Detroit takes place during the civil turmoil of the summer of 1967 which turned Detroit into a war zone. The film is set almost entirely on the night of July 25 and July 26, when law enforcement officers raided the Algiers Motel in search of a purported sniper. Before delving into the horrifying events of the night, the audience is exposed to the unbelievable unrest unfolding in the city. We are also introduced to several characters, including a music group called “The Dramatics” (two of whom become victims in the July 25-26 raid) and a pair of racist police officers who become the main aggressors.
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Unlike many films portraying civil unrest, Detroit offers insight into a myriad of perspectives: African American rioters, law enforcement officers, victims of police brutality, grieving family members, and political leaders. The movie also shows the perspectives of white cops -racist and otherwise- and white victims of police brutality. Detroit subtly, intelligently illustrates that rioting and civil disorder are not simple issues. Director Kathryn Bigelow (of Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty fame) finds a variety of ways to illustrate the strong emotions, differences of opinion, and historical intricacies that characterize not only the politics of the time but also the communities involved. 

Indeed, Bigelow does this through dialogue, but she more importantly does this through imagery. She transitions between close-up, medium, and long shots to show the agony, horror, and enormous extent of the issues at hand. Her close-ups, which are often of individuals or of intimate shots between characters, are sometimes even more jarring than certain shots of violence because they poignantly convey characters’ deep-seated emotions.

The latter is also a credit to the actors. I found Jacob Latimore’s (who plays Fred) performance of particular note. He conveyed an impressive range of emotion on his face not only during the heart-wrenching raid but in reaction to events throughout the film. He stole the show- transitioning beautifully between fear, joy, hope, humor, and bravery.

During the film, I couldn’t help but think of the classic anti-colonialist film The Battle of Algiers (1966). This film depicts the Algerian struggle for independence, and there is a particular scene in which two white men drive through an Algerian neighborhood at night in order to plant and set off a bomb in a residential area. In Detroit, we are introduced to the primary antagonists, two racist white police officers, while they are similarly driving through a black neighborhood. The scene bore an eerie resemblance to the scene in The Battle of Algiers, and sure enough, the police officers soon shoot an unarmed black male in the back as he ran away. Detroit’s riot scenes also reminded me of similar mob scenes characterizing The Battle of Algiers, including sequences during which community leaders try to assuage citizens’ anger. The hotel in which most of the film takes place also happens to be named “Algiers Motel.” The last detail is based on truth (the entire movie is based on truth), but nevertheless I appreciated the striking similarity Detroit bore to that film. If it was indeed an homage to the classic film, I applaud Bigelow’s choice and think it both poetic and befitting.

However, Detroit was a disorganized film. Before the raid on the Algiers Motel, it is comprised of a motley of scenes of protests, of characters being introduced, and of everyday life. By the end of the film, I understood that these scenes were included in order to provide essential contextual and character background, but while watching I found it difficult to discern what the movie was really about. At times, I got the sense that it was simply a sequence of tear-jerking events meant to inspire empathy in the audience. I strongly believe that these scenes were necessary, but so many characters and so much information was introduced in a choppy manner over a short period of time. I would have liked to see a clearer arc in the rising action, or at least to have been alerted to what information and which characters were most essential to the plot. 

The filmmakers did a commendable job in grounding the film, interspersing their own footage with historical photos and videos of the actual Detroit riots in 1967. These details drew attention to the painful reality of the events depicted and to the high quality of work done by Detroit’s cinematographers in recreating the time period. The film also utilized music from the 1960s -much of which was diegetic- but not to excess. Much of the sound in the film focused on the riots unfolding throughout the city, immersing the audience ever further into the setting.

That being said, the events in the film were tragically familiar. We are no strangers to hearing about police officers shooting unarmed people of color, sexually harassing women, or planting evidence at crime scenes. I believe Bigelow was intentional in releasing this film at this particular time in history, and that there is a bold, biting intelligence in her doing so.

One of the first lines we hear a police officer say in Detroit is, “If they’re not resisting, don’t push them.” It’s sad that anyone -especially a law enforcement officer- would need to be reminded of that in 1967, and even sadder that many need to be reminded today. 

Grade: A-

I was critical of Atomic Blonde before even seeing it because I thought I knew what to expect. Based on Antony Johnston’s graphic novel The Coldest City, this film is about an MI6 agent, Lorraine Broughton (Charlize Theron), who is sent to Berlin just before the fall of the Berlin Wall to investigate the murder of a fellow agent. Subsequently, her superiors instruct her to uncover a missing list of international spies, which includes the identity of the elusive double agent “Satchel.” Upon arriving in Berlin, the icy, collected, and rather glamorous Broughton is forced to work with the unpredictable Agent David Percival (James McAvoy), who immediately chafes Broughton’s steely composure.
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Yes, this movie is perfectly in line with the most foreseeable spy movie tropes: Theron’s character is powerful, sexy, smart, and unbelievably fit. She’s edgy yet feminine, insubordinate yet respected. Broughton, like James Bond, is a consistently overdressed badass who manages to both engage in sex-capades and single-handedly fight off hordes of well-armed men with her bare hands. Soviet/KGB stereotypes also run rampant in this movie, particularly when Broughton’s superiors inform her of her mission and she bitterly whispers, “Soviets.” 

Other critics might criticize this adherence to the secret agent stereotype, because in regards to the protagonist’s characteristics Atomic Blonde does not offer anything outstandingly novel. I however, find that this is part of what makes the movie so fun. After all, who would go to see a spy movie about an underwhelming, sexually frustrated secret agent?
Furthermore, Broughton’s character manages to be revolutionary in several ways. Like many of Angelina Jolie’s characters (see: the Tomb Raider movies, Wanted, and Salt), Theron’s character subverts sexist stereotypes that women are inherently weak or that they need men to save or seduce them (or both). Importantly, Lorraine Broughton’s sexuality is also addressed with a subtle complexity completely absent in any action film I’ve seen before. When McAvoy’s Agent Percival first appeared onscreen, I rolled my eyes, anticipating that they would fall in love or lust. Sure enough, they soon shared a scene wrought with predictable sexual tension. However, they never slept together--and that’s very important. I commend the writers for not linking the main male and female protagonists just because they’re there. 

When the movie eventually does address Broughton’s sexuality, it does so through flashbacks of a past relationship with the agent whose death she is investigating, and later through sex scenes with French agent Delphine Lasalle (Sofia Boutella). I was refreshed to see the depiction of a powerful queer female without her queerness being made into the main spectacle. The film also illustrated a level of depth and complexity in Broughton and Lasalle’s relationship that is totally unprecedented in the realm of spy movies.

As far as the film’s editing, its sound production impressed me the most. Atomic Blonde is rife with 80s music to both remind you of the time period and to establish a fun tone that offsets the movie’s frequent violence (think: “Stuck in the Middle with You” in Reservoir Dogs). Much of the music is diegetic--it is coming from radios, headphones, and stereos within the world of the film. Consequently, the music becomes muffled or stops and restarts intermittently. This was a delightful touch, though at times the source of such music was unclear or inconsistent.

The visual editing was conventional and I didn’t note any particularly daring shots. The set, on the other hand, was beautiful in its dimly lit, neon-punk drabness. The filmmakers did a spectacular job of setting the tense, deeply dissatisfied mood of partitioned Berlin in late 1989. I especially loved the gritty details of the scenery and the way the costume designers turned James McAvoy into a walking manifestation of the city’s punk reputation. My chief complaint about the visuals is the incessant product placement via Charlize Theron (Lorraine Broughton wears “Boy” brand. We get it.).

Go see Atomic Blonde. I doubted it would be worth the hype, but it is. Theron, McAvoy, and Boutella deliver powerhouse performances and are invigorating to watch. Boutella (who stars in The Mummy, which also came out this year) especially stands out, holding her own with her seasoned costars. Atomic Blonde is filled with both unexpected plot twists and exceedingly predictable dialogue, but I’m not sure I’d go see a spy movie expecting anything less. 

Grade: A 

Jeremiah Tower: The Last Magnificent is a biographic documentary about famous (or perhaps infamous) chef Jeremiah Tower, who influenced contemporary American cuisine and operated the “Stars” restaurant from 1984 to 1999. While watching, I couldn’t tell whether I disliked the movie or if I just disliked Tower himself—I soon realized it was both.
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The film begins with choppy shots of Tower inexplicably wandering Mexican ruins and saying dramatic axioms such as “I need to stay away from human beings, because somehow I am not one.” At this point in the film, we do not know where Tower is, why he is there, or why these ruins are relevant. Film-goers may not even be sure who he is in the first place. This opening thus feels bizarre and confusing, and its over-dramatic tone is downright laughable. When the documentary informs us that Tower mysteriously disappeared during his career and moved to Mexico, the scenery make slightly more sense, but the sequence continues to be theatrical and borderline nonsensical. The shots of Tower looking over the ruins from the top of a pyramid, his feet walking along the sand, are totally unnecessary. There are even images of unidentified children, which only seem remotely appropriate when Tower discusses his childhood.

The documentary depicts Tower in such an unfavorable light that I wondered if we were supposed to dislike him (it soon becomes unbelievably apparent that we are meant to sympathize with him). Tower begins to talk about his privileged, opulent childhood by saying that the worst thing to ever happen to him was not being an orphan. However, after expressing a desire to have been an orphan he describes how his parents’ wealth enabled him to live a lavish life, including the ability to order plate after plate of luxury food that directly inspired his culinary career. Tower may not have been so successful were it not for his parents and the privileges his family name afforded him, yet he whines that he would have been better off without his parents.

He proves to be even less relatable as the film goes on, laughing about the fact that when civil movements were coming to fruition in the 1960s, he was “too busy cooking” to be a revolutionary. Not everyone needs to or should consider themselves revolutionary, but Tower seems apathetic when he boasts that while people were fighting for their rights (and his rights, for that matter, because Tower is homosexual) he was drinking champagne and expensive wine, cooking dinner for his friends, and throwing a Molotov cocktail at an unoccupied building in the middle of the night on a joyride with his friends. The filmmakers clearly want audiences to feel sorry for Tower when, at the age of 30, his parents stop giving him an allowance hefty enough to support his frivolous lifestyle, but I couldn’t help but think he deserved it. It is also hard not to sympathize with his friend-turned-lover-turned-enemy Alice Waters, who clashed with Tower when he turned her affordable hippie restaurant into an expensive, high-class business. 

The documentary was difficult to watch because the editing and narrative were disjointed and confusing. Modern day interviews were juxtaposed with shots of Tower participating in merry activities (such as snorkeling, yachting, and shopping) while talking about how sorry he feels for himself, which were combined with mysterious shots of the ruins and dream-like sequences of childhood flashbacks. The film also switched back and forth between time periods without explanation, jumping back to unrelated events that took place in the 1980s, then forward to 2014, then back again. When the documentary discussed the “Stars” and “Tavern on the Green”  restaurants, the filmmakers for the most part focused on one linear time period and theme—and those parts were the most enjoyable to watch. 

It would have been an infinitely more enjoyable film if they had edited in a linear, sensible manner and scrapped the clichéd, melodramatic shots of Tower gazing pensively over the Mexican landscape. Tower also, while clearly an influential genius, is not a relatable or particularly likable person, and the film could have done more to humanize him. You will learn much if you watch this documentary, but you will also likely leave the theater confused and annoyed.

Grade: C-

In a summer filled with summer-blockbuster-sequels, Hunt for the Wilderpeople is refreshing. It was interesting to watch a movie that takes place in the unique location of the New Zealand bush, and the relationships that the movie focuses on are seldom studied in popular culture. In the movie, a troubled young orphan named Ricky is forced to survive in the wilderness with his foster uncle Hec, who initially dislikes him. The two soon find themselves on the run from the authorities, who believe Hec has kidnapped Ricky. 

This film had the potential to be depressing: The main characters have heartbreaking backstories, the harsh reality of foster children is painfully evident, and director Taika Waititi employs realistic visuals for shocking events including the slaughter of a pig and the death of a dog. Ricky, played by Julian Dennison, also suffers the death of his beloved foster aunt, Bella (played by Rima Te Wiata).

However, there is sufficient comic relief in the movie to save it from being an emotional endurance test. Bella’s funeral is marked by the priest’s ridiculous speech, punctuated by uncle Hec’s evident incredulity. Furthermore, serious scenes are often accompanied by comedy. For instance, Ricky’s somber attempt at running away from home is nearly thwarted by floorboards that creak laughably with his every move. Certain poetic scenes were admittedly heavy-handed, such as when Ricky sentimentally announced that he’d never had such a birthday celebration before or when uncle Hec held aunt Bella’s body for an uncomfortable amount of time, but the film’s mood was largely kept from becoming oppressive.
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Visually, the film is stunning. The natural world is used to convey the passage of time clearly and without over-emphasis. A later montage of Ricky and uncle Hec evading the search party stands out as especially beautiful, with the camera rotating so it appeared all the characters are trapped in a snow globe, close but still unable to detect each other. I also applaud that Nina Simone’s Sinnerman played over one of these montages.

Hunt for the Wilderpeople entertains a largely unexplored, alternate idea about highly publicized criminal stories. It was unlike any film I’ve seen before, and I encourage everyone to give it a chance.

Grade: A-

NUFEC writer Gabrielle Ulubay recently got the chance to interview Nick Orsi, one of the artists at Walt Disney Feature Animation responsible who worked on their new feature Zootopia!

GU: First, thank you so much for meeting with me!
NO: Thank you for having me!

GU: To start off, which characters did you play a part in designing?
NO: Let's see: Judy, Nick, Bogo, Gazelle, the Tiger Dancers, sheep, polar bears.... Those are the big ones. A lot of different people work on these characters though, so it wasn't just me.

GU: What was the most difficult animal to animate?
NO: The giraffe, definitely. You have to make the animals distinct, even from far away, so a giraffe couldn't be this long, blurry form. The mice are a good example of that too, actually.

GU: Yes, I figured that. I was impressed during the movie because during the mice scenes there were so many of them, but it wasn't just this indistinct cloud of shapes. You could tell it was just masses of mice.
NO: Exactly. There were a lot of those crowd characters in this movie.

GU: What was character design like for scenes of that scale?
NO: It was a challenge. Crowd characters like are tricky because they need to complement the main character and make him or her stand out, but they also need to be distinct. We use a lot of tricks like motion blurs, camera tricks to move them, clear silhouettes, clear shapes, shape identifiers, arching--tricks like that. It's fun, but challenging.

GU: I can imagine! And what was designing Gazelle like? How does one make a long, skinny animal like that look anything like Shakira?
NO: [laughs] When Shakira expressed interest in playing Gazelle, we had to give the character more hips and make her more like Shakira. Shiyoon [Shiyoon Kim, one of Disney's animators] had the task of making a sexy gazelle while still keeping it a gazelle, which is a tough line to tread. It's hard enough to make the gazelle stand upright because of how weird their joints are, and it's even more difficult to give it curves! Shiyoon has been there a long time and was definitely up for the task, though.

GU: Right, I would assume that sexy gazelles aren't exactly intuitive. In your artistic process, do you often watch people in real life and use their gaits, mannerisms, and so on to create characters?
NO: For me and what I do, it was more of the overall character. I don't focus much on movement. I focused most on how they look, how they're shaped, and what that says about them. They're animals, so I try to find the personality and design more of that person and what makes them special, what makes them a character. I try to pull that inner character out and sort of write it on their forehead.

GU: The animals' ages and genders were also pretty clear just from how they looked and behaved, which is interesting because they weren't always wearing clothes that clarified those things. How did you manage to accomplish that?
NO: There's all kinds of animation tricks that help with that, actually. Usually broader characters look more masculine. If you streamline drawings, give the animals more subtle curves, and soften their features, it makes them more feminine. On the other hand, there are specific chiseled features that make a character appear male.

GU: I saw Zootopia in 3D. It's not jump-out-at-you, 3D, though. Now, 3D seems more about realism--there's nothing flying out of the screen at me. How does animating for that sort of depth compare to animating for 2D features?
NO: Everything has a 3D option now, so we just take that into account regardless. It's definitely more about depth rather than being in-your-face. It's not about having something pop out at you. From a broad sense, lighting and modeling are effected the most in 3D animation. Lighting has to do with how everything is colored and textured, and modeling is more about the actual construction. In other words, the character has to look good from all angles. Most character design--which is what I do-- has to do with rigging, modeling, and animation.

GU: Finally, there's definitely a social message in this film.
NO: [smiles] Yes.

GU: During your presentation earlier, you mentioned that you began working on this movie four to five years ago, and that's before a lot of the civil rights issues that are garnering a lot of attention today. Was it frightening this year to release Zootopia in the midst of so much social unrest?
NO: It wasn't frightening because these issues were still a problem then.

GU: Right, they just have more visibility now.
NO: Yes. Disney has such a huge audience, so doing a film like this with such a strong message will reach both the average little kid and their grandma and grandpa. These families are then going to go have these conversations at dinner with the kids, and we think it's really important that these messages reach these varied audiences and that these conversations happen.

GU: Thank you so much for taking the time out to speak with me!
NO: Of course! Thank you!

You can read Gabrielle's full review of Zootopia here.

​I don’t know what people were expecting from this movie. A lot of the critiques I’ve heard stating that the movie was too awkward, immature, or under-developed put me under the impression that some expected some operatic epic. I was under no impression that Zoolander No. 2 would be any less immature or random (and I say that with great affection) than the first and you shouldn’t be, either. This sequel is certainly not the first movie, and doesn’t have the same novelty as the first did, but it also doesn’t pretend to do those things. Zoolander No. 2 is what I hoped it would be: a continuation of the first movie’s storyline, with new challenges for the main characters and acknowledgement of the time that has passed since we last encountered Derek Zoolander, Hansel, and Mugatu.

I’m still relieved that Ben Stiller retained the original cast—even Christine Taylor, whose character (Matilda Jeffries) is dead in the sequel. The additions that are included in Zoolander No. 2, most notably Kristin Wiig and Penelope Cruz, were hysterical but not perfect fits. Wiig’s big laugh was her nearly incomprehensible accent/speech impediment, but it wavered. The joke was inconsistent because at times she would lose the accent, and that came off as an irritating lack of focus. Cruz's character, Valencia, took herself too seriously. Cruz herself acted well, but her character did not have any of the awkward quirks that Zoolander characters typically have. Even Matilda Jeffries was laughable in the first film. Simply put, Valencia was too perfect of a character for the Zoolander movies. She was too suave, too smart, too sexy--her only "flaw" was that her breasts were too large for her to be a runway model. Cruz pulled that joke off well, but it wasn't self-deprecating enough for her character to fit in with the rest of the ensemble.

Otherwise, the humor in this movie was well done. Zoolander No. 2 took buzzwords from popular culture and adapted them to the slapstick sense of humor characterizing the first film. Characters mentioned "farm-to-table" wifi, repurposed human waste, intentionally tasteless tattoos, and hashtags. The film mocks not only fashion, but everything that contemporary society has become (even though the hashtag joke is over-done at this point). I especially enjoyed the ongoing ridicule of the contemporary habit of dismissing everything as uncool or mainstream, even if they like it. 

Of course, Zoolander No. 2 also spends a substantial amount of time poking fun at the fashion industry, but it does so in a different way than the first movie did. Zoolander No. 2 adjusts its quips to fit in with the current state of fashion, pointing out the fickleness of the industry in the process. The movie suggests that the fashion industry is killing itself, and at the end brings in some of the most famous modern fashion designers and mocks them to their faces.

Zoolander No. 2 is a fun movie. There are enough references to the first movie (i.e., the orgy scene) to please fans, but this sequel does not pretend to be the first movie. Expect some great laughs and plenty of satire about popular culture, but don't take it too seriously. It's Zoolander, not Casablanca.
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Grade: B+

Carol (based on Patricia Highsmith's The Price of Salt) was a poignant, beautifully filmed depiction of two women's love for one another when all odds and circumstances were working against them. All the actors, especially Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett, did a phenomenal job portraying the difficulty (if not impossibility) of resolving their respective conflicts. The film was also dream-like, like a half-faded memory of a forbidden 1950s romance. ​

You can read Anu Gulati's full review of Carol here.

This movie is so much fun. Directed by Guy Ritchie, a notoriously witty filmmaker, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. is an homage to the 1960s television show of the same name. Movies based on television shows tend to be hit or miss, and thankfully this was a hit. Armie Hammer, Alicia Vikander, and Henry Cavill deliver their lines and manifest physicality in such a funny way, without losing any of the suaveness expected from spy movies.

You can read Carter Sigl's full review of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. here.