Power Twins Comics

Seemingly stuck in limited release, we’ve been trying to find this one in a moderately convenient theater. As it turns out, Jojo Rabbit was not quite the movie we expected, but it was worth the wait and worth seeing in the theater. The critic taglines about the film all remark on its humor and brilliance as a satire. It earns these accolades, but it also deals somewhat seriously with the darker subjects of Germany’s last days in the Second World War.

Jojo Rabbit is not a spoof or parody – it is a satire. The film is a look at the war in Germany through the eyes of a 10 year old boy, a wannabe fanatical member of the Hitlerjugen whose imaginary friend is Adolf Hitler (played by the director Taika Waititi).

The casting is excellent. Eleven-year-old Roman Griffin Davis as the titular character did a fantastic job in a brilliant script. Scarlett Johanson as his mother and Sam Rockwell as his disgraced “scout” leader are both strong and portray a hidden plot of anti-Nazi sentiment that is subtly implied yet critical to the story. Rebel Wilson is hilarious in her disturbing role as the girl “scouts” leader. Thomasin McKenzie rounds out the cast as the Jewish girl Jojo’s mother is hiding, and she delivers a believable – if comedy-leaned – performance.

The subject matter has raised some controversy. I had some history with this when I worked on the editorial staff of a book that received similar ire – for similar reasons. As usual the angriest are people who haven’t deigned to view the actual content. “How can you make fun of Hitler?”  Jojo Rabbit answers: “How can you not?”

Locked into Jojo’s point of view, our understanding of the events expands as he gains a better understanding of the world – the real world – around him. Jojo’s fanaticism would be frightening in an adult, but Jojo is a child who just wants to be part of the club. Even his imaginary friend takes on proportions and mannerisms that are more like how a 10 year old would imagine his supreme leader rather than being historically accurate. Hitler was famously a religious, non-smoking, vegetarian teetotaler. Jojo’s friend routinely offers him cigarettes to calm down and holds personal banquets where he dines on Unicorn. (Jojo never partakes of the cigarettes. Eventually getting annoyed at the offering, he screams, “Stop offering me cigarettes. I’m ten!”)

The dialog is terrific; the film is packed with lines that had us chuckling later. The heavier moments, though, are delivered in near silence, letting the visuals do the talking, and it bears mentioning that the screen work is at the same level as the other aspects – excellent. Being PG-13 it has the traditional single F-Bomb, which it uses in probably the most appropriate way ever.

I cannot say enough about this masterful piece of cinema. At the same time I need only say that you should see it. Jojo Rabbit deserves to be enjoyed in the theater.

tschüß.

We braved the news reports of “non-specific threats” to see Joker on opening day. First, it was a spectacularly well done movie. As “Batman canon,” it’s sort of Cesar Romero doing a Heath Ledger impersonation in Taxi Driver. As its own film, it is an excellent portrayal of a man driven mad by a society unforgiving of his mental illness.

Joaquin Phoenix does an excellent job portraying this descent from illness into madness. The film focuses so much on him that it doesn’t leave much room for the other actors, though the casting is on point. Robert De Niro as a sort of gruff “Late Night” host is good, of course, and fits in well as a sort of background to Joker’s developing mania – better than if he were brought more central or used for his “star power.”

The film is not as overtly violent as other DC films of late. In fact, Joker is made as though it were in its own DC cinematic universe. The Wayne family factors in, of course – it is set in Gotham City, after all. But, there is no hint that this is a world with meta-humans and alien invasions. This film is more human. The (much touted) violence of the film is also that — personal and human. The violence is at first against the main character, then around him, and ultimately by him.

There are a lot of ways this film could have gone very very wrong. It seems to flirt with some of those ideas. Thankfully, the film makers abandoned the worst impulses of telling an origin story in Gotham City. The result is almost “hanging a lantern” on the awful tropes it did not use, and the complete plot of the film could be recounted without giving away a meaningful spoiler. Even the use of flashback within the narrative advances the story instead of reminding us that some part was important.

The point of the film isn’t any of its moments. Joker is about the story building to that moment when he takes that final step, donning the titular mantle. Even that “moment” is a metamorphosis over the three final scenes.

I’ve long said that Batman is a study in psychology. Stories set in Gotham are essays on the subject. Joker is no exception. While no one condones his actions, nor excuses them, the film explores the systemic failures that resulted in the Clown-Prince of Crime. It does so without apology and with a realism that is almost a cautionary tale about the state of mental healthcare.

Go see Joker if you are a fan of the character and want to see a plausible origin story. Go see Joker if you don’t really know anything about Batman but enjoy tales of un-redeemed protagonists. Don’t see Joker if you are the sort of DCU fan who develops theories about the scribbling on the corner of a page that you have to pause the movie to see – Joker is clear enough as is.

Small cast, quiet movies, made with nearly no budget are something of an acquired taste for modern audiences. The Art of Self Defense, starring Jesse Eisenberg, rewards fans of such films with dark laughter amidst moments of personal triumph for which the characters really ought to be punished.

The plot is fairly straightforward. An overtly suppressed staff accountant, Casey (Eisenberg), is mugged one night. Terrified of his own shadow, Casey seeks the means for protecting himself and overcoming his crippling fear. On his journey through toxic-masculinity, he wanders into a karate studio and its cult-like  and dangerous world of hierarchical belts, led by a sensei (Alessandro Nivola) who demands his students give a full measure of devotion. Casey’s exploration into this exaggerated world transforms him, pretty much exactly as Sensei plans.

The cast is rounded out by the dojo’s children’s class instructor “Anna” (played by Imogen Poots). She is a true believer whose self-deprecation to fit into her “natural” place in the culture of the dojo gives cringe-worthy moments that completely fit the narrative.

The acting is excellent. Eisenberg sways into positively robotic, but these moments are obviously purposeful. Each character has a dual nature, and each actor pulls it off.

The cinematography is up close and personal, giving an air of contemplation. The fighting sequences are less “fight-scene” and more illustrative. The quietness of it all adds to the shock value of the surprising moments.

It is hard to discuss much of this film without giving away spoilers. Although we do see some of the twists coming – and there are a few – the real surprises are in their resolutions. Overall, The Art of Self Defense is worth a viewing in a theater with good popcorn, but I suspect it will hold up well on a smaller screen, too.