MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix Revolutions

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 32 Days to go: 23

Movie #408:  The Matrix Revolutions

Look, everything that’s wrong with The Matrix Reloaded is wrong with The Matrix Revolutions. The metaphors are painfully, hopelessly tortured. The logic is absurd and completely falling apart. The special effects are either overdone or ridiculous-looking or both. The story-telling is obtuse and heavy-handed. The fight sequences are long and boring. Et cetera.

My husband says that the two sequels to The Matrix were actually supposed to just be a single movie, but that the studio wanted it to be a trilogy, and so the one sequel was split into two, which may account for some of each film feeling drawn out or repetitive. He may be right, but I hardly think that’s an excuse for lazy filmmaking. Moreover, have the Wachowskis never heard of a two-hour movie? Both sequels run over that length by an amount that EASILY could’ve been cut from fight scenes alone. I’m not sure the reasoning behind it, but I know for a fact that for some reason a popcorn movie that clocks in at 1 hour, 59 minutes is exponentially more palatable than one that clocks in at 2 hours, 9 minutes. You wouldn’t think ten minutes would have that much of an impact, and yet if that movie doesn’t have something meaningful to say in those ten minutes (and a popcorn movie never really does) then they are ten minutes forever wasted. A person grows to resent those ten minutes.

Rest assured, The Matrix Revolutions has nothing interesting or profound or important to say. Instead it recycles messiah mythology so much that different parts of the film are recycling different parts of the myth, somehow resulting in being both confusing and obvious. Neo (Keanu Reeves) is Jesus, of course, and he sacrifices himself to save those who want to be saved. But first he’s revived from Purgatory (a circular train station) by the love of Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), I guess? And he has to be released by the Merovingian (Lambert Wilson), who is the devil lording over his literal den of iniquity? And Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) is like head apostle, building the church of Neo in the center of Zion, metaphorically anyway. And Smith (Hugo Weaving) even literally calls Neo a Messiah, which I guess makes Smith the antichrist? Ugh. It’s seriously so bad and so all over the place and so dumb.

Speaking of dumb, the machine voice Neo speaks to at the end of the film is literally referred to (in subtitles and the credits) as the God Machine, Deus Ex Machina. I mean, that’s basically the Wachowskis themselves throwing in the towel saying, “You know what? Fuck it.” A Deus Ex Machina is a plot device in which everything sort of miraculously comes together at the end exactly the way the writers want it to without having to do the work of actually connecting all your story threads or anything. So to name your final character that is kind of admitting you have no idea where the hell this story is going anymore. It’s hilarious if you do it in Dodgeball; it’s insane if you do it in a movie that’s supposedly taking itself seriously.

I will, however, take a moment to praise The Matrix Revolutions for some things they do well. Once again, diversity gets a big win — across both race and gender lines. And religious lines too if you consider the fact that several of the Zionist (haha) characters don’t believe in Morpheus’s ideology or any of the prophecies. This film even expands the number of ethnicities featured, giving even more prominent roles to various Asians than the last one did. And when they need a super talented pilot that can take a ship through a narrow, harrowing passage at top speeds? They turn to Niobe (Jada Pinkett Smith), a woman. Usually even if women are given roles in action movies, they aren’t the specialists or the clutch players, but this movie has a few. Those are all really big deals, and I applaud the film for it. It’s important. I only wish it was done more in films that had a greater positive impact on popular culture, because frankly, this movie is crap.

At least, as the Zionists (haha) rejoice, it’s finally over. Hallelujah.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix Reloaded

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 33 Days to go: 24

Movie #407:  The Matrix Reloaded

Oh holy hell.

My husband’s favorite movie is The Matrix, which I can totally understand. It’s fantastic. But his undying love for the first one makes him more than a little forgiving of the two sequels. His official opinion is that they are not as bad as everyone says. I, however, think they’re exactly as insufferable as I remember.

One thing The Matrix Reloaded does really, really well, though, is diversity. People of color are everywhere, in  every level of society. There are captains and commanders and warriors of every race. There are leaders of both sexes. Everywhere you look — in Zion and within the Matrix — there are a wide array of people represented. This is a great step forward from the status quo, and I wish more movies would emulate this tactic. Its importance can not be understated. Unfortunately, basically every other aspect of the movie is preposterous and tiresome.

First of all, the religious undertones have become glaring, as Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) pontificates on the importance of faith and how his beliefs are not contingent on anyone else following him but how they will prove to be the salvation of humanity regardless. Meanwhile, other captains of Zion (Zionists — haha), are skeptical of the prophecy, of Morpheus’s beliefs, and of the status of Neo (Keanu Reeves) as The One. This would all be fine, really, if it weren’t so heavy-handed. A lot of films have religious undertones and a lot of stories are allegorical interpretations of savior myths. But there’s a point in any work of fiction when the overt attempts to be symbolic become forced and clunky. The story ceases to be cleverly structured and instead feels like a shoe that doesn’t quite fit but which you’re painfully wedging your foot into anyway.

Another way The Matrix Reloaded fails to meet expectations set by its predecessor are in the visual effects. The Matrix was groundbreaking, and while the sequel was never going to be able to surpass that high of a bar, the least they could do was match it. In some ways, they come close. The car chase sequence is superb and the ghost-like transformation of the twins (Adrian and Neil Rayment) is fantastic, even if the logic behind them is unclear. But the scene where Neo and Smith (Hugo Weaving) fight on the rooftop goes from being fairly innovative to outright cartoonish. The CGI is obvious and disorienting and it completely takes me out of the film. Not to mention that fight sequence, as with all the others in the film (and there are SO MANY), is never-ending. They go on forever and ever, the same exact moves over and over again, ad nauseam. It’s so utterly tedious I can barely keep my eyes from rolling out of my head. It would be different if these nonstop fights had some sort of purpose or agency or stakes, but they don’t. Not one.

And, of course, the romance is still preposterous. I mean, there’s the super gross sex scene, which isn’t gross because it shows anything really, it’s just really gross juxtaposed with this orgiastic celebration scene in Zion, overlaid with porn music. It’s not sexy at all — even Neo’s orgasm face is entirely lacking in expression — and there still isn’t really anything to convince me of a tight emotional bond between him and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss). If I’m supposed to be moved by him reaching into her chest code and removing a bullet code, then massaging her heart code back to life, I’m sorry, but that’s not happening. It’s absurd.

Speaking of which, the extended computer language metaphors are even worse and more boring than the Christian allegory. And do not even get me started on the godawful code orgasm we get to witness from the center of a woman’s code vagina. NO NO NO NO NO.

I have one more movie to tackle in this mess, but that one is going to have to wait until morning. I need a break. The Matrix Reloaded gave me a throbbing headache.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 34 Days to go: 24

Movie #406:  The Matrix

A very good friend of mine had seen The Matrix in theaters eleven times before I even knew it existed. It came out days before my first wedding and I wonder if I just had other things going on or if the early marketing and release of the film was super small or what, but I have no memory of it at all before the moment she and I were going to see something else weeks after my honeymoon and she mentioned it. Or crazily cackled about how fantastic it was and suggested we go see it instead. One of those. And for whatever reason I am historically resistant to any sort of over-the-top fandom. If you suggest something to me in a positive and logical fashion, making thoughtful arguments about its merits, I am 100% more likely to be interested than if you slather it with giddy praise. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m backwards.

Anyway, I ignored my very dear friend’s obsessive infatuation and never once gave the movie another thought until I was babysitting for some lovely boys I knew from a daycare I’d worked at a few months earlier. When their parents came home their dad was talking movies with me and asked if I’d seen The Matrix. I demurred and he replied only with, “Oh, you should. We could be in the Matrix right now, you know” which somehow clicked in my head more than anything else and I made a point to drag my husband to the movies to see this one.

The Matrix is every bit as astounding as my friend said it was. I swear, I am such a goober sometimes.

The Matrix did incredible things with special effects, both large-scale (the frozen, rotating perspective, the super-slow motion bullets) and small (the liquified mirror overtaking the body of Keanu Reeve’s Neo, the skin growing over Neo’s mouth), but it also told an original and fascinating story. Who hasn’t woken from a dream that felt entirely too real? Who hasn’t been disoriented for a moment, sure that something in a dream — no matter how ludicrous — really did happen and now you’re awake to the consequences? Who hasn’t had a memory that they’re no longer sure really happened? Our minds play all kinds of tricks on us on a regular basis, and yet we’re forced to accept what it presents to us as reality because we have no other options. Our minds are the filter through which everything passes. What if they’re being manipulated from an outside source to lie to us? How would we know?

In essence, The Matrix is a philosophical story wrapped around a futuristic sci-fi one. The amazing special effects and the ability to manipulate the Matrix are simply trappings of the setting. The real theme of the film is enlightenment — having your eyes opened and reaching a greater plane of understanding of the universe. It’s a theological story too. Neo is called The One, but what he really is — what Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) and the Oracle (Gloria Foster) are looking for — is a savior. Someone to free the world from their chains and set them free. There is even a Judas in this Jesus story, as Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) betrays them to the Romans (AKA Hugo Weaving’s Agent Smith, et. al.). And let’s just say it’s not a coincidence (nor is it a subtle reference) that Morpheus’s ship is the Nebuchadnezzar, named after the Biblical king. (See also: Morpheus is the name of the mythical god of dreams. Trinity stands for the holy trinity. Oracles were ancient prophets, whereas Neo — meaning new — is the second-coming.)

The story has holes in it, though. If the agents are so dead set against disruptions in the Matrix, how is the Oracle’s living room of crimes against the laws of physics allowed to exist? Why was Morpheus so sure Neo was The One? What did the Oracle say to him and how do we know she wasn’t lying? Speaking of which, is it not awfully convenient that she tells Neo he isn’t the one simply because that’s what he needed to hear? I mean, if your Oracle goes around telling you falsehoods, how do you trust her? Not only that, but Neo finds his power when Trinity tells him she loves him, which proves he’s The One because the Oracle said so. First of all, what kind of garbage is that? We’ve already established that we can’t trust the Oracle. Beyond that, though, the actual events of the film give no supporting evidence AT ALL to the idea that Trinity loves Neo except some occasional googly eyes. At best, I’d be willing to except that Trinity is hot for Neo, nothing more. On the romantic front, it’s just incredibly weak storytelling.

And of course, once you try to take a metaphor too far, it starts to fall apart. But that’s more an issue for the sequels. By itself, The Matrix is an impressive, thoughtful, mostly stellar piece of filmmaking with only a few weak spots. It’s earned its spot as one of the last century’s most iconic, groundbreaking movies, and I’m really glad I saw it.

MY MOVIE SHELF: What’s Love Got to Do with It

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 137  Days to go: 94

Movie #301:  What’s Love Got To Do With It

I saw What’s Love Got To Do With It in the theater with my best friend from high school. I remember it so distinctly. When Tina (Angela Bassett) finally fights back against Ike (Laurence Fishburne) in that limo in Texas, the entire audience erupted in cheers and claps — hooting and hollering and pumping their fists in the air — like they’d just seen their favorite team pull off an impossible comeback to win a championship game. I’d never experienced anything like that at the movies before, but we were all caught up in it. We were all behind her, a hundred percent. It was powerful.

Your basic biopic can be interesting and informative (if you’re into that sort of thing) and it can be well-written and structured and masterfully executed in such a way that the finished product is a really good, maybe even great, film. But not too many biopics are important films. They might address important issues or highlight important historical moments — they’re only ever about important people, essentially by definition — but often they’re so focused on the life of their subject that they don’t actually build or convey any kind of message. Message films are another thing altogether. What’s Love Got To Do With It, however, is critically important — not just in its time, but for all time, past, present and future.

The physical abuse endured by Tina Turner at the hands of her husband Ike was terrifyingly brutal. The movie, importantly, doesn’t back down from that. Slaps turn to punches and kicks. Verbal abuse escalates to profanity-laden vitriol. He terrorizes her in private, in public and in front of their children. He even clears his home of people so he can viciously choke and rape her in their personal recording booth, just to show her who’s boss. What’s Love Got To Do With It doesn’t want its audiences to have any misconceptions about what domestic violence really looks and sounds like. It doesn’t want its audience to mistake what it is: a savage crime, perpetrated repeatedly against a woman who, for all intents and purposes, has nowhere else to go.

I’m sure some people will be inclined to blame Ike’s enraged outbursts on his rapidly increasing cocaine use, but he was always a manipulative and controlling man, guilting Tina into loyalty ever since she was just little Anna Mae Bullock, fresh-faced innocent. Every time he (or her mother, for that matter, played by the exquisite Jenifer Lewis) talks about how Anna Mae’s going to desert him and let him down just like everyone else has, how she just wants to leave him, or that she has a duty to stay with him and their children, my old relationship-PTSD flares up and I nearly have an anxiety attack. Every time. My heart races and my stomach’s in my throat and I pretty much want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Sometimes that constant berating feels like it might be easier to take a blow. It almost certainly would be quicker. I’m not downplaying physical abuse, of course, and I’m certainly not equating my experiences with mostly verbal assaults to that of Tina Turner or to any number of the billions of women across the world who have endured all sorts of horrific abuse, but I know what it feels like to wish for literally anything to spontaneously happen to make it all stop. That’s what abuse can do to a person. It’s a sickness. And this movie exposes it all.

Beautifully, the movie does more to make Ike Turner look awful than to just showcase his diseased and furious mind — it actually makes him look, physically, like a ridiculous fool. Costuming is an aspect of filmmaking that often doesn’t get enough attention for the way it tells and enhances the story being told through dialogue and events. (If you watch Mad Men, I cannot endorse enough the breathtaking, spectacular analysis by fashion bloggers Tom and Lorenzo of the costuming and wardrobe decisions made on that show to underline the plot and influence the tone. It’s a must-read.) In What’s Love Got To Do With It, there is a very telling, nuanced story being told about Ike and Tina through their clothes. When Ike and Tina first meet, Ike is a smooth and put-together leader of a successful rhythm and blues band, and Tina (or Anna Mae, as is still her name then) has sort of awkwardly done herself up to look more mature, more grown. (True story: I have been asking for “Co-cola, please” in the exact manner and intonation Angela Bassett uses in this movie ever since 1993.)  As we travel through the sixties, and then the beautiful, crazy, psychedelic seventies, however, Tina looks more and more gorgeous, more and more stylish, more and more flawless and timeless and beautiful, and Ike looks more and more absurd. I’m not kidding. Tina wears these amazing fringe performance dresses, or sleek designer suits as the years go on. Ike, meanwhile, at one point is wearing a belt buckle made of metal hands shaking with a matching choker around his throat. And while Tina’s wigs are basically all in the same vein over the years, varying a little in length or style but not drastically, Ike’s hair goes from big poofy afro to weird slick bob and back again. That’s an intentional distancing of the characters, and it’s one of my favorite examples in all of film how purposeful and thoughtful costuming can strengthen a story.

I do wish What’s Love Got To Do With It had received a little more recognition. Acting nominations are nice and certainly warranted, but the movie itself is powerful for a biopic, and both more effective and more significant than a lot of others that get far more accolades. Sure, it was never going to beat Schindler’s List (nor do I think it should have), but it definitely could’ve benefitted from the increased exposure more nominations (from any awards body, not just the Oscars) could’ve given it — not just monetarily, either. I firmly believe that the more people who see this movie, the more people are willing to talk about and maybe even break free from their experiences with domestic violence. And that, my dears, is critically important — for women and for men, for our present and for our future.

If you are being abused or know someone who is, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at their website or by phone at 1-800-799-7233. They can help.