The Wolverine

Only Hugh can prevent the technological apocalypse

THE WOLVERINEWhen I go to superhero/ine films at all, I go in cold (for reasons that probably don’t apply to this piece).  I don’t know (or care) much about what Silver Samurai does in the X-Men comics.  Objectively, however, James Mangold has put together a superhero movie that actually manages not to be a superhero movie, but a movie that happens to feature a guy with superpowers as the lead.  While still fitting into the seven-installment movie franchise, The Wolverine sheds preconceived obligations and limiting crossover lore in favor of telling a story about the character of Wolverine and what he may have done after the events of the original X-Men trilogy.

The story follows Logan (Hugh Jackman, no longer singing, but returning to curt delivery of laconic dialogue), now a hermit in the Canadian wilderness.  Having fought in pretty much every war in American history, we begin with Logan’s survival of the atomic bombing on Nagasaki, during which he saved a Japanese soldier named Yashida (Haruhiko Yamanouchi) – given Logan’s immortal nature, it’s difficult to imagine how he was captured, but never mind.  In a touching flashback, the young Yashida offers Logan a special Japanese sword, which he instructs him to hold with two hands.  Logan refuses, stating that he will “come get it someday.”  In the distant future, long after the events of every subsequent X-Men film, the elderly and dying Yashida wants Logan to fulfill his promise, and sends Yukio (Rila Fukushima) to fetch him.  Reluctantly heading to Tokyo after completing the superhero trope of knocking around a bunch of disrespectful thugs (in this case, hunters who have provoked and killed a grizzly bear), Logan finds that Yashida, now a billionaire “zaibatsu,” hasn’t called Logan here to say goodbye – he’d rather absorb Logan’s unwanted powers of immortality and live forever.  Logan refuses, Yashida dies offscreen (i.e. doesn’t die), and Logan decides to protect Yashida’s granddaughter, knife-wielding business mogul Mariko (Tao Okamoto) from two parties who seem to want her dead: Yakuza assassins hired by her own father, Shingen (LOST‘s Hiroyuki Sanada), who wishes to inherit Yashida’s legacy, and an enigmatic clan of black-clad bowmen led by a female gaijin known only as Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova) and her right-hand man, Harada (Will Yun Lee), the film’s resident “frenemy.”

Due to a mild case of Island Syndrome, Logan nearly becomes a Boring Hero, and is saved only by the frequent appearance of Famke Janssen as Jean, the love of his life, whom he was forced to kill in the third film due to her destructive second personality.  This presents a much needed layer to Logan, a drifter directed only by hallucinations and animal instincts (and more than occasionally, convenient plot points).

The women of the film, like most in the series, are presented as independent people with their own strengths – Yukio is an unrivaled bodyguard (count how many times she saves Logan throughout the film); Mariko is a competent businesswoman and knife-thrower, and is fiercely dedicated to her family despite her desire not to own Yashida Corps; and Viper, the most one-note speaking part in the film, is actually an accomplished oncologist in addition to being a toxic mutant who spews villainous threats you’ve heard a million times before.  In various ways, this is a superhero movie that relies on its female characters despite none of them taking the lead (similar to the ways Unknown was actually about Diane Kruger’s character consistently rescuing Liam Neeson in spite of her better judgement and the sheer lack of credit received, this film, if told from another angle, could really be about the complicated sisterly relationship between Yukio and Mariko, and how their interactions with an impossibly-muscled foreigner help shape the direction the future takes).  This is unlike Iron Man 3, which presented the illusion of female empowerment by having Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), after being a damsel for two hours of reel, briefly take up the mantle of the male character to dispatch the villain (read: rather than being an empowered character on her own merits, she becomes the male character).

This is, as my father would say, “a pretty good movie,” considering the genre and the countless comic book reboots clogging theatres and shoving great indie work aside.  Most of the actors do their best to turn stock characters into believable people and formulaic shlock into viable drama.  The lion’s share of characters are normal humans, not mutants who exist for the sole purpose of showcasing cool CGI powers.  There’s just enough nuance for genuine interest; real questions about what Logan’s immortality means (albeit answered either with laconic statements or unanswered altogether); women who get to do things, and moreover, decide what they do; and ultimately, a mite of character growth not really seen in The Last Stand (which contained so many characters and plot alleys that the only dialogue I can remember is Vinnie Jones’ silly reference to a Juggernaut YouTube video).

I’m conflicted about the obligatory mid-credits lead-in to a full reboot of the core X-Men story, wherein Magneto (Ian McKellan) and Professor Xavier (Patrick Stewart) approach the finally-free Logan in an airport and inform him that yet another deadly force is out to extinguish all mutant life.  Can’t these sons of bitches leave well enough alone?  I’m not sure if I mean Professor X and Magneto, or their real-life supervillain counterparts at Marvel Entertainment.

The Wolverine (2013); written by Christopher McQuarrie; directed by James Mangold; starring Hugh Jackman, Rila Fukishima, Tao Okamoto, and Hiroyuki Sanada. 

Much Ado About Nothing

Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two auspicious persons

Amy AckerShakespeare is one of the only writers whose work can be acceptably “interpreted” to fit new adaptations.  One of the more popular ideas about Much Ado About Nothing – among the most effective of Shakespeare’s comedies – is that Beatrice and Benedick are rediscovering an old love as opposed to finding it for the first time.  Joss Whedon plays with this in his new adaptation, which he shot at his own home in Santa Monica in record time.  Much of the great nuance stems from Whedon’s film technique, including his use of black-and-white, which may remind one of the great comedies of old (Shakespeare’s play is unarguably one of the earliest examples of screwball comedy), namely the 1930s.  Finally, a Shakespeare film adaptation by a director that not only understands the text, but also understands the conventions of the film genre in which he works and how employing those conventions might bolster the effectiveness of the movie.

The story follows the original, down to the exact word aside from some interesting shifts – the various songs from the play, sung by characters, are here absorbed into the film’s soundtrack – and Whedon’s inspired choice to switch Conrade’s (Riki Londhome) gender, rendering her the lover of the mostly-offscreen scoundrel Don John (Sean Maher).  This enables some wonderful opportunities in blocking, and also some invention on the part of the filmmakers, which is always important in an adaptation, and usually leads to vicious abuse of the source material.  Not here.

Beatrice and Benedick, the leads, are played warmly and familiarly by Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof, who just might be the new sweethearts of the screen (think Peppy and George, but not quite so forced).  Acker’s Beatrice is steadfast, opinionated, and witty beyond belief.  Denisof’s Benedick is relentlessly hammy, and never misses the mark with his nearly endless quips.  I’d have watched a movie comprised of nothing but these two, but we get much more, namely in Riki Lindhome as the infamously straightforward Conrade, whose facial expressions in the film are as good as any of her lines, and Nathan Fillion as Constable Dogberry, written by Shakespeare to be the dumbest, most inept character of all time, who inadvertently (along with his underlings) saves the day by revealing Don John’s dastardly plot to frame naive and frustratingly-silent Hero (Jillian Morgese) for an adultery she never committed.  Fillion delivers Shakespeare’s arduously-crafted malapropisms more naturally than anyone I’ve seen in the role (don’t take that the wrong way, Nathan).  Fran Kranz appears as Claudio, the play’s Boring Hero, and delivers most of the film’s straight-played dramatic dialogue more than convincingly.  The role of Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon – who functions mostly as Claudio’s drunk friend whose lot in life is to provide bad advice with high-school-level maturity – is taken up by Reed Diamond, who keeps an appropriate presence and doesn’t upstage the less overt Claudio when he isn’t supposed to.  Clark Gregg of The Avengers plays Leonato, governor of Messina, who decides on all of the ridiculous stipulations in the story.

The resulting movie is the best onscreen comedy in years, in a world wherein screwball comedy has lately been defined by lowbrow sex jokes, hit-or-miss improv, and increasingly preposterous situations.  Here is something low key, accessible, cultured, and smart.  Here is something heartfelt, truly funny, and furthermore, relevant – Shakespeare’s poking fun at the incompetent police forces of his day (which at the time were made up of respectable citizens who took up the job for a few nights a year despite being all but completely unqualified to do so) doesn’t quite pinpoint the more serious missteps of our current enforcement, but Dogberry’s ineptitude (not least of which is his famously redundant list of Conrade and Borachio’s felonies) and eventual day-saving suggest that social order and emotional normalcy can and will be restored by sheer providence/circumstance.  It also showcases women in a medium (Renaissance comedy) wherein many folks may not have thought prominent female characters would exist (or at least not as wives and damsels, as they do in much of Shakespeare’s work).  Moreover, all the wit and wordplay still dazzle, right down to the title: “nothing” and “noting” were homonyms when the play was written, and here we have a story in which every character’s emotional stability is upturned due to something that did not actually happen (i.e. “nothing”), and every major turning point in the story is triggered by characters spying and eavesdropping on one another (i.e. “noting”).

May Whedon continue along this road.  This is real superhero work.

Much Ado About Nothing (2013); written and directed by Joss Whedon; adapted from the play by William Shakespeare; starring Amy Acker, Alexis Denisof, Nathan Fillion, and Riki Lindhome.