Review: Star Trek: Into Darkness

(Before I continue, I should point out that I'm not a Trekkie by any means. These two films are the only ventures I’ve made into the Star Trek universe, and everything else I know is from hearsay and pop culture conversation. So I can’t comment on how this movie references (or rehashes) material from the show or previous movies. I know some Trekkies aren’t happy with how the material was handled in this movie, but the first movie set up a parallel timeline that gives these movies the freedom to rehash and rework the mythology. I think this was a creative and frankly brilliant way to free the filmmakers from past stories, allowing them to focus on the essence of these characters and tell their own stories. As for me, I have no preconceived notion about what these movies should or should not be. I really can only take these movies at face value.)

In his second outing with the crew of the USS Enterprise, J.J. Abrams proves once again that he is a master storyteller. With Star Trek: Into Darkness, he has created an exhilarating plot and engaging story tied together with an ensemble of strong but flawed characters who overcome personal obstacles to save the day (and the planet... and possibly the universe).

The movie opens in the midst of the action, a high-pressure mission that has the whole crew racing against time to save an uncontacted race of beings from destruction by an erupting volcano. As plans go awry, the lead characters stay true to their nature: Spock holds to regulations and protocol while Kirk breaks the rules to save the life of his first officer. The scene sets up the character development that will follow, with Kirk learning about responsibility and Spock learning to let his emotions guide his actions.

If you think this sounds familiar to the story of the first film, you'd be right. In fact, as enjoyable as this movie was, it wasn't quite as strong as the first one. We already saw an impetuous Kirk learn responsibility and a logical Spock learn to let go of reason, and it was new and fresh the first time around. (Actually, I'm not sure that Kirk had any growth as a character; the opening scene had him acting boldly to save one of his crew, which is the same sort of thing he does at the end. Spock, on the other hand, definitely learns to let go and run with his emotions.)

Moreover, some key plot points seemed forced or arbitrary. Early on, Scotty resigns his post over an illogical argument over the fuel in the cargo, as if the chemical composition of the cargo will somehow have an impact on the operations of the ship’s reactor (the weight, maybe, but type of fuel?). This frees Scotty for some action later on, but it didn’t make sense and therefore felt forced. Later in the film, Spock makes a call (communication?) that provides an opportunity for a nice cameo, but it also feels like Spock is cheating; rather than figure things out and learn on his own, he turns to a shortcut for the answers. And Benedict Cumberbatch’s evil villain puts something he’s trying to protect inside a weapon he built. What? Why would you put your most prized possession inside an explosive device? Of course his performance is so compelling I didn’t think much of it at first, but later in the film I was able to reflect on this inconsistency. Between the recycled character arcs and the illogical twists in the plot, I didn’t leave with the same feeling of awe that I had from the first film.

Nevertheless, this is still a fun, engaging ride. The ensemble of actors is a wealth of talent and chemistry, particularly newcomer Cumberbatch, who plays a deliciously devious Starfleet employee hell bent on destroying Starfleet. (His voice and enunciation alone had me mesmerized.) And in true ensemble fashion, all the supporting characters get an upgrade and something more exciting to do: Chekhov gets a promotion, Uhura gets some action in the field, Scotty gets his own mission, Bones is called into action more than once, and Sulu even gets to sit in the captain’s chair. Most importantly, Abrams knows how to set the right pace and keep the stakes high while throwing in the right amount of camaraderie and quippy humor. Star Trek: Into Darkness may not be as fresh as its predecessor, but it is a knock-out adventure that's sure to leave you wanting another voyage on the USS Enterprise.

Review: Iron Man 3

In Iron Man 3, we pick up the story of Tony Stark after his sacrificial act of bravery at the conclusion of The Avengers. He's shaken, unable to sleep, prone to anxiety attacks, and dependent on his suits like a child clings to his blankie for security. He spends his waking hours building different suits and, after a flashback that sets up the plot of this film, we get to see him with a new upgrade that he can control remotely. It's some cool stuff, if far-fetched, but hey, this is a comic book movie after all.

The plot is driven by a new villain named The Mandarin. While in the comics The Mandarin was a Chinese radical who discovered alien rings that gave him superpowers, here he is portrayed as a terrorist with unknown or mixed ethnic origins - a hodgepodge of warring cultures rolled into a bin Laden-esque figure. He's didactic, violent, ruthless, and out to prove a point. After an explosion injures someone in Tony's circle of friends, he is called action and swears revenge on The Mandarin. 

Robert Downey, Jr. is masterful as always, balancing Stark's wit and bravado with his underlying pain and anxiety. Director Shane Black, who wrote the Lethal Weapon films and directed the hip, noirish crime comedy Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (a brilliant film also featuring Robert  Downey, Jr. - and Val Kilmer in the role of a lifetime), brings his dark, edgy sensibility to this film, giving it a unique feel while keeping the humor and fun we've come to love and expect from Iron Man movies. Add to the mix Gwenyth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Guy Pearce (Memento), and the ever-amazing Ben Kingsley, and you've got a great movie with great performances. 

The story is focused on Tony's growth and his identity. What is Tony Stark without Iron Man? Does the suit serve him or does he serve the suit? These questions are made obvious to the viewer as the suit starts acting on its own, programmed by Stark but operated by Jarvis, the artificial intelligence that powers Stark's computer and tech. And so our hero's arc is about discovering his own unique strengths so he can overcome his insomnia and anxiety and ultimately defeat the bad guys.

Though the story has some leaps of logic (unbelievable technology and impossible biology), it is lively, well-paced, and has some great surprises and twists. Without giving away any surprises, I'll just say that things aren't exactly predictable, which is part of the fun and part of how Black avoids falling into tropes and cliches.

At the same time, Tony's arc (character arc, not the device in his chest) fits the tried-and-true formula, with a clear call to action at the beginning, a period of struggle in the first half of the second act, a midpoint where he discovers the secret to overcoming his internal battles, and a turning point before the third act that reflects his growth as a character. (Side note: The call-to-action plot point was consistent with the Tony Stark we know and love - bold, brash, arrogant - but somehow seemed inconsistent with the Tony that we see at the start of this film - anxious, insecure, scared.) This character arc grounds the story and gives it real heart and emotional substance to go with all the action and set pieces.

Overall this film is pretty awesome. The acting is fantastic, the plot is energetic and surprising, and the fight sequences are incredible. As I noted, there are some gaps in the logic and some truly fantastical stuff, that requires some serious suspension of disbelief. And, to be honest, there are so many twists in the plot that the story is sometimes inconsistent and incoherent (another topic for another time when I won't spoil the plot with my analysis). Nevertheless, while not as tight and cogent as the first film (still my favorite), Iron Man 3 is a huge improvement on the second film, and definitely worth seeing on the big screen (try it in 3D!).

Now to hope that Robert Downey, Jr. signs on for a fourth Iron Man movie...

That's so cliche...

What makes something cliche?

I thought about this a lot while watching a movie on a flight from New York to San Francisco recently. The movie was The Lucky One starring Zac Efron, based on a novel by Nicholas Sparks ("The Notebook") about a damaged war vet who has a romance with a damaged young mother. To give you a sense of how much I enjoyed this film, while watching a particularly cheesy scene, I actually slapped my forehead in disbelief. (The woman sitting next to me laughed in agreement, and at the end, we both agreed that we had just wasted nearly two hours of our lives.)

But it got me thinking: what makes something cliche?

As a starting point, I looked up the definition of the word in Merriam-Webster's Dictionary:

 

1 : a trite [boring from much use] phrase or expression; also : the idea expressed by it

2 : a hackneyed [lacking in freshness or originality] theme, characterization, or situation

3 : something (as a menu item) that has become overly familiar or commonplace 

 

Of course, this makes a lot of sense. Something that is cliche is unoriginal, overused, and overly familiar. Cliche things are stereotypical and even predictable: we know how the character will behave or where the plot will go, because we've seen it before.

In my mind, this raises two critical questions. First, at what point does something transition from a classic story to a cliche? I mean, characters and stories get reused (and eventually overused) because they're good and worth repeating. I'm sure we can all think of characters or stories that have been repeated but that stand as good movies. Gladiator is the classic redemption tale of a down-on-his-luck man fighting his way back for revenge and justice - see also Robin Hood, The Mask of Zorro, even Harry Potter. How many romantic comedies feature the egotistical male lead, a fiesty but insecure female lead, and their respective best friends? How many re-tellings of Shakespeare's King Lear are there (any story with an aging father and three rivaling daughters)? And Avatar followed a tried-and-true formula - selfish pioneer learns to be selfless by falling in love with indigenous princess and helping indigenous people rebel against "white" conquerers. But the same formula that we have enjoyed in countless films before (everything from Dance With Wolves and Pocahontas to FernGully and The Road to El Dorado) became to me a total cliche with James Cameron's film - predictable, over-the-top, stereotypical. (It didn't help that dialogue is not Cameron's strong suit, and that the dialogue was equally cliche, predictable, and melodramatic.) So why is the retelling of a classic story sometimes enjoyable, maybe even nostalgic, and other times it is stale and annoying?

The other lingering question is: how do you avoid cliche when telling a story? I had the privilege of taking a playwriting course in college with Michael Hollinger, a brilliant and accomplished storyteller (and an all-around great guy). In one class, Michael addressed this exact subject, stating that what makes characters (and stories) interesting and not stereotypical is contradiction - something different or unexpected or contrasting with other traits. Contradiction not only defies stereotyping, but it also adds complexity, depth, and intrigue, makes things less predictable, and that in turn makes things more interesting. In the case of The Lucky One, there was nothing contradictory about these characters - they were predictable and standard in so many ways, flat and uninteresting, and, worst of all, the lead character doesn't even grow and change, so that he stays as a one-note character the whole time. (Can you tell how much I enjoyed it?)

What do you think makes something cliche? When does a classic story become cliche to you? Have you seen or read any stories that were stereotypical but enjoyable? And have you seen or read any stories that were cliche in the set up but that defied stereotypes somehow?

Being "in it"

Last night was the final night of an acting class I had been taking recently, during which we all performed scenes we had been working on for the last couple of weeks. In discussing the performances post-mortem, I talked with our acting teacher, the amazing Patrick Russell, about the importance of being "in it" - living in the moment, reacting instead of acting, without being conscious of yourself and those around you.

When an actor isn't "in it", it means they are acting self-consciously, aware of their actions and intents, perhaps even judging or criticizing themselves. It happens sometimes to even the best actors, but in truth, it usually shows.

We've probably all seen a performance at some time - on stage, in a movie, or on TV - where the actors appear to be acting, meaning they seem to be pretending to feel some emotion rather than actually feeling that emotion. And when that happens, we as the audience usually become equally self-conscious - we pull out of the story and start thinking about the performance. We stop believing and become critics instead of followers. It's as if we peek behind the curtain to see what's going on backstage, or to try and figure out the magic trick rather than just being amazed by it.

Think about the last great performance you saw, where you were engrossed in the story and the characters. Compare that with a performance where you thought the actor was terrible. What was the difference? What made one great and the other terrible? I bet it was because the actors were either "in it" or they weren't. Because if they're not "in it" you won't be either. And if they are "in it" you won't be able to stop watching them.

What are some examples of good and bad performances? How did the actors' performances affect you? How did the performances affect the storytelling?

The Amazing Spider-Man: The Good, The Bad, and the Webb-y

Seeing as I'm a big Spider-Man fan, I figured a look at the latest telling of this origin story was the perfect way to start this blog...

I have to admit, despite or perhaps because of the last Spider-Man movie, I had some reservations about The Amazing Spider-Man. The last one left a sour taste in my mouth, partly wanting a reinvention, partly wanting to focus on the brilliance that has been Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy and on the Marvel films that culminated in The Avengers. That said, I was excited to see Andrew Garfield step into the role of Peter Parker/Spider-Man, I was excited that Marc Webb, director of the awesome indie (500) Days of Summer, was stepping into the director's chair, and I was eager for an edgier take on the character. Plus, after the release of Spider-Man 2, I had concocted my own story for a film that focused on the themes of family and responsibility and featured Dr. Connors/the Lizard as the villain - so I was curious to see how this movie would play out.

Overall, I really liked the film. I thought the acting was excellent. It was a great cast giving great performances: Garfield, Emma Stone, Sally Field, Martin Sheen, Rhys Ifans (yes, of Notting Hill fame), the underrated Campbell Scott (The Spanish Prisoner? amazing) - and, while I don't always like his stand-up, I love Denis Leary in movies (also see: The Thomas Crown Affair). I thought there was a good amount of action mixed in among the relationship scenes, though the fight scenes were so truly awesome (did you see some of the things Spidey did with his webbing?) that I would have liked some more.

Of course, this is a blog about storytelling, so let's take a look from that angle.

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!

At the heart of any good story is the protagonist - a character that the audience can connect with in some way, who is likeable but flawed, and whose journey forces him to change and grow to overcome those flaws. In The Amazing Spider-Man, Andrew Garfield adds a complexity and authenticity to the character of Peter Parker that makes him empathetic and charmingly awkward. But the story didn't set up his journey (known as the character's arc) very clearly. Traditionally, this is a story in which the character learns about responsibility - about doing what's right because you can and should. (Side note: Why couldn't they have Uncle Ben say the classic line, "With great power comes great responsibility"? What's wrong with that?) If that's the case, then the character should go from irresponsible to responsible - and, in Peter's case, from insecure weakling to bold superhero. But even in the beginning, Peter is defending kids who get bullied by Flash. So he already seems to be brave and responsible, even if he is an insecure weakling. I would have like to have seen a Peter who maybe is angry at Flash but doesn't do anything out of fear or weakness, and a Peter who is a bit less considerate of others - maybe not out of rudeness but because he gets distracted or lost in his own thoughts. Then, his character would have somewhere to go and grow, becoming more responsible and thoughtful of others as the story progresses.

The story does show Peter abusing his powers a bit at first, in the basketball scene with Flash, but personally I would have liked to have seen more of that shift - the Peter who, as a result of his newfound powers, becomes more reckless and inconsiderate. I liked the sequence where Peter goes after Uncle Ben's killer, though I was a bit remiss that the story point was never resolved. The resolution of that plot point in Raimi's Spider-Man was a critical moment when the angry, reckless, vengeful Peter realized how great his powers were and it taught him a little humility. That was missing here, and Peter just became more and more brash, taunting criminals and the police. Eventually he realizes that he has to stop the Lizard because he helped create him (by giving the doctor his father's formula) but I felt like we never saw that transition from irresponsible to responsible. It just sort of... happened, without any obvious triggers. What spurred him to go after the Lizard in the first place? And what changed him from that original mysterious objective to a greater sense of responsibility?

The changes a character goes through are internal, but they play out externally in the way the character interacts with others. There are several relationships at play in this story, and the "relationship" scenes are really well done. They are emotional, authentic, intimate, dynamic. Attribute this to the quality of acting and to the directing that makes you feel during these scenes like you're watching an indie and not some big blockbuster. Unfortunately, while I thought each individual scene was really well done (the best of which for me was the fight between Peter and his aunt and uncle), I didn't feel like the scenes added up to form whole relationships. For instance, each scene between Peter and Gwen was great - great chemistry, great dialogue, lots of fun. But after an introduction, a scolding at Oscorp, and an awkward flirtation in the hallway, she asks him over for dinner... with her parents. Who suggests going on a first date by having dinner with the parents? Anyway, circumstances aside, by that point they have yet to have any sort of personal conversation, one in which we see a deeper connection that signals a deeper level of trust and commitment. So when he decided to tell her he was Spider-Man, all I could think was, "Really?? You barely know her, her father wants you put in jail, and you don't know that you can trust her, so why are you telling her this?" I suppose they were going for the impetuous teenager thing, overcome by his emotions, wanting to vent or impress or what have you, but I didn't buy it. At that moment, I became detached from the story.

On a different note, a character grows and changes because they have to: the obstacles placed before him are so challenging he must stretch himself in order to achieve his goals. In The Amazing Spider-Man, I felt like a lot of Peter’s obstacles were too easy – getting into Oscorp, learning to swing/web-sling, learning how to make webbing, applying his Dad’s formula (what the heck was that computer simulation with the mouse?), even saving people on the bridge. The result was that I felt like we only skimmed the surface of this character’s journey from scrawny loser to superhero. In fact, I felt as though the filmmakers thought, “Well, everyone knows how he becomes Spider-Man, right? So we can just throw in a few scenes that get at that idea and people will know what we mean.” The problem is, a good story is grounded in a character’s transformation, and not just advancing the plot. Did we see how Peter became Spider-Man? Sure, but it left me somewhat dissatisfied, and at times I detached from the story as a result.

Finally, as I suggested above, a good story has a message. This message is usually identified as the theme or motif, and it is the unifying idea that is conveyed to the audience through the character’s journey. Part of my dissatisfaction with this movie was that I didn’t feel like there was any unifying idea. The movie felt to me like a patchwork of individual scenes. So while many of the individual scenes were really good (again, relationship scenes and action scenes), I frequently felt like I didn’t know where we were going, or why things were happening. What was Peter’s journey – not his journey to become Spider-Man and defeat the Lizard, but his transformation as a person? What was the purpose of the Lizard as the antagonist in bringing about that transformation? How is he different at the end than the beginning and why should we care? Without a theme to bring cohesion to the plot, I was left feeling like the film was just a hodgepodge of different vignettes.

There are other points I could discuss – Gwen Stacy’s unbelievable involvement in Oscorp and in the finale; how I wish they showed more of the Lizard’s schizophrenia; the absurdity of turning people into lizard-men; the suggestion at the end that Aunt May knows he’s Spider-Man?? – but I’ll save those thoughts for another time and place.

What did you think? Was this a good story? What elements of good storytelling did it have? Did you become detached from the story at any point, and if so, where?

In the beginning...

For me, good stories come in all shapes and sizes. Good storytelling isn't unique to a given medium (movies, television, books, theatre, or even just sitting around talking) and it isn't unique to any particular genres (drama, comedy, action, sci-fi, etc.).

Of course, "good" is subjective, right? What's "good" to one person may not be good to another. Sometimes you want a good mind-numbing action film for the adrenaline rush, other times maybe you look to comedies just to feel good and laugh, and other times you want drama and gravitas that inspires and challenges you intellectually. I wouldn't say one story is necessarily better than the other because it affects you one way or another. What I think defines good storytelling is that it affects you at all - it transports you to the world of the story, it keeps you interested and engaged until the end, and it leaves you with some sort of reaction, a thought or feeling, when all is said and done.

(Okay, okay. So sometimes you're left feeling like, "God, that was awful. What a terrible story." But odds are you detached yourself from the story much earlier than the end. If you didn't, if you stayed engaged the whole time and you're just left feeling disturbed, I might argue it's a good story indeed.)

So what makes for a good story? As I've pursued my own storytelling (see the About section), mostly through creative writing but also through acting, comedy, and some professional work in communications, I've come to learn that there are certain elements that make stories good. And the more of those elements, the better the story.

In addition to the construction of the story, there are also the elements of communicating the story. These can include directing and acting, sometimes cinematography, choreography, and music. In the case of written stories, it may include the writing style, the narrative form, and the narrator's voice. These elements affect the audience's response to the story as much as the story itself.

In this blog I will explore story and storytelling through different approaches. Sometimes it will come in the form of a movie review, sometimes observations about something I saw on television, and other times just reflections on different thoughts, conversations, and experiences. Through these I hope to learn more about character, plot, theme, action, and all the different elements of storytelling - and I hope to have great conversations with people about these things.

So look around, read, respond, and stay tuned. This is just the beginning...

What is a good story to you? What elements do you think are important for a good story? Do you prefer a certain genre or medium?