REVIEW: Maestro

The long-awaited Leonard Bernstein biopic came to theaters on November 22nd. With an unmatched legacy in the classical music-sphere, Maestro offers us a unique look into the personal life of the first American-born composer to receive international acclaim. 

Director and lead Bradley Cooper led a gripping performance as the conductor extraordinaire, providing a rare glimpse into the world of the beloved American conductor. I was interested to see what parts of Bernstein’s life would be highlighted in the film, as he lived quite a vehement life, filled with passionate successes and seething controversy. With so many notable musical moments that Bernstein boasts, the movie is rather centered around his tumultuous marriage with actress Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan) rather than much of his career work.

The film begins with a spritely 25-year-old “Lenny” (as he was often referred to) and progresses with early career successes until he meets Felicia at a house party in 1946. They marry in 1951 and the story uncovers the beauty and bitterness behind their marriage, alongside Lenny’s confusing journey with his sexuality. The story feels complete marriage-wise, but lots of questions about his queerness remain.

The movie presents Bernstein’s life as a constant performance. His inherent presentational-based occupation and obsession with the media seep their way into Lenny’s marriage. This is shown in the way he falls in love: with choreographed dance numbers and flirtatious rehearsals on stage with Felicia. As well as the lavish parties he throws later in life with famous patrons who are watching his every move. His romance with Felicia always remained public in this sense, while his relationships with men were consistently private. Additionally, this was an interesting way to highlight the oppressive culture surrounding queerness in the 20th century. One of my favorite aspects of the film was the contrast between the unmarried and married Lenny. This shift is shown in the cinematography, with a black and white filter over his life while he is falling in love with Felicia, and a shift to bright color into the later years of their marriage, when more problems come to life. 

The film did not necessarily showcase all the music he created or the specific legacy he desired, but it was a brilliantly crafted story that explored deeply into the musician’s marriage and sexuality. This movie is thoughtful and heartbreaking with overwhelming passion—much like the music Leonard Bernstein created himself. Maestro is in theaters for a limited time and is now available on Netflix. 

 

Bradley Cooper (left) and Carey Mulligan.

 

129 minutes. Rated R  for discreet nudity and a ton of cigarettes.

Image thanks to Movie Insider and Netflix.

REVIEW: Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch

I loved Dr. Seuss’s books growing up but never watched the movies, so to celebrate the end of the semester and the coming of Christmas, I watched The Grinch at the Michigan Theater on Sunday, December 10th. I haven’t watched any of the previous adaptations, but they seem pretty different. The first version, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!, came out in 1966 as a cartoon that’s 30 minutes long. The second version, also titled How the Grinch Stole Christmas, came out in 2000 as a live-action that’s 1 hour and 55 minutes long. The most recent one is what played at the theater: the 2018 animation that’s 1 hour and 30 minutes long, which is simply titled The Grinch.

This version is essentially the Grinch’s origin story and the audience gets to learn who the Grinch is as a person rather than a thief. The best part is we get to see his relationship with his dog Max, who is youthful and energetic in the film but old and weary in the book. Another character they redesigned was Cindy-Lou Who, the little girl who catches the Grinch in the middle of his act. In the book, she was less than two and only on a page or so; in the movie, she’s much older and one of the main characters.

The animation was fun and very fitting for a children’s Christmas movie. The palette was bright and the characters were cute, even the Grinch. I enjoyed hearing the narrator’s lines and rhymes because they added more of the book elements too. His voice surprised me though because he sounded relatively young when I was expecting an old man reminiscent of Santa, which I wish they went with instead. Because I knew the plot beforehand, it felt like a very long movie and some parts were dragging on, but I enjoyed it overall and would rewatch it again once it’s closer to Christmas.

REVIEW: The Boy and the Heron

Studio Ghibli has released multiple iconic works such as Princess Momonoke and Kiki’s Delivery Service, and they just dropped their newest film, The Boy and the Heron. Like TotoroThe Boy and the Heron is a semi-autobiographical fantasy story written by Hayao Miyazaki, one of the co-founders of Studio Ghibli. The main character’s name is Mahito, whose mother died in a fire. After a couple of years and still mourning her passing, he and his father move from Tokyo to the countryside. There, he meets a suspicious heron, and as suggested by the title, the plot thickens.

In my opinion, quite a few of Studio Ghibli’s works are rather abstract and The Boy and the Heron is no exception. However, I do think this movie was easier to understand and had more reasons for all the fantasy involved than some other films like Howl’s Moving Castle and Spirited Away (both are still my favorite Studio Ghibli movies though). When I watched the films as a child, I was fascinated by the world-building and unexpectedness of it all, but once I grew older and re-watched the films, I wanted more background information and explanation. I think this movie includes both elements well and thus reaches a large demographic. Furthermore, there are themes of life, death, family, and friendship that anyone can learn from. 

I was surprised that Studio Ghibli released a new movie. Honestly, I thought the last animation they ever made was Ponyo in 2008, but they’ve been releasing works until 2014 with When Marnie Was There, which I’ve never seen or heard about. I would watch this film multiple times, and it’s showing at the State Theatre until December 14th with screenings in both Japanese and English. I watched the Japanese Dub with English subtitles version, and I noticed that the Japanese title is very different from the English one. In Japanese, the title is 君たちはどう生きるか (Kimitachi wa Dō Ikiru ka) and translates to ‘how do you live?’. I wish they hadn’t changed it, because I feel like the Japanese title has more meaning and inquisition to it. But now you guys know, so when you watch the film, keep in mind that the story is about more than just a boy and a heron.

REVIEW: Life on Planet Pops

On December 6, 2023, at the Michigan Theater, the Michigan Pops Orchestra presented “Life on Planet Pops.” I’ve been to every Pops concert since my freshman year, and I was especially excited for this one after seeing this semester’s poster that teased The Lion KingStar Wars (which they somehow manage to play every year), Princess and the Frog, and more. As the theme and poster suggest, all of the music they chose was related to animals, though there surprisingly wasn’t much classical repertoire. However, it was my favorite program out of all of the Pops concerts I’ve seen.

They opened with a medley of Beauty and the Beast and they sounded exactly like the soundtrack of it on Spotify. I loved the concertmaster’s solo so much it gave me goosebumps, and once the melody of Tale as Old as Time played, the strings all together really shined. The song they chose from Princess and the Frog was “Almost There” with a guest student singer from SMTD, and she was very talented. I loved how she opened with dialogue that transitioned into song and that she maintained her character’s cheerful flare throughout the performance.

After a brief intermission, they returned with Hoe Down, a piece with a fun syncopated tune. I’ve heard other orchestras play it before, but I loved that Pops included a good “Yeehaw” in the middle. To end the night, they played the William Tell Overture. I feel like it’s a piece everyone knows. Though I didn’t recognize the title, I immediately recognized the tunes, especially the latter half. 

As always, Pops includes movies to play alongside their music. This semester, they chose to film Pokémon and Jaws, and the way the actors portrayed the animals was hilarious. Pikachu was taller than Ash, his trainer, and the shark in Jaws crawled out of the fountain by the Michigan League. 

I highly recommend going to the Michigan Pops Orchestra concerts. They’re always amazing and enjoyable for people who aren’t well-versed in classical music and I always have a lot of fun at their events!

REVIEW: The Polar Express

On Sunday, December 3rd, as part of their free holiday classics series, the Michigan Theater had a showing of The Polar Express. It was my first time watching The Polar Express, and it was very different from what I expected. Since it’s based off of a children’s book, I was picturing something along the lines of Elf, a goofy and silly movie. Instead, the film features animated human characters that reminded me of the video game Detroit: Become Human. Furthermore, the colors were very muted and the background lacked vibrancy. Overall, it had a somber atmosphere unfitting for a children’s movie, especially a Christmas movie. However, it’s possible that the directors created it like that intentionally, because the movie is about a little boy who doesn’t believe in Santa.

Spoiler alert (but also not really): the main character comes to believe in Santa after riding The Polar Express to the North Pole. I thought they designed the North Pole beautifully; I really liked the layout of the city and although the colors were still muted, it was the brightest setting in the whole movie. It was also the most cheerful with what appeared to be hundreds of elves doing tricks like black flips and working hard to make Christmas a joyful holiday. My favorite part was the ending. I found it very bittersweet because it addresses how people eventually grow up to lose that childhood innocence. On the other hand, as the people around him grow older and stop believing, the main character never stops.

I didn’t find myself particularly enjoying the movie; there were a few moments where I was very frustrated. I’m curious how children like it, though, since I’m obviously not the target audience. Perhaps it’s the perfect tale to convince non-believers to continue believing.

REVIEW: The Silence of the Lambs

Every so often, the Michigan or State Theater will screen a classic— last Thursday, it was The Silence of the Lambs, the quintessential 1991 psychological horror, directed by Jonathan Demme and starring Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins. I went into the screening without any expectations, knowing only that the film involved a cannibalistic serial killer fittingly named Hannibal and I could probably expect gore. The horror was done incredibly well, but the genius of The Silence of the Lambs is that the gore and terror of murder were only a fraction of the film’s emotional appeal. Demme fills each scene with the psychological unease of reality as the story follows an FBI trainee, Clarice, who is constantly shown to be looked down upon or disrespected because she is a woman. The script declares this outright with creepy remarks from higher-ups and even from Hannibal himself, but this is also accomplished with careful framing: throughout the movie, close-ups force us to stare into the eyes of men as Clarice sees them, hauntingly blank or grotesquely hungry, eyes either pointing condescendingly down at the camera or unnervingly straight into our own. Clarice is often alone, often being hit on or disregarded by serial killers and FBI agents alike, and cannot avoid it despite her skillful maneuvering of misogynistic encounters. This inspires a very real fear rooted in our awareness of her vulnerability. We’re quick to doubt the intentions of the film’s men— which is where the character of Hannibal becomes complicated, who should be the easiest to distrust.

Clarice and Hannibal are expertly crafted, and their relationship keeps us on our toes. Close-ups of Hannibal, played perfectly by Anthony Hopkins, reveal his sunken features, his icy and unblinking stare, and the sense that every word is part of a secret, sinister plan; close-ups of Clarice reveal unwavering confidence and sly intelligence. The interrogation scenes between the two are laden with tension and electricity, the investigation unfolding to be double-sided as Hannibal and Clarice race to break each other down. As the film progresses, this relationship becomes tangled and unclear; despite being the most clearly deranged and untrustable character, Hannibal treats Clarice with more respect and curiosity than the rest of her peers. The psychological horror of the film lives largely in this relationship as we struggle to decode Hannibal’s intentions and predict his next move.

The Silence of the Lambs is evenly polished: the score is haunting but not overbearing, each scene is intentional, and moments of crude humor balance the gore. I can see how this film earned so many awards and became a classic— it has a cinematic simplicity familiar to the 90s, attaining the perfect balance of explaining some while leaving some to the imagination. Besides the more fast-paced third act, our fear relies on insinuations about what happened or what’s going to happen, close shots of corpses and bloody nail marks down a wall. The only point of the film that left a sour taste in my mouth was the film’s handling of Buffalo Bill, a serial killer who believes he is transgender and who multiple characters claim isn’t truly transgender, but rather psychologically confused and tormented on a more complex level. As much as Buffalo Bill is distanced from the transgender community, described as obsessed with transformation and envious destruction rather than conventions of gender, his portrayal aligns too closely with common stereotypes about transgender women being deceitful predators. The social commentary is fitting for the time of its release, and it is nuanced, but given this film’s insane popularity, it’s inevitable that some audiences would fit this portrayal into pre-existing biases and fail to critically analyze the character.

I loved the experience of watching this movie for the first time in a small theater; the audience was visibly excited, gasping at gory shots and laughing at absurd one-liners. The big screen amplified the intensity of close-ups and the architecture of the old theater amplified the nostalgia of the early 90s. Keep your eyes peeled for the next screening of a cult classic in downtown Ann Arbor, and keep a weekend night open so you can catch one; student tickets are only $8.50!