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: Seoul Station

*Played at the State Theatre on October 6th and 12th*

Despite being produced in the same year and by the same director, Seoul Station (2016) is the lesser-known prequel to the famous movie Train to Busan (2016). Interestingly enough, Seoul Station is an animation whereas the latter is a live-action film. The director Yeon Sang-ho is well known for his brutal stories, and while I haven’t seen Train to Busan yet, Seoul Station certainly did an excellent job of portraying not only the brutality of a zombie apocalypse but also the social disparities between income classes, especially emphasizing the discrimination against the homeless community.

There were three main characters: Hye-Sun, her boyfriend Suk-gyu, and her father Ki-woong (in the featured image, Suk-gyu is on the left and Ki-Woong is on the right). Like a typical zombie movie, the plot revolved around survival. However, Hye-Sun and Suk-Gyu were in the lower class and that was already enough of a struggle before being further exacerbated once hell broke loose. To me, what was most interesting wasn’t their endeavors to live, but rather the humorous character dynamics and the focus on economic differences, which I felt to be the true horror highlighted by the writers. The wealthy were rarely, if not never, featured. 

In Seoul Station the color palette was very grim and muted; even the bright pink of Hye-Sun’s dress appeared gray. I enjoy watching animated films, but I haven’t seen many Korean ones. The character designs were realistic and diverse, which I felt made the animation pop due to their facial expressions. The voice acting hit differently, too, because the characters had similar voices to people I know. However, the animation itself didn’t flow as smoothly as I expected. In the beginning, it felt clunky, but I quickly adjusted and didn’t pay much attention to it afterward. My favorite part was the incredible plot twists, which were so shocking I couldn’t stop talking about it with my friends after. In fact, a majority of the audience gasped at one specific scene and the excitement rose in the theater. 

I heard from others that although it’s meant to be a prequel, the two movies are surprisingly disconnected from each other. It apparently didn’t add much to the storyline of Train to Busan and would’ve been normal to be a separate world. Since I haven’t seen Train to Busan I unfortunately can’t compare the two very well, but I’ve always wanted to watch it. I’m excited to see more of Yeon Sang-ho’s work, especially since it’s such a praised movie. If you’re looking for a funny horror movie that also implies a deeper meaning, I recommend Seoul Station! It’s a shorter movie, around an hour and a half, so it’d be a good film to engross in during a busy time like midterm season!

 

REVIEW: Mesmerica

5:30pm • Saturday, Oct. 7, 2023 • Planetarium and Dome Theater

Settling into the Museum of Natural History’s Planetarium and Dome Theater to experience Mesmerica was like stepping through a portal. The show, imagined by James Hood, offered an immersive sensory experience that merged mesmerizing animations with Hood’s ethereal musical compositions. Mesmerica promised to transport viewers to a realm where we could let go of our worries and find a sense of joy in the present moment, and in many ways, it succeeded.

Designed for the unique physical allowances of a dome theater, Mesmerica enveloped the audience in a hallucinatory cocoon of visual and auditory art. The show was an hour-long journey filled with kaleidoscopic, abstract animations that danced across the dome overhead, perfectly synchronized with Hood’s ambient, new-agey music.

The visuals were a symphony of colors and shapes, constantly shifting and evolving, like a dreamscape brought to life. Each animation seemed to tell its own story, inviting viewers to lose themselves in its intricate details. In my favorite animation, a sprite-like blue star led viewers out of a dark nebula until we overlooked a great mandala wrought in bronze wires. We trailed behind as the star zoomed in and out of the wires, tracing lines of glittering dust that “activated” the mandala, which turned gold and pulsed with what looked like magic. It reminded me of attending fireworks shows with my cousins when we were little, where we imagined fairies being born out of every sparkling explosion. 

Mesmerica wasn’t without its quirks. In my personal opinion, there were some places where it took itself a tad too seriously. This feeling was particularly strong during Hood’s vocal interludes, which made the presentation feel like an overworked guided meditation. While the intention of promoting relaxation and mindfulness was clear, for me, it came across as a bit heavy-handed. 

Despite this minor caveat, Mesmerica definitely delivered on its promise of providing a brief vacation from the tedium of everyday life. The show served as an invigorating escape from my current, relentless world of midterms and deadlines.

In conclusion, Mesmerica was a uniquely immersive journey into the realms of art, music, and mindfulness. James Hood’s vision, combined with the collective creativity of artists from around the world, resulted in an imaginative and inspiring experience. While it may have risked taking the mindfulness concept to the level of tackiness at some points, the beauty of the animations and the soundscape created an enchanting atmosphere that was well worth the visit. 

REVIEW: Aurora’s Sunrise

3:00pm • Friday, Sept. 29, 2023 • State Theater

Content warning: genocide, violence against the Armenian community

Aurora’s Sunrise, directed by Inna Sahakyan (who was in attendance for a Q&A session at Friday’s screenings), tells the unlikely story of Aurora Mardiganian, a young woman who survived the Armenian genocide of 1915-1923. In 1918, Mardiganian escaped to America and through an unlikely series of events became a silent film star, playing herself in Ravished Armenia (Auction of Souls). The silent film was produced in 1919, purportedly to raise money for Near East Relief, a charitable organization working to protect refugees in the Ottoman Empire during WWI. Through its unique combination of animation, archival footage, and interviews, Aurora’s Sunrise provides a platform for the often-erased history of the Armenian genocide, while raising important questions about ethical storytelling.

For me, exploitation and revictimization were two of the documentary’s most striking motifs. Not only did we witness the horrors Mardiganian faced as a young girl in Armenia, which included watching the murders of her entire family and being repeatedly sold into slavery, but we also saw how she was forced to relive those traumas again and again for an American audience. Filming Auction of Souls was physically grueling, and when Mardiganian broke her ankle in a fall, she was forced to continue acting on it for weeks. Not only did Mardiganian re-enact her two years in exile for the film: At every screening, she shared the details of her story with private audiences of American women, enticing them to donate to Near East Relief. At a turning point in the film, Mardiganian fainted on stage at a speaking engagement. The director of Auction of Souls (who had taken legal guardianship of the young woman) told her she had ruined the event and abandoned her at a convent. Rather than providing a platform for Mardiganian’s own voice, we saw how powerful individuals in Old Hollywood co-opted her story and controlled her personal life.

Aurora’s Sunrise exposes how the Armenian community’s trauma was commodified and minimized for the sake of Hollywood spectacle, under the guise of humanitarian awareness-raising. Mardiganian’s work to spread her story and the realities of the Armenian genocide was highly impactful, raising over 30 million dollars for humanitarian efforts in the Ottoman Empire, but at what cost? The documentary raises essential questions about the ethics of representation: Can narratives of suffering be told without perpetuating harm and revictimization?

Despite the horror and injustice of her circumstances, Mardiganian’s strength and dedication to her community shine throughout the entire documentary. In her Q&A at the end of the film, director Inna Sahakyan prefaced the discussion with the fact that over 100 years after Mardiganian’s story took place, Armenians are facing renewed ethnic cleansing by Azerbaijan. I was struck by the parallels between the director and her subject, both of whom have chosen to convey deeply painful stories to removed audiences, out of a profound commitment to their people. Sahakyan urged moviegoers on Friday to share the film with friends and family, so I am using this opportunity to encourage readers to go watch Aurora’s Sunrise, and prevent this important story from being lost.

REVIEW: Tokyo Godfathers

I loved Tokyo Godfathers. Contrary to my expectations, it was not a tear-jerker movie, which was refreshing and much-needed for this stressful finals season. The comedic timing had the whole audience laughing, and the directors did an excellent job of turning an initial dark introduction and setting into a lighthearted movie. There were a lot of plot twists that was both funny and dramatic, and while I wouldn’t describe it as a heartwarming film, it had a perfect balance of sweet and dark humor.

I don’t want to give any spoilers, but if you’re interested in hearing a brief description, the story revolves around three main characters, each with their own unique background. They’re all homeless and have been living together for an indefinite amount of time (at least six months?). Despite knowing one another for that long, they don’t know how each of them became homeless or how they lived beforehand. Their daily routine suddenly changes on Christmas after finding an abandoned baby in the dumpsters. They embark on a journey to find the mother of the abandoned baby. The concept of ‘family’ is seen all throughout the film and is the driving point of the plot. The importance of family extends to side characters as well, which is what develops important character growth for the main characters too.

My favorite character is Hana, who is the motherly figure in the trio. I love how caring and passionate she is, and she really brings energy and life to the other characters through her enthusiasm. As someone who likes poetry, her intermittent haikus are also fun and give a special perspective to what traditional Japanese haikus are like. A lot more can be conveyed from the standard five, seven, and five-syllable phrases in Japanese compared to English. In a different context, I think Hana’s haikus would be appreciated more for their beauty, but it certainly served to heighten the comedic sense of Tokyo Godfathers.

Of course, the voice actors contributed largely to how vibrant the film is too. I also appreciated that the color palette of the film was rather subdued and mundane because it still showcased the darker aspects of the story, which highlighted the funny aspects even more.

For those uninterested in anime as a genre, I still think this movie would be worth it. Even though it is a family-based film, it’s not the most child-friendly though, so keep in mind who you want to watch it with. I’d definitely watch Tokyo Godfathers again, and I highly recommend you guys watch it too!