D-Day

It’s the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Allied landings at the beaches of Normandy, the so-called “D-Day” invasions of Operation Overlord that began the final European press toward Hitler’s defeat. Celebrations have raged this year, particularly in France (as one might imagine), and commemorations have been legion. I thought I’d seen all that they’ve had to offer, but little did I know that I would be graced by such a surprise as this: Chuck “The Iceman” Liddell as General Omar Bradley. I don’t even. I can’t even. Amazing. Chef’s kisses all around, kids!

The plot of D-Day, as if the title weren’t quite specific enough, revolves around a particular squad’s activities following the massive landings. This unit is tasked with taking out a set of German guns that would otherwise be a bloody thorn in the side of the invading Allied forces. Insert the usual World War II antics.

So let’s get it out of the way now: This is an Asylum picture. Oh yes, we’ve dipped back into the somehow-still-fertile well of that schlock factory for not a mockbuster, but rather a cheap cash-in on the D-Day memorializations in vogue at the moment. As a result of its provenance, the production is rather, for lack of a more tempered word, cheap. Through and through, in fact. If you remember the crowds featured in Saving Private Ryan and Dunkirk (different time, nearby beaches, same war, I’m counting it as a valid comparison), you’ll wonder where everyone went here. Are these guys late? Did we miss the invasion? Shit, are we early!? No, there’s just no money in the budget for compelling crowds, so we’re stuck with a handful of men on either side of the conflict. Combine this with the usual Asylum chicanery, like digitally-added muzzle flashes, cheap sets and props, and incapable acting, and you’ve somehow watered the war down to one of the more minor skirmishes of the Hatfield-McCoy feud.

Speaking of the acting, this is as good a place as any to mention just how out of place Liddell is as Omar “The Iceman” Bradley, as I’m now referring to the general. He isn’t necessarily as awful as one might expect from an MMA guy with no real acting experience or talent, but he certainly looks strange in every scene he’s in (though, potentially thankfully, that number isn’t very large). He’s stilted in the way that non-actors are when presented with some staged dialogue, and I was expecting some sort of angry grunt from him at any moment. Joining him here is fellow MMA fighter Randy Couture as a major in the rangers, and though he’s more able than Liddell, he still feels off, partially wooden and visibly uncomfortable in his wartime setting. The rest of the cast lacks the pair’s octagon acumen, but they share in the overall stiltedness of the non-actors, just with some occasional flourishes of something approaching naturalism.

Unfortunately for everyone, the script is stock everything, derivative of just about every World War II movie that’s come before. The stakes feel lower than they should, tension is nonexistent, emotions run very low, and never once do you think the whole endeavor is even worth it. Honestly, I only came for the prospect of “Iceman” Bradley, so I suppose I wasn’t disappointed. I’ll say, though, that I did learn about another story of the war, as the plot was indeed based on actual events and servicemen. So, I suppose some potentially forgotten soldiers got a memorial from an unexpected source. I’d’ve asked for a better-constructed one, but the partial motive is laudable enough as is. In the end, this isn’t really worth your time unless you’re really hankering for some WWII action and don’t mind a decided lack of actual action.

The Lion King (2019)

I know, this is probably coming as quite the shock and surprise, but I did not care for the 3D-rendered remake of The Lion King. Why bother burying the lead when your opinion is in no way a hot take, a contrarian view, or even all that interesting? Hey, at least I’m honest.

I will say, though, that I was somewhat surprised by a few things. First off, I didn’t expect so much of the film to run pretty much shot-for-shot with the original. My particular favorite entry in this category is the wildebeest stampede: Simba’s carried to relative safety by his father, who then gets carried off by the flow and has to struggle up, only to run into some, shall we say, unfortunate circumstances; we’re then treated to Simba’s reaction just as happened in ’94, complete with the dramatic zoom-out as the cub yells after his father. I’d say it’s shameless hackery, but Disney’s made no qualms about its laziness regarding these remakes, caring only about the buzz created by the cast and the fact that the animation is so damned true-to-life. Yeah, about those things…

First, let’s talk about the voice cast. One of my remaining untold surprises is that Chiwetel Ejiofor did a very respectable job, not quite nailing the playful panache of Jeremy Irons, but giving the role something all his own regardless. Unfortunately, he’s given little of substance to work with, pushed further into the Claudius-like role Scar has constantly been accused of filling. He sadly doesn’t sound like he’s having much fun (contrasted with Irons’ ’94 bombast or even Benedict Cumberbatch in The Desolation of Smaug), which is a major shame. But he’s not alone, as the rest of the cast sounds as though the takes used in the film were recorded late at night, everyone too tired to give a full damn by that point. Making things even worse is the startling lack of charisma coming from the wooden Beyonce, the dullness emanating from John Oliver, and the lack of character from Donald Glover. James Earl Jones is strong, as expected, but it’s old hat to the veteran by this point – never underestimate the power of practice.

Second, that fucking animation. I have no idea who thought it was a good idea to go the photo-realist route (was it you, Favreau?), but that person needs to be reacquainted with sanity. It’s bad enough the models are too naturalistically stiff to properly convey human emotions, but they’re also physically done shoddily, the lips (or, in the case of Oliver’s Zazu, the beak halves) rarely matching up with the words, resembling a dubbed anime whose distributor couldn’t be arsed to fully match the mouth flaps. I will readily grant, though, that the animation is better than the slippery look that pervaded The Jungle Book, and, indeed, the animals often looked as though they stepped out of a nature documentary, so the film has that going for it, whatever that amounts to.

Y’know, now that I bring the idea up, the film did remind me of other Disney films than the obvious progenitor: You know those Disney Nature flicks (and some that predated the tag) where they present solid nature footage and then ruin it with a narrator telling stories about the critters or, worse, essentially speaking for them (I’m thinking along the lines of The Adventures of Milo and Otis here)? Yeah, that’s what this film reeks of, when it’s not smelling of pointless cash-grabbing and nostalgia-baiting. So, yeah, it’s slightly different from the other “live-action” remakes. Go figure.

But what it does share with the rest of its boring ilk is a decided lack of magic, of wonder. The flashy colors, the painstaking animation, and even the slanted allusions to Shakespeare (gotta admit, though, I side with another bearded Kyle by finding more similarities with Henry IV than Hamlet) made the original something to behold, the first film I ever saw more than once in the theatre (a feat that’s only been beaten by the three showings each of A Goofy Movie and Revenge of the Sith, both beneficiaries of strange scheduling circumstances). It had heft, it had feeling. This is the result of draining that effort of everything worthwhile and redelivering it with all of the rigidity and hopelessness of a life without imagination. Better get tickets while you can, kids!

I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change!

Just because it feels somewhat appropriate, let’s start off with a joke: I don’t want my spine, it’s holding me back.

Anyway, so, a little while back, at the insistence of our old friend Grace, we bore witness to the strikingly funny and occasionally fairly poignant musical I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change. I’d never heard of the work before, but its start minimalism and witty (if sometimes obvious) commentary on the nature of love and relationships ensured I’d remember it. Fast forward to a few days ago, and you can imagine my surprise when I come across a Chinese film with a garishly-colored poster (a facet many Chinese films share) and just happened to notice the translated title: I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change. Surely this was a coincidence of the most ridiculous order, or at least just some bubbly comedy that took its name from a slightly related piece from a different medium. Nope: the plot synopsis proved more than sufficient in establishing the film as a cinematic adaptation of the off-Broadway play. Now, I’ve been duped by Chinese flicks before, namely when a film called Jane Eyre had next to nothing to do with the Brontë novel that shared its title, but I was naturally intrigued.

So much the better, I say.

The basic structure of the film runs rather closely to that of the musical: a series of vignettes is presented, each pointing out some foible regarding dating, marriage, and love. It’s roughly set up to follow the basic flow of human life, from youthful lust and dating to long-term relationships and marriage to beyond. As one would expect, some of the scenes and lyrics have been altered a bit in order to accommodate the new cultural setting, and the arrangement of scenes is different from the musical’s, but it’s mostly the same from there.

I will say, though, that things haven’t been translated perfectly. In this version, just about every hint of homosexuality has been scrubbed, aside from a line from “Single Man Drought” about how much easier it would be for ladies to just be lesbians. Granted, part of the reason same-sex coupling came about on stage was due to the fact that the cast usually consisted of just four people, so permutations were bound to come about, but there was also the underlying point of that small cast – the universality of the issues presented – that spurred the appearance of gay and lesbian couples in the show. Not so much here, and it’s not just because the cast has been expanded to a decently large ensemble, just sayin’. (Even with the larger cast, though, we still get some actors who show up for multiple roles.)

Visually speaking, the brightness and exaggerated energy seemingly inherent in Chinese cinema shows just how powerful it can be for both action flicks (the prime export, if you ask me) and glitzy musicals. Regardless of the scene, colors almost glow in their vibrance, and the sets drip with character and sound. Even the relatively sparse funereal setting of “I Can Live with That” pops thanks to a malachite-looking fountain. Many props to the production designer and cinematographer here. The choreography isn’t all that intricate, the sheer number of performers usually compensating for any lack of complexity; the final product often toes the line between too sparse (something akin to Rent (sorry, guys, it’s what springs to mind)) and just right. The vocal talent is admittedly difficult for me to properly gauge, what with the cultural divide, but everybody sounded pretty solid to me. The acting is all solid as well, everyone bringing the right amount of energy and showiness for the situation.

My primary gripe comes in the lack of quieter, meaningful beats. In the stage version, every now and again we’re given a moment to pause and take in a particularly poignant bit of emotionality. Here, everything is played for laughs, even if there’s a mild undercurrent of something else trying to peak through. Since the comedy shines through well enough (plenty of laughs to be found here, kids), it’s not too big o’ deal, but there is that little bit lacking.

Aside from that, though, this is a highly entertaining adaptation of the musical, a worthy replacement if you can’t catch it live on stage. If you dig humorous musicals, feel free to give it a go, you’re not likely to be disappointed.