The Adventures of Tintin (Spielberg, 2011)

Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of the celebrated Belgian comic “The Adventures of Tintin” is not only a technical marvel, but also one of the most entertaining movies of the past year. The film recounts the story of Tintin, a young reporter, who with the help of his dog Snowy and alcoholic friend Captain Haddock, uncovers the long-lost secret of a sunken ship. As a fan of Hergé’s original work, I cannot picture a better cinematic adaptation of the comic book. Spielberg, a true master of adventure films, has crafted two hours of endless fun with intricate CGI action sequences. The film’s animation is spectacular, to the extent that the “perfection” of the motion-capture characters is often uncanny.

“The Adventures of Tintin” adapts three of Hergé’s comics, and manages to craft a coherent, intricate screenplay that keeps you entertained throughout the film. The film’s dramatic structure, however, is slightly flawed. Due to the film’s continuous adventure sequences, its climax falls flat, as it fails to match the excitement of the buildup. In a way, it feels like Spielberg—and producer Peter Jackson—thought of the film as a preamble for further Tintin adventures, so the film’s climax and ending feel inconclusive.

Recommended (B+)

Everyman (Philip Roth, 2006)

“Everyman” opens with the funeral of an unnamed protagonist: a restrained event populated mostly by silence, which the reader experiences as an outsider. Philip Roth uses this starting point to barrage the reader with illnesses, failed marriages, and death, and tell the life of the deceased, unnamed man, focusing solely on his darkest moments. The novel draws inspiration from the 15th century morality play “The Summoning of Everyman,” in which God tallies a man’s good and evil deeds to determine his salvation. Roth similarly seeks to measure the worth of man, in accordance to his sins and moral failures. Despite the bleak stage Roth gives him, the reader is able to identify with the protagonist. This is “Everyman’s” greatest success: the universality of the human weaknesses it describes. We are the everyman.

Like most of Roth’s works, “Everyman” is constructed flawlessly, carefully releasing information about the protagonist’s life until the funeral’s silences acquire deep meaning. Roth’s prose flows very smoothly, and allows you to know the main character, but never to enter his mind. Like God’s judgment in the original passion play, Roth welcomes the reader to measure the value of the everyman’s life with no room for subjectivity. “Everyman” is not a perfect book, but it is definitely another triumph by one of the essential writers of our time.

Highly Recommended (A-)

Weekend (Andrew Haigh, 2011)

Russell and Glen meet at a club and subsequently sleep with each other. The following morning, what began as a one-night-stand, becomes a short-lived relationship, cut short by Glen’s impending departure to the United States. In the spirit of films like “Before Sunrise,” the most remarkable element of Andrew Haigh’s “Weekend” is its honesty. At its core, the film is a 90-minute conversation between the protagonists, in which we come to know them inside out, through discussions of their past relationships, gay politics, and family life.

In a mere hour and a half, Haigh captures the essence of modern relationships with incredibly realistic dialogue and characters. The film’s protagonists talk like real people, and are not stereotypical impeccably dressed stereotypical gay men, but human beings with dead-end jobs and stubble. The film does not shy away from the awkwardness of sex and portrays the characters’ insecurities remarkably. The film’s “slice of life” structure, however, is also its biggest defect, as it never truly evolves from its original setup. While the film is well written and acted, it is too close to home and, in a way, formulaic in the way it breaks the unwritten rules of romantic movies.

Recommended (B+)

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (David Fincher, 2011)

David Fincher usually finds the exact balance between cutting-edge visuals and compelling, exquisitely told stories. His latest opus, however, features Fincher’s intricate visual world, but without the necessary narrative backdrop. Based on Stieg Larsson’s bestseller—which I have no intention of reading—“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” follows journalist Henrik Vanger as he tries to uncover a murder from decades prior. He consequently hires Lisbeth Salander, an ill-adjusted computer genius, as his assistant.

The true heart of the film is Rooney Mara as Salander, who brings to the table a perfect combination of vulnerability and power. However, as soon as she leaves the screen, the film continues to drag, due to Craig’s cardboard performance, and the film’s overall lack of engagement with the audience. Fincher’s latest work takes too long to take off—an hour passes before Vanger even meets Salander—and never really pays off. While “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” is visually and aurally striking (especially Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ haunting score), the narrative structure feels like clunky patchwork, as the film attempts to include myriad unnecessary elements into the plot—such as a ridiculous love story between the protagonists—probably in an attempt to please the book’s fans. Besides Mara and the technical elements of the film, I was unable to find many differences between “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and a decent episode of “CSI.”

Ambivalent (B-)

The Artist (Michel Hazanavicius, 2011)

A profound feeling of nostalgia lies at the core of Michael Hazanavicius’ celebrated film “The Artist.” This sense of longing, however, differs greatly from the glorified visions of the past of “Stand by me” or “Super 8.” The film, silent and shot in black-and-white, follows George Valentin, a famous silent film actor who goes broke and unemployed with the arrival of “talkies.” Few people watching “The Artist” will be able to reminisce about the days of silent film. Rather, its nostalgia signifies our fear of a future in which we are expendable, and the consequent clinging to the familiarity of the past. Even I, a member of the so-called Generation Z, can attest to that: we shun current children’s television and yearn for “the Golden Age” of Nickelodeon, and list things that made our “nineties childhood” great in myriad Facebook groups. We are terrified of the day we graduate from college.

The film thus becomes a visual manifestation of the “Museum Century,” paying homage to the great art of silent film. “The Artist,” however, never becomes a post-modern pastiche of anachronistic cinematic techniques: It is at the same time, a well-told, delectable celebration of the past, and an examination of innate human fears. From a technical standpoint, the film is gorgeous. The protagonists Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo exude charisma, even when the film starts to drag in the middle. The true scene-stealer, however, is Uggie as the protagonist’s dog.

Highly Recommended (A-)

A Dangerous Method (David Cronenberg, 2011)

David Cronenberg’s “A Dangerous Method” introduces us to renowned Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung and his turbulent relationships with Sigmund Freud and Sabina Spielrein, a beautiful, young woman suffering from hysteria who becomes his patient and mistress. The film, however, fails to move beyond this basic framework and, after a fantastic opening featuring Sabina’s treatment through psychoanalysis, ends up being a series of vignettes of the protagonists’ intersecting lives. Unlike Cronenberg’s earlier films, “A Dangerous Method” fails to sustain a consistent mood, and thus starts to drag near the middle.

The performances partly redeem the sinking film. As Sabina, Keira Knightley delivers a haunting performance as a mentally-disturbed, manipulative, and determined woman. Michael Fassbender as Jung and Viggo Mortensen as Freud have excellent chemistry, but the film’s lackluster screenplay fails to provide an appropriate backdrop for their flair.

Ambivalent (C+)

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (Jonathan Safran Foer, 2005)

"Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" follows Oskar Schell, an extremely creative boy who lost his father on 9/11. He sets out to find the lock for a mysterious key his father left behind, traversing New York’s myriad neighborhoods. The novel has moments of greatness, particularly Oskar’s grandfather’s descriptions of the bombings of Dresden, and the child’s initial encounters in his journey. Foer also allows the reader to enter the protagonist's imaginative mind through the book itself, which intertwines text and images beautifully, and even plays with the typeset. The last third of the novel, however, feels rushed, as it attempts to resolve several complex storylines in a limited number of pages. By the end of the book, Foer has built a complex mythology around Oskar's unique vision of the world, but fails to fully develop it, thus providing a lackluster climax.

The novel is often heartbreaking and reminds us that we would all like to be able to respond to tragedy like children: to imagine that skyscrapers can grow roots to avoid ever falling down, and that our loved ones left us an impossible mission so we can stay close to them even after they depart.

Recommended (B+)

About me (it had to be done)

I have tried doing the blog thing a bunch of times, and have failed every single one of them. I blame my commitment issues. That being said, like any good masochist, I am going to try once more. In the past few months, I have realized that, in many ways, the books I read, and the films I watch, are crucial aspects of my life. So, in 2012, I shall write (roughly) between 150 and 200 words about every book and movie I experience.

My name is Bernardo Sarmiento and I am an English major at Columbia University. I was born in Mexico City and currently live in New York. I am an aspiring academic, author, and screenwriter, and enjoy reading books and watching films more than most people would consider healthy. My favorite filmmaker is Ingmar Bergman and my favorite author is Philip Roth. But enough of me, I will now let the words and images speak for themselves...