The Wolf of Wall Street

Early in Martin Scorsese’s classic GoodFellas, narrator Henry Hill describes how he always wanted to be a gangster. And though the film doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the mob, it also shows why such a lifestyle would be so tempting. Money, women, expensive things, (almost) consequence-free hedonism. When the dirtier details aren’t on the screen, it sometime looks like a glamorous life.

The Wolf of Wall Street is similar to GoodFellas in a lot of ways, and might be Scorsese’s best film since. It, too, is a stylish, fierily energized guided tour of another world of temptation and indulgence: the stock trade. But while this world might not be as frowned upon by society, the depravity depicted reaches much more extreme levels. It offers the viewer a window to look in on a lifestyle they might dream of being a part of, but it’s so raw and unflinching that they'll be thankful they're not.

The "wolf" of the title is real-life stockbroker Jordan Belfort, played by Scorsese’s frequent collaborator Leonardo DiCaprio (the real Belfort cameos). After striking it rich selling penny stock, Belfort founded the firm Stratton Oakmont, which made many millions in the stock market through dubious, sometimes blatantly illegal means in the 1990s. He and his partners also developed a taste for wild extravagance until the Feds shut them down.

Like the protagonists in GoodFellas and Scorsese’s Las Vegas drama Casino, DiCaprio almost nostalgically narrates this tale. Also like those movies, the narrative encompasses the broad overview of the dates it took place, but also makes time for the little anecdotes and describing the particulars of things (both stock fraud and Belfort and company’s bad habits), all scored to an almost unnaturally perfect soundtrack (an eclectic mix with snippets of classic rock, blues, and even hip hop). Every scene has boundless energy and displays adept filmmaking techniques, some sequences almost like little vignettes that are memorable masterworks by themselves. I won’t describe any and ruin the surprise (and a lot of it has to be seen to be believed, anyway), but I’ll just say they involve much illegal activity, sex, and drugs. Lots and lots of sex and drugs. Not only is it easy to see why the original cut was rated NC-17, but it’s hard to imagine what more could have been in it.

And it’s funny. Hilarious, actually. That’s no surprise, as Scorsese frequently underscores more intense moments in his films with black humor. But here, the wanton depravity is not only appalling, but exhausting. It never ceases to shock with every new excess, but seeing it over and over again is a little draining. So to keep things sailing smoothly, the tone is most often darkly comic to curb our shock and disgust (or at least soften the blow), and said vignette-like sequences aren’t only great pieces of filmmaking, but elaborate setups for humor. It works, as the movie is as laugh-a-minute as any straight-up comedy, and might even leave you feeling dirtier than any gross-out or politically incorrect comedic picture.

DiCaprio shows he’s got great comic timing and can make us laugh. But he never lets us lose sight of the fact that his character’s an awful human being (Ray Liotta’s Henry Hill looks like a choir boy by comparison). As funny as he is on screen, he exudes a serious and real aura of a man whose behavior and increasingly intense addictions—to money, drugs, women, even excess itself—cause him to become more and more unhinged. To call him an animal would be trite, and also a gross understatement; he’s more like a demon.

This is DiCaprio’s movie, no doubt, but the rest of the Stratton Oakmont players also expertly balance being funny while still playing absolutely contemptible scumbags. Jonah Hill does it most often, and to the greatest extent. But he only stands out because he’s given a bigger part, and the lesser known cast members are just as good. So are the less immoral characters, like Margot Robbie as Belfort’s gorgeous bride who seems like a trophy wife but later proves to be a real person with human limits, or a very funny Rob Reiner as his hotheaded father who advises him but never explicitly disapproves of his doings. I say “less immoral” because even they are compromised to a degree just by being in this world. They’re not voices of moral reason, but notches to measure how low Belfort goes.

Come to think of it, there really isn’t a moral center to the picture at all (the closest thing is Kyle Chandler’s FBI agent, but his straight-laced demeanor doesn’t even come close to countering the various vices we see). We also don’t see the people who Stratton Oakmont swindled out of their money. The film doesn’t need either of these to condemn greed and excess, though. The sheer obscenity (a description DiCaprio actually uses in the picture) of what’s on screen does that all by itself. And in Scorsese’s hands, it’s impossible to turn away from.

American Hustle

American Hustle opens with a pudgy Christian Bale, a far cry from his Batman physique, executing one of the worst comb-overs ever shown on screen, and also setting the tone for the entire movie. It’s kind of a funny scene. It’s a little gross. It ends up going on too long and becomes excruciating. Most of all, it makes it clear that the people in the picture aren’t the suave, charming, good-looking (at least not the men) hucksters of a typical caper film. Or even really likeable at all (this goes for all of them).

Who are these characters? There’s Irving Rosenfeld (Bale) and Sydney (Amy Adams), smalltime con artists and sometimes lovers. There’s FBI agent Richie DiMaso (Bradley Cooper), who busts the two and offers immunity in exchange for help making more busts. In a supporting role is Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), a well-connected New Jersey mayor who becomes the target of a sting that keeps getting bigger and bigger (based on the real-life Abscam operation in the late 1970s). And there’s Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence), Irving’s volatile, spiteful wife who never ceases to be a thorn in his side.

If that sounds more like a description of the characters than the plot, there’s a reason for it. The film is not a full dramatization of Abscam (which would have been interesting), and admits upfront to altering or embellishing events. It’s also decidedly not a caper film, as it walks the audience through every step of its scheming, rather than giving us mere pieces to have fun pondering until the whole truth is revealed in the end (there’s a small twist, but it comes so late in the picture that it comes off more like a joke than a major plot point). There are elements of both genres, but the story and structure seem very secondary, for the filmmakers apparently decided the interactions between the characters would be more interesting.

Only one problem: these characters are awful. Not because they’re lowlifes, but because they’re underdeveloped, uncharismatic, and often just grating. Only Bale brings anything interesting to his role, evoking the sense, however lightly, that life as a con man isn’t glamorous, that he’s in it out of desperation more than ambition. Cooper, however, is a bully to both superiors and his criminal subordinates who’s hard to root for. Lawrence is a whiny, spoiled housewife stereotype, aggravating or intrusive (and still aggravating) in most of her scenes. And Adams, whose character we're told plays a big part in the scams, is nonetheless given little to do most of the time besides wearing cleavage-baring attire in every scene.

Director David O. Russell worked with all four in his last two films (Lawrence and Cooper in Silver Linings Playbook, Bale and Adams in The Fighter). But the movie doesn’t feel like it was just an excuse for them to reunite to hang out, like some projects made by frequent collaborators. The character interactions and dialogue seem natural, organic, and even real. Maybe that’s the problem: the characters are so much like real people that they’re not colorful or compelling enough to hold a movie. When their interplay isn’t uncomfortable or even painful to sit through, it’s just boring.

As this endlessly plays out onscreen, chances of actually understanding the particulars of the sting plot get slimmer as the scheme grows more complex. And on top of everything, the picture stretches its aim even further by attempting comedy. It works selectively (a recurring cameo by Louis C.K. is hysterical), but most often, the bits of humor aren’t enough to salvage some absolute duds of dialogue exchanges.

The movie almost manages to be a good time, in spite of itself. But there’s no denying that it’s a big mess of narrative, structure, and wasted talent and opportunities. A mess can still be enjoyable with good characters, but that’s a luxury this film doesn’t have.

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues

I generally enjoy Will Ferrell. But, not Anchorman, despite the fact that it’s probably his most popular movie. This might be partly because its spoofing of the 1970s (especially the sexism and office politics) went over my head, being born nearly a decade removed that era. More so, it’s because the film’s humor was derived from absurd and awkward situations, but the absurdity was just weird and goofy, never in a humorous way.

Anchorman 2 moves on to the 1980s, as Ferrell’s egotistical numbskull newsman Ron Burgundy and San Diego’s Channel 4 team (Paul Rudd, David Koechner, and Steve Carell) relocate to New York City to be part of a radical new idea: a 24-hour news network (just like a real nascent enterprise that began in this era). They bring the network to prominence by blurring the line between news and entertainment.

In other words, they’re the ones responsible for dumbing down the news into the soft brain candy it is today. It’s a golden opportunity for media satire, and it’s clearly right there in the movie, just waiting to be bitingly skewered. But quite frustratingly, that never happens. Ferrell and company tread very lightly, and in fact their use of such fluff is often depicted positively in the plot because it helps them lead in the ratings. When the film addresses this topic in its preachy moment, it carries no weight, either as a soapbox or a joke. And there’s not a lot of satire in anything else, either, save for some throwaway 80s references with the benefit of hindsight.

But, most of the audience probably isn’t expecting anything but a few laughs (I wasn’t myself, but it would have been nice if they had acted on this opportunity). Well, this one’s approach to humor is a little different than the first film (which I appreciate but fans might not). There’s still some of the long, awkward-funny sequences in the form of a few subplots: Carell’s simpleminded weatherman finding a soul mate in an equally dumb receptionist (Kristen Wiig), and Burgundy’s struggle to reconcile his attraction to his African-American boss (Meagan Good) with his traditional (meaning slightly racist) view of the world. The results of these vary from funny, to grating and possibly a little legitimately insulting. But the vast majority of the humor is of the standard one-liner and broad gag variety.

As for whether or not these translate into a laugh, I’d say it’s split about 50-50. There are plenty of gags, and the film moves on quickly from those that clearly don’t work, so it’s an overall pleasant enough experience. There are even a few howlers. At least, that’s until the last half-hour or so, which spirals into a mess of recycled jokes from the first film, truly stupid plot developments, and more cameos than a terrible variety special, as if to substitute stars for humor. So, actually, the whole product might finish a little in the red.

Despite my feelings on the films, though, I actually do like the Ron Burgundy character. He’s quite funny to watch fumbling through a newscast or conducting joke interviews, which get much less cinematic screen time than his dalliances away from the newsroom. Ferrell’s many in-character appearances promoting the film have been funnier and more enjoyable than the film itself. Maybe the character would be better suited living on in such a smaller capacity than in further pictures, one that has him actually doing his job by humorously delivering the news.

Then again, that niche might already be filled…

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

After getting a Lord of the Rings movie for three successive Decembers from 2001 to 2003, it almost seemed like a J.R.R. Tolkien adaptation became a Christmas tradition. I actually felt like the holidays were missing something in 2004. So I was quite excited Peter Jackson decided to make another trilogy out of Tolkien’s prelude novel The Hobbit. Not just because I loved his Lord of the Rings pictures, but because it seems like a long-lost seasonal tradition has been rekindled.

Last year’s first installment An Unexpected Journey was much brighter and less gloomy than Lord of the Rings. The narrative was that of a quest, not a brutal war, so there was more of a sense of adventure. There was time for fun and humor alongside the thrilling moments, which weren’t quite so intense. Well, there’s still some room for all that in The Desolation of Smaug, but things do start to darken. Not as dark as The Two Towers, the middle and by far grimmest entry of the last trilogy. There’s still adventure, but the drums of war start to beat.

The story finds Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) and his Dwarf allies continuing their trek across Middle-Earth to reclaim the vast treasure trove stolen by the dragon Smaug (voiced and performed by Benedict Cumberbatch). En route, they face several dangers, while also coming across some new lands and faces (and at least one familiar one). But while the company’s greatest worry is Smaug, the wizard Gandalf (Ian McKellen) seeks answers about an evil force plaguing the land.

That's where the darkness comes in, and where things deviate from Tolkien’s written word substantially. Jackson’s previous films all altered or simplified the books’ events, but with a few exceptions, the narratives stayed mostly on track. This time, though, the film travels into completely new territory to mold the story into a much more direct lead-in to the events of Lord of the Rings (the book had some such prequel elements, but only in passing as Bilbo's quest was the main focus).

Plenty of other characters have their roles and depictions altered, too. A completely new character (Evangeline Lilly’s Elf warrior Tauriel) is even thrown in to make a romantic subplot, as is Orlando Bloom’s Legolas for no real reason other than he’s a popular character. None of this is done badly, but it’s all a little intrusive, as if they shuffled a few unrelated scripts in with one following the book. I won’t go so far as to say it disrespects the source material (Jackson’s love of Tolkien’s work is all too apparent for that to be the case). Still, it seems just a bit like they piled on more subplots than needed so they could stretch it out to three films, instead of the originally planned two.

But extra plots aside, the main storyline of Bilbo and company’s journey is excellent. It’s easily the most broken narrative Jackson’s given us, starting abruptly and ending on a full-fledged cliffhanger instead of a moment of rest like its predecessors. It makes up for that, however, by offering little but the good stuff, all the most exciting parts of the story (well, almost all of them; some were saved for next year, no doubt). We even get some character moments when things slow down, specifically the subtle awakening of Bilbo’s bloodlust as the One Ring he found last time starts to take hold of him, and how greedy lust for gold begins to corrupt the charismatic Dwarf leader Thorin (Richard Armitage).

But the star of the whole thing is the dragon, and he’s quite an awesome specimen to behold. It’s probably the most amazing, awe-inspiring CGI creation since the first Jurassic Park. Yet, Smaug’s as fully realized a character as Andy Serkis’ Gollum, not some soulless special effect. Just the half-hour or so he’s onscreen is worth the lengthy runtime (shorter than previous entries but still rather long), although there’s plenty more amazing visuals and exciting sequences, as well. Other highlights include a very spooky forest full of oversized creepy crawlers, and a river battle that boomerangs from thrilling, to silly, to hilarious comedy, and back again.

Such moments are what matter most, I think, for these movies are as much about story as spectacle. But it’s spectacle done with love and imagination, not empty blockbuster flash. It’s obvious Tolkien is near and dear to Jackson and his collaborators. It’s fun to travel with them to Middle-Earth, even if the journey veers off the author’s pages.

South Park, "The Hobbit"

Is it just me, or are the kids of South Park a little young for this kind of storyline?

Given, they’ve been through things a lot dirtier than this, and many that would be extraordinary for any real person. But in a story like this that tackles real, mature issues almost seriously (from what I can recall offhand, this might be the straightest the show’s ever played it), elementary school children seem less appropriate than teens or young adults. And this isn’t the first time I’ve felt that. Maybe since the characters would be in their twenties by now if they aged in real time, Matt Stone and Trey Parker decided their creations have matured enough to be in more grown-up stories (The Simpsons has likewise placed child characters in more adult stories in recent years, but I don’t give it much thought because that show’s frankly beyond irrelevant at this point, while South Park is still going strong).

Those issues I speak of are women’s issues, and this episode lays them on thick. It all starts when Wendy, Stan’s longtime girlfriend and the show’s voice for traditional feminism, does the moral thing in standing up for a classmate who’s picked on for her appearance. Her good deed ends up backfiring, and she becomes the most hated girl in school.

In the midst, the episode makes points on (and these are just the most obvious ones; there's plenty more should you choose to dig deeper) standards of beauty in our celebrity culture and the era of Photoshop, and how the world at-large (specifically, males) boils down any debate between females to shallow jealousy and petty fighting. The way Wendy’s views arise scorn from everyone around her might represent the changing face of feminism (or the death of the school of thought as we know it; the viewer can decide). Although, Wendy’s not perfect either; some of her criticisms contain nearly as much venom as Butters’ super-mean comments that started her whole crusade. It seems like a comment on how women can be as hurtful as men, but somehow get a pass if it’s directed at the same sex.

Am I thinking too hard? Possibly, but this episode got me into an analytical state of mind, and I’m still trying to digest all of it. Hardest of all to swallow is the ending, which might be the darkest (well, darkest that isn’t funny dark) and most emotional ever on the show. I’ve never wanted so much to see one of those corny “I learned something today” monologues from the show's earlier days that sets everything right. But no, it takes the defeatist path. The fact that it offers no easy answers leads me back to my original point: the characters are still kids, but the show’s grown up considerably, and is better for it.

But, I have a feeling no one will remember these elements very much. I imagine the media's focus will be on the fact that the show once again took on Kanye West, and compared an unseen Kim Kardashian to a hobbit. And yes, I laughed at this, for West’s very public lack of self-awareness makes him easy fodder. Since last time happened before his infamous moment with Taylor Swift, the episode makes sure to throw in a jab about that, and it’s very funny. But I’m afraid it might upstage the meatier feminist portion of this episode. Which just makes the cold, cold ending sting a little more.

This was an excellent ending to a season I’d describe as typical. Meaning, there were many very funny moments, some great satire, some stories that turned out strange but watchable nonetheless. And yes, at least one dud of an episode.

South Park, "Titties and Dragons"

Now I really want to watch Game of Thrones.

This whole Black Friday saga rather brilliantly combined so many elements—timeless things like post-Thanksgiving shopping mayhem and stuff more "about now" like HBO’s fantasy series and the newest video game consoles—into a coherent whole. Tonight’s episode concluded the storyline by adding many more twists and betrayals. It worked so well that I wasn’t even watching the show like I normally do, taking it in as comedy; I was actually quite engrossed in it, as if I were watching a great, compelling drama. If a mere parody did that…well, I might just have to check the series out.

It was so compelling that I kind of forgave the fact that it wasn’t as funny as the first two entries in this three-parter. Yeah, there were moments where I laughed, but as sometimes happens, Trey Parker and Matt Stone took the narrative so far that it left less room for humor. And yes, I realize having never seen Game of Thrones, I may have missed some references (I did, however, get the obvious play on the Red Wedding, because frankly, you couldn’t avoid hearing about it somewhere when the show got to the point this summer). But the jokes that had been running through this whole arc were rather played out by now. Especially the fake George R.R. Martin’s wiener obsession, which really had nowhere to go but down after that memorable choir gag from last episode.

As for the newer stuff, I found some humor in seeing a certain nerdy tech icon tattooed in gang-style computer code, although I can’t remember if I actually laughed at it or not. I did laugh really hard at the one-line return of the perverted Elmo doll you may have forgotten about from three weeks ago, placed oh so perfectly in this one's resolving moments. Adding real Black Friday footage to the mall bloodbath was a funny touch, although I’m a little disappointed that the selected film was relatively tame. Some of the more intense fights from this past Thanksgiving weekend would have fit right in alongside the cartoon carnage, and it could have been hilarious seeing the two cut together. I’m still on the fence about the ending, torn between appreciating it as a mildly comical ad-inside-a-show, and hating it as a shameless plug (maybe if it had been funnier...).

I am sure, however, that I loved this episode, and this entire arc as a whole. It was smart, clever, often very funny, and ultimately, surprisingly captivating.

Oldboy

It might not always be fair to judge a remake by simply comparing it to the original. But that’s hard not to do when a filmmaker copies it so closely instead of making the story their own. It’s even more difficult when the original was close to perfect, while the remake is inferior in every way. Such is the case with Oldboy, the dark, twisted South Korean gem from director Park Chan-wook. An American remake has been talked about for years, but upon finally hitting the screen in a crowded Thanksgiving weekend, the Spike Lee-directed movie has received little notice.

The film follows Joe Doucett (Josh Brolin), a drunken lowlife who wakes up after a bender to find himself inexplicably locked in a room. No windows, no phone, and no contact with the outside world. He’s given meals through a trough in the door, and knocked out with sleeping gas periodically so he can be groomed by his captors. His only company is a television, from which he learns his wife was murdered and he’s the prime suspect. After 20 years in captivity, he’s just as suddenly released, and sets out to find out who kidnapped him, as well as track down his surviving daughter.

It was 15 years in Park’s film, one of several small changes in the movie. It’s also Americanized, meaning not only are the look and setting different, but some of the too-extreme-for-Hollywood sequences have been excised, with only a few hinting references remaining. And the reasons for the villainous plot against the protagonist have changed a bit, as has the scheme's complexity. But mostly, the film follows the original’s storyline pretty closely. Same sequence of events, same jarring plot twist, even the same extended hallway battle (although here it seems rather cartoonish, instead of revealing about the character’s atrophied human feeling and iron determination for vengeance). What’s different is how it’s done.

The screen time of Brolin’s captivity is increased, with some new creepy touches as his sanity unravels and further ways his captors torment him. The lead-up to his abduction, as he drunkenly wanders streets as empty and misty as only horror movies get, conjures up some unsettling dread. Lee also expands on the backstory, with a longer pre-captivity introduction that shows just how much of an unlikeable loser the lead character is. It almost makes us not want to root for him at first, but after he’s released from his prison, he seems set up for redemption, at least as much as he can get in the depraved web in which he’s caught.

But whatever potential that's there evaporates quickly. Once he’s freed, he goes into stoic Death Wish mode, committing acts of violence almost mechanically and showing no emotion. Well, some emotion, but it all seems forced. His romance with a young nurse who cares for him (Elizabeth Olsen) is like an unwelcome romantic subplot forcibly shoved into an action thriller, not a sickly tender meeting of unlikely kindred spirits like the original film.

That’s the biggest, most affecting difference between Park’s film and Lee’s: emotion. For all the depravity of the original, Park instilled within it a powerful, shattering emotional depth. Even the villain’s heinous plot turned out to be an act from the bottom of his heart. Here, the villain (Sharlto Copley) is just an insane caricature, and the tone is that of a revenge thriller with touches of the torture porn genre. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that it’s not a very effective thriller is. It’s very straightforward and standard, dragging along to the end and offering very little tension.

The final results might not completely be the fault of the filmmakers, though. Apparently, studio interference resulted in significant cuts against the wishes of cast and crew. We need not wait and hope for an uncut DVD to see the optimal version of Oldboy, however. That film already exists in the form of Park’s original.

12 Years A Slave

Last year, Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained was both controversial and praised for its unflinching depiction of slavery. I loved the film myself, but clearly, it was exaggerated and historically haphazard. For all its violence, it still had familiar genre tropes more palatable to the audience than the realities of slavery in America, as well as the security blanket of violent Hollywood retribution so they could leave the theater happy. But the fact that it was lauded for that is telling about how movies have depicted slavery. There have been portrayals cruel enough to get the point across, but never one that really shows the true extent of its brutality.

12 Years A Slave stands out as much for doing just that as it does on its own merits (which are many). It adheres to no comfortable archetypes, and slavery is the focus instead of a backdrop to another story. Overreaching elements like the politics of the day or historical events like Underground Railroad and the lead-up to the Civil War aren’t even mentioned. This is an intimate and very personal account of slavery, and more poignant for that.

Adapting the memoirs of Solomon Northup, a free black and educated musician from New York who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841, was a great choice for several reasons. Obviously, there’s the authenticity of a true story. Also, the kidnapping of Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) not only shows a side of the slave trade many might not know about, but also casts him as an outsider to whom the world of slavery is introduced as bluntly as to the viewer (not that the story of someone born into it would have necessarily been any less affecting). Most of all, it’s not a full biography of the man, but a collection of episodes from his time in bondage, episodes the movie depicts without diluting a bit.

Some are graphic and visceral. Some are obscured or implied to happen off-camera. Director Steve McQueen, an acclaimed artist as well as a filmmaker, constructs scenes with the eye of the former role. Every shot, color, sound, and actor's face are equal and essential parts of rich cinematic canvases, perfectly in unison to elicit the most feeling. If they were positive feelings, you could say it’s beautiful (and some of the lush, colorful naturalistic cinematography is beautiful, in contrast to the gloomy desaturation so common in “realistic” pictures). But instead, it makes every trauma as painful as possible. Whether you actually see it or not, it’s hard to watch.

Other times, it doesn’t even need to show the characters’ torment to get the point across. McQueen the filmmaker creates a suffocating atmosphere where Ejiofor and his fellow captives could be beaten or killed for making one mistake, saying one wrong word, or even just giving the wrong look. Just the idea it might happen creates a tension as frightening as an intense horror movie, only without the release of a scare now and then.

There are simply evil white men in the picture, no doubt. Quite memorable is Michael Fassbender as Northup’s second master, a psychopath who takes pleasure in whippings and lustfully rapes his slave girl (Lupita Nyong'o, fantastic and heartbreaking). Same goes for Sarah Paulson as his wife, who spitefully doles out punishment to Nyong'o at every turn. But arguably more effective than their simple sadism are scenes where horrible, shocking images—naked slaves being inspected and sold like meat, or beaten like unruly animals by traders or plantation overseers—are accepted by whites as business as usual. More effective because it shows just how entrenched this evil was.

Even one of the two decent white men in the picture, a Baptist minister (Benedict Cumberbatch) who first buys Northup, is still a part of it. Though he’s more humane and even helps Northup escape certain death, it’s clear he sees his captive as lesser, like prized livestock instead of a human being. The other, a Canadian builder (Brad Pitt), offers the moral argument against slavery, and comes off less like the abolitionist perspective of the day (though—SPOILER!—his words are apparently pretty accurate) than today’s (seemingly very obvious) view on bondage. His words are met with derision by Fassbender, mirroring how astoundingly insane the arguments for enslaving humans the slave owner's words represent sound today.

Ejiofor is an absolute godsend in the picture. He makes the audience feel every trial Northup goes through, both his physical debasement and the emotional pain of losing all hope of freedom or seeing his family again. But the fact that he manages to maintain some self-worth and humanity, let alone dignity, through such loss is almost like a miracle. It’s more than just a great performance; it makes not just Northup’s story seem more incredible, but also the fact that American heroes like Frederick Douglass or Harriet Tubman emerged from such an institution.

This work is one of supreme humanity. Mind you, much of it is the worst of humanity, and necessarily cruel and unflinching in its depiction. But that makes the positives even more powerful. This is a film for the ages, both a gripping and real piece of history, and as a portrait of how powerful and resilient the human spirit can be.

South Park, "A Song of Ass and Fire"

George R.R. Martin is on record speaking against the plot device of a deus ex machina, and yet on tonight’s episode, the author gave us exactly that to resolve the whole Black Friday video game console war brewing in South Park.

Okay, it wasn’t really him, just a caricature voiced by Trey Parker or Matt Stone (I couldn’t quite tell which, but it sounded like every other celebrity who’s appeared on the show in parody). And the solution he offered didn’t wrap up anything, just kicked the whole conflict down the road. All the way to a week after Thanksgiving, to be exact, at least on the show (could this mean the show itself won’t resolve this story until after Turkey Day has passed?).

There’s no resolution here, just lots of posturing and alliances formed between different parties (complete with Bill Gates and a generic Japanese head of Sony appearing as scheming power figures), as well as betrayals within their ranks and, of course, some very gratuitous banging. I kind of want to watch Game of Thrones now, not just to get the references in this episode better, but also because mentally juggling all the factions just on this show put my brain to work just a little bit. Such puzzling plotting sounds quite captivating, and this is just a spoof of it.

Aside from the parody, this one features a few repeating bits showing how to make a running joke without beating the humor out of it. One is Cartman’s scheming in a angry neighbor’s garden. It’s a pretty obvious and a repetitive joke, and doesn’t even try to pretend it’s not making the same one over and over again. And yet I laughed at it every time. Another is the fake Martin’s perceived obsession with male genitalia, which is carried over to the end but changes the joke up just enough each time so it stays funny (its final stop, the choir scene, was some perfect combination of juvenile and brilliant).

Another great moment was the revelation of the true relationship between two people taking part in said banging. Not sure if this was based on a plot point from Game of Thrones or not, though I got a feeling it was just a throwaway gag birthed in Stone and Parker’s dirty minds. The highbrow in me feels a little bad that my biggest laugh of the episode came from this instead of one of the more thought-out bits, but hey, it took me by surprise. It wasn’t as funny or nearly as clever as last week’s out-of-nowhere Elmo doll joke, but the randomness and dirtiness struck a chord with the immature teenager in me.

South Park, "Black Friday"

I’m guessing that this was the first episode of a two-parter, or maybe even more than that.

As I’m writing this, I’ve yet to find any definitive verification. But the fact that it ended before we even got to see Thanksgiving come to South Park, let alone the eponymous Black Friday that the story was building towards, is a pretty obvious hint that the story’s not over. If I’m proven wrong, I’ll correct myself (and I must say if that's the case, Trey Parker and Matt Stone are just a little evil), but I’m sticking to my theory until I’m proven wrong.

I had to point that out because the problem with two-or-more-episode arcs is that it’s a little hard to judge just one part. The first part could show promise that the latter entries fail to live up to. Last week showed how a smart or clever idea could fizzle over the course of just a single episode.

So far, though, I like what I’ve seen. I haven’t watched a minute of Game of Thrones, so I can’t comment too much on the cleverness or accuracy of the parody of that show, and some of the jokes might have gone over my head. But the rudimentary knowledge of the fantasy series I do have allowed me to catch enough of them, from the broader, more obvious ones (Butters’ hilarious fixation on the show’s sex scenes), to the more subtle (Randy’s line “You can’t die! Everybody really likes you!” seemed like a reference to the show’s high body count).

I don’t doubt I’d have enjoyed the episode more if I had seen Game of Thrones. Having not seen it, however, the element that most resonated with me was the way it was like an acerbic antidote to the average holiday special. I mean, Black Friday is undoubtedly (and sadly) as much a tradition as Thanksgiving itself, but not one that’s really been addressed on television shows. By depicting it with the grim weight and gravity of the buildup to an epic battle, the show appears to be making a sly comment on the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing, (and they’re right: it is ridiculous, people going crazy and even turning violent over commercial merchandise).

The Game of Thrones stuff dates this episode in this moment in time, as does the amusing plot point of factions dividing over the choice of Xbox One or PlayStation 4 (years from now, this will be one of those touches where viewers say “Hey, I remember that!”, like some elements in older episodes that were current when they first aired). But the Black Friday commentary could have staying power as long as people pack the malls and stores the day after Thanksgiving (at least, with the right ending it can). And that very naughty Elmo doll is both timeless and current, and so wrong and so mean that I almost had tears from laughter.

One last thought: Until it became clear this story would be longer than one episode, I wondered why they were doing a Thanksgiving-themed entry with two weeks left before the holiday. Now there are two Wednesdays before Thanksgiving Day to wrap up this arc. It could be two parts followed by an off week, could be an epic three-part story like the Coon saga a few years back…or could there be another crappy Terrance and Philip special before the conclusion on the eve of Turkey Day? I don’t think Stone and Parker are really evil, but we know they’re capable of pulling a mean fast one like that. It’s just a matter of whether or not they want to reuse the same gag.

Thor: The Dark World

Thor, to me, was the weakest entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. One reason for this was it played too much like a culture clash comedy. Humor’s been an appealing element of the Marvel films, but it had a little too much in that department. But the biggest flaw was that it felt like little more than a primer for The Avengers. The title hero (Chris Hemsworth) and his villainous brother Loki’s (Tom Hiddleston) story didn’t really get going until near the end of Thor, and played out in The Avengers. That might have been necessary from a storytelling standpoint, but it made the thunder god’s debut seem like the movie equivalent of a comic book tie-in issue, which the rest of the Marvel heroes’ own pictures were not.

There were other problems with the movie, but these were the two that really sunk the whole thing for me. Thor: The Dark World fixes the big problems, at least, and is a substantial improvement over its predecessor.

Set some time after The Avengers, the movie catches up with our hero just after bringing peace to the Nine Realms (I’m not sure what that means, but it has to do with Norse mythology). But back on Earth, Thor’s love interest Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) becomes possessed by a destructive force with the power to engulf the universe in darkness. Her find awakens the evil Malekith (Christopher Eccleston), leader of the Dark Elves and an ancient enemy of Asgard, who renews his war against Thor’s home realm. To stop him, Thor and his companions are forced to team up with Loki, who's imprisoned for his attempted invasion of Earth.

It doesn’t fix everything, and some of the same foibles from the first one carried over. There’s still the loaded, bombastic dialogue that basically spells out the whole plot for us, and some of the same wooden and one-note characters. And on top of the plastic-looking Viking armor, we also get bad makeup jobs for Eccleston and his second-in-command Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. As in “the worst we’ve seen from Star Trek” bad (probably why all the other Dark Elves wear identical masks). But most of all, it’s just hard to buy the inherent ridiculousness of the whole storyline. I realize it’s rather finicky to believe and go along with some fantastical hero stories but criticize this one for being too dopey. Yet, here I am. The extensive but not-so serious mythological plot and aesthetic emits a low-grade Tolkien vibe that's hard to shake off (maybe I’m spoiled by Peter Jackson’s movies and can’t help but instinctively compare all fantasy fare to them).

But as I said, the most major problems were rectified. The humor is still plentiful, coming from the main cast as well as supporting players like Kat Dennings and Stellan Skarsgård (as well a few great—and I do mean great—cameos). This time it’s actually funny, not intrusive (or I just expected it this time and was more forgiving), even when it turns the final climactic showdown into a goofy zigzagging action piece. Speaking of which, there actually are action scenes, which Thor lacked, and as good as any we’ve gotten from Marvel so far.

Most importantly, this is Thor’s movie, not a buildup for something else. Beyond the cheesy epic grandeur and greater Marvel mythology, it’s at its heart a self-contained little adventure yarn that’s a lot of fun. That much is enough, but it even gives us some interesting character evolution. At least it does for Loki, who over three movies has gone from merely a powerful smartass to a more interesting and ambiguous baddie. He’s definitely the most interesting one in the picture (poor Thor, merely a promotional primer in his first title and upstaged in his second), and I hope Hiddleston still plays a role in the Marvel film canon going forward.

Despite being a sequel, Thor: The Dark World is the first real full Thor picture, the one the character deserved. Better late than never.

South Park, "Ginger Cow"

This episode has a pretty lofty target for commentary: the religious conflict in the Middle East. But the satire has all the effectiveness of stepping to the plate against a Major League pitcher with a toothpick. Which is to say, none whatsoever.

It all starts when the title creature (a cow with a red afro and freckle-like spots) appears in South Park. It’s really a trick pulled by Cartman, but Christians, Muslims, and Jews around the world take it as a sign, and end all conflict over Israel. Kyle knows the truth and becomes something of a depraved martyr (looking, intentional or not, a lot like the David Blaine cultists in the still-banned episode “Super Best Friends”) to keep it a secret.

Before I go on, I have a small confession to make: I’ve never really been a fan of the episode “Ginger Kids” or the running joke in the series that stemmed from it. I know, the joke seems to have transcended the program and entered the mainstream (you could call it a meme, but I’d argue it entered pop culture before memes really exploded online), but I just never really thought it was all that funny. But the whole Ginger Cow prophecy is actually clever and funny, both as a plot device and an extension of the joke. However, it appears they came up with this plot point and couldn’t find anywhere to really go with it.

The episode’s recurring dirty gag—a fart joke that’s crude enough but kind of tame by the standards of the last few seasons—fails to work as an effective piece of satire. And yes, the show can make great allegory out of the sexual and scatological on its best days. But this wasn’t one of those days.

One scene in which the three major religions negotiate how they can kill each other had me thinking the episode was going to make some statement on the recent debate over what weapons can be used in Syria. Turns out I was thinking too hard; after that scene, all the three faiths do is attend a Van Halen concert, which feels a lot like Trey Parker and Matt Stone ran out of ideas and just threw in some songs they heard on the radio so the episode would make its deadline. I kept waiting and waiting for some great, stinging plot twist to come from all this. The ending we got was ironic and somewhat amusing compared to the rest of the episode, though still rather toothless.

Said fart joke was funny for a little while, at least (it helps that one scene features Mr. Mackey, who for whatever reason always gets me). And having Kyle translate Israeli rabbis (who are actually speaking English in heavy accents) was one of those moments where the show gets so politically incorrect that you can’t help but laugh, despite feeling a little bad about it. But overall, a few light chuckles is all we got here. It’s too bad this episode wasn’t the one that got delayed; maybe with another week, they could have fleshed out a much better narrative to go along with the Ginger Cow idea.

Ender's Game

Looking for a light, fun sci-fi action adventure with lots and lots of space battles and visual effects? Well, Ender’s Game is not the film you’re looking for. That’s not to say there isn’t any of that in the movie, but there’s more going on here. Darker stuff, actually, despite all the flashy visuals and sparkly clean future aesthetic on display.

Adapted from the multiple award-winning 1985 novel by Orson Scott Card, the movie takes place in the far future, 50 years after humanity repelled an invasion by an insect-like race called the Formics. Afterward, the world powers of the International Fleet began training the best and brightest (not to mention most brutal) children to lead the fight against this enemy. After all this is described in a short prologue, the story follows title character Andrew “Ender” Wiggin (Asa Butterfield), a shy outcast child with brilliant skills in war games, as he travels to battle school (on a giant space station orbiting Earth) and is groomed to become a commander. He thrives at the school’s battle drills and simulations, but will his conscience get in the way of his abilities to lead a real battle?

That appears to be the main thematic question, and the tone is so heavily militaristic that it seemingly leans decisively toward one side of the moral spectrum of violence and warfare. Card’s book is recommended reading for the U.S. Marines, and though I haven’t read it, it’s easy to see why from what made it to the screen. The battle school is run like a boot camp, but with less grueling physical drills and more strategic study. Yet the outcome of breaking down the participants and molding them into hardened fighters is the same. Butterfield credibly gets molded from meek but brilliant to ruthless, all the more effective because his ruthlessness is so understated that he even still seems nice and personable. The people in charge—played by acclaimed actors Viola Davis, Ben Kingsley, and Harrison Ford (unrecognizable from his usual righteous hero roles, and the closest thing to an antagonist in the picture)—are effectively sinister faces of the military machine. The fact that they’re all adults while the students are just kids is a pretty on-the-nose metaphor for loss of childhood innocence. We don’t get to know most of the students very well, but that might just be the point, emphasizing the dehumanization aspect.

It could have been a lot more disturbing in this exploration, but the movie doesn’t quite cross that threshold. There are two reasons for this, I believe. First, it’s a science fiction story where the enemies are aliens (and buggy ones at that), so though these themes still work, they’re categorically less potent than if it were about killing other humans. Second, the film is aiming for the teen young adult demographic, not looking to tell a complex psychological story. So while the plot’s meditation on militarism and violence is always apparent, it's still possible to push it aside.

Should you do that, you’re left with a well made and entertaining movie with a likable young cast. Director Gavin Hood manages to make the action exciting, even though it mostly consists of training exercises and battles that are apparently simulated. The special effects vary from good to just adequate, but this works because it highlights the aspect that all the battles are games. Some of the younger actors are obviously less experienced, but most do pretty well.

The only real flaw is that it’s clearly meant to be the first film in a franchise (the novel already has several sequels), and it feels as if the underlying implication is that the best is yet to come. Seeing Ender’s training but no real battles is like playing through the tutorial part of a video game and not getting to play any of the levels. Plus, the ending takes a turn that’s a bit confusing, knowingly so to implore the audience to come back for the next entry. But after this solid first entry, I won’t mind coming back again.

South Park, "Taming Strange"

So, the most stinging barb against the glitchy Obamacare website comes not from any politician, pundit, reporter, or even the general public, but South Park. And it’s by far the funniest piece of comedy on the topic since the site’s bungled launch (besting even fellow Comedy Central stalwarts Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, whose jokes about it have been as tired as the non-comedy media covering it ad nauseam).

Putting the allegorical stand-in program in the hands of guidance counselor Mr. Mackey, the show’s mumbling pinnacle of educational ineptitude, made for a funny gag from the get-go. It almost seemed like just a throwaway joke at first, a little timely touch they squeezed in to date the episode in the now. But it keeps up alongside the main plot—that being Kyle’s adopted Canadian brother Ike hitting early puberty—and instead of getting repeated to the point that the joke is killed, it’s written into the main story. And it comes together superbly.

So does the rest of the episode, taking on Miley Cyrus’ overexposure by way of a certain kids show (though both are more caught in the crossfire while HealthCare.gov is the primary target), while also continuing the show's strange, humorous running depiction of Canadians. Other episodes have likewise combined so many elements, and have been funny if a bit nebulous as a whole. But the way this one connects all the elements into a flawlessly cohesive narrative is brilliant. This is probably the best written episode, as well as the most culturally aware and sharp one, since “Best Friends Forever,” the 2005 Emmy-winner that substituted Kenny for Terri Schiavo.

Even if the Obamacare website snafu similarly turns out to be only a minor political footnote, this episode could have more staying power than “Best Friends Forever” because it might be even funnier. The points about digital bureaucracy are made in typical unsubtle South Park fashion, depicting people of importance and power as fast-talking, hysterically incompetent fools. But the bread and butter is the toilet humor, which is equally rich (I forgot to mention a great takedown of Tom Brady that’s randomly thrown into the fray; not as mean as what they had him drink last year, but still disgustingly hilarious). Yet in spite of a reputation for grossing us out by depicting dirty things directly, the show surprisingly decides to hold back in this one, and lets its plot points involving a cuddly children’s character doing naughty things happen offscreen. And it actually benefits the joke that way.