Blinded by the Light: Incandescent!

Blinded by the Light (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and vulgar racism
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.16.19

Music doesn't merely hath charms to soothe the savage breast; it can transform lives.

Writer/director Gurinder Chadha has been absent from our screens for far too long, after enchanting filmgoers with Bend It Like Beckham and Bride & Prejudice, back in the early 2000s. She has remained busy, but her intervening projects haven’t resonated nearly as much (at least, not here in the States).

Determined to share his newly discovered affection for Bruce Springsteen's inspirational
lyrics, Javed (Viveik Kalra) drags a surprised — but definitely pleased — Eliza
(Nell Williams) into a spontaneous dance.

She’s back with a vengeance, thanks to Blinded by the Light.

Pop/rock music fans have enjoyed an embarrassment of riches, of late; we’ve viewed the world — and enjoyed tuneful biographies — according to Queen (Bohemian Rhapsody), Elton John (Rocket Man) and The Beatles (Yesterday). Now Chadha — with a scripting assist from Paul Mayeda Berges and Sarfraz Manzoor — has put Bruce Springsteen’s poetic, working-man angst to similar magical use, with “Blinded by the Light.”

The result is charming, exhilarating and illuminating by turns, along with a perceptive nod toward current real-world events: in every respect, one of the summer film season’s sweetest surprises. That it’s based on actual events — Manzoor’s absorbing 2008 memoir, Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion and Rock ’n’ Roll — is the icing on the cake.

The setting is Luton, England, in 1987: the height of Margaret Thatcher’s reign, with millions of people out of work, many of whom — believing “foreigners” have taken their jobs — have joined increasingly aggressive “Make England White Again” marches. (Sound familiar?)

Javed (Viveik Kalra), a teen of Pakistani descent, has lived in Luton since his father Malik (Kulvinder Ghir) moved the family to England years ago. Malik is bluntly imperious in his traditional views; he’s therefore a stern roadblock to any semblance of Westernized behavior that might tempt Javed and his sister, Shazia (Nikita Mehta). 

Which is a problem, because Javed is forced to conceal his artistic tendencies; he has recorded his thoughts and dreams in daily journals since childhood, and also composes poetry. Some of the latter find an outlet as lyrics for songs written and performed by a garage band headed by longtime best friend and neighbor Matt (Dean-Charles Chapman).

Matt also has been a staunch defender against the racial taunts — and worse — abusively hurled in Javed’s direction.

The film opens just as Javed begins his first year at the local sixth-form college, where he’s determined to pass his A-levels in order to qualify for university: somewhere (anywhere!) other than Luton. His father tolerates this only with the expectation that Javed studies medicine, law, business or something else that guarantees a high-income job.

Meanwhile, entering a new school is fraught with the usual peril, amplified because Javed a) looks foreign; and b) is slight of build and easily intimidated.

Early Man: Aardman lite

Early Man (2018) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang

According to the whimsical minds behind Early Man, soccer’s origins go way back.

No matter how much trouble Dug gets into, he can depend on his best friend — his
pet prehistoric pig, Hognob — to save the day.

British director Nick Park and his Aardman production team, best known for claymation superstars Wallace and Gromit, go prehistoric with their newest project: a gentle comedy set at the dawn of time, when cave folk tremble from exploding volcanoes, woolly mammoths and Jurassic-size ... ducks.

The droll production is a smooth blend of Park’s traditional puppet animation and scale-enhancing computer effects. All the characters can be recognized as Wallace’s great-great-great-many-more-greats ancestors: most particularly buck-toothed Dug (voiced by Eddie Redmayne), the most curious and idealistic member of a small Stone Age tribe led by genial Chief Bobnar (Timothy Spall).

They’re a motley bunch of meek eccentrics unwilling to hunt any game larger than rabbits, despite Dug’s insistence that tackling a mammoth might keep food on the table a bit longer.

It’s important to note, just in passing, that no rabbits are killed or otherwise injured during the course of this story ... although Mother Nature isn’t nearly as kind to Dug’s even more prehistoric ancestors, during a prologue that reveals How Soccer Came To Be.

This is merely the first of many fanciful touches emanating from Park and co-scripters Mark Burton, James Higginson and John O’Farrell. The humor is typically British: dry and mildly snarky, often relying on anachronistic touches. As an example, when confronted with a plate of sliced bread, one fellow enthuses that “That’s the greatest thing since...” and doesn’t really know how to finish the sentence.

At times, one senses the spirits of Monty Python hovering overhead.

The Huntsman: Winter's War — Plenty of fantasy fun

The Huntsman: Winter's War (2016) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for fantasy action violence and brief sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.22.16

This one is leagues better than its predecessor.

2012’s Snow White and the Huntsman was overblown, overwrought and overlong: a textbook example of what happens when a first-time director gets in way over his head. I can’t imagine why such a neophyte was put in charge of a $170 million movie, and he certainly wasn’t helped by the trio of talentless hacks who delivered such a muddled, dreary script.

As Nion (Nick Frost, left) and Gryff (Rob Brydon, right) look on nervously, Eric (Chris
Hemsworth) finds an unusual, jewel-encrusted spear tip: a certain indication that nasty
goblins can't be too far away.

You know things are bad, when someone as talented as Charlize Theron gives a wretched performance: all shrieks and screams, with no emotional resonance whatsoever. That is always the director’s fault.

Given that the film deservedly tanked, with a U.S. box office gross of only $155 million, some might wonder why a sequel even crossed anybody’s mind. Ah, but Hollywood isn’t driven by domestic results any more. This leaden turkey reaped a global total of almost $400 million: more than enough to encourage the suits at Universal’s Black Tower to greenlight a follow-up.

Which — who would have thought? — turns out to be a pleasant surprise.

(Actually, ample precedent exists. As just one example, 1979’s Star Trek: The Motion(less) Picture was a bomb, whereas 1982’s Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan was sensational.)

Director Cedric Nicolas-Troyan’s new film has everything the first one lacked: characters we genuinely care about, and who interact well with each other; a satisfying balance between fantasy-laden peril and emotional angst; and — most of all — a welcome sense of humor. Nicolas-Troyan also understands that cast-of-thousands battle scenes are intrinsically boring, particularly when we don’t give a whit about any of the faceless warriors involved; his film concentrates on more intimate melees between the story’s core heroes and villains.

And here’s the irony: Nicolas-Troyan, best known as a behind-the-scenes special effects maestro, also is a first-time feature director ... and, quite clearly, far more talented than the previous film’s Rupert Sanders.

Nicolas-Troyan has much better help, as well: a vastly superior script from Evan Spiliotopoulos and Craig Mazin. Both clearly understand fantasy’s first golden rule: Everything must make sense, and remain consistent, within the confines of its own established parameters. You can’t just make stuff up, from one scene to the next; that’s the fastest route to audience disinterest.