Category: Arts

I, Tonya is subjectivity. The movie declares this in every facet of its being, from the emphatic, forceful title to the assertiveness of its style, which is part documentary, part fiction. Unlike other biographical films, there is no pretense of being unbiased. Instead, the movie plunges its audience headfirst into Tonya Harding ’s turbulent life, both before and after the ‘Incident’. Although, it assumes those watching may have some prior knowledge of the scandalous ‘Incident’, the film dedicates much of it time to defining the circumstances in which Harding grew up. Introduced to the ice by her hard-talking, abusive mother (Allison Janney), Tonya (Margot Robbie) proves to be a natural skater. However, her talent only complicates her life and relationships further. Her mother’s distance and relentless drive pushes her fatefully towards the one person who professes to love her without restraint, her boyfriend and eventual husband, Jeff Gillooly (Sebastian Stan). Gillooly’s love, though, proves to be as much of a façade as her mother’s. Yet, Tonya cannot pull herself away from either toxic relationship. It is this twisted trio that drives the true conflict throughout the film, not the skating competitions, and not the supposed rivalry between Harding and her fellow skater Nancy Kerrigan. Tonya Harding merely wants to be loved: by her mother, by her husband, and by the American public who spurns her for the more conventionally beautiful skater.

It is a movie that is above all dedicated to its main character. This is especially apparent in its choice to use recreated interviews as a framing device. The movie seemingly begins like a documentary with Tonya, her mother, and Jeff speaking to the camera. Then, it flows into movie sequences that depict their accounts of the event. The interviews, which occasionally become fourth wall breaks, allow Tonya to speak directly to the audience in a way that feels both intimate and accusatory. They draw the audience in while simultaneously reminding them that they, too, are part of the Tonya Harding’s tragedy. There is an inherent helplessness when Tonya looks straight into the camera while being slammed into a wall by Jeff. The audience is present, yet completely distant from the situation. The camera plays a large part in creating this feeling by maintaining its role as a remote observer, even during the dynamic skating sequences. Although the movie audience is allowed closer to Tonya than the crowds in the stands, there is still a lack of interiority, a necessary separation. Along with the terrific camera work, all the actors execute their roles admirably both in the faux interview sequences and in the main movie, with the stand out being Margo Robbie. Her face, especially, is expressive both on and off the ice. Every time she stares straight down into the camera before her routine is tense, beautiful, and gripping. Sebastian Stan adds a terrifying physicality as Jeff, his rage and desperation quivering off of him. Overall, the style and the movie’s consideration of celebrity and America work together perfectly to create a sympathetic portrait of an otherwise controversial figure.

Another year, another biographical film. Every Oscar season, a new ‘based on a true event’ story is dug up from the past to entertain and most importantly, compete for awards. But not all are created equal. By taking on controversial events or figures in history, these films allow us to reevaluate the past and reframe the present.  I, Tonya, is just such a movie.  The movie stars Margot Robbie as Tonya Harding, the all American, champion figure skater. It chronicles her life up to the event that changes the course of her career and her future. Perhaps what makes Harding such an interesting subject, strangely enough, is that she was not an influential, world-changing figure. Instead, she was a merely athlete, whose superhuman talent did not stop her from being subject to the same human flaws that plague us all. Bringing such a relatable story to the screen will hopefully prevent I, Tonya from some of the more sentimental or worshipful tendencies of other biographical films. I, Tonya is currently showing in the State Theatre.  Purchase tickets ($8 for students with ID) online at the Michigan Theater website or at the box office.

Water has always held a mysterious place in our collective imaginations. It simultaneously acts as a healing, life-giving force while having the power to sweep away all our proud civilizations in one thundering wave. Perhaps no movie has done a better job of embracing the paradoxical nature of water than Guillermo del Toro’s new film, The Shape of Water. It is, after all, a film of many contrasting forces. Man and woman. Land and water. Human and inhuman. Silence and sound. At the center of it all is Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins). She lives a quiet life in a small apartment building near Baltimore. By night, she is an overlooked cleaning lady in a government laboratory, reduced to, by most of her work fellows, as the ‘mute woman’. By day, she spends her time delightfully consuming musicals with her neighbor, Giles (Richard Jenkins). Elisa’s life takes a turn when the drab laboratory gains an exotic new asset, an amphibian humanoid closely guarded by the sinister Colonel Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon). Strickland regards the creature as only as an opportunity to spite the Soviets and gain an upper hand in the Space Race, but Elisa’s sympathy soon leads her to a different conclusion.

Del Toro brings the audience into this world with his typical stylistic flair, transforming Baltimore into a land of marshy greens and greys. The color scheme makes the reds and yellows stand out like warning flares in the night. The film is full of these bold colors from the theater sign that lights up Eliza’s apartment building to the stop lights of the streets. Even the occasional factory fire is rendered into a beautiful, distant painting. It is a past that is both nostalgic and fantastical, a thematic approach that is echoed in every environment of the film. For example, the laboratory may be extremely mechanical with its dials and rivets, but it also houses an otherworldly creature from the Amazon. Elisa and her friends are perfectly imperfect for this strange place. Elisa’s inability to speak and Giles’ repressed feelings for other men render them as much abnormalities to this society as her new friend. It is an America, so afraid of Communism, that it demands absolute standardization among its citizens. Thus, the fantasy element of the movie serves to reinforce the real world instead of undermining it.  The world around Elisa is already a surreal place, a planet on the path to nuclear self-destruction. It is does not take too much imagination to place a strange fantasy creature in the middle of it all.

Cleverly, del Toro also inserts sound at every opportunity. Elisa, as mentioned repeatedly to ignorant coworkers, is not deaf, but mute. Her life is filled with noisy alarm clocks and crooning records. She even first interacts with the ‘asset’ by carefully tapping the glass of its container. Both Elisa and del Toro understand the importance of sound. It is a powerful, but oft-ignored force, just like her. Elisa’s may lack a voice, but she makes up for it by using sound in many other ways. It is yet another element that makes the world feel expansive and important.

The movie falters, however, when it takes one predictable step too many. Elisa and Strickland were always destined to collide. Their views on what constitutes humanity were simply too divergent, each informed by the lives they have been given. Strickland, privileged by his power and his all-American nuclear family, sees difference also as error. Elisa appreciates and even grows to love those that accept differences instead of judging them. However, these complex and interesting characters are done a disservice by a plot that feels overly familiar, especially when compared to del Toro’s first success, Pan’s Labyrinth. In that film, he mixes environment, character, and plot in just the right amounts. In this one, some elements are vastly more original than others, leading to a final confrontation that feels trapped by convention. It was an attempt to amaze and shock that fell flat. Despite what I consider a rather lackluster ending, I thoroughly enjoyed this film that immersed me (pun intended) into a world that was full of detail, color, and life. The Shape of Water manages to capture the elusive elegance, the seductive power that can only belong to water.