Movie Review: 'The Hunger Games'

Rating: 3.5/5 
by Brian Kesler

Jennifer Lawrence made a smash with her tour de force performance in 'Winter's Bone,' for which she was nominated for an Academy Award. That film relied on a pitch-perfect performance as she was in nearly every shot. So it is with 'The Hunger Games,' where Lawrence gives another brilliant and subdued performance. The film could have easily fallen apart without her, but she has a special gift and the film works.

The picture is based on the best-selling novel by children's writer Suzanne Collins. The idea of watching people kill one another on a reality television show isn't new. David Cronenberg's morbid masterpiece 'Videodrome' deals with the very issue, and that was back in the early '80s. But Collins treats it as more of a spectacle, a sort of 'Gladiator' of the future. That's what really makes the plot interesting, the idea that not only is it a reality television show, but an enormous festival that everybody attends and carries on about. I can't think of any festivals of the like that exist anymore. The best examples are the gladiators, as mentioned earlier, and the bull fights in Spain near the beginning of the 20th century.

Lawrence (billed third?) plays Katniss, a small town girl with a talent at hunting. Bow-and-arrow style. It's almost time for the contestants to be chosen for the annual Hunger Games and her younger sister has reached the ripe old age of 12, and will have her name put into a random drawing. Katniss comforts her sister and assures her that her name will not be picked. She was wrong, and in order to spare her sister, Katniss volunteers to take her place. The Hunger Games are an annual showdown of a bunch of kids and teenagers set loose in a simulated forest to kill one another. Last one alive wins. Really, does anyone think this is likely to happen? Well, Newt Gingrich suggested that poor black kids be hired to clean toilets in public schools, so you never know, I guess.

The film spends a great deal of time drawing out the preliminary contests and exercises to the event, and it was this section I liked the most. I only wish it had been longer. Much of it exists in montage form, and it kills the pacing. The only contestants we truly get to know are Katniss and her potential love interest Peeta (Josh Hutcherson - eleventh billed?). There are two dozen contestants we know nothing about. It would have been a joy to build more of a mystery around Rue, a smart young girl who plays an important part during the actual games, or illuminate the character of a young man who carries the climax of the contest, which loses tension due to his part being underwritten.

The costumes and make-up of the film are wild and contemporary and bizarre, but I fear they will date the film prematurely. Vainly sporting the wild hair and costumes are Elizabeth Banks, a woman with what seems like a pretty worthless job - she essentially drinks and complains - and that great actor Stanley Tucci, who is the male equivalent to Meryl Streep. Tucci plays a talk-show host and commentator, and from the devilish gleam in his eye, you can tell he enjoys every minute of it. Woody Harrelson plays Katniss' and Peeta's trainer, and he performs well as usual.

One thing I'll defend about the film is it's camera work and editing. It's the type of camera work and editing I'd usually condemn: quick cuts, lots of steady-cam work, and a sometimes obscure compilation of images. Here, however, it's done strategically and wisely. The novel is written in present tense, which is unusual. It puts us in the moment, experiencing everything with Katniss, and keeps the possibility open that Katniss may not live. The filming style is an echo of that narrative. It gives the sense that what we are watching is happening now, as opposed to most movies which we subconsciously assume happened in the past.

That said, there is one thing that 'Videodrome' handles perfectly which 'The Hunger Games' does not. The violence is haphazardly avoided in this picture. It isn't strategically manipulated, just avoided altogether. This undercuts the moral center of the novel which, in effect, advocates against finding entertainment value in violence. The audience never truly grasps a sense of the disturbing nature of the whole ordeal, and that's a shame. Because of this, the picture allows something it's trying to condemn: entertainment at the expense of violence.

From the Queue: 'Lawrence of Arabia'

by Brian Kesler

There's a moment in the first act of David Lean's classic 'Lawrence of Arabia' that breathes of imagination and plain good filmmaking. British soldier, Lawrence, has led a group of fifty Arab men on a suicide trek across the desert. When they make it to their destination, a lone camel is found in the back of the group and they realize that one of the men passed out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Lawrence decides to go back for him, but the Arabs try to dissuade his heroics. God wanted him dead, they explain, it is written. Lawrence goes anyway. The following series of shots are filled with unyielding tension. Lean puts us in the vastness of the desert and makes us victim to the harshness of the sun, the anger of the wind, and the torture of the sands. A boy waits at the edge of the desert for their return. We see a speck in the distance, and in a long series of shots, that speck becomes a rippling black shape, and that shape grows and advances until it forms into two men riding a camel: Lawrence and the missing person. The boy rejoices, the music swells, and the audience breathes a sigh of relief and joy as an exhausted Lawrence claims, "Nothing is written." It is a magical movie moment where all the elements are just right.

There's a moment a bit later which is even better. Lawrence has successfully brought two Arab tribes together in alliance to defeat the Turkish army. They are at camp and a gun is fired. A man from one tribe has killed a man from the other. Arab law says he must now be executed. Lawrence knows that if the man is killed by the opposing tribe, the other will be offended and cut ties. He also knows that the offending tribe will not kill one of their own. So, Lawrence takes it upon himself to kill the murderer for the good of the alliance. He is given a gun and asks that they bring the man. He sees the man's face. It is the very same man who he had rescued in the desert. The man he nearly gave his life for to save he must now kill.

So, we have two elements that make this film amazing. Lean's visual scope and imagination, and his clear sense of dynamic drama. Both play out nearly perfectly through the entire picture. This is a film that has not aged. The only sign of age it shows is in the overly make-upped actors. But, beyond that, the film is a movie buff's wet dream. The cinematography, the score, the editing, the acting, the screenplay, the ideas, everything is executed with perfection.

One example that makes this special compared to any other epic war movie, is the casting of Peter O'Tool in the lead. I recently saw the 1950s film version of Ernest Hemingway's masterpiece 'A Farewell to Arms.' While the typical Hemingway hero is strong and masculine, I couldn't help but be disappointed by the casting of Rock Hudson as Tenente. It was too obvious. A dashing, white-toothed, charming soldier who has a way with the girls (Gary Cooper was a more sensible choice in the 1930s version). Luckily, Lean cast a lanky, pale, and overall feminine man for his war hero. It is said that T.E. Lawrence was a homosexual, and while the film doesn't explicitly say so, it drops hints every now and then (much like Hitchcock's 'Rope'). His dilemma with wanting to be an Arab while also having an uncontrollable undercurrent of sadism makes him all the more compelling.

But, what people remember most about 'Lawrence of Arabia,' is the grand visual scope and the immense score. It is a little bit reprehensible to only be able to watch the film on a television set. It was filmed on 70mm film print, one of the few films that actually was filmed on 70mm and not blown up to 70mm from 35mm. I can't comprehend the wonders of being taken in by the images in a theater. I imagine at its premiere people felt their seats drifting into the vastness of the Arabian deserts.

The movie is a war epic, it's also an adventure, and it's also a serious character study. The adventure aspects of the film are not handled traditionally. At one point in the movie, Lawrence and two young boys who he's taken in (hint hint) are walking through the desert, trying to make it to Cairo. One of the boys steps into quicksand and Lawrence must act quickly to save him. You might think this involves a lot of dialogue, such as, "Hold on," or "I'll save you," or "Grab this," or even the boy screaming, "Help me!" over and over. There is little to no dialogue, actually. You might think there's gripping music during the sequence. There is no music. You might think the editing is quick and the cuts are sharp. They are not. By making the scene deliberately slow and silent, David Lean forces the seriousness of the situation on the moviegoer and increases the tension.

Lean is one of the screen's great treasures. A director with a devotion to perfection. Probably not as daring as Kubrick, but daring enough. How many studios do you know today that would pay hundreds of millions of dollars to make a four hour movie with no women, no fast-cutting action scenes, no incredibly famous actors (Claude Rains and Alec Guiness weren't exactly Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart), and no love story? But Paramount did believe in one thing. David Lean's incomparable imagination and storytelling prowess. Thanks to the studio's bet on him, his legend lives on and will never be forgotten.

The Importance and Danger of Violence in the Movies

by Brian Kesler

I've had something on my mind a lot lately: Violence; particularly as it is portrayed in the movies. It is something that both draws and deflects audiences from a film, and it's a subject I have some very strong feelings about, and I want to share them with you.

One of my all-time favorite films is, and forever will be, 'A Clockwork Orange.' Stanley Kubrick's mind-bending science-fiction/horror film is daring, well made, and provokes thought from its audience. It was also banned in the United Kingdom upon its release in the early seventies. It was banned because it inspired thoughts and feelings from those who watched it which made them uncomfortable and nervous. With most every person I've ever sat down with and showed the movie, the reactions have been: walking out and leaving me to watch the film by myself; sitting through the film, but outwardly showing disgust and outrage; sitting through the film with an eery, congealing tension and silence; telling me I must be sick and twisted to like such a movie.

A movie that came out fairly recently, is rated PG-13, with general applause and admiration is called 'Taken.' The movie was a box-office smash that people called, "fun," "enjoyable," "awesome," "touching," and "entertaining."

The movie 'Taken' is about a man who travels to Europe to save his daughter, who has been sold into the Muslim sex trade, at any costs. It is an action/thriller, with plenty of guns and torture devices. A scene in which the protagonist brutally tortures a man for information is sending a political message that it's okay to torture for the better good. The ends justify the means. Other than that scene, there is no underlying message to the violence the plays through the rest of the picture. The protagonist mindlessly shoots and kills anyone who gets in his way, even if it means killing a man in front of his wife. Car chases ensue, buildings explode, and those damn Muslims get what's coming to them as the audience watches and enjoys people being shot one after another.

There is no blood in 'Taken.' Therefore, the violence is only for entertainment value and, therefore, PG-13.

While there is no blood in 'A Clockwork Orange,' either - at least not explicitly - it originally received an 'X' rating. Since Stanley Kubrick's death, the film has been made available on DVD and the rating has been dropped to 'R.' But it doesn't change people's perception of it as a vile movie.

Let's review real quick: So far, the general consensus is that violence that entertains is good and violence that disturbs is bad.

Yes, 'A Clockwork Orange,' is disturbing. It is disturbing because Kubrick is deliberately manipulating the photography, music, editing, performances, colors, and sound to create a sense of dementia and vileness to the acts being committed. In the film's most famous sequence, the villainous Alex (played by Malcolm McDowell) beats an old couple in their home while dancing and singing Gene Kelly's 'Singin' in the Rain.' He kicks the old man on the off-beat, laughs as he stuffs golf balls in the mouths of the innocent victims, knocks down bookshelves, and proceeds to cutting off the woman's clothes with scissors and raping her in front of her husband.

Let's dissect this scene. The majority of the shots when Alex kicks and beats the couple are wide shots with back-lighting, making the physical violence mostly non-apparent. Kubrick cuts in close-ups of the couple's terror-stricken faces in between these wide shots. He uses a wide angle lens on these close-ups, which distorts the picture and gives a sense of madness and tension. As Alex continues to sing, he runs into the living room, knocks down bookshelves, which fall directly toward the camera, and dances on a desk. Most of the scene involves that. He goes back to the woman, cuts off her dress and we see another wide-angle close-up of the man and one of the woman before the scene finishes.

So, keeping with 'Taken,' this sequence doesn't show blood, only shows physical violence from a distance, and cuts before we actually see any sort of rape. Rape is simply eluded to - 'Taken' also eludes to rape, by the way. So, what is it that makes people enjoy 'Taken,' but be disgusted with 'A Clockwork Orange?"  'A Clockwork Orange' actually thinks that violence is something disturbing and not a game.

There's also the issue of context. As I said earlier, the torture sequence in 'Taken' is a political statement, but that is the only sense of thinking the film asks of its audience. It sees violence as a way to entertain. A few dozen men killed is okay as long as it's fun. 'A Clockwork Orange' actually has something to say about the nature of violence and society's inconsistencies in that area. It is important that we feel disturbed by Alex committing violence against the couple, against a homeless man, against his own friends, and against an old cat lady, because each one of those people get their revenge on him later in the film. And what's most intriguing is that, instead of being glad that Alex is getting what he deserves, we feel the same sort of disgust and distaste in regards to the violence being committed against him. Again, Kubrick accomplishes this by manipulating his devices. By making these sequences just as disturbing as the earlier ones, Kubrick asks the audience to evaluate their views on vengeance. Does Alex really deserve this? Are these once victims better off by torturing and turning the tables on him? People don't like the strain of actively thinking and pondering.

But, that's not all. The overlying theme of Kubrick's film is about agency and humanity. When Alex is imprisoned, the government decides to rid the evil from him once and for all. They put him in a straightjacket, strap him down and pry his eyes open with metal clamps. They put all sorts of wires and gadgets on his head and force him to watch violent and sexual films. Eventually, Alex starts feeling nauseous when watching the films, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't close his eyes. When Alex is "cured," he is released into society again. His victims get their revenge on him, and because of his new condition, he vomits and burps as they water-board him, beat him to the ground, and compel him to jump to his death. Something unexpected, however, also happened to Alex in his shock therapy sessions. The underscore to the movies he was forced to watch happened to be Alex's favorite composer: Ludwig Van Beethoven. The therapy not only makes him sick when he sees or thinks violent or sexual acts, but also when he hears his favorite piece of music: The Fifth Symphony. It is a symbolic plot device to show that Alex has lost his humanity. He is like an orange with a clockwork within it. An orange is supposed to be juicy and sweet. Sometimes, they are sour and rotten. But that's the price we pay. We are all free agents and none of us should be forced to be something we are not. This theme is a compliment, by the way, to the Mormon faith, which proclaims that Satan would prefer we be forced to be decent people, but Jesus suggested we should have free agency.

So, this movie, 'A Clockwork Orange,' which kills off less people than 'Taken,' has the same blood content, shows violence to be a disturbing and vile act rather than an entertaining one, and actually uses violence to make the audience think about the nature of revenge and agency, is controversial, vile, and disgusting and 'Taken,' which never shows the consequences of violence, is "inspirational."

This is backwards thinking, and I can't begin to comprehend it.