I can’t actually call this one a review. I do have my small criticisms of Hugo, but ultimately the film became so personal to me that the idea of reviewing it seems biased. For that, it will receive no score. We’ll cut to the chase, though: I want you to see this movie. However, I need to write something more, so I will call this article the tale of how Martin Scorcese proved me wrong about 3D.

Frankly, the film just looks great. It’s stunningly well shot with a remarkable art direction to boot. The colour palette is a splendid mix of rich blues and golds; there’s an apparent level of grit to the textures of parchment and clothes to contrast the beautiful shimmering of gears and clockwork. But all of this imagery still takes a backseat to the appearance of depth that the use of 3D was able to achieve. The train station felt alive. Normally, an issue with a live action film shot in 3D is the appearance of a sort of shoebox diorama. Things appear as though they have a depth of field, but the walls are not expansive. Everything looks as though it’s wandering within small claustrophobic confines. However—almost by magic—Scorcese and the cinematographer Robert Richardson defeated this almost entirely. Their intention was not a matter of making it appear as though the character were three-dimensional, but rather, their intention was solely a matter of having all objects appear in focus. This in turn creates an expansive depth of field and achieves a more reasonable appearance of 3D than any cheesy grasp out towards the camera could ever hope to emulate.  

Fitting too, since the tale is surprisingly less about a young boy’s adventure than it is about the roots of film and the achievement of wonder, imagination and possibility inherently within the medium. And Scorcese makes his point clear about 3D; it is simply a new tool for filmmakers to use. A tool like any other, it should be used as support, not as the focus. It should be used sparingly and without painful exaggeration. It, like anything else, gains most of its power through subtlety so that when it needs to hit hard, it will be a shock that is used for storytelling’s purpose. 

As for the personal affection I have for the film, it’s as a result of my love for film in general. The tragedy of Georges Méliès (brilliantly played by Ben Kingsley) was an emotional roller-coaster that hit me right in my sappy heart. I urge any lover of film to see Hugo if you have not yet done so. It would be a mistake to miss for the technical achievement alone.

Normally I don’t bring personal stuff into a movie review. I don’t find it to be very professional. In the case of 50/50, I found myself drawn to do so; as the experience I’ve had with relatives facing cancer dictated the experience I had while watching the film.

This will certainly be an odd sentiment: it was truly a pleasure for me to see a film that treats cancer the same lighthearted way I’ve treated cancer. Written and based on Will Reiser’s experience, 50/50 is the story of a young man, Adam (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who contracts cancer. Naturally, it causes him anxiety, but the world around him simultaneously becomes a much different place now that his mortality is an issue. It’s odd and dark but the film ensures to display the humor in it. Buried deep underneath anything, there’s always a joke waiting there to help cut the tension. It’s a coping mechanism so it’s never a permanent fix and the film is smart enough to know this. It’s like having a warm cup of hot chocolate on a bitterly cold day. For a while it will be soothing but eventually the cup will get cold. The jokes will have run dry and there is nothing left for you to mask the feeling of the bitter weather.

In the early summer of 2008, my aunt passed away from breast cancer. I still remember at one time in the beginning when the topic of mortality was only a distant impossibility. A long running idea in my head was that after all that chemo and surgery the only difference was a couple of scars and softer hair. I had the knowledge, but no belief that it wouldn’t work. But every once in a while, an occasion would occur that would make me realize that I was being ignorant. That something could happen and I would have to take it as the reality it was. Eventually, she succumbed to the disease and my perception of mortality had changed. Upon my viewing of 50/50, the experiences I felt in that time resurfaced to the top. I was consumed with emotion. All the fears, misunderstandings and lighthearted humor I had in the beginning, I shared with those who surrounded Adam. But then that feeling of a wave of helplessness washes over you. It’s a daunting task to replicate but the film handles it with care so as to not be disingenuous.  It truly felt like I could finally begin to understand what it was about the situation that had me feel so incapable, lost and aggravated. Not even just about the cancer, but who someone would be in that position. They are people, not just cancer patients and not just a survival rate. That was what Joseph Gordon-Levitt did best and what he has always done best. He made you feel like Adam was a person. Not a hero, or an idol but a genuine person.

It’s a cocktail of alienation and indignation he faces. He’s not a bad person, so why him? Worst of all, people now treat him like he has a Fabergé egg for a personality. His peers act as if he’s already dead; speaking to him like they’re reciting their obituary. Others, Katherine (played by Anna Kendrick), somehow try to relate him to statistics and in return belittle the situation. “What you’re feeling is normal.” Normal, being the key word as there is nothing he feels to be normal about what he is facing. His mother, Diane (Anjelica Huston) is in a constant state of panic. Trying incessantly to help, to the point that her concern becomes infuriating to handle. Then there is his best friend, Kyle (Seth Rogen) who does his best to lighten the mood. Doing everything he can (as misguided as he sometimes comes to be) to make Adam think that perhaps there’s an opportunity here—a bright side to bleakness. It’s an idea the film takes to heart as it teaches you that there are life lessons to learn at the brink of death, lessons that console you and lessons that you can re-gift for others to have in place of you. Some of those lessons are humorous in nature and some are incredibly harsh.

My only complaint is that the romantic subplot is a little unnecessary. After the roller coaster you go through, a romantic subplot is the least important aspect of the story. And ending on it provides a lack of biting substance to close off with. For a movie filled to the brim with engaging moral, emotional and existential complications, a girl just doesn’t seem important enough. However, Jonathan Levine (director of the underrated the Wackness) still manages to make it work. Regardless, there are many important questions about human interaction that are left behind that are much more important than tolerating romance is inconvenient. 50/50 is funny, sad, uplifting and deeper than expected. Perhaps I’m biased because of my association to that type of scenario, but to me it was worth the tears to learn something about a situation that was so volatile. I can’t see why someone wouldn’t find something to gain here.

4.5/5

There is just something so fundamentally right about the manner in which Shame conducts itself. Whether he knows it or not, Steve McQueen—known for his highly regarded debut Hunger—innately understands film as expression. And what’s so remarkable about Shame is the beautiful horror McQueen bestows on a topic that has garnered nothing but controversial recognition. Sex addicts are a confident bunch but their addiction is slowly boiling to the surface and ruining their lives. Shame acts the same way; with a cheeky grin hiding a broken and downtrodden human being.

The eternally charming Michael Fassbender plays as Brandon, the sex addict in question. When first introduced to him, he is (quite literally) bare. In an opening montage both soothing and exhilarating set to the tone of a ticking clock, we meet him as a nude man who ignores desperate phone calls and frequents the company of call girls. Comparatively, in the same montage, we also know him as a man on a subway train, locking eyes with a married woman across his way following her out of the car where—upon exiting—has a change of heart and leaves him with an unsatisfied chase concluding the film’s intimate appetizer. The film maintains this impeccable sense of rhythm throughout. It’s a much slower film than your typical affair but even scenes that are one single, stagnant camera for a total of 5-10 minutes (somewhat inconceivable in most films) still manage to be entrancing. Whether it’s a slow dance or a jog; the acting, editing, cinematography and direction all culminate into a kind of brilliant natural swirl.

His sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan), is the perfect companion piece to Brandon’s character. Both troubling him by her presence alone and by challenging his alienating behavior;  which contrasts her neediness for love and romance. It can only be assumed what their background consists of, but they’re all each other has left and without this absurd relationship the film would lose its incredible weight. Primarily, the film is all about Brandon’s character. Even Sissy’s own troubles only serve to create a lingering depth what would otherwise be an elusive character. But it’s this mysteriousness too that makes it so captivating. We are not told everything at once. Most especially we are never directly told of the trouble that Brandon has with himself about his lifestyle. We learn of the problem as it grows within him. By the end I was intrigued to know more—to know why. Partially it’s because of a morbid curiosity but something tells me it’s also a genuine concern.

Shame is quite the fantastic film and it’s really quite outstanding how well it handles the subject. Characters’ interactions build towards a bigger image of a single topic. It’s never unfocused of its goal and it carries on to serve it—unflinching and full disclosure. It’s unfortunate that it won’t be regarded with much commercial appeal considering its quite gratuitous portrayal of its topic and its deliberate pace but, it’s a work of art and nothing less. And when the dust settles after the year’s award shows, Shame is a film that will be studied.

5/5