Robot & Frank (2012)

Written by: Christopher D.  Ford, Directed by: Jake Schreier

The title of Robot and Frank sets a high bar. The film shares a name with the famous actor who plays its protagonist (Frank Langella) paired bluntly with the plain but inevitably provocative word “robot”. Real robots of course may not be very profound entities: they exist to mundanely reproduce the tasks of humans. Cinematically, however, including a robot amongst your cast is an ambitious undertaking. A character can’t simply be a robot. Robots are attention grabbing: we expect them to be interesting, to break with the conventionality we expect from human characters.

One of the reasons why Star Wars captured my (and no doubt others’) imagination, despite my general disinterest in action films is that it makes use of the right kind of robot. R2-D2 and C3-PO are fully articulate and come across as conscious while nonetheless clearly possessing a different quality of consciousness from their human companions. In existing on this slightly different plane  Star Wars’ droids (inspired by the bickering peasants from Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress)  add a humorous quality to their films, even when they are not outright engaged in a gag.

Star Wars of course, is largely a kid friendly series. This means certain questions about what it actually means to be a droid: to actually exist in an overlapping, but distinct reality, go unanswered. Sure, its sort of implied that the droids aren’t really conscious, yet the main characters are affectionate towards them, presumably because it would be too disturbing for (especially, but not exclusively, young) viewers for them not to be.

Robot and Frank, meanwhile, is not so much a kid friendly movie. But rather than existing in a differential plane from Star Wars, it represents an adult continuation of its logic. The titular robot (voiced by Peter Sarsgaard) implicitly provokes Frank and viewers to ask if it is conscious, while insistently denying that it is. Robot and Frank is a piece where no one character’s voice is reliable, adding depth to this dilemma.

When I call Robot and Frank ambitious I mean several things. For one, I acknowledge, oxymoronically, that it is quite a simple story. Creating a plot that feels profound, but can also be retold in a few sentences is an achievement in its own right. But unlike say, A Ghost Story, or other films of that ilk, Robot and Frank also embodies the characteristics of more conventionally ambitious films: it is set in an imagined near-future and brings together several plot lines. The plot lines are medium to high stakes, yet they manage  not to be over the top. In all, they form a story with the feel of a fable, but without the associated predictability.

When we are introduced to Frank, it is made clear that his is a story of an old man who has issues taking care of himself. I say issues because the real world is not so black and white. Is he “incapable” of taking care of himself? Is it fair to talk about his age? In the film’s opening scene we are introduced to Frank as he eats a bowl of cereal in his somewhat cluttered house and finds the milk has gone bad.  So Frank is not 100% on top of things: but he still clearly knows that things aren’t ok thus allowing the protectiveness of his two children (Liv Tyler and) particularly his son (James Marsden) to come across as condescending.

Robot and Frank presents us with such situations, leaving it up to viewers to determine exactly who is in the right and wrong. Frank is a morally ambiguous in addition to being ambiguous in his role as a source of perspective. This is what justifies the robot’s place in his story. Though for different reasons, the robot’s degree of morality and degree of self-awareness are also left open for interpretation.

I suppose this is why Robot and Frank feels, almost, like a fable. It’s about an unlikely “couple” who overcome their limitations and learn to be empathetic toward one another. And that’s about all the film offers in terms of a message. Its moral, I suppose, is
“be empathetic,” but since that is such a simple, unpretentious idea, Robot and Frank does not come across as preachy. What matters with Robot and Frank is not so much its message, but how it builds it via meditations on technology and change.

Robot and Frank manages to be a lot of things over the course of its simple narrative. It arguably offers critiques of modernity and hipster capitalism.  It is a tragic work, but barely, as it ends ringing with a restrained optimism: one that suggests reconciliation between generations and worldviews is possible. Robot and Frank can be appreciated for finding this artistically pleasing tonal balance, but I suppose its true importance is in the robot cannon. As I said, robots cannot simply be: they need to be robots for a reason: and in the case of this story, screenwriter Christopher Ford sure found a reason.

Star Wars the Holiday Special (1978)

Written by: Pat Proft, Leonard Ripps, Bruce Vilanch, Rod Warren, and Mitzie Welch

Directed by: Steve Binder and David Acomba (Uncredited)

Prior to the latest trilogy, there was another cinematic addition to the Star Wars story arc that George Lucas had little to do with: a 1978 holiday special. Lucas in fact said if he “had time and a sledgehammer, [he’d] track down every copy and smash it.” The special has since acquired cult status as a beloved bad movie. Unfortunately, the special’s legacy does not quite stem from it being so bad it’s good. It’s almost there, but the truth is that it’s just a flawed creation that one can feel compelled to watch out of one’s love for Star Wars (and disbelief that Star Wars was ever the subject of a holiday special).

The film centres around Chewbacca’s family: his father, wife and son, as they wait for Chewie to return home for a Life day celebration. Being wookies, they do not speak a human language, leaving audiences to be entertained by their physical comedy. While, from the outside, their home resembles a complex tree house, from the inside it looks much less out-of-this-world than, for instance, Luke’s former home on Tatooine. For that matter, it could almost be the home of an (Earthling) 70s sit-com family.

I think it is important to note, that the special’s failure is not that it stars (effectively) non-verbal character. Silent films can be funny and/orbeautiful . The problem, with the special, rather, is that it does not want to imagine Chewbacca’s relative as heroes: instead they are an ordinary family who sits around while “actual” heroes, direct the film’s action from its margins. Much of the the special thus consists of the wookie family members watching tv and engaging with other visual-technologies. In the case of Chewbacca’s wife Malla watching a cooking show, this approach is hilarious. In the case of grandpa Itchy watching a quasi-romantic/sexual(?) fantasy through a virtual-reality device, it’s funny in the sense that it’s awkward. In the other instances, however, the vignettes-on-screens feel awkwardly drawn out. It’s kind of amusing that Jefferson Starship makes a cameo in the Star Wars universe, but their performance is unmemorable.

Stars Wars fans should certainly familiarize themselves with the special. In a brief animated sketch it introduces the character of Boba Fett and develops him more so than he was in his over-hyped roles in episodes V and VI. Furthermore, the film also features a holiday carol from Princess Leia. Fans should learn this song and sing it at future Life Day celebrations (or to piss off “there’s a war on Christmas” types). Unfortunately, the carol is not really memorable enough to justify its singing at other times of year, and the special itself is probably not worth seeing at more than one midnight showing. Anyway, here’s to hoping the loveable Lumpy gets a true shot at being a hero when Episode IX comes around.

Star Wars Ep VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)

Written and Directed by: Rian Johnson

The Last Jedi starts like all other Star Wars films: with a text crawl and the theme music. Then it gets chaotic, as intergalactic vessels commanded by various rebels and imperial figures take each other on. These early moments of the film concerned me. Was I was about to watch an ambitious but generic action movie: a tale of soldiers more so than characters?

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, my first impression proved wrong..Writer/director Rian Johnson made sure the film’s chaotic density of characters was no accident or shortcoming. While the original Star Wars trilogy featured an intentionally simple story that followed a classical hero arc, Johnson’s film emphasizes that rebellions are not defined by singular heroes. Some heroes are successful but boring. Other heroes are plucky and endearing yet accomplish little. While it is indeed possible that not all of the chaos of Episode VIII is attributable to Johnson’s vision (that the film could have ended several times before it did suggested Johnson may have been under pressure to cover a set amount of content to set the stage for Episode IX), for the most part it is justified, and constitutes an effective reimagining of the Star Wars universe.

Star Wars has done well as a franchise by telling epic tales that prioritize character development over action. While I enjoyed Episode VII: The Force Awakens, a little bit of it felt like a step away from that tradition. Its protagonists: Finn, Rey and Poe seemed the less compelling heirs apparent to Luke, Han and Leia (in no particular order). South Park noticed this and parodied it in their 20^th season, arguing that the appeal of episode VII was shallow: fans liked it because it repeated the formula of the original trilogy (South Park then went on in its hyperbolic fashion to connect this nostalgia to “Make America Great Again sentiments).

Johnson handled this problem by writing a script with a meta-narrative of sorts. Having (presumably seen) Episode VII, audiences enter The Last Jedi expecting a work that draws on The Empire Strikes Back. In some ways this is true: a veteran jedi (Mark Hamill) trains a youngster (Daisy Ridley) on a desolate planet, a (less-redeemable-than-Lando) double crosser plays a role (sadly, Billy Dee Williams does not), a character’s familial status is devastatingly brought to light, a Boba Fett-type somehow factors in, and there’s a little romance to boot. Johnson, however, lulls viewers with the comfort of familiarity, then rudely, and beautiful awakens them with deviations from their expectations. While it is hard to explain this approach further without spoiling the movie, one example is General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson). This character is introduced in Episode VII as the de-facto Grand Moff Tarkin equivalent: a cold villain, who is purely a military figure. Because Tarkin lacked the mythical aura of Vader and Sidius, he, unsurprisingly, was quickly written out of the original trilogy. Hux, however, stays around. Hux also differs from Tarkin in that he is a young man. The same point can be made (to a lesser, more ambiguous extent) about Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) in comparison to Darth Vader. The Last Jedi further entrenches Ren and Hux as a villainous duo that is unlike what the original trilogy gave us. As grizzled veterans, Tarkin and Vader come across as pillars of evil. As mere boys by comparison, Ren and Hux lack that kind of fortitude: but the juxtaposition of their youth and power makes them, in a way, more disturbing than their predecessors.

The Last Jedi is not faultless. Its swarm of characters and highly inter-textual qualities render it unwatchable for those who have not kept up well with the series. It should also be said that this new trilogy has taken away one element of charm of the old series: namely that it could easily be interpreted as the story, not of its human protagonists, but of R2-D2. While the writers of the new trilogy have clearly not forgotten R2 and C3P0, their appearances in this film, as they were in episode VII, are little more than cameos.

That said, veteran fans of the series should find plenty to enjoy in The Last Jedi It is a reminder of just how many characters they are invested in, and how many they can come to be invested in. From Luke’s newfound wry wit, to the various odes to and splits from the series’ past, The Last Jedi is an impressive script and a fitting addition to the Star Wars universe.