Requiem for the Expanded Universe

May it rest in peace...

After much speculation, Lucasfilm announced on Friday how the Star Wars Expanded Universe will come into play in upcoming films: in short, not very much. Though they left the door open to some elements possibly being integrated, they’re for the most part abandoning the decades of continuity established in the books and comics (though at least they expressed no intent to purge them out of existence, as George Lucas seems intent to do with the unaltered cuts of the Original Trilogy). Fan reaction has consisted of mostly disappointment, though not surprise. In my opinion, however, this might be for the best (I'll get to that later). But I must say, I have enjoyed several pieces of the EU over the years, so I do feel a bit of sadness knowing that it's being left behind. So here's a look back on the life of the Expanded Universe, both the major points and spotlight on a few of my personal favorites. Cue the nostalgic music from when Luke Skywalker stares into the twin sunset.

1970s and 80s: Beginnings

Marvel series

Beginning in 1977, the very first Star Wars comics were a desperate marketing ploy to drum up interest in a film everyone thought would fail, according to the DVD documentary Empire of Dreams (laughable, isn’t it?). When it instead became the biggest film ever, the comic book lasted ten years and over 100 issues. Among them were the official adaptations of the Original Trilogy, which were and still are quite good. The stories not based on the films, however, are of very dubious continuity, and often light and goofy. For example, Jabba the Hutt makes a handful of appearances as a dog-faced humanoid before his true form was revealed in Return of the Jedi. In another issue, Han Solo duels with an interstellar pirate in the vacuum of space…wearing little more than a snorkel. Comics were in their Bronze Age during most of this series’ run, but compared to other books at the time like Chris Claremont’s X-Men, these feel almost like Silver Age.

Splinter of the Mind’s Eye

The granddaddy of all Expanded Universe novels, penned by science fiction author and A New Hope novelization ghostwriter Alan Dean Foster. Supposedly the template for a smaller-scale sequel that was abandoned in favor of The Empire Strikes Back, it finds Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia stranded on a jungle planet and seeking out a force-sensitive amulet. They also come across Darth Vader, who’s still miffed about the Death Star’s destruction. All in all, this one’s pretty average. If Star Wars were a Flash Gordon-esque serial or a campy 70s sci-fi series, this would be a forgettable standalone episode. But in addition to being the very first supplemental novel, it’s also notable, and unintentionally funny, for the romantic tension between Luke and Leia. Hey, it was 1978! No one knew yet that they were siblings (Lucas says he knew all along, but I still wonder).

1990s: Official Continuity

The Thrawn Trilogy

For a while, there weren’t really any rules regarding Expanded Universe canon. Then in 1991, Lucasfilm established a more official EU continuity, beginning with Timothy Zahn’s novel Heir to the Empire. The book was the first of a trilogy catching up with the heroes of the films five years after Return of the Jedi, as the fledgling New Republic faces off against the remains of the Empire under the command of the blue-skinned Grand Admiral Thrawn. And it was good.

At the time, there was little established canon outside of the first three films, so Zahn had free reign to take the story in almost any direction (subject to Lucas’ approval, of course). He brought to the saga new characters, locales, and ideas, rather than just playing with someone else's creations. Many of the new faces he introduced went on to play roles in the EU as major as those of the film characters, especially the Solo twins Jacen and Jaina and former Imperial assassin Mara Jade. But far from just adding on more people, Zahn also expanded on the stories of the characters we knew and loved. For years when it looked like there would be no more than six films, these could have easily stood in for Episodes VII, VIII, and IX.

The Thrawn trilogy kicked off a new era for the EU. Works published in the 70s and 80s were only selectively accepted into the canon (best I can tell, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye was, the various comic series were not, and no one’s quite sure about the Han Solo and Lando Calrissian Adventures), but everything that came afterward was part of the official continuity.

Dark Empire

Around the same time as the Thrawn trilogy, Star Wars' comic license moved from Marvel to Dark Horse Comics (since parent company Disney also owns Marvel, they’re set to move back next year). The very first title at the new line was the miniseries Dark Empire, in which the dreaded Emperor Palpatine’s spirit returns in a clone body, and takes none other than Luke Skywalker as his new apprentice. The story clashes a bit with the events of the Thrawn trilogy, and while its sequel (the complete arc totaled three parts) remedies this well enough internally, the whole arc still seems like a rough fit within the official timeline. By itself, however, it’s a solid piece of work, despite some dark and gloomy artwork. It’s like a bridge between the old Marvel series and the new EU: it still has the older structure (the omniscient narration, the looser, out-there adventure plotting), but with a darker tone signifying the more serious works to come.

Tales of the Jedi

Think back to before the prequels came out, when all we knew about what happened prior to the Original Trilogy consisted of a few lines of dialogue hinting at a rich and mystical history. In 1994, this series gave us a taste of that era (albeit much, much further back, way before any character we saw onscreen). Set thousands of years in the past, these chronicles of the ancient Jedi and Sith are almost likes myths, with the Force bringing the characters to triumph and tragedy like the legendary heroes of Earth lore. This vibe is bolstered by the beautiful artwork, whose aesthetic evokes medieval knights or ancient Rome, and yet is still clearly Star Wars with spaceships and lightsabers. Sadly, the canonicity of these seems to have been rendered moot, or at least questionable, in the advent of the Knights of the Old Republic video games and comics (then again, the whole EU is apparently moot now). Still, these rank among the best of the comics, and recall a time when the events prior to the Original Trilogy seemed so full of possibility and wonder. Instead of, you know, racist frog aliens.

Video Game adaptations

Before the Knights of the Old Republic comics I just mentioned, several games that took you beyond the movies got their own books. The popular X-Wing flight simulators (left) spawned a nine-book series, depicting the struggle against the Empire from Rebel pilot Wedge Antilles' point of view. The shooter Dark Forces depicted events concurrent with the films, with the player assuming the role of Imperial turncoat (and later Jedi) Kyle Katarn. A trio of illustrated novellas from Dark Horse expanded on his story. And in reverse, the events of Dark Empire inspired a mission in Nintendo 64’s Rogue Squadron (a game I played for endless hours).

Another game I adored as a child was…

Shadows of the Empire

Some of the various Shadows merchandise

Probably the most famous EU project, or at least the one fans who don’t really go beyond the movies know about. The story, filling the gap between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, unfolds over several different mediums, offering a different perspective in each one. The novel by Steve Perry follows Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia’s attempt to rescue Han Solo from Boba Fett, as well as the green-skinned crime lord Prince Xizor and his plot to kill Luke. The comic (my pick for best of the bunch) follows Fett and Darth Vader's roles. In the N64 game, the player fights through the events (as well as the Battle of Hoth) as Dash Rendar, an obvious carbon copy of Han Solo (remember he was in carbonite at the time). These were all accompanied by a toy line, a soundtrack, basically everything that comes with a major movie…except, no movie. Looking back, it couldn’t be more obvious it was purely a marketing ploy (supposedly to test the merchandising waters for the coming prequels). And I fell for it completely. But I’m okay with that because it was my first foray into the EU, and led to me seeking out and reading many more comics and books.

The Han Solo Trilogy

The story of the Skywalker family was saved for the prequels, but the early life of the other protagonist (and let’s be honest, the one who made the movies) was told in three books by the late A.C. Crispin. The novels describe events in Han Solo's life everyone knows, like how his partnership with Chewbacca began and his run-ins with Lando Calrissian and Jabba the Hutt. But we also learn that there’s more to the Corellian smuggler than his cocky façade when he first appears in the Mos Eisley cantina. Specifically, his romance with a revolutionary who plays a great part in the fate of the Rebellion. Turns out ol’ Han had some heart and principle all along, and was much less the selfish character he tried to sell himself as when we first met him. The Thrawn trilogy are the strongest full entries in the EU storyline, but for character-specific works, these might be the best (though I'm biased because Han Solo's my favorite character).

Boba Fett

To me, Boba Fett’s never been quite the same since the rather disappointing revelation that he’s merely a clone of his “father” Jango (himself a chrome-plated carbon copy of Boba). But up until we found that out, Boba was one of the coolest secondary characters in the Star Wars universe (and still might be, actually). It wasn’t just all the cool toys at his disposal, but also the mystique of not knowing who he was, other than a total badass. Every kid who was a Star Wars fan had his action figure and wanted to be him on the playground at some point.

Still got mine!

There was a window in the EU’s existence when he was still that character, beginning with Dark Empire revealing he survived his fall into the Sarlacc Pit, and ending with his underwhelming origin in Attack of the Clones. During that length of time, works like K.W. Jeter’s Bounty Hunter Wars Trilogy and the Shadows of the Empire comic book recast Fett as an anti-hero (emphasis on the “anti,” he still wasn’t a good guy) battling rival bounty hunters and the other scum of the universe. The comic Enemy of the Empire even has him facing off with Darth Vader. Yes, there was a time when Boba Fett had enough clout that he could not only go toe-to-toe with Darth Vader, but take their fight to a stalemate. As for now...well, he'd still mop the floor with Hayden Christensen's Anakin, clone or not.

1999-2005: The prequel film era

The New Jedi Order

By the end of the 90s, the Expanded Universe had amassed over two decades of post-Return of the Jedi history. Much of it involved the Rebel Alliance/New Republic battling the ever-dwindling remnants of the Empire, or squelching uprisings on newly-liberated worlds, over and over again. The various published works were falling into a predictable formula where the main characters would always emerge unscathed. Most of the EU’s output was turning toward the prequel era with the release of The Phantom Menace. But while the new films got most of the attention, the Original Trilogy characters and their EU compatriots got a much needed jolt with The New Jedi Order.

The series introduced nightmarish new villains: the Yuuzahn Vong, a race from outside the galaxy who partake in a genocidal invasion. The Vong are self-mutilating zealots who view pain as a sacrament and see all technology as blasphemy. So all their ships and weapons are living beings. Oh, and they apparently exist outside of The Force (though The Force comes into play in surprising ways later in the series). If that weren't enough, the very first book Vector Prime made it clear how grim a turn this was by killing off a beloved character (SPOILER!). More would meet their end over the 19-book run, and this war for the galaxy would arguably be more destructive than the Clone Wars or the war against the Empire.

There's a line from Predator that's pretty apt here.

The New Jedi Order is a point of contention among fans, with some protesting it for being too dark and brutal, and straying too much from the spirit of Star Wars. I’m not one of them. Forget whatever next step in the conflict between the Jedi and the Sith J.J. Abrams gives us in Episode VII. Truly terrifying and evil enemies, massive battles in space and on planets against sentient weapons, Jedi-hunting genetic monsters, a real uncertainty about who lives and dies, and even those who live being pushed to their limits in strength as well as with the Force? That would be a kickass movie!

Prequel-era stories

While the prequels may not have been that great, the comics and books set in the same time period had some pretty good stuff. Before the Clone Wars cartoon series, the EU gave us a firsthand view of the war we only saw glimpses of in the films (it was a darker, more serious depiction than the cartoons, as well). It was here that Anakin Skywalker got some depth that the character desperately needed, as he struggles with his feelings amidst the trials of war. The various other Jedi were also revealed to be more than seat fillers on the Jedi Council and targets during Order 66. My favorite arc, and also apparently a fan favorite, was that of Quinlan Vos, a Jedi Master with tendencies toward the Dark Side. Because of his struggle to stay in the light, Vos is recruited by the Republic to be a double agent and infiltrate Count Dooku’s inner circle. But his mission becomes difficult when the Dark Side starts to overcome him. More than a compelling story of war and espionage, it introduced a rare element of moral ambiguity into a saga where good and evil (Light Side and Dark Side) are usually rigidly defined. 

Too bad we never got to see any of these stories onscreen…

2005-Present: Saturation

Admittedly, I’ve always been only a selective connoisseur of the Expanded Universe (which is why this is by no means a complete list, and several of your favorites may not have been mentioned). But this period, around the release of Revenge of the Sith, is when the EU lost me. Toward the end of The New Jedi Order, stories starring the Original Trilogy cast began integrating elements of the prequels. Which of course they would, because the prequels are just as much canon as the Originals, but like Hayden Christensen in Return of the Jedi, it still doesn't seem quite right. But beyond that, the EU started filling nearly every possible gap in the timeline between books with new stories, many of them inconsequential. Then after NJO, the saga reverted back to repetitive conflicts between the Light and Dark Sides and the Rebels and the Empire (or whatever name each side went by at this point in the continuity). The film characters were now in their geriatric years, and several longtime EU stalwarts were killed off disappointingly. The timeline became so crowded that some series jumped into the far future or even further into the past, with only tenuous links to the characters we’d been following for so long. It just became so convoluted, more difficult to keep track of than fun to read.

For this reason, it’s probably not a bad idea for the new movies to start fresh. If they were to stay true to the EU, they would have to deal with so many characters and plot points that it would severely limit their creative possibilities, and might end up with a story as tangled and predictable as the books and comics have become. Part of what made the EU great in the first place was that, at the start, there were so many possible stories and only the films as parameters. So, sad as it may be to kiss the universe we've followed for many years goodbye, a clean slate will allow the sequels more freedom to do new things with the saga.

And if they turn out to be as disappointing as the prequels, we can all pretend they didn’t happen, as we’ll still have decades’ worth of EU stories to fall back on.

Long live the Expanded Universe!

Noah

Monty Python had a sketch in which Renaissance painter Michelangelo stands before the Pope, who chastises the artist for his highly inaccurate painting of the Last Supper. As their exchange goes on, they reveal some hilariously looney creative liberties taken in the painting (which might explain why Leonardo da Vinci got the job). Similarly absurd artistic license is taken in Darren Aronofsky’s take on Noah’s Ark. But instead of aiming for a bit of goofy comedy, the writer-director appears to be completely serious. Which only makes the rock monsters that much more ridiculous.

I’ll repeat that: there are rock monsters in this movie. Seriously.

I’m not a religious person myself, but to me, films based on biblical stories seem to exist on their own level, less bound to regular critical analysis because they’re less about pure drama than their message (same reason you don’t judge the Bible like you would a novel). Even more radical and controversial interpretations of the scripture, like The Last Temptation of Christ, still feel like you’re watching more than just a piece of entertainment. Well, Noah chucks this sentiment overboard completely (by the director’s own admission, to be fair), and with it any sense of spirituality. The aforementioned Pythons' Life of Brian had a more biblical feel than this, and that was a comedy.

It’s still the basic story of Noah’s Ark, but the film fills it out to feature-length (and then some) by piling on all the worst elements of blockbuster reboots from the last decade or so. The rock monsters (they’re actually fallen angels, but no less ludicrous for that) are just one of many examples of a medieval fantasy aesthetic the movie’s going for, as if to cash in on the Game of Thrones/Hobbit zeitgeist we’re in currently. The landscape onscreen looks less like the Old Testament than the post-apocalyptic devastation of The Road Warrior, minus the cars. And Russell Crowe’s Noah is a brooding, burly badass who dispatches enemies in hand-to-hand combat as effortlessly as any action hero. It almost seems like an intentionally, gleefully sacrilegious B-movie that was lucky enough to get a massive budget. But Aronofsky's tongue isn’t in cheek; again, he's playing it seriously.

The controversy surrounding the picture was seemingly framed by the media as nitpicking from religious groups for not following the Bible to a T. After actually watching the film, their displeasure is much more understandable. Many of the creative liberties building up to the great flood go beyond merely creating drama to pure silliness. But the change I’d imagine they most objected to comes afterwards, when the protagonists are riding out the storm aboard the Ark. Let’s just say that obeying the Creator’s (the word “god" is never spoken) every command means doing some horrible things, and arguably turns Noah into a brutal psychopath. Whether or not he’s actually doing the work of the Creator is never clearly stated, but he decidedly comes off as more of a madman than a prophet. By comparison, the viewpoint of the villainous Tubal-cain (Ray Winstone), the leader of the evil men who get washed away, seems almost more moral and reasonable. It’s a very strong stance for the movie to take, offering a lot for the audience to think about. But it’s not a pleasant narrative, and, like the rest of the picture, it’s faulted by flat acting and dialogue. A lot of biblical films have stilted dialogue, but you could give them a pass because this usually stems from quoting Bible verses, which don't always translate onscreen. But after taking so much creative license already, surely this movie could have cooked up some better lines for its cast.

There are some other interesting ideas. For example, the spent, resource-exhausted scenery adds an undercurrent of environmental allegory. The evil of Tubal-cain and his followers only pulls enough punches for a PG-13 rating, but is more than sufficiently savage and cruel. The divine visions experienced by the title character are haunting and beautiful, conjuring images of not only the story of Genesis, but an unmade epic adaptation of Milton’s Paradise Lost. But alas, all these are only trappings that never grow into anything more. The movie is a mess of too many ideas, with as many or more bad than good. Aronofsky should have made a choice and either made a more serious respectable adaptation that nonetheless explored his ideas and opinions, or just gone all out with the blockbuster elements and given us a completely and utterly stupid biblical action travesty.

Actually, on second thought, I think we can live without the latter.

Thoughts on the Oscars

Well, I’ve been away from the blog for a while (you can read me on Nerd Stew), but I’m back to offer my two cents about last night’s Academy Awards. The big awards, at least, the ones people tune in to see.

Best Picture: 12 Years a Slave

They certainly got this one right. The Wolf of Wall Street was one of my two favorite films of 2013, and certainly was one of the best movies of the year. But favorite is more a measure of individual taste and enjoyment than a picture’s merit. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed 12 Years a Slave, but it was definitely the best film I saw last year, the most powerful, most affecting. I think it’s one that can and will be viewed highly for years to come simply on its own merit, but having the Oscars’ seal of approval certainly helps to immortalize it.

Best Director: Alfonso Cuarón, Gravity 

This I can see. Gravity was an amazing and thrilling technical picture, capturing very well what it’s like to be in space (at least to me, the layman viewer, if not to someone more scientifically learned). But if it were me, I’d have given the award to Steve McQueen for 12 Years a Slave. Every scene and sequence in the movie is a carefully calculated, detailed expression of feeling, alternatively searing fear and horrific pain both physical and psychological. Cuarón’s work on Gravity made me feel like I was floating in space, but McQueen’s direction actually moved me. 

This was the second year in a row a director of a picture consisting mostly of extensive visual effects won the award (last year it was Ang Lee for Life of Pi). As films become more digital, could this category be becoming more of a technical award?

Best Actor: Matthew McConaughey, Dallas Buyer’s Club 

Well, I won’t go so far as to say this was a wrong choice. McConaughey was very good in Dallas Buyer’s Club. It’s not the choice I would have made, however. Like many, I was really hoping Leonardo DiCaprio would win it for The Wolf of Wall Street. The way he made real life stock swindler Jordan Belfort so charismatic and funny yet clearly monstrously evil, and the insane energy he brought to the role (not to mention the way he put his body into it in a few appallingly shocking scenes), was incredible. You could have also made strong argument for Chiwetel Ejiofor in 12 Years a Slave, who managed humanity and even dignity among all the hopelessness and horrors in that film. But the award still should have been DiCaprio’s.

Best Actress: Cate Blanchett, Blue Jasmine

Haven’t seen Blue Jasmine, so I can’t comment on Blanchett’s win. Of the two nominees in films I did see—Amy Adams in American Hustle and Sandra Bullock in Gravity—I don’t think either role was exactly award-worthy. I wasn’t a fan of American Hustle at all, and though I enjoyed Gravity, the movie is more about the viewing experience than its story or characters. While Bullock was good in it, I’m not certain the film would have been a whole lot different with other actors working around the special effects.

Best Supporting Actor: Jared Leto, Dallas Buyer’s Club

Leto was the only nominee not based on a real person (Dallas Buyer’s Club is based on a true story, but this character is a fictional composite). Perhaps the biggest complement you could pay is that if you didn’t know better, Leto would make you think his character Rayon had to have been a real person. On the same token, Michael Fassbender in 12 Years a Slave and Jonah Hill in The Wolf of Wall Street almost seem like exaggeratedly horrible characters, but are actually embodiments of real people, and apparently pretty accurate ones. I might have voted for one of those two for just going all out on their specific brand of awfulness (my favoritism toward The Wolf of Wall Street had me pulling for Hill), but Leto’s more understated grace and humanity is certainly not a bad choice.

Best Supporting Actress: Lupita Nyong’o, 12 Years a Slave

Absolutely the right pick. Nyong’o is the target of most of the worst torment in the Best Picture winner, and it’s so heartbreaking it’s almost hopeless. Even in a smaller supporting role, her suffering and dehumanization encompasses nearly all imaginable evils of bondage. I hope now she becomes a big star.

Snubs:

The Academy’s gotten some criticism for not giving any nominations to Fruitvale Station, and rightly so. I’m not going to speculate on whether it was studio politics or the film’s controversial subject matter or some other reason it got ignored. But if the Oscars really are the awards for the best films, it should have been nominated (it was certainly more deserving than American Hustle). It’s also too bad because even if it didn’t win anything, some recognition from the Academy might have gotten more people to see it.

Also ignored was my other favorite film of 2013: The World’s End, which I’ve come to like more and more after rewatching it a few times. This didn’t surprised me at all. Aside from a few more artsy types like Woody Allen, the Oscars rarely recognize comedies. But with their Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy, the team of Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright have made the best and smartest film parodies since the heyday of Mel Brooks, and The World’s End might have been their most original and thoughtful work. No, I don’t think it’s the best picture of 2013, and the acting was more of an ensemble job with equal parts instead of any one role rising above the rest. But, maybe it could have gotten a writing nomination? It’s seriously that clever and funny.

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…