Last of the Monster Kids

Last of the Monster Kids
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Monday, February 20, 2017

OSCARS 2017: Life, Animated (2016)


I've made references before to how the Academy favors movies that emphasize the importance of movies. The documentary categories are usually exempt from this but occasionally one slips through. “Life, Animated” is almost literally about how cinema can positively change somebody's life. Then again, this one is also an issue documentary in a way, since it's also about a young man living with autism. I don't know if this combination will lead the movie to Oscar gold, as there's more high profile nominees but the film's feel-good attributes may take it further then expected.  I went into “Life, Animated” with some expectations, as Gilbert Gottfried had mentioned the film and the true story behind it a few times on his podcast.

For the first two years of his life, Owen Suskind seemed like an ordinary little boy. Upon turning three, Owen's speech development halted entirely, leading to a long period of silence. Soon afterwards, he was diagnosed with autism. During these quiet years, Owen would become fascinated with Disney's Animated Features. After nearly giving up hope, Owen's parents would begin to talk to the boy by quoting his beloved cartoons. The tactic worked. Now in his twenties, and moving out on his own for the first time, Owen's obsession with Disney and other cartoons remains.

“Life, Animated” is as much about a film lover's connection with the media as it is autism. The laser-point-intense focus Owen displays for something seemingly trivial is not uncommon for his condition. Several times, the film points out just how much Owen sees the adult world through the lens of Disney, such as when his older brother nervously attempts to educate the boy about sex. Yet, in a way, the Disney stories enrich Owen's life. During his fraught high school years, Owen begins to relate to the various sidekick characters common in Disney cartoons. More touching is the way Owen's parents reconnect with their child, using the cartoons as a baseline. Watching his dad tear up, while describing using a puppet of Iago the Parrot to make a communication break-through with his son, shows the kind of real emotion you can't replicate.

As a movie partially concerned with animation, “Life, Animated” does feature some lively animated sequences. The film brings Owen's fantasy world to life. In a number of gorgeous moments, functioning like moving water color paintings, we see a young Owen sneak away into the woods, to the World of Sidekicks. There, he befriends his favorite cartoon characters – Iago, Rafiki, Baloo – and comes to protect them from an amorphous villain he names “Fuzz Butt.” The bad guy appears as an amorphous cloud that fogs up Owen's perception of the world, a suitable metaphor for how autism affects someone's ability to process stimulation. These stories are from Owen's own mind, giving us a keener peek into the boy's mind.

“Life, Animated” isn't just a feel-good flick about Disney cartoons helping a young man come out of his shell. It also focuses on the difficulties Owen has joining the adult world. After moving into his own home – a monitored apartment complex occupied by other autists – Owen paces from room to room, uncertain what to do. Suskind's girlfriend, who he has a seemingly chaste relationship with, lives above. When she breaks up with him, Owen goes into crisis mode. The boy's parents wonder to the camera what will happen to Owen when they die. Despite these struggles, the film ultimately ends on an uplifting note. Owen is doing what he can to make his own life and even finds himself in a position to help other individuals with autism.

If nothing else, it's pretty neat that Owen has gotten to meet Gottfried and Jonathan Freeman, the voice of Jafar, as it's obvious how much the boy admires them. “Life, Animated” definitely goes for the heart strings with a little too much gusto. A few of the interviews, between Owen and his parents, feel a little over rehearsed. Still, this is a charming, touching documentary that should especially speak to anybody who loves Disney or has ever been a little different. I doubt it'll take home the Oscars but I'm glad I had a chance to see it. [7/10]

Sunday, February 19, 2017

OSCARS 2017: Land of Mine (2016)


One of my favorite things about Oscar season is that it gives me an opportunity to see movies that I otherwise probably wouldn't watch. Though I pride myself upon my diverse taste in film, I'll admit, serious dramas from the reaches of Europe are not usually part of my cinematic diet.
One such picture is “Land of Mine,” the Dutch submission for Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Academy Awards. (That English title is actually a rather tacky pun. The original Dutch title – which translates as “Under the Sand” - is far more fitting) The film doesn't exactly reject the stereotypes of hyper-depressing, overly grim European art cinema but I'm still glad I watched it.

Following the end of World War II, the east coast of Denmark was littered with roughly two million landmines. In order to clean out the mines, and as punishment for their country's action, German P.O.W.s were forcefully recruited for this job. Many of them were teenage boys, drafted into the war, unaware or uncaring about the Nazi Party's objectives. “Land of Mine” follows one such unit. A group of fourteen boys comb the beaches with only metal rods and wooden frames. Their leader, Sgt. Rasmussen, is encouraged to treat the boys poorly. Yet, as the many of the kids loose life and limb on the job, he can't help but develop sympathy for them.

The first scene in “Land of Mine” involves Rasmussen attacking a P.O.W., grabbing the Dutch flag from his hands, and beating him up. The Danes feel little sympathy for the Germans who attacked them during the war. Perhaps understandably. The film, however, points out how cruel Rasmussen is the boys under his watch. He mocks them, yells at them, tells them to work when they are sick. After the sergeant's dog is killed by a mine, he humiliates one of the boys by making him bark and retrieve a ball. The mind sweepers being so young only draws attention to how they are paying for a crime they didn't commit. Through this curtain, “Land of Mine” becomes a film about the injustice of war and how cruelty is never justified, no matter the circumstances.

Though Rasmussen is often cruel to the boys, he does eventually start to feel sorry for them. Watching them practically starve to death and get blown apart by the mines stirs feelings in him. Considering his earlier cruelty, the scenes where he warms up to the kids – comforting the others after one dies, playing a game of soccer with them on the freshly cleared beach – feel earned. “Land of Mine” isn't a sentimental film, so Rasmussen's kindness is rare and often peppered with more cruelty. Yet, ultimately, it's clear he cares about the boys in some way. Maybe not as much as the boys care for themselves. Like so many war films, “Land of Mine” is also a story about camaraderie among soldiers. The teens cling to each other because they have too.

Inevitably, quite a few landmines go off. Director Martin Zandvliet orchestrates each act of violence so that it strikes the audience as sudden and powerful. The first explosion happens because the teen boy is ill, having a vomiting fit in the middle of deactivating the bomb. His arms are blown off by the blast. Compare this to the over-the-top movie violence in “Hacksaw Ridge.” The bloody, charred stubs that used to be this boy's arms are presented matter-of-factually, a grim but grounded depiction of the horrors of war. Yet more shocking explosions reverberate throughout “Land of Mine.” Because the film emphasizes the youth of these boys, and the quiet of the cost, each horrible loss of life deeply effects the audience.

“Land of Mine” is also beautifully photographed, the sudden explosions and militaristic cruelty often contrasted against the clean, white beaches and the flowing water beyond. The film could've easily been mawkish, considering its historic setting and young cast. The decision to hold back the emotions ultimately make a more effecting film, making the audience understand the seriousness of the situation without creeping into melodrama. I have no idea if this will win the Oscar, though that would be a pleasant surprise. Other candidates seem more likely. Whatever the outcome, “Land of Mine” is a very good film and I'm glad I got the chance to see it. [8/10]

Friday, February 17, 2017

OSCARS 2017: The Red Turtle (2016)


When Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata announced their retirement a few years back, it seemed to have an immediate effect on Studio Ghibli. The Japanese animation giant didn't announce their closure but it appears the studio has slowed down in recent years. One of the few films to emerge from the house that Totoro built recently is “The Red Turtle.” Primarily a French/Belgium co-production, the Japanese studio helped out in making the movie because Miyazaki was a fan of director Michael Dudok de Wit's short films. Now this visually scrumptious film has ridden a wave of positive reviews all the way to the Academy Awards, where it's one of two arty foreign films to get nominated for Best Animated Feature.

“The Red Turtle” is a story told without any dialogue, aside from occasional, barely audible shouts of “yeah” or “hey.” It begins with a man adrift in the ocean, tossed by a storm. He arrives on a desert island, covered with a lush bamboo forest. He builds several rafts, attempting to float home. Each time, the raft sinks, tore apart by some animal under the waves. Eventually, the man discovers a culprit: A large, red turtle. Enraged, he kills the turtle. In time, the deceased, aquatic reptile changes into a beautiful woman. Together, the two start a life together, making the island their home. 

I'll be up-front and admit that I didn't totally get “The Red Turtle.” Having said that, this movie is really, really pretty. The animation is simply gorgeous. The opening shot of cascading waves recall traditional Japanese wood cuttings. The simplistic character designs bring traditional Belgium comics to mind. Several shots are even done in a wide, flat angle, recalling the panels of a comic stripe. Meanwhile, the island setting is brought to life with incredible detail, making the location seem like a real place that is vibrant and alive. The scenes under the water have a brilliant blue color, appearing serene. When the turtle appears, it has a hyper-realistic look that deliberately contrasts against the minimalist people. Each frame is a work of art, a gorgeously illustrated painting brought that leaps off the screen.

“The Red Turtle” feels like an allegory of some sort. There's a circular aspect to the story. People arrive at and leave the island, just to arrive again, bringing the rhythm of a fable to mind. The film is rift with symbols, like the rain that seemingly gives life. Rafts, bottles, and turtle shells have some sort of deeper meaning, representing the different characters. The way the man goes from hating the turtle to loving it is significant, I'm sure. Dream sequences frequently occur over “The Red Turtle's” brief run time. The dead turtle floating into the air or a wave frozen above the island are but two surreal images that grace the movie. Together, these attribute create a slightly inscrutable film that plays out like a piece of music, floating from point to point in an elegant if somewhat obscure fashion.

“The Red Turtle” could be considered a survival story. After all, it concerns a man washing up on an island and doing what he can to live. Yet the film is not so much concerned with the details of surviving on a desert island. Honestly, the setting is sort of cozy. The forest provides the man with shelter and fruit. The ocean gives him fish. The rain gives him drinking water. Before the turtle turns into a woman, he even has company thanks to the adorable crabs skittering across the beach. After the turtle becomes his wife and the two have a son, the island seems like an even nicer place to live. The trio appear pretty happy. The inviting setting makes “The Red Turtle” a pleasant film to visit as you watch it.

If there is indeed any deeper meaning to “The Red Turtle,” it might have gone over my head. Maybe the film is just meant to be enjoyed as a collection of beautiful images? Or perhaps it's not anything more than a dream-like story of love and connection found in an unexpected place? Or maybe the director just really likes turtles? Whatever the intention behind it, the movie remains strangely touching and is certainly worth seeing for its spellbinding animation. I'm glad the Academy decided to honor a unique motion picture like this one. [7/10]

Thursday, February 16, 2017

OSCARS 2017: 13th (2016)


Of this year's Best Documentary nominations, three of them deal with race in one way or another. This is clearly a topic that's been on people's mind. You don't need me to tell you that. We have a racist in the White House, whose top adviser is a literal Neo-Nazi. Things are fucked up. “13th,” from director Ava DuVernay of “Selma,” carefully lays out the case that shit is very fucked up and has been for a very long time. Beginning by pointing out a certain by-law in the 13th Amendment – that prisoners loose their rights as citizens – the film extrapolates from that the different ways American society has conspired to imprison, dehumanize, and persecute the black community.

From the moment slavery was outlawed, black men were persecuted for petty crimes, locked up, and used as free labor. This essentially filled the void the end of slavery left in the Southern economy. “13th” studies the various schemes cooked up to make the imprisonment of black individuals easier. First, black men were depicted as barely human savages prone to rape white women, as in “The Birth of a Nation.” A different method arose in the 1960s, when Richard Nixon began his war on drugs to persecute his political enemies. Which, it must be said, explicitly included the civil rights movement. Ronald Reagan increased this method in the eighties, with laws that more severely punished users of crack cocaine. Which, you might realized, was a drug far more prominent in inner city neighbors with high racial minority population. (It's obvious that DuVernay has no qualms about voicing her displeasure with the Republican party but the Clintons don't get off easily either.)

When focused on exposing the exact details of how white society has been build to persecute racial minorities, “13th” is a compelling documentary. Midway though the film, the focus turns towards prison reform. The topics are directly related, by the obvious and staggering statistic that one in five black men are convicts. As this section of the film goes on and on, it does feel like the point has meandered slightly. Once the film starts to get into the prison industry complex, you wonder if the really fucked-up intricacies of the American prison system didn't deserve its own documentary, outside the context of black persecution in the U.S.

Then again, the two topics are irreversibly intertwined. “13th” makes the compelling point that certain aspects of American society are designed to paint black men as criminals, as prisoners. Once the film comes around to the topic of black protest in the modern age, it finds itself again. The ugly truth concerning Tryvon Martin, Ferguson, Eric Gardner, and Kalif Browder are presented. An especially chilling sequence shows a montage of videos of black men attacked and sometimes killed by police officers. Inevitably, the big orange shithead in the White House comes up. Another startling sequence contrasts President Trump's thoughts on protesters with vintage footage of black protesters being beaten and attacked.

“Issues docs” are tricky to write about for me, sometimes. More then once, I've found myself agreeing with a documentary's point but being disappointed with how it presents itself cinematically. I'm a film reviewer, not a sociologist. That's where my brain is. “13th” does pretty well as a piece of cinema. It's very well edited, as the images, newsreels, vintage film and modern cell phone videos are integrated in order to make the biggest impact. An especially nice device involves pertinent song lyrics appearing on screen, easily the most effective of the on-screen graphics. “13th” could've just been a series of talking head interviews but DuVernay is good at mixing up the experience.

Before you watch this movie, get ready to be pissed off. You should be pissed off. That's exactly the point. The film has no easy answers. The experts interviewed admit that this is a problem that will never go away, that it is unavoidably wrapped up in American culture. Which makes “13th” a call to awareness, to expose the brutal machinations of the system, its roots and history. As a piece of film making, I wish it was a little better paced. As a piece of activism, it's enormously important. [7/10]

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

OSCARS 2017: Loving (2016)


Filmmaker Jeff Nichols has been flirting with the Academy Awards for a while now. His second and third films, “Take Shelter” and “Mud,” received plenty of critical praise, scooping up numerous awards along the way. Despite some ace campaigning, neither movie caught Oscar's attention. With his fifth feature, Nichols has finally broke through with the Academy. And all it took was a movie about an inspiring historical event. “Loving” tells the true story of Richard and Mildred Loving, an interracial couple who fought for their right to marry all the way to the Supreme Court. Even then, Nichols' film only received one nomination, in the Best Actress category for Ruth Negga. I'm sure Nichols will get a Best Director Oscar some day. It's just going to take a while.

The place is Caroline, a county in southern Virginia. The time is 1958. Richard Loving, a simple bricklayer, is in love with Mildred Jeter. When Mildred becomes pregnant, they plan to marry. There's only one problem. Richard is white, Mildred is black, and interracial marriage is illegal in Virginia. The couple try to avoid detection, driving to D.C. to marry, but eventually the local cops become aware of the union. They threaten the two with jail time, forcing them to move out of state. When Mildred is ready to have her baby, they sneak back into Virginia, getting them both thrown in jail. After she writes a letter to Robert Kennedy, the case is brought to the attention of the ACLU. The lawyers take the Loving's case, fighting in Washington for a historical ruling.

It's fitting that history gifted the Loving's with such a perfect last name, isn't it? “Loving” is indeed a love story. Richard and Mildred trade meaningful glances. Their arms encircle, their faces draw close. He builds a house for her. He comes home late at night and whispers to her how much he cares. The most meaningful moments tend to be the most quiet. In a moment captured by Time Magazine, Richard reclines in Mildred's lap while they watch TV. It's a muted, low key love story without big scenes of explosive emotions. In the quote that concludes the film, Mildred says Richard “took care of her.” It's an incredibly sweet, genuine romance, brought to life by the small moments that pass through life.

Honestly, “Loving” might come off as too quiet if it wasn't for the two leads. Joel Edgerton – who I have to constantly remind myself is not the same person as Joel Kinnamen – is Richard Loving. He plays the part as incredibly stoic, with Edgerton having few lines of dialogue. Yet his feelings are conveyed in terse looks and quick action. When a car approaches the house, he yells at his kids to hide, fearful of who might be inside. When Mildred is interviewed by a reporter, he quietly attempts to call off the interview, fearful of the attention it might draw to them. Probably Edgerton's best moment is when he instructs a lawyer to tell the Supreme Court, simply, that he loves his wife. The nominated Ruth Negga plays Mildred as more emotive but no less considered. She's a woman who has lived her whole life being careful with her words. Both performances are very good, rooting “Loving” in sincerity.

In fact, that sense of low key earnestness is what characterizes most of “Loving.” That quiet, thoughtful atmosphere makes the more dramatic moments hit harder. Nichols shoots the sequence of the couple sneaking back into Virginia like a thriller, the moment as tense as any bank heist. While at work, Richard spots a brick, wrapped in the newspaper story about his wife, in the seat of his truck. Driving home, he becomes paranoid about a vehicle closely following him, a sequence that generates unease in the viewer. Nichols, in an interesting move, cuts between Richard dropping a brick at work and one of the Loving kids being struck by a car. (He was okay, by the way.) Nichols doesn't draw a lot of attention to the racial aggression the couple faced, assuming history speaks for itself. When the topic does come up, it's handled in a mature, realistic way.

It wouldn't surprise me if “Loving” proved too laconic for the Academy. They usually like their emotions to be Big and acted to the ceiling. “Loving” is a simple story, of a couple who loved each other so much they were willing to put everything on the line for it. Jeff Nichols tells the story without too much dramatic reinvention or manufactured tension. The result, a movie about real life that actually feels like real life, is surprisingly effective. (By the way, Nichols' good luck charm, Michael Shannon, is brilliantly cast against type in a small role as the nerdy magazine photographer.) [7/10]

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

OSCARS 2017: Nocturnal Animals (2016)


I crack jokes about Oscar bait but the truth is the Academy can sometimes be unpredictable. From the moment it was announced, Tom Ford's “Nocturnal Animals” was considered an awards contender. The director's previous feature was critically acclaimed. The film, which doubles as a gritty crime picture and a metatextual examination of the relationship between reality and fiction, is based on a respected novel. The cast was loaded with well known, beloved actors. Yet when the nominations were announced last month, “Nocturnal Animals” only cropped up in one category. You just never know what Oscar is going to go for, even when the movie is actually pretty good, like this one.

Susan Morrow is a successful art gallery owner. Many years ago, she was married to Edward, a struggling novelist who encouraged her to pursue the arts. Their relationship ended in a ugly way, with Susan leaving him for another man. Out of the blue, Edward mails Susan his new novel. Called “Nocturnal Animals,” the book is about a man whose wife and daughter are abducted, raped, and murdered by a trio of redneck criminals. As Susan reads through the story, she can't help but notice similarities to the life she had with Edward. As she reflects on how their relationship started and ended, she even considers reconnecting with her ex-husband.

As a fiction writer myself, I'll admit I frequently based characters off myself and people I've known. I think every writer does. Perhaps its normal to work through feelings and hurt through creative outlets. “Nocturnal Animals” directly concerns these motivations. Susan imagines Edward as the leader character of his novel. In a further meta choice, the film casts Amy Adams' celebrity doppelganger Isla Fisher as the fictional wife. The novel's theme of loss, guilt, and revenge seems to reflect the events of their relationship. The death of the fictional wife corresponds with the end of their love. The death of the fictional daughter mirrors Susan's aborted pregnancy. And sending the book to Susan is, in a way, an elaborate act of revenge. Through these angles, “Nocturnal Animals” gets at why people write.

If the story-within-the-story wasn't thrilling, “Nocturnal Animals” probably wouldn't work. It would be ridiculous if Susan was reacting so strongly to an ineffective piece of fiction. Luckily, the titular novel is depicted as a very tense thriller. The first scene, devoted to the family's road trip turning into a nightmare, plays out like a horror movie. (It should be noted that the movie also features a great jump scare worthy of any horror film.) A normal situation is interrupted by something terrible, the family's car run off the road by a gang of lunatics. As the situation degrades, a bit of road rage transforming into a random attack, the audience's stomach gets tied up in knots. After that horrifying opener, Edward's novel becomes a grief-stricken story of revenge pursued beyond all other causes. It's an ugly journey into a heart-broken soul. Which, of course, is exactly what the author was feeling when he wrote it.

Amy Adams has a tricky role in “Nocturnal Animals.” For most of the movie, she's siting on a couch, reacting to the book she's reading. Which doesn't sound very cinematic. Yet Adams' conveys a lot with her wide eyes and stiff body language. Her segments in the film become the entrance to “Nocturnal Animals'” complex inner-life. The flashback scenes are shot in a very different manner than the gritty crime story scenes or the chilly framing device. Instead, the flashbacks are characterized by a warm coloration. The scene where Susan and Edward first fell in love is shown through oranges and golds. As their relationship falls apart, the color palette grows colder. Her final scene with Edward are framed by sterile whites and grays. The end of their relationship is signaled by the film's visual composition.

Aside from a typically excellent Adams, the film's star studded cast contains several other strong performances. As Edward, Jake Gyllenhaal is all optimism and light conversation. As the protagonist of his own novel, Gyllenhaal is a raw nerve, a broken man held together by a nervous unease and constantly sweaty skin. Aaron Taylor-Johnson, best known for being white bread as hell in various blockbusters, has surprisingly grabbed a few awards. As the redneck murderer within the book, he's a sleazy, unnerving presence. Michael Shannon is nominated for his part as the sheriff investigating the crimes. If I'm indulging my own cynicism, I'd say Shannon got nominated primarily because his character is dying of cancer. Beyond the terminal diagnosis, Shannon brings a stoic commitment but quirky energy to the part of man who just wants to see justice done before he dies.

“Nocturnal Animals” is also a beautifully assembled motion picture. Tom Ford, befitting his background as a fashion designer, often uses splashes of bright color in wide, flat composition. The musical score is equally gorgeous, which becomes especially notable during the heart-breaking final scene. I'm not sure why the film didn't score an Adapted Screenplay nomination, at the very least, as it succeeds in the difficult task of being two very different types of movies, that both function fantastically and comment on one another, creating a richer, more complex motion picture. It's twofold narrative isn't just a flashy meta gimmick, it's a device that brilliantly comments on the motivation behind the creative process. [8/10]

Monday, February 13, 2017

OSCARS 2017: Captain Fantastic (2016)


When the title “Captain Fantastic” started popping up last year, I had to remind myself that this movie wasn't some off-brand superhero flick or a film adaptation of the Elton John concept album. Instead, the reviews soon made clear, this was another one of those quirky, indie dramedies that emerge so often out of Sundance. What I had read about the film made it sound, to my ears, a lot like “Little Miss Sunshine,” probably the ultimate Sundance success story. That's probably not a coincidence. It's not like there's a lot of movies about quirky families driving around in brightly colored vehicles. Both even feature funerals as plot points! I also wasn't surprised when the film picked up an Oscar nomination. Movies like this are increasingly within the Academy's radar, as much as glossy costume dramas and fancily acted biopics.

Ben Cash has raised his family of six kids in the woods. He's taught them to hunt, to kill and cook their own food, to mountain climb, to make their own shelters. He's also taught them far left politics and philosophy, preaching against the evils of capitalism and the importance of self-expression. Their odd, forested existence is interrupted when Ben receives news that his wife, Leslie, has killed herself following a bipolar episode. When his father-in-law informs him that Leslie will be given a Christian burial, a violation of her final wishes, he packs the kids into a bus and heads out on a quest to retrieve their mother's body and cremate her corpse. Complications arise along the way.

“Captain Fantastic” is an alright movie – just alright, I must stress – that works best as a fish-out-of-water comedy. Seeing Ben Cash and his family of anti-establishment children react to this capitalistic society produces some solid laughs. When a highway patrolman pulls over the family bus, the kids react by pretending to by hyper-Christian and home schooled, effectively freaking the cop out and scaring him off. While staying at a RV park, son Bodevan attracts the attention of a teenage girl. After her mom catches them making out, his reaction is hilarious. At the same location, Ben scandalizes an elderly couple by exiting his bus completely nude. The best laughs occur when the family stays with Leslie's sister. The kids are aghast at the violent video games their cousins play. A nice moment comes Ben compares the intelligence of the two group of boys. You can see most of these gags coming but they still provide chuckles.

When “Captain Fantastic” attempts to be a serious drama, it becomes far less interesting. The film tries to play the conflict between Cash and his in-laws as a natural reaction to his extreme parenting methods. Yet it's still too willing to make Frank Langella's father-in-law a facile bad guy. The similar misunderstandings between father and sons aren't much to write about. Most annoying is the typical end of the second act shenanigans, when Ben and his kids are separated by a rather contrived dramatic turn. What makes this change especially off-putting is that the son with the least character development is responsible for it. Naturally, everyone is reunited before the end.

“Captain Fantastic's” best attribute, and the same thing that got it an Oscar nomination, is its cast. The nominated Viggo Mortensen finds a nice balance between the character's extreme politics and actually being a reasonable father. The warmth he displays for his kids is genuine, such as when he comforts them after their mother's death. Viggo's character is the film's most nuanced, as he isn't above getting frustrated with his family. Several of the kids give good performances too. George MacKay is very good as Bodevan, especially during his multiple nervous episodes. Samantha Isler and Annalise Basso, as the red-headed twins, get some good moments, such as their reactions to reading “Lolita.” My favorite might be Charlie Shotwell as Nai, the youngest, who has some precocious reactions to learning about sex and a bad habit of coming to the table naked.

“Captain Fantastic” didn't stir too many strong emotions in me, one way or the other. The movie itself is a bit too openly manipulative with its emotions. The ending, which seems to betray the character's fiercely held political beliefs to a degree, is also disappointing. Mortensen is quite good, though I'm not sure if he's good enough to deserve an Oscar nomination. I like the kids and there's one or two endearing scene that makes the film worth seeing. Still, even with its good qualities, “Captain Fantastic” is bound to be remembered as an Oscar footnote. [6/10]