The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (8 February 2019)

The Lego Movie (2014) was stupendous– it was charming, creative, heart-warming, original, and contained a song that I still get stuck in my head nearly weekly. Due to the originality of the first film, and the fact that sequels often don’t live up to expectations, I was convinced The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part would be at least somewhat disappointing, especially after viewing its trailer. The Lego Movie, no matter how fantastic, has been rooted in capitalism, so it was easy to be concerned that a sequel would be purely a cash-grab after the success of original, without the heart and creativity. In reality, I left the theater feeling warm-hearted and satisfied.

The film picks up five years after the events of its predecessor, but in flashbacks relays what happened immediately after the finale of the first film. Aliens from another planet landed with the intent to destroy all creations in their past, and now, whenever Lego creations are built, they’re soon destroyed by these big-bricked Duplo aliens. Over the past five years, the citizens of what’s now called Apocalypseburg have become hardened– they sport tattoos, dark clothing, and sometimes tougher names (this includes a gritty version of Abraham Lincoln, which is fun to behold). One citizen, however, Emmet Brickowski, remains essentially unchanged from the first film. He is optimistic, friendly, and full of goodwill, even in this world of Legoland meets Mad Max: Fury Road. This bothers the eternally tough Lucy, also known as Wildstyle, who feels that he is naive, and needs to toughen up to better function in the world that they now live in. When Lucy and four other Apocalypseburg citizens are taken away by the invading General Mayhem, Emmet makes it his mission to rescue them, meeting up with super tough raptor-training spaceship captain Rex Dangervest on the way.

The original film focused on the importance of creativity, and how children don’t need to fit into boxes, and should be encouraged to express themselves in whichever ways come naturally. While seen in films before, this message is an important one, and was well-handled in the original movie. The messages of this film are also incredibly important, and it’s a positive sign that they’ll be viewed by a large audience of children, especially boys; the film targets toxic masculinity, and the idea that one has to fit a “tough loner” archetype to be a hero. It also targets the idea seen frequently in films that one has to become hardened by the traumas they experience, rather than allowing themselves to be vulnerable. A film that challenges the idea of “strength” and where it comes from us always welcome.

The first two thirds of the film are jam-packed with musical numbers, and one gets the impression that the film is trying (in vain) to match the success of “Everything is Awesome” from the first movie– a success that really can’t be paralleled. Some of the songs are catchy, but after a time it begins to feel as if the movie is trying to throw out a bunch of songs in hopes that one of them will stick in public consciousness. Ironically, the most effective song in the film is a poignant remix of “Everything is Awesome” from the first film, which also samples songs played previously in this film. It ties the messages and plot of the film together in an emotionally satisfying manner, and jumpstarts the film’s conclusion.

This is a children’s film, but still contains plenty to keep adults engaged. Bruce Willis makes appearances that are amusing but also work to advance the message of the film. Songs and dialogue contain snippets that are incredibly amusing to those with knowledge of Batman’s extensive cinematic history, and several references to recent and older action movies. The film is so full of a variety of types of jokes that it feels as if it’s easy to miss them, and that one would benefit from a second watch and listen. There are visual puns and jokes, and witty lines delivered quickly in long stretches of dialogue. The majority of names in the film contain a joke of some sort or another. One has to keep their eyes and ears open, and are rewarded for doing so with a genuinely funny, witty film.

One way this movie falls flat of its predecessor is the live action sequences. In the first film, they were used sparingly, and packed an emotional punch. In this film, they come up slightly too frequently, and come off more as a second story than one intertwined with the animated portion. A large part of the impact of the live action portions of The Lego Movie came from the unexpected factor and the originality, something that a sequel wouldn’t be able to replicate, but they still don’t feel as seamlessly integrated as they could be. For a lot of the sequences, the viewer can understand and imagine what’s going on without having to be shown it, and being shown directly takes the viewer away from being optimally engrossed in the movie. This isn’t to say that the live-action portions of the film shouldn’t be there, merely that they’d be more effective if used less often and slightly differently.

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part doesn’t pack quite the punch of the original, but it manages to switch the formula around enough to make for an engaging and satisfying sequel full of laughter and loveability.

On the Basis of Sex (11 January 2019)

There’s never been a bad time to celebrate Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but arguably there’s never been a better time than now. The 85 year old has undergone three broken ribs and a lobectomy in the past three months, and still remains on the court, with no plans of stepping down anytime soon. The film celebrates her individual triumphs, and the triumphs she pioneered for the American judicial system and equal rights for women.

The film’s first part takes place in 1956. It begins with a sea of men in grey suits and briefcases walking in one direction, and in their midst, a women with bouncy hair and a blue dress, eyes full of determination. Ruth Bader Ginsburg is one of nine women in her class at Harvard, and immediately not treated as an equal to the men in the class; the Dean addresses the bunch as “Harvard Men” and at a dinner that is theoretically to honor the women, asks them “Why are you here,  taking a man’s place?” Ginsburg herself delivers a witty and scathing retort; the film establishes early that she has never been one to be intimidated, merely exasperated.

In this first semester, Ginsburg’s husband is diagnosed with testicular cancer, a disease which, at the time, had an incredibly low survival rate. Ginsburg immediately took his place in his classes while he underwent treatment, attending the classes of two people, transcribing his papers, all while taking care of an infant daughter. It’s a story that seems too impressive to be true, except, of course, that it is.

The film goes on to highlight the struggles Ginsburg had at finding a job as a lawyer in a heartbreaking sequence, and then makes a jump to 1970, where she has been teaching at Rutgers for the last decade. The heart of the film takes off from here. The film makes Rutgers look like a bit of a dump, in a bit of an unfair move, but one that highlights why Ginsburg feels unsatisfied with where her life has taken her, especially after she excelled in law school and graduated at the top of her class. She then comes across a case that she sees as an opportunity to further the fight against sex-based discrimination against women.

Felicity Jones is lovely as Ginsburg, arguably nearly too much so, and she gives an engaging and nuanced performance. The film does at times drift into the territory of being heavy-handed, a film about “Overcoming Adversity,” but its performances, especially Jones’s, keep it grounded. The film is at its most powerful at its most human moments– close-up shots of its actors faces, conversations between mother and daughter. It’s a film about a family, and about someone trying to do what she believes is right– real people, working together to engineer change. It isn’t a story, at its heart, that is larger-than-life. It’s a story about people, and the film flourishes when it remembers that.

Some of what may be perceived flaws are hard to discern, due to the fact that the film is based on a true story. For instance, it paints the women’s rights movement and Civil Rights movement as parallel, rather than intersecting movements. The Vietnam protests are also seen as parallel, or as a plot device when mentioned at all. The importance and intersectionality of the movements isn’t addressed as deftly as perhaps was possible. True, the film has a focused story to tell, but it’s hard for me to believe that the story couldn’t have been told in a more rounded manner. Black women have always existed, and have fought for their rights both as women and as people of color. This is something the film glosses over. Nonetheless, the story it does tell is an engaging one, and inspiring.

The film is not accurate in every way, I am sure. There are inaccuracies about specific years, specific timelines. Nonetheless, I feel like I did learn a lot that I didn’t know before about the life of this incredibly justice, and I feel that the point is not pinpoint historical accuracy, but an accurate portrayal of the spirit that it took to succeed against the odds. This isn’t to say that Bader Ginsburg has had only her spirit to thank– she is white, and had the support of a wealthy husband throughout her quests– but no one can doubt the astonishing amount of determination, perseverance and intelligence that Ruth Bader Ginsburg has possessed her entire life. She would not be where she is without those, and the country itself, one is sure, would not have made quite as much progress as it (in some ways) has. This film makes for an earnest celebration of her life and work, work that she continues to do, and succeeds in highlighting an iconic American figure.

A Note From the Author:

I’m well aware that this is far from my highest quality of writing. It’s been one of those weeks were just getting anything written and semi-completed is a feat. And yes, it doesn’t help that I got my wisdom teeth out, but this week has been like walking through sludge. Today, I just wasn’t able to get out of bed until my cat prompted me. Spero helps a lot with my mental health. He’s curled up on my lap as I type this. Some days that’s enough to keep my head above water, for sure. Some days it still feels like nothing’s worth it, and some days I can’t find the motivation to do anything at all. I have an appointment with a new therapist tomorrow night, and I’m trying not to put too much hope in it, but I have tried so many therapists trying to find one who’s even close to the right fit, and I am so worn down.

This project does feel like a chore sometimes, but I think it’s important to me. It makes sure I leave the house and it makes sure I do something that feels productive. It makes sure I actually practice writing, which is a huge deal to me. Being a “writer” used to be part of my identity, but I kind of lost that somewhere along the way, and I want to make sure I start writing more and don’t stop, because it is something I love dearly.

Announcement

When people find out you’re suicidal, they usually try to figure out a reason why. If there isn’t an obvious one, they try to figure out factors to keep you from going through with it– support systems, sure, but also hobbies. “I like to read, and to write,” I told numerous professionals during my hospitalization this autumn as they stared at me expectantly over their clipboards. “I like… movies. I like to watch movies.”

I was first diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder when I was thirteen years old. Like with being suicidal, people tried to figure out a cause, but there didn’t appear to be one. I had supportive and loving parents who had had an amicable and non-traumatizing divorce over a year ago. My middle school experience was not much more difficult than anyone else’s. I had friends. Nevertheless, I was angry and sad and bogged down for months on end. I hated myself. I was started on Prozac two months after my diagnosis, the medication I remained on for the next six years, before switching to Zoloft and finally Cymbalta. I also remained in therapy.

Getting a shy, sad teenager to talk about their deep feelings and insecurities was not an easy feat, but getting me to do so in therapy was even more difficult. However, my therapist Harriet quickly discovered a way to get me to open up; at the beginning of our sessions, or when we reached a wall, she would ask me if I’d seen any movies lately. Usually I had. I wanted to be a film critic until sophomore year of high school, and even after I decided to go into nursing, movies remained something I was passionate about. So I would spend a few minutes talking to Harriet about movies, and often the topic would fairly naturally shift into more serious subject matter.

Along with being something I love, movies have been a way for me to gauge the severity of my depression. I remember sitting in the theatre watching A Quiet Place early this year and thinking, “I know myself, and this should be making me sob, but I don’t feel anything. I’m just numb.” That was a marker to me that things had gotten bad.

My love of movies has been with my longer than my depression has. As a toddler, I was discussing gender roles and workplace practices in A Bug’s Life with my mom. For most of my childhood, I read Entertainment Weekly religiously. I remember begging my mom to let me stay up long enough to watch all of the Oscars as early as 2005, when I was nine years old. My family has participated in Oscars ballots for over a decade.

I will never be a professional film critic. However, I can still review movies, from a novice perspective. So that’s what I’m going to do. 52 times, in fact, one movie for each week of 2019.

This quest, which I’m calling Cymbalta Cinema, serves a few purposes. One of these is that it gives me something to work on, and strive toward. For most of my life, I’ve been in school, working to graduate high school, and then college. Now that I’ve accomplished those goals, as much as I adore my job, it’s been hard to find things to work toward and to keep myself going day to day. Watching and reviewing one movie a week gives me something to work on, and also ensures that I’ll be out of bed and up and about at least once a week– often with friends, hopefully! The second purpose to bring awareness to mental illness. It’s a struggle a lot of us face, and too often in silence. It’s something I’ve been hesitant to talk about. There are very few people I told about my hospitalization this fall. There are very few people who know the extent of my depression. And I feel that that silence perpetuates a stigma. Far too often I’ve heard co-workers on my floor refer to the psychiatric patients on our unit as “crazies.” If I said anything about my struggles I’m sure they’d say “oh but you’re not like THOSE people” as if there’s something wrong with having a mental illness. I’m not ashamed that I have depression, that I take medication for it (Cymbalta, 90mg a day), and I’m not even ashamed that I had to be hospitalized so that I wouldn’t kill myself. I want to get better, and I’m working on it. Recovery is a process, and it sure isn’t linear.

So, I came up with Cymbalta Cinema. Starting in January, I’ll be seeing a movie a week and posting and sharing film reviews every Saturday. If you could follow along and read a few reviews, that would be incredible. Projects like this are easier to maintain if there are people holding me accountable. I’ll be posting the reviews here, and sharing on social media. At the very least, thank you so much for reading this far. That in itself means a lot to me.