"Brave"

Merida in Pixar's latest venture, "Brave".

"If you could change your fate, would you?"

     Heavy words for a heavy ideal. That one could change their fate in a drastic way is a powerful claim. And in Pixar's "Brave", that exact claim is, unfortunately, bludgeoned repeatedly over your head. This neon-lit, repetitive theme is nearly as unfortunate as the wayward title for Pixar's latest film. "Brave" is hardly the adjective to use; "Prudent" or "Formulaic" may have been more apt.

     In the midst of this heavy talk of fate, we have several different panoramas in the periphery begging our attention. A strained relationship between a controlling mother and a stubborn daughter. A nation in the midst of an unsteady peace. And, seemingly unconnected, a distant legend of four kingdoms and the brothers who ruled them, and fought over them. Seemingly, the seed and soil for a great story to bloom. However, essential to any story conveyed through the big screen is execution. That a story may be great is one thing; to have an equally great storyteller is another matter entirely.

     The story centers on Merida. Merida is a young lass as stubborn as her Scottish brogue, and more fiery than her florid hair. She's lived her whole life with a love for archery, for the wild, and for being independent from her upbringing contained within the walls of a castle. Her parents, the monarchs of the land, have raised her to be the queen she must one day be, in order to keep peace in their land among the clans.

     Merida rebels, quite obviously, from the rigors of royal life. She refuses to stand on ceremony, and jerks clear of her mother's well-meant but strict attempts to calm her combustible cub. After a particularly explosive fight between the two over the matter of a trio of suitors, Merida tramps off into the forest, searching for something to "change her fate". By happenstance and said fate, she finds herself encountering a witch. A potion is made, and Merida sneaks back to the castle with a magical solution. Her mother will change, which will change Merida's "fate". (see? slightly repetitive)

     The change that occurs, is unexpected. Merida's mother becomes unrecognizable, and all sorts of animated high jinks ensues. Think "Princess Diaries" meets "Freaky Friday", add some fur and fighting, and you've got "Brave". A nicely-packaged story formula that is sure to delight, entertain, and sell merchandise (including a Disney-sanctioned Merida in the princess' royal lineup, something this Disney purist isn't too happy about. but that's another matter entirely.)

     And that may be the biggest reason that "Brave" is a sub-par Pixar film. It's formulaic, and it's not what we've come to expect of Pixar. Previous films, such as "Finding Nemo", "Cars", "Wall-E", and "Up" stand out expressively next to "Brave", because "Brave" has no heart. Our most beloved Pixar films had an inordinate amount of soul, honesty, and passion. "Toy Story 3" made us want to find our old, abandoned toys. "Wall-E" made us want to be human and unplug for a bit (not to mention it made us want to watch "Hello, Dolly"!) "Finding Nemo" made us want to push beyond our limitations and gimpy fins and swim out beyond our reefs. "Brave" made us want to...? Well, we're not sure. And therein lies the film's weakness. Although, I guess it did make girls everywhere (including my wife) want gorgeously unruly, carrot-orange curls.

     I don't mean to sound too harsh. My wife and I enjoyed the movie. So did the entire theater of animated sprouts that surrounded us. To be fair, "Brave" is a sweet film, one that fanfares the importance of family and dreams in a hyperactive parade of frenzied characters and gorgeous scenery. And plumes, fountains and shoots of red, curly hair.

     All things considered, "Brave" was a good movie. But only good, which is disappointing coming from a studio renowned for great.

     Pixar, if you could change your film, would you?

         -NOTE: The short film before "Brave", entitled "La Luna", is one to be commended. Imaginative, cheeky, and gilded with a hefty theme, this film was the toy inside the Happy Meal of my evening.

Agonizingly Good, but No Harry Potter...

INHERITANCE

The final piece in Paolini's saga.

     Agonizingly good. So close.

     Recent years have seen the rise and prominence of arguably newer "genres" within literature and print. We have the greasy, puerile "supernatural teenage romance" category, spawned from the miserable "Twilight" fallacy. Of greater note is the "mainstream sci-fi and fantasy" flood released by Harry Potter. Finally, being a geek wasn't only allowed; it was cool.  The world had given its permission for fantasy books to be "in", stories that could take its readers to Hogwarts, Fablehaven, and Foo. And Christopher Paolini was here to give us our journey to Alagaesia, the wondrous land contained within Inheritance.

     Without going into an extreme amount of detail, a summary of Eragon is in order. Eragon, a young man in the rural community Carvahall, has his entire life changed when he happens upon a strange, blue "stone". Turns out, said stone is, in fact, a dragon's egg. The dragon, later named Saphira, hatches for Eragon, and an intimate, supernatural bond forms between boy and dragon, a hallmark of an ancient order of Dragon Riders. Typical of any hero's journey, this action launches Eragon on a whirling, swashbuckling adventure through forests, deserts, mountainsides, etc. Following the hero's path to a "T", Eragon rises above all odds, and in the subsequent installments, he is trained, overcomes obstacles, and ultimately, dethrones the evil king and begins a new age for the world, one of peace and growth. Hooray, happy ending.

     Don't get me wrong, though. I truly enjoyed Christopher's story, as it is a great homage to spectacular fantasies such as The Lord of the Rings. Eragon is an epic (a youthful epic, but an epic nonetheless) that is inspiring and entertaining. In the end, the Dragon Riders are on the pathway to be restored, and Eragon leaves Alagaesia, never to return. While I applaud Christopher's strength in allowing his character to leave, this is where I differ in story beliefs.

     The whole point of an ending is to have an end. The story moves on to a different chapter whithin our minds or our hearts. But things CANNOT remain the same. There must have been some sort of change. In Paolini's story, there is some change, but only some. At the end, there is the capacity for the realm of magic to end. To be finished within that fictional world. Because of the failure of the generations beforehand, there should have been a move to a completely different world, or the capacity and execution of growth has lost all value. At the mercy of attachment, I feel Paolini faltered when he should've been strong.

     At the risk of cementing my geekiness, I have some suggestions for the work Paolini has given us:

1. The ending of everything special was hinted at. The end of magic, the Dragon Riders, most everything that sets Alagaesia apart. Then, we flinched. We missed it. The ending to this story could have been truly amazing. We could've seen a natural sunrise to a sunset. Instead, we are fed a story that forces an unnatural sunshine upon us. The reason other stories such as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings are so splendid in their execution is because they end with true endings, not prolonged goodbyes.

2. Symbolism. Symbolism, dramatic irony, kismet. The lifeblood of a greatly written story is the ability to draw parallels and conclusions out of people, places and events that resound within us. Paolini had ample and overabundant opportunity for symbolism, and embedded parallels. After giving such fanfare and special treatment to a certain spell (even titling the third book after it, Brisingr, which is Eragon's first spell in the series), the end should have featured said spell. The evil king, Galbatorix (ridiculous name, I know), should have been killed by Eragon's first spell. This is just one of many opportunities that Paolini had to rise above and beyond mediocrity; to really flex his literary muscles and display some advanced storytelling.

     Far be it from me to down an up-and-coming author. An up-and-coming published author, which is far more than I can ever claim for myself. But... this was good. Agonizingly good. So close.

Elementary...

Sherlock Holmes. Dr. John Watson. One of the original dynamic duos. And now, a modernized television series on BBC.

Left, we have Benedict Cumberbatch, and right, Martin Freeman.

And I love this show.

As is probably easily inferred, this Sherlock is a modern re-telling of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic tales of the super-observant consulting detective. Resoundingly stellar in the lead role, Benedict Cumberbatch (weird name, right? well, they ARE British...) brings an amazingly human emphasis to Sherlock. Benedict is also remembered as Paul Marshall in Atonement, and as William Pitt in Amazing Grace. Here is an interview with the man himself:

http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi4279408921/

Not only does he do complete justice to the original character, he (along with the writers, of course) adds modern bits. For instance, Sherlock loves to text. And I don't mean he's a teenage girl and always has a phone in his hands. For Sherlock, texting and mobile internet use make up a significant portion of his work. He isn't an antiquated piece of curio; he is a character well-adapted to modern day society.

At his side, in a typical loyal fashion, is Dr. John Watson, portrayed wonderfully by Martin Freeman. Martin Freeman is known more recently as Arthur in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and as Bilbo Baggins in the upcoming epic "The Hobbit". (Interesting side note - Benedict Cumberbatch is being cast as the voice of Smaug, the greedy, usurping dragon in "The Hobbit".) As Dr. John Watson, viewers are given the stability needed to keep up with Holmes, and to marvel at his genius from afar. In the original stories, Watson was narrator, as the good doctor chronicled through writing the adventures and mishaps of Sherlock Holmes. In the modern version, Watson keeps a blog, meant to help him overcome post-war skeletons in the closet. Watson provides, as stated, a grounding not only for the viewer, but also for Holmes himself.

Directing is great, and the music is spectacular in setting moods and aiding the story. Everyone in the cast does very well in their roles, with an interesting take on Moriarty being performed by Doug Allen. The real genius is behind the writing. The majority of the episodes are heavily based on the original writings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. And they are communicated brilliantly.

The show is currently on a hiatus, and is scheduled to begin airing again in 2012 on BBC. The second episode is entitled "The Hound of Baskerville". I'm so stinkin' excited, it's not even funny.

The game is afoot...

Song Up In Her Head/Follow Me Down

I think I'm in love.

I've never really been one for bluegrass. Honest, cross my heart. At least, I would cross it, if I still had it. I gave it away.

To bluegrass.

Well, bluegrass/folk.

It started innocently enough with Pandora. Ironic, no? Pandora, the mythical woman that unleashed all suffering, devastation, sickness, etc. on earth, was involved (if in name only) in unleashing the finger-pickin' fury of bluegrass upon me.

So far I have a few favorites. Gregory Alan Isakov. Crooked Still. Nickel Creek. The Wailin' Jennys. And, my subject for the day... Sarah Jarosz. And no, I don't know how to pronounce her last name correctly.

That's her. She's still just a kid, as you can see. Kid being a relative term. I'm a kid. She's my age.

The reason Sarah has captured my attention is her fresh, yet classic take on bluegrass itself. Her instrument of choice is the mandolin, an instrument I would hesitate to pick up. Anything with more or less than six strings seems an abomination.

On her official website, Sarah attributes her musical influences to “... the older, and the contemporary, and the new.” Clear as mud, and twice as bright.

Her fresh feel and versatility can be found across all her works. Two of my favorites come from her two different albums. One, from her first album "Song Up In Her Head", exemplifies the instrumental talent she exhibits. Here's a clip of said song, "Mansinneedof":



Most of her work is original work, showcasing a great songwriting capability beyond her years. Here's another original work that is more vocally focused:



This girl has, very nearly singlehandedly, changed my musical tastes, hopefully for the better. Chewing on bluegrass doesn't leave as bitter a taste in my mouth as I thought, but it's still too early to certify anything.