“Into the woods, then out of the woods, and home before dark!” promises Rob Marshall’s recently released film adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s and James Lapine’s 1987 musical, Into the Woods. Unfortunately, Marshall’s film quickly forgets its promise. Despite Sondheim laying a clear path to success with his wickedly delightful and exquisitely powerful music and concept, director Rob Marshall’s Into the Woods quickly strays, stumbles, and becomes horribly lost in a tangled jungle of shadows, grit, and unwieldy CGI. Marshall’s two-hour marathon of low energy monotony and confused direction certainly won’t have you home before dark.
The year is 2031. In a colossally failed attempt to combat global warming, scientists have accidentally launched the world into an inhospitable ice age. All forms of life freeze solid after just minutes of exposure to the murderously bitter cold. Humanity has narrowly escaped total extinction by clambering aboard a glorified choo-choo train. Continue reading Snowpiercer: The Little Engine That Couldn’t→
A veritable mountain of Redbull, Twizzlers, and Pop-Tarts awaits students as they file into Princeton Film Productions’ lecture hall. Students of all backgrounds and academic interests have come together to celebrate and undertake the art of filmmaking. After a quick orientation, the assignment of teams, and the distribution of film equipment, t-shirts, and caffeinated snacks, Princeton students scatter, blood pumping with excitement and inordinate amounts of sugar. Their only mission: to create a film…in twenty-four hours.
An enthusiastic young man beams at his potential employer. “What I believe, sir,” he nods, “is that good things come to those who work their asses off.” His pitch is self-assured and friendly. A watch, expensive and stylish, jingles on his wrist as he physically punctuates his points with zeal. The watch belongs to the man he beat to death less than an hour ago.
When I use the word “superhero,” certain images may spring to mind: the outrageously defined muscles and superfluously nippled armor of Batman; the solid jaw and immovable hair curl of Superman; or even the smooth, pendulum swooping of your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. What isn’t expected from the primary-colored plethora of superheroes is a tubby, overeager goofball of a kid who can only use his powers after he eats novelty cat-shaped ice cream sandwiches. Nevertheless, Steven Universe, the title character of Cartoon Network’s new cartoon, fits that description and he has quickly become my new favorite superhero.
