I_Ailurophile
Joined Oct 2002
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I_Ailurophile's rating
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have problems with this movie. One of those problems is the pacing, for the editing, the direction, and even the cinematography often feel rushed and overly quick to me. There are types of films in which this wouldn't be an issue, but this isn't one of them, for the drama and impact of too many scenes is kind of trampled as the proceedings barrel past. Just as much to the point, the rapidity with which actors speak and move is plainly unnatural and therefore off-putting. I'm sure editor Warren Low and cinematographer can be blamed, and maybe just as well producer Hal B. Wallis, but I do wonder what director Irving Rapper was thinking. This is the case not least because another of those problems is the even-keeled tone Rapper mostly enforces throughout these two hours. With rare exception, through every twirl of romance, every ache of beleaguerment and swell of improvement and growth, and every other note of drama or light humor, 'Now, voyager' tends to sail on as smoothly as it does swiftly. One might argue that this tenor is fitting for Charlotte's belated whirlwind journey through life, not least in light of the subtlety and nuance with which some sequences nonetheless flourish, but to at least some extent it simply feels too insouciant to me, refusing the weight truly fitting for the saga on hand. Somewhat emphasizing the point, Max Steiner's fantastic, varied accompanying score reliably carries all the emotional waves that the picture otherwise does with less consistency.
All this is decidedly unfortunate - and more so because, even despite these troubles, the fact of the matter is that 'Now, voyager' is utterly, absolutely tremendous. This is surely one of the best films to have ever sorely lacked the glowing praise and honors that have been gifted upon many of its kin and contemporaries. Even if the pacing is too fast, and the tone too soft, there is more heart and soul in this flick than can be claimed by the vast preponderance of cinema, a revivifying warmth, humanity, and sincerity of the sort that makes one realize what is missing from other titles, or from one's life, or from the world at large. Whatever subjective faults we may find here in one manner or another, far more than not this is an exquisite success, and I'm aghast that it's not more well-known.
I'm not familiar with Olive Higgins Prouty's novel, but I'm given to understand that aside from what differences were necessary for the production, the adaptation is quite faithful. Wherever precisely the credit is deserved between Prouty and screenwriter Casey Robinson, the writing is nothing less than phenomenal. The characters are achingly real in their personalities, complexity, emotions, and intelligence, and the narrative wonderfully engrossing as repressed Charlotte greatly benefits from much-needed therapy and a break in life and blossoms in ways she never could before. I'm completely in love with how carefully Robinson (and/or Prouty) paints elderly Mrs. Vale in her selfish, suffocating imperiousness, and more so the transformation of Charlotte when she is given an opportunity to be, and learn, and grow with all the independence and agency - and true social support - that any person, child or adult, should have. The relationship between mother and adult daughter is all too painfully relevant to the world of 2025 in which ideologues proclaim themselves the sole all-powerful arbiters of what others need, and still this is to say nothing of the other ways in which the screenplay is so terrific. While always staying focused on Charlotte the writing develops a complicated, tantalizing relationship with Jerry while declining the easy tropes that have come to define on-screen romance over time; Tina seems poised to be a passing supporting character, but becomes a tentpole around which the feature finds a new (renewed) emotional center as Charlotte continues to heal and discover herself. And that's still saying nothing of the vibrant scene writing, or above all of the outstanding, sharp, flavorful, poignant dialogue: again and again while watching I was struck by how smart and deliberate the script is, never mincing any words in a given context, but not wasting any, either. Dialogue is something that commonly gets taken for granted in film and television, not getting noticed unless it's especially good or especially bad, but not only is the use here especially good, it's something that actively gets our attention. How often can we say that?
Meanwhile, though I think Rapper deserves some criticism for the pacing and tone, I also must give credit where it's due. Even if we find those aspects to be flawed, Rapper does a superb job of drawing out all the potency to be had at most any time. If some examples of even delivery or movement come across more questionably, elsewhere a take is perfectly fluid while also seeming meticulously calculated in the precise cadence of how a line is spoken, or how characters physically interact. Anything herein that we might scrutinize is far, far outshone by the marvelous vitality that the film bears - and we also certainly have the cast to thank for that. From Paul Henreid and Claude Rains, to Gladys Cooper, Ilka Chase, Bonita Granville, or even young Janis Wilson, everyone on hand has a chance to shine, and gives stupendous performances that bring their characters to vivid life. Still, not to discount anyone else, but there's no disputing that by both her role and her presence Bette Davis easily takes the spotlight in this movie. Charlotte is a woman reborn, and the part demands an uneasy mixture of emotions, yet Davis plays it off with a poise and graceful finesse that's gratifying if not downright captivating. Further factor in the excellent costume design and hair and makeup work that only bolsters Charlotte's transformation, and the fetching production design, and it's easy to become entranced by 'Now, voyager' and all but forget that some tidbits may rub us the wrong way.
In the very strictest of terms the whole might not be entirely beyond reproach; in addition to the pacing and tone, the significant presence in the proceedings of cigarettes just hasn't aged well, and I'm really not keen on editor Low's transitions, least of all where flashbacks are concerned. For as super as this is in the ways that matter most, however, it succeeds with such flying colors that the indelicacies are fairly well washed over. I sat to watch with no particular foreknowledge or expectations, and when all is said and done I'm all but floored by how rich, absorbing, and rewarding the picture is. I truly don't know how this has gone relatively overlooked and unremarked in all the time since; I would stop just short of suggesting it's one of the best pictures ever made. I'm so incredibly pleased with how enjoyable and meaningful 'Now, voyager' is - a magnificent classic, and I can only give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!
All this is decidedly unfortunate - and more so because, even despite these troubles, the fact of the matter is that 'Now, voyager' is utterly, absolutely tremendous. This is surely one of the best films to have ever sorely lacked the glowing praise and honors that have been gifted upon many of its kin and contemporaries. Even if the pacing is too fast, and the tone too soft, there is more heart and soul in this flick than can be claimed by the vast preponderance of cinema, a revivifying warmth, humanity, and sincerity of the sort that makes one realize what is missing from other titles, or from one's life, or from the world at large. Whatever subjective faults we may find here in one manner or another, far more than not this is an exquisite success, and I'm aghast that it's not more well-known.
I'm not familiar with Olive Higgins Prouty's novel, but I'm given to understand that aside from what differences were necessary for the production, the adaptation is quite faithful. Wherever precisely the credit is deserved between Prouty and screenwriter Casey Robinson, the writing is nothing less than phenomenal. The characters are achingly real in their personalities, complexity, emotions, and intelligence, and the narrative wonderfully engrossing as repressed Charlotte greatly benefits from much-needed therapy and a break in life and blossoms in ways she never could before. I'm completely in love with how carefully Robinson (and/or Prouty) paints elderly Mrs. Vale in her selfish, suffocating imperiousness, and more so the transformation of Charlotte when she is given an opportunity to be, and learn, and grow with all the independence and agency - and true social support - that any person, child or adult, should have. The relationship between mother and adult daughter is all too painfully relevant to the world of 2025 in which ideologues proclaim themselves the sole all-powerful arbiters of what others need, and still this is to say nothing of the other ways in which the screenplay is so terrific. While always staying focused on Charlotte the writing develops a complicated, tantalizing relationship with Jerry while declining the easy tropes that have come to define on-screen romance over time; Tina seems poised to be a passing supporting character, but becomes a tentpole around which the feature finds a new (renewed) emotional center as Charlotte continues to heal and discover herself. And that's still saying nothing of the vibrant scene writing, or above all of the outstanding, sharp, flavorful, poignant dialogue: again and again while watching I was struck by how smart and deliberate the script is, never mincing any words in a given context, but not wasting any, either. Dialogue is something that commonly gets taken for granted in film and television, not getting noticed unless it's especially good or especially bad, but not only is the use here especially good, it's something that actively gets our attention. How often can we say that?
Meanwhile, though I think Rapper deserves some criticism for the pacing and tone, I also must give credit where it's due. Even if we find those aspects to be flawed, Rapper does a superb job of drawing out all the potency to be had at most any time. If some examples of even delivery or movement come across more questionably, elsewhere a take is perfectly fluid while also seeming meticulously calculated in the precise cadence of how a line is spoken, or how characters physically interact. Anything herein that we might scrutinize is far, far outshone by the marvelous vitality that the film bears - and we also certainly have the cast to thank for that. From Paul Henreid and Claude Rains, to Gladys Cooper, Ilka Chase, Bonita Granville, or even young Janis Wilson, everyone on hand has a chance to shine, and gives stupendous performances that bring their characters to vivid life. Still, not to discount anyone else, but there's no disputing that by both her role and her presence Bette Davis easily takes the spotlight in this movie. Charlotte is a woman reborn, and the part demands an uneasy mixture of emotions, yet Davis plays it off with a poise and graceful finesse that's gratifying if not downright captivating. Further factor in the excellent costume design and hair and makeup work that only bolsters Charlotte's transformation, and the fetching production design, and it's easy to become entranced by 'Now, voyager' and all but forget that some tidbits may rub us the wrong way.
In the very strictest of terms the whole might not be entirely beyond reproach; in addition to the pacing and tone, the significant presence in the proceedings of cigarettes just hasn't aged well, and I'm really not keen on editor Low's transitions, least of all where flashbacks are concerned. For as super as this is in the ways that matter most, however, it succeeds with such flying colors that the indelicacies are fairly well washed over. I sat to watch with no particular foreknowledge or expectations, and when all is said and done I'm all but floored by how rich, absorbing, and rewarding the picture is. I truly don't know how this has gone relatively overlooked and unremarked in all the time since; I would stop just short of suggesting it's one of the best pictures ever made. I'm so incredibly pleased with how enjoyable and meaningful 'Now, voyager' is - a magnificent classic, and I can only give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!
Once again I find myself watching a modern piece of Disney animation that I missed out when it was released, and once again I am immediately impressed, and remiss that I never saw it until now. Within minutes this shows itself to be incredibly clever, and it's readily evident how much immense intelligence, hard work, and care went into 'Wreck-It Ralph.' It's certainly true in some measure that this relies on a sense of nostalgia, but that kind of comes with the territory when we're speaking of videogames both retro and modern, with loads of references woven in among original characters and settings. I quite assumed I'd enjoy this, but it's way better than I could have hoped. 'Wreck-It Ralph' is an absolute blast!
There's so much to love here that it's difficult to even concisely summarize. There are the smart sound effects that instantly evoke videogames (chiefly but not exclusively the essential 8-bit era), and the outstanding, flavorful score and soundtrack from a who's who list of contributors, covering a smart, wide range of vibes and genres but also deftly complementing the proceedings. There are the unlikely inclusions from and varied sly references to many real videogames, game culture, and arcades; there's the ingenious way that the characters of the arcade games herein inhabit their own universes and a shared universe, coyly playing with the film's sense of reality as arcade and electrical hardware become a hub whereby all can interact. The character designs are pretty slick, and the environments that the flick takes us through over the course of 100 minutes are wonderfully imaginative. And this is to say nothing of the tremendous voice cast: John C. Reilly, wrecking our hearts as he does so well as an ostracized nobody; Jane Lynch, portraying the type of character I never knew she was born to be; Sarah Silverman, almost stealing the show with a superb kid's voice; and many more, including not least VA superstar Alan Tudyk with a characteristically delightful performance as King Candy.
Meanwhile, we could say that filmmaker Rich Moore, and co-writers Phil Johnston and Jim Reardon, crafted a story that treads familiar territory as a perpetual loser aspires to greatness, and walks a long and difficult path to get there. The details of that broad tableau are truly phenomenal, however, with revelations about an antagonist being even sharper than I had fathomed, and the screenplay shaped by Johnston and Jennifer Lee cements the brilliance of the underlying concept. The characterizations are more vibrant and worthwhile on their own merits than the tried and true root narrative, and the characters' respective settings, may outwardly suggest; the scene writing is utterly tremendous as the plot is rounded out with rich, diverse ideas and dances across different genres - not just fantasy, and a spectrum of comedy and drama, but touches of action, adventure, and even science fiction and horror. That's still not all, though, as I am totally chuffed by how bright the dialogue in this instance. There's a level of wit coming across in the dialogue, as much as in any other part of the screenplay, that in my opinion handily surpasses what a lot of other movies have ever had to offer, to the point that even tidbits that are genuinely childish are unquestionably more shrewd than they have any right to be.
And between the wondrous vision of director Moore, and the impeccable animation of the artists at Disney - well, is there really anything to possibly criticize here? In fairness, there are some elements of the humor that arguably merit scrutiny in terms of what young kids might pick up on. Maybe I'm too cynical for my own good, but I speak to passing instances of physical abuse, self-harm, fatphobia, and bullying, to say nothing of smidgens of prejudice that are touched upon in the themes. Part of me is also a little doubtful about the overarching notion of "learn to be happy with your lot in life," only one small part of the whole as it may be. Then again, given all the other thoughts that this feature toys with, and all the otherwise high quality it boasts, maybe I'm being too harsh. After all, there are couple scenes in here that hit way harder than I ever supposed, demonstrating that on top of all the fanciful entertainment 'Wreck-It Ralph' can also claim a huge heart. And no matter how much one may be inclined to him and haw about this or that, when all is said and done the sum total is such a treasure that I again find myself aghast that I've only now sat to watch it. Personal preferences will vary, naturally, yet in a modern cinematic landscape filled with empty spectacle and cheap crowd-pleasers, I could hardly be happier that this 2012 title really does deserve all the high esteem it has earned. For my part I altogether love 'Wreck-It Ralph,' and I'm glad to give it my high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!
There's so much to love here that it's difficult to even concisely summarize. There are the smart sound effects that instantly evoke videogames (chiefly but not exclusively the essential 8-bit era), and the outstanding, flavorful score and soundtrack from a who's who list of contributors, covering a smart, wide range of vibes and genres but also deftly complementing the proceedings. There are the unlikely inclusions from and varied sly references to many real videogames, game culture, and arcades; there's the ingenious way that the characters of the arcade games herein inhabit their own universes and a shared universe, coyly playing with the film's sense of reality as arcade and electrical hardware become a hub whereby all can interact. The character designs are pretty slick, and the environments that the flick takes us through over the course of 100 minutes are wonderfully imaginative. And this is to say nothing of the tremendous voice cast: John C. Reilly, wrecking our hearts as he does so well as an ostracized nobody; Jane Lynch, portraying the type of character I never knew she was born to be; Sarah Silverman, almost stealing the show with a superb kid's voice; and many more, including not least VA superstar Alan Tudyk with a characteristically delightful performance as King Candy.
Meanwhile, we could say that filmmaker Rich Moore, and co-writers Phil Johnston and Jim Reardon, crafted a story that treads familiar territory as a perpetual loser aspires to greatness, and walks a long and difficult path to get there. The details of that broad tableau are truly phenomenal, however, with revelations about an antagonist being even sharper than I had fathomed, and the screenplay shaped by Johnston and Jennifer Lee cements the brilliance of the underlying concept. The characterizations are more vibrant and worthwhile on their own merits than the tried and true root narrative, and the characters' respective settings, may outwardly suggest; the scene writing is utterly tremendous as the plot is rounded out with rich, diverse ideas and dances across different genres - not just fantasy, and a spectrum of comedy and drama, but touches of action, adventure, and even science fiction and horror. That's still not all, though, as I am totally chuffed by how bright the dialogue in this instance. There's a level of wit coming across in the dialogue, as much as in any other part of the screenplay, that in my opinion handily surpasses what a lot of other movies have ever had to offer, to the point that even tidbits that are genuinely childish are unquestionably more shrewd than they have any right to be.
And between the wondrous vision of director Moore, and the impeccable animation of the artists at Disney - well, is there really anything to possibly criticize here? In fairness, there are some elements of the humor that arguably merit scrutiny in terms of what young kids might pick up on. Maybe I'm too cynical for my own good, but I speak to passing instances of physical abuse, self-harm, fatphobia, and bullying, to say nothing of smidgens of prejudice that are touched upon in the themes. Part of me is also a little doubtful about the overarching notion of "learn to be happy with your lot in life," only one small part of the whole as it may be. Then again, given all the other thoughts that this feature toys with, and all the otherwise high quality it boasts, maybe I'm being too harsh. After all, there are couple scenes in here that hit way harder than I ever supposed, demonstrating that on top of all the fanciful entertainment 'Wreck-It Ralph' can also claim a huge heart. And no matter how much one may be inclined to him and haw about this or that, when all is said and done the sum total is such a treasure that I again find myself aghast that I've only now sat to watch it. Personal preferences will vary, naturally, yet in a modern cinematic landscape filled with empty spectacle and cheap crowd-pleasers, I could hardly be happier that this 2012 title really does deserve all the high esteem it has earned. For my part I altogether love 'Wreck-It Ralph,' and I'm glad to give it my high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!
I recall well when this came out, for there was always a certain yearning to see a depiction of the 'Toy Story' characters in the respective fictional universes (where applicable) from which the toys derived. I also well recall the immediate response from both audiences and critics, which was rather lukewarm generally, and which seemed particularly harsh with regards to the choice of having someone other than Tim Allen voice the titular hero. It's true that not all of Pixar's works are equal, but is 'Lightyear' really one of the titan's lesser pieces? In all earnestness, I don't think that it is, at least not in any meaningful way. This does have some issues that merit criticism, but none so severe as to significantly diminish its lasting value. For my money this is a very fun sci-fi adventure, and it's well worth checking out.
One must immediately divest themselves of any notion that this 2022 release is, specifically, a 'Toy story' picture, for the tone is more sober if not altogether darker (by Pixar standards), and just as much to the point, the artists make use of an animation style that aims to be far more realistic, and less cartoonish. There are many shots and scenes that more closely recall the near-realism of 'Final Fantasy: The spirits within,' or the effects-laden whimsy of otherwise live-action genre fare like Christopher Nolan's 'Interstellar' or classic 'Star wars' nostalgia, and only the character designs specifically ground the proceedings in the wider tapestry of modern family-friendly 3D animation. The intentions of filmmaker Angus MacLane and his writing team are also quite clear, for though the narrative, scenes, visual designs, and character concepts are original, and worthy on their own merits, they unabashedly take cues from myriad prior works of science fiction. I don't think this is a fault, mind you, but I can understand how the incidence may stick out for others.
With the latter sentiment in mind, personally I also don't at all mind that Chris Evans was cast to voice this iteration of Buzz over Allen. The switch may be jarring for utmost fans of 'Toy story,' but I very much understand the reasoning as this very specifically a different interpretation of the space ranger. Where I think the feature does face some difficulty, in one measure or another, is in the mixture of moods, ideas, and themes that it presents us with. There are touches of humor both clever and simply silly which really do earn laughs, and there are also heavily dramatic notions that are half a heartbeat away from turning 'Lightyear' into a more gravely solemn film - while some beats tread so ponderously into characters' emotional turmoil that the whole threatens to get bogged down. The broad sci-fi fancy is a total blast, let alone the action sequences, though there are also tidbits that kind of feel like cheap crowd-pleasing spectacle. All of this is essential to what 'Lightyear' is, but it's a delicate balance to strike, and I don't necessarily believe that the sum total perfectly sticks the landing.
Be that as it may, there is so much to love in these 105 minutes, whether the flick is looking to thrill, entertain, or inspire. Sox seems primed to be a tawdry gimmick, for example, yet smartly treads the line between comedic relief, valuable companion, and a cat lover's robotic dream. The characterization of Buzz, even more than others here, similarly bridges the gaps between all that the movie seeks to encompass: the self-narration is funny while also serving useful purpose as narrative exposition and revealing Buzz's inner thoughts; he finds his perspective and outlook challenged in profound ways, but also has a hard time letting go of certain aspects of his training and personality (as seen in his interactions with Darby). Welcome sincere themes are explored while laying out an exciting futuristic tale of exploration, danger, failure, risk-taking, personal growth, triumph, and learning what really matters. From conception, including even the realistic diversity seen among characters, to execution under MacLane's direction, I count this as a success far, far more than not.
All this is to say nothing of the excellent voice acting, or Michael Giacchino's superb original music. The animators of Disney and Pixar turned in the exceptional work we expect of them, including terrific detail and immense care for lighting, texture, and effects. Truly, far and away this title is so very highly enjoyable, and in hindsight I'm kind of taken aback that it wasn't received better. It's not completely unassailable, perhaps, but I don't think there's any matter here so critical as to even really be called a "flaw." I sat to watch with somewhat mixed expectations based on the word of mouth I had gathered, and for my part I'm so incredibly pleased with just how much of a good time 'Lightyear' is. It won't appeal equally to all comers, yet whether one has a special impetus to watch or is just looking for something relatively light to whittle away an afternoon, I'm happy to give 'Lightyear' my warm recommendation!
One must immediately divest themselves of any notion that this 2022 release is, specifically, a 'Toy story' picture, for the tone is more sober if not altogether darker (by Pixar standards), and just as much to the point, the artists make use of an animation style that aims to be far more realistic, and less cartoonish. There are many shots and scenes that more closely recall the near-realism of 'Final Fantasy: The spirits within,' or the effects-laden whimsy of otherwise live-action genre fare like Christopher Nolan's 'Interstellar' or classic 'Star wars' nostalgia, and only the character designs specifically ground the proceedings in the wider tapestry of modern family-friendly 3D animation. The intentions of filmmaker Angus MacLane and his writing team are also quite clear, for though the narrative, scenes, visual designs, and character concepts are original, and worthy on their own merits, they unabashedly take cues from myriad prior works of science fiction. I don't think this is a fault, mind you, but I can understand how the incidence may stick out for others.
With the latter sentiment in mind, personally I also don't at all mind that Chris Evans was cast to voice this iteration of Buzz over Allen. The switch may be jarring for utmost fans of 'Toy story,' but I very much understand the reasoning as this very specifically a different interpretation of the space ranger. Where I think the feature does face some difficulty, in one measure or another, is in the mixture of moods, ideas, and themes that it presents us with. There are touches of humor both clever and simply silly which really do earn laughs, and there are also heavily dramatic notions that are half a heartbeat away from turning 'Lightyear' into a more gravely solemn film - while some beats tread so ponderously into characters' emotional turmoil that the whole threatens to get bogged down. The broad sci-fi fancy is a total blast, let alone the action sequences, though there are also tidbits that kind of feel like cheap crowd-pleasing spectacle. All of this is essential to what 'Lightyear' is, but it's a delicate balance to strike, and I don't necessarily believe that the sum total perfectly sticks the landing.
Be that as it may, there is so much to love in these 105 minutes, whether the flick is looking to thrill, entertain, or inspire. Sox seems primed to be a tawdry gimmick, for example, yet smartly treads the line between comedic relief, valuable companion, and a cat lover's robotic dream. The characterization of Buzz, even more than others here, similarly bridges the gaps between all that the movie seeks to encompass: the self-narration is funny while also serving useful purpose as narrative exposition and revealing Buzz's inner thoughts; he finds his perspective and outlook challenged in profound ways, but also has a hard time letting go of certain aspects of his training and personality (as seen in his interactions with Darby). Welcome sincere themes are explored while laying out an exciting futuristic tale of exploration, danger, failure, risk-taking, personal growth, triumph, and learning what really matters. From conception, including even the realistic diversity seen among characters, to execution under MacLane's direction, I count this as a success far, far more than not.
All this is to say nothing of the excellent voice acting, or Michael Giacchino's superb original music. The animators of Disney and Pixar turned in the exceptional work we expect of them, including terrific detail and immense care for lighting, texture, and effects. Truly, far and away this title is so very highly enjoyable, and in hindsight I'm kind of taken aback that it wasn't received better. It's not completely unassailable, perhaps, but I don't think there's any matter here so critical as to even really be called a "flaw." I sat to watch with somewhat mixed expectations based on the word of mouth I had gathered, and for my part I'm so incredibly pleased with just how much of a good time 'Lightyear' is. It won't appeal equally to all comers, yet whether one has a special impetus to watch or is just looking for something relatively light to whittle away an afternoon, I'm happy to give 'Lightyear' my warm recommendation!