Monday, February 26, 2018

Screen Log 7: Black Panther; Marrowbone; Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

"Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri."

What a feast for the eyes BLACK PANTHER was! The visual spectacle of those costumes alone should more than justify a ticket. But then you also have the production design--one of Marvel's most luscious and breathtaking in recent memory. You also have that kick-ass cast, and the fact that much of the world is now catching up with the brilliance of Michael B. Jordan, and being reintroduced to, if they've already forgotten (so soon!) about, Lupita Nyong'o, is nothing if not heartwarming. Jordan fans ought to play the nearest copy of "Fruitvale Station." I'm not thoroughly convinced by its wokeness, however; felt that, had director Ryan Coogler been left to his own devices (i.e. freed from the clutches of the studio system), the issues on race and representation being tackled by the film could have been dealt with more nuance, depth, screen time. But I'll definitely see this movie a second time, no questions asked. Also, I'm 24/7 game for rhinos.

MARROWBONE is a story that invalidates itself, and I only watched it because my sister, who fancies herself a horror-film aficionado, insisted. What a stupid movie, that so-called twist being one of the most self-destructive and deceptive I've ever encountered.

At last, I finally watched the much-laureled THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI, and my, my, my, oh my, where do I begin.

This is what awards voters liked? What a lot of the critics liked? You can throw this story in a fiction writing workshop and I bet you it will not survive the day. A lot of things in this movie were simply careless, and I'm not even talking about the way it handled the more Ameri-sensitive elements such as racism. The writing's just sloppy--and for a playwright of Martin McDonagh's calibre, that's baffling.

Take for example the scene (spoilers) where Dixon/racist cop/Sam Rockwell, now all burnt up and bandaged in the hospital, is wheeled into the ward.

Nurse (to neighboring patient): "Burn victim. He's pretty heavily sedated."

Then said burn victim launches into a monologue so eloquently, you wouldn't think twice it's all pretend. It's stuff like this that's really off-putting if you don't just watch on the surface. And even then, the narrative's pretty sloppy, and many of the characters were very thinly baked. It's really Frances McDormand's movie, and she should be enough to make you reach the end.

Watching this gave me the impression of a writer who only set out to write for fun, not putting much thought into the things he was putting on paper, and having a really darn good time setting up the pieces that don't really fit or make much sense. The actors loved it, and that's understandable, given how actor-driven the whole thing was, how juicy the lines and scenes were. But is this really what the Academy Awards want for Best Picture, to memorialize as the year's "best" (though of course it never is about being the best)? I can think of two other Best Picture candidates that are infinitely more deserving of the accolades this "Three Stupid Billboards" (as Ian Casocot calls it) has been receiving. Shout out to "Lady Bird" and "Get Out," and heck, even "Dunkirk."

No comments: