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.