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.

Quartet: A beautiful noise

Quartet (2012) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, and quite stupidly, for fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.1.13

Music fills almost every frame of Quartet, whether created vicariously by this delightful story’s many talented characters, or delivered via Dario Marianelli’s evocative score, as a means to augment a reflective or dramatic moment.

Although Jean (Maggie Smith, right) initially refuses to become part of the musical
community at Beecham House, even she can't resist the kind, bubbly enthusiasm of
Cissy (Pauline Collins). But Jean also faces other issues, not the least of which is a
fellow resident who happens to be a long-estranged lover.

Dustin Hoffman’s thoroughly engaging directorial debut, working from Ronald Harwood’s adaptation of his own stage play, is another charming — if occasionally bittersweet — reminder that life need not end at 60, 70 or even 80. We’ve seen quite a few such films recently, and while it’s not true that Maggie Smith has been in all of them, she certainly dominates this one.

And that’s no small thing, given the cluster of scene-stealers with whom she shares the screen.

She stars as Jean Horton, a once-celebrated opera vocalist fallen on hard times, whose career is naught but a fading memory; she now must swallow her pride and accept government-supported lodging at Beecham House, a retirement home for musicians. But we don’t meet her right away; Harwood first introduces us to the celebratory warmth and magic of Beecham itself, which echoes morning to night with the rich sounds of pianos, strings, woodwinds and quite a few other orchestral instruments, along with plenty of singing.

Beecham’s residents are a bit more a-flutter than usual, because they’ll soon be performing in the retirement home’s annual fundraiser, timed to celebrate the birthday of famed opera composer Giuseppe Verdi. The event is being helmed by the imperious Cedric Livingston (Michael Gambon), a fussy, fusty martinet who lounges about in day robes and barks commands like a traffic cop.

He’s the only Beecham resident who doesn't make his own music, and thus exemplifies the punch line of that venerable saying: Those who can’t, direct. But nobody seems to mind; Cedric merely clings to the remnants of the career he knows best, as they all do.

Contrasting Cedric is Reginald (Tom Courtenay), a calm, quiet and emotionally withdrawn scholar who gives occasional lessons in opera history to local teenagers. Harwood grants us a glimpse of one such session, and it’s utterly enchanting; we expect poor Reggie to be overwhelmed by these kids, but in fact his gentle but authoritative delivery holds their attention — and ours — as he considers the intriguing similarities between opera and rap.