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Movie Review: The Hunger Games (2012)

The Hunger Games is most startlingly successful in its opening thirty minutes, when surveying District 12 of Panem, a coal-mining center where dirty people do dirty labor to keep the lights on in the Capitol, a post-apocalyptic paradise built upon a crater lake. The denizens of District 12 are slightly cleaner than the men and women of Winter’s Bone, and compared to the Capitol’s visiting Effie Trinket (Elizabeth Banks), their situations are quite dire. Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence), for example, has taken control of her household in the aftermath of a mining accident that killed her father, leaving her caring for both her mother and her younger sister. Jobs are scarce, so she’s been forced to take up hunting. She’s quite good at it, but big game, like deer, have become increasingly scarce in an environment that’s been scorched by war.

War is very much in the fabric of The Hunger Games. Not only did it give rise to Panem, the massive, quizzically structured supercountry that arises sometime after the end of the United States, but a civil war between the districts and the Capitol were responsible for the creation of the games, which pit twenty-four young men and women, one of each gender from all twelve districts, in bloody, to-the-death conflict with each other. These twenty-four children, “Tributes,” as they’re called, serve two purposes. First and foremost, they’re a reminder to the twelve districts that supreme power lies with the Capitol, who participate in the Hunger Games by dressing-up and placing wagers. Secondly, the winner of the Hunger Games will bring fame and fortune to their district.

It’s a broken system, but one can appreciate the “I Am the 99%” ishness of the film’s opening moments, wherein Effie stands before a crowd of slackjawed, horrified, poorly-fed children and, with the aplomb of Mitt Romney saying he has plenty of friends who own NASCAR teams, tells the group she looks forward to seeing them die; all in the spirit of competition, of course. When Katniss’ sister Primrose (Willow Shields) is chosen from the hat, Katniss volunteers for her and is thrown on a bullet train (funny how we get one of those in the post-apocalyptic future) with Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), a baker’s son who, according to his own mother, is as good as dead.

Once Katniss and Peeta are on the train, The Hunger Games becomes significantly less interesting. The two are scrubbed down, becoming two more pretty people in a parade of pretty people, most of whom give little to go on in terms of character. We learn a little about some of the other districts—one and two have been churning out Hunger Games champions for most of their duration—and are introduced to a cast of characters who, depending on their allegiance to Katniss, are flamboyant and one-note, or somewhat nuanced. The people running the games include hosts Caesar (Stanley Tucci) and Claudius (Toby Jones), producer Seneca Cane (Wes Bentley), and President Coriolanus Snow (Donald Sutherland), who is exactly the sort of generic evil capable of manipulating things from the shadows across a franchise. Joining Effie in aiding Katness are Cinna (Lenny Kravitz)–a one man support group/fashion label—and Haymitch Abernathy (Woody Harrelson), a former Hunger Games winner who acts as District 12′s mentor. Of the characters here who aren’t Katness, Harrelson’s is the most well-drawn, a jaded man who finds no pleasure in the Hunger Games, but who nevertheless comes to like his charge.

The Hunger Games themselves are effectively a long, drawn-out battle sequence, where most of the people involved end up slaughtered off-screen. Katniss has been advised to survive on her wits rather than join the mad rush for a weapon at the start of the games, and that’s exactly what she does, taking off for the woods with a backpack and a rope. She’s been cautioned that exposure and the lack of water and food are just as likely to kill her as the other children, but the weather’s temperate, water is plentiful, and nobody participating looks to be starving. The threats she faces in there are two-fold: The large hunting party that’s formed specifically in an effort to kill her (she’s the strongest one in the group), and the CGI machinations of Seneca Cane, who artificially generates a fire and sics mutated beasts on Katniss to keep the show rolling.

Despite this, the Hunger Games portion of The Hunger Games feels momentum-less, hampered at turns by Katniss’ alliance with Rue (Amandia Stenberg), a little girl (seven or so) whose death sparks a riot in District 11, and a love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale Hawthorne (Liam Hemsworth), who is forced to watch the events play out on TV. Rue’s death, obviously, is meant to be a huge moment in the film, but beyond her looking practically angelic pre- and post-martyrdom, she simply isn’t developed well enough within the parameters of the movie. It’s sad to see her die like it’d be sad to see any child get a spear stuck through them. The love triangle seems, at best, a concession to those who find Edward/Bella/Jacob the enduring romance of our time. It is built upon quick pecks on the cheek by Katniss and Peeta—who may be playing the folks in TV land for donations of soup and salve—and distressed looks from Gale, who is stuck in District 12 watching Katniss’ family.

What I like most about these scenes is the way director Gary Ross has decided to shoot them, in a style that straddles the line between old-school action cinematography and the currently in-vogue shaky-cam. The resulting scenes of violence are appropriately chaotic while remaining easy to follow. His pacing is off—at two hours and twenty minutes, parts of the film feel decidedly overstuffed while leaving other areas critically, frustratingly underdeveloped—but one gets the idea that many of The Hunger Games‘ decisions were made in an effort to appease the book’s massive fanbase. That’s not to say that the film is accessible only to fans of the novel. Unlike the Twilight series, which requires a person who hasn’t read the books to have either an almanac or a very knowledgeable friend, The Hunger Games is quite inclusive. It’s easy to see how some characters, particularly Rue, may benefit from the written word, but the film very consciously reaches out to new fans and does so successfully.

Frustratingly, The Hunger Games isn’t tremendously ambitious in scope, despite playing in the same sandbox as movies like Blade Runner and Metropolis. While the comparison may not be fair, most dystopian films use their future regimes and the inherent divide between squalor and excess to examine a problem eating away at our society. Those concerns are at the fringes of The Hunger Games, its kill-or-be-killed ethos hardly a breath of fresh air. The film squanders every chance it has of being challenging material, not even stopping to ask what Katniss would do if her and Rue were the last two left standing, and the dynamics of Panem society—one infers a kind of loose caste system, based on district—are left wholly untouched. Even if future sequels delve into that subject and give Katniss some tough decisions, I suspect the franchise will still leave me with two questions: 1) Nuclear holocaust be damned, at what point in the future do we begin naming people after American Gladiators? 2) Where have all the ugly people gone? Starvation, after all, isn’t pretty.

Rating:

The Hunger Games. Directed by Gary Ross. With Jennifer Lawrence (Katniss Everdeen), Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark), Woody Harrelson (Haymitch Abernathy), Elizabeth Banks (Effie Trinket), Stanley Tucci (Caesar), Toby Jones (Claudius), and Donald Sutherland (President Coriolanus Snow). Released March 23, 2012, by Lionsgate.

Movie Review: Easy A (2010)

Easy A‘s premise is that a girl like Emma Stone can live 18 years without a single boy showing the slightest bit of interest in her, that a girl like her isn’t even popular with nerds, and that the closest she’ll have come to first base was lying about making it there after an aborted game of seven minutes in heaven. Stone plays Olive Penderghast, an intelligent, well-read, wonderfully parented girl who, for whatever reason, hasn’t gotten her love life out of the starting blocks. After avoiding a camping trip with her incredibly annoying best friend by saying that she had a date with a fictional community college boy, an unfortunate rumor spreads like wildfire through the school: Olive lost her virginity.

It’s easy to suspect that a movie with a premise like this one is going to play to type. How many cloying, dim-witted high school movies are made every year with the goal of making back their paltry budgets on repeat viewings on MTV? High school sex films are the rom-com equivalent of the slasher-in-the-woods horror film. The settings are cheap, the characters are type, the audience is pre-built, and no major star’s credibility will be damaged in the making of this film. But Easy A rises above type, probably never had any aspirations to be type. This isn’t a comedy about sex. It is, in fact, utterly sexless. It’s about fitting in. Making choices. Persecution. Yeah, Ojai High School is unrealistically perfect, a fact embodied by Olive’s status as a ghost in the hallways, but at its core lies the reality of high school. Like a John Hughes movie, Easy A manages to find humor in desperation and isolation.

So here’s the deal: That incredibly annoying best friend (Alyson Michalka) won’t leave Olive alone until she fesses up to losing her virginity to the fictitious community college guy. That wouldn’t be a problem were it not for the fact that Marianne (Amanda Bynes), an uptight girl with God on the brain, was also in the bathroom, hidden away in one of the stalls. Marianne and her group of Christian friends, having just come from their successful campaign to change the Ojai High mascot from a blue devil to a woodchuck, now take the expulsion of Olive on as their next big thing because promiscuity with fictitious dudes named George is a sure mark of the beast. Marianne texts a few people who text a few people who text a few people, and before you know it, the whole damn school knows that Olive isn’t a virgin anymore. The boys want her. The girls, who believe that The Scarlett Letter‘s Hester Prynne got what was coming to her, want to make Olive miserable. Olive ends up in detention for a delicious rebuttal to one of these girls, and she ends up reacquainted with Brandon (Dan Byrd), who is routinely beaten up for being gay, which is also the reason why he’s in detention.

The wheels start to turn. Realizing that there’s no going back, Olive buys a ton of suggestive clothing and sews a giant red A onto every article, a small cross to bear for the duration of her high school career. Brandon has a bright idea of his own. He knows that Olive lied about having sex, figures that she can do so again, only with him as the object of conquest. If they pretend to have sex in a public place, say, the bedroom belonging to the host of the school’s most popular house party, then Olive’s reputation as mysterious school skank will grow and Brandon will get to go through the rest of high school under the guise of straight man, under the radar and out of sight. Said plan works, and soon the schools population of misfits–the fat, the nerdy, the socially awkward–come to Olive bearing gift cards in return for imagined trysts. It seems like a pretty sweet gig. Not only does she get a free meal at the Lobster Shack, she has the benefit of every fake encounter becoming huge news at school, which gets under the skin of Marianne and her Christian cohort.

A plan this perfect can’t possibly continue working, though. Olive has people who worry about her, not to mention a boy she’s had a crush on for the better part of her life who is too cool to be taken by her sudden rise to infamy. Olive’s parents, Rosemary (Patricia Clarkson) and Dill (Stanley Tucci), are laid-back flower children who trust Olive to make her own decisions, probably because they’ve been so adept at working through the consequences of their own. They aren’t upset when Olive ends up in detention. They encourage her when she’s madly sewing red A’s onto lingerie. When it becomes apparent that she’s in over her head, they put down the copy of The Bucket List and talk to Olive about what she’s doing in a way that suggests that Olive is an actual human being capable of logic and reasoning. Olive also has a teacher, Mr. Griffith (Thomas Haden Church), who perfectly fits the Favorite Teacher mold. He wants to talk to her about what she’s doing before she goes too far. Stuck in Hester Prynne mode, Olive struggles on alone until extenuating circumstances smash her imaginary life to pieces.

Easy A may play to type just a bit–the annoying best friend subplot is unnecessary and Marianne never quite rises above stock villain–but it is a confident film featuring a solid core of good characters that are funny without being desperate for a laugh. The film’s nod to John Hughes is fitting. Like his best work, Easy A is a smart, bold comedy that refuses to find itself in the same gutter as its contemporaries, which have struggled in vain to find the same cultural currency as Superbad. Easy A stands out from this pack of imitators, understanding that a well-crafted line is often funnier than a pratfall involving a guy in a donut suit. When it comes down to it, I’d rather watch one Olive Penderghast webcast about her virginity than a legion of chubby schlubsters vying to nail anything that moves, even if it means watching her happily ride off into the sunset with the hunky school mascot.

Rating:

Easy A. Directed by Will Gluck. With Emma Stone (Olive), Dan Byrd (Brandon), Amanda Bynes (Marianne), Patricia Clarkson (Rosemary), Stanley Tucci (Dill), Thomas Haden Church (Mr. Griffith), Lisa Kudrow (Mrs. Griffith), Malcolm McDowell (Principal). Released September 17, 2010, by Screen Gems.