as an actor with a resonant vulnerability. In 2019’s Luce, he took that precedent and flipped it on his head, blurring the lines between sympathetic child and and uncanny manipulator.
Harrison Jr. followed up Luce with Waves. While the two films are ultimately quite different, the characters Harrison Jr. plays in both are introduced as quite similar. One would have to say Harrison Jr. had been typecast, only there’s a problem with that statement. One problem is that the two films were released in incredibly close proximately. The other is that to say someone has been typecast is usually an implicit insult: it suggests that Hollywood views them as only worthy of playing one type of role. The “one type of role” Harrison has been stuck with is “vulnerable, volatile, morally confused, expressive young man.” In short, Harrison Jr. has been “typecast” to play dramatically resonant, leading rolls. While neither Luce nor Waves are big name films, 2019 was an impeccable year for Harrison, and one can only hope his “typecasting continues to get him phenomenal roles.
- Class-based cinema can prompt Oscar talk, but it is still an uphill battle.
Two 2019 films that came as surprised to me were Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite and Todd Phillips’ Joker. Joker was simply a film I wasn’t ready to have expectations about. I figured there had been plenty of Batman films, including one that garnered a Joker-portrayer an Oscar. I thus didn’t want to assume that this Joker would be anything special (it turns out I was wrong). Parasite meanwhile was a work I knew nothing about until I saw it. And while I quite enjoyed what I saw, I was surprised by the unanimity of praise for Bong’s eccentric tragicomedy.
Joker and Parasite are in a way quite similar. Both star economically marginalized protagonists who turn afoul of the law when they become fed up with their social position. The two films, differ, however, in how they were covered. Prior to its release Joker faced a media narrative that it was a right-wing movie that celebrated male rage, rather than a left-wing work about the tragedy of austerity. While many Joker viewers saw through the PR and appreciated the film for what it was, it is hard not to think that some viewers were biased against the film from the get go.
Major movies often deal with vectors of social oppression. Such themes make the films appear profound and/or conscientious. Cinema rooted in class-analysis, however, faces a unique struggle to get the attention of the Oscar-bait-able community. Films that speak to the consequences of economic inequality and capitalism do not serve to simply condemn the mean behaviour of a few individuals, but rather the structure of our society as a whole: a structure that serves Hollywood executives, news-media companies, etc. quite well.
Parasite was perfectly formed. It managed to be engaging and weird enough to be memorable, yet plain enough in its themes that there was no way the Hollywood machine could obscure its class-conscious messaging. The same cannot be said for films like Joker that confused some centrist critics by starring a comic-book-villain as its protagonist; Sorry to Bother You which blended its class analysis with depictions of “white voice,” modern art, and something about horses; or Star Wars Episode XVIII: The Last Jedi which used class politics to confound rather than reassure the protagonists in their commitment to fighting The First Order
- Not all Woke Remakes have to Be “Woke” Remakes
I started this article by recalling the numerous sequels and remakes I saw popping up in theatres this summer. It is understandable why film studios take that root. When people like a character or a story they are likely to pay again to see major updates to its contents. That said, that drive might explain why some viewers went to see Booksmart this summer. In 2007, Jonah Hill and Michael Cera played two dorks who experienced a series of misadventures on route to an end-of-High School party. 2019’s Booksmart featured Hill’s younger sister Beanie Feldstein accompanied by a Cera-esque friend (Kaitlyn Dever) on a similar quest.
Booksmart shows, however, that a work can be intertextual without being derivative. Superbad fans can appreciate it as a spiritual sequel to their old favorite, while still getting an entirely new story (one that non-fans of the older film can enjoy as well).
Booksmart did not just stand out, however, in an era of sequels and remakes, but in an era of “woke-sequels and remakes.” Disney’s live-action flicks have been criticized for superficially fixing the politics of their studio’s past, without doing anything to make the changes feel narratively resonant. Booksmart is not exactly subtle in its attempt to be more progressive and gender-inclusive than buddy comedies of the past, but the film’s overall narrative ensures that these updates feel sincere and not cosmetic. The feminism of the film’s stars is written in seamlessly as a facet of their nerdiness, a nerdiness that even I as a guy found more relatable than that of the nominal “nerds” of Superbad.
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2019 was a good year for cinema. It produced a number of films I’ll gladly watch again and that I enjoyed writing about. It was also a year in which Hollywood’s commercial character was particularly visible. As a naive blogger I can only yell at this contradiction from afar. Surely the people who made The Lion King like movies as much as I do? Why did they throw their chance away?
I’ll likely never get an answer to that question of course, and the best I can do is keep putting my voice out there, and enjoying the brilliance that much of cinema continues to offer.