Nebraska Review

Nebraska, the sixth feature film directed by Alexander Payne, is about an old man named Woody Grant who convinces his son David to take him to Lincoln, Nebraska in order to claim a sweepstakes prize of 1 million dollars.  Woody is often confused about himself and his surroundings, due either to his age or his alcoholism, yet seems fixated on this more than questionable promise of prize money.  David, having nothing important going on in his life, decides to humor his dad and help him even if he thinks the prize is a total fantasy.  The two set off from Billings, Montana and encounter many people from Woody’s past along the way.

                For the most part the film and the story are as straight forward as the premise, with one caveat.  On the surface this appears to be a film about aging.  To be sure, the members of the cast that sport grey hair outnumber those that don’t, and the movie isn’t afraid to have a laugh at the expense of the elderly.  But this story is more about a son becoming closer to his father.  As the audience might expect there’s more to Woody than the disheveled, ornery man we meet at the beginning of the film.  Through one event after another Woody’s past comes to light and his son begins to understand his father more than he has his entire life.  This humanizing comedy, much like its main character, is at first rough and forlorn, but soon gives way to a peculiar tenderness.     

             Bruce Dern, who plays Woody, fleshes out his character with minute idiosyncrasies including a strained walk and trembling hands that are fascinating to watch.  Dern carries the film, but June Squibb, playing the role of his wife Kate, practically steals the show with her bold, biting humor.  The son, played by Will Forte, has an “Aw shucks,” feeling about him and serves as an anchor to the story.  The supporting cast is rounded out by the likes of Bob Odenkirk and Stacy Keach, each of whom is engaging in their own way. 

            As the title implies, the setting plays a strong role in the aesthetic of the film.  Endless highways pass through arid deserts and plains as Woody and David make their way to their destination.  The film feels intimate with its characters and the small town where the majority of the story takes place.  Yet the landscapes are vast and large.  Cows appear small as they graze in giant fields dotted with bales of hay, and the whole film hums with a rustic tone.  The black and white photography emphasizes shadows and the pale lights of the town beautifully.  The soundtrack is populated by acoustic guitars and a muted trumpet that seems to sigh along with Woody during his most desolate moments.  The sound, along with the rest of the film, feels like a kind of 21^st century Americana. 

           Nebraska is a window into an odd, faded world that holds many beautiful things.  The cinematography and frank performances make it a world worth traveling to.  Perhaps the story is a little too straightforward and would have benefited from a clearer arc for its central characters, but what’s here is an enjoyable playground for Payne’s measured sense of sadness, comedy, and sentimentalism.   

The Wind Rises Review

In the opening of Hayao Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises we’re shown a quote from the French poem Le Cimetière Marin.  “The wind is rising! . . . We must try to live!”  This is the creed that the film’s protagonist, aeronautical engineer Jiro Horikoshi, says throughout the movie to urge himself to pursue his dreams.  It’s an appropriate start to a film that often feels like a visual poem rather than a fully fleshed out narrative.  The film follows Jiro from his childhood as he strives to become an airplane designer in pre-World War II Japan.  It’s a movie that has many wonderful moments that feel disconnected in a meandering plot.  Sadly the achievement of the film as a whole is simply that it does more right than it does wrong. 

The biggest flaws are the listless plot that often feels directionless and overly sentimental moments that come across as trite.  These cause The Wind Rises to feel its length, and then some.  It’s hard to take this two hour tale as an examination of a deep central character because Jiro is presented as such a pure being with no flaws.  It’s also equally hard to take it as a memorable look at the culture of Japan and Germany right before World War II, which seems a potent time period and setting for a story about determined ambition.  The film feels less than the sum of its parts because the unwanted and non-contributing parts hold back the good aspects.  It’s also unsuccessful in building a cohesive arc for Jiro.  This is a problem because so much of the film centers on him and his point of view, yet we don’t see him fundamentally change or confront any part of his character.  He’s hard to connect with because he feels like a golden child, a teacher’s pet without a teacher.  We want him to succeed, but at the end he feels more of an idea than a full person. 

But the good news is that there are plenty of interesting and well-crafted moments.  These are the moments when Miyazaki latches onto the core of what a scene is trying to be and is able to make that feeling very clear.  Sometimes these bits are small, such as a comedic beat during Jiro’s suspiciously subservient meeting with the Japanese Navy, who are funding his design project.  At other times they’re charming scenes- such as when a young Jiro, distraught that his poor eye sight prevents him from flying planes, tries to improve his vision by climbing on top of his roof to focus on the stars without his glasses.  These successful moments in the film have to do with nailing a sense of wonder and charm, two hallmarks of Miyazaki’s films.  Unfortunately undeveloped melodrama drags the whole experience, mostly in the second half.  The height of this is a scene where a character becomes engaged right before revealing her terminal illness - tuberculosis.  The audience is almost driven to sarcastically yell “Gasp!” at the screen                  

The biggest ally to Miyazaki is the music, composed by Joe Hisaishi, a long time Miyazaki collaborator.  The score carries many of the most emotional moments of the film, most notably the love scenes between Jiro and Naoko.  It’s a great piece of music that’s at times tranquil and at others exhilarating.  Overall the sound design is excellent, with each engine, propeller, and machine pumping, wheezing, and creaking their own unique music.  The voice cast for the English dub is capable, with the stand outs being Martin Short as Jiro’s boss grouchy boss Kurokawa and Stanley Tucci as Jiro’s idol, Italian aviation engineer Giovani Caproni.  Joseph Gordon Levitt does a decent job as Jiro, but doesn’t do much to bring anything to the somewhat bland character.  Film buffs will enjoy a bizarrely entertaining appearance by Werner Hertzog as a German ex-patriot. 

The story of The Wind Rises covers a lot- the birth and pursuit of a lifelong dream, a devastating earthquake and the recovery from it, a love story, the development of the Japanese aviation industry, the design of a revolutionary aircraft, international tensions on the eve of World War II- but the problem is that it doesn’t tackle any of these things with the depth or nuance they warrant.  All of it is from the perspective of Jiro, who simply wants “…to make something beautiful” This passion for creating beauty is evident in this gorgeous looking film.  However, it is held back from being a better movie by a lethargic plot and undercooked sentimentality.  Buried beneath these flaws are moments of beauty, both artistic beauty and human beauty that are worth seeing.  The greatest sin of the film is that the story, setting, and creators were capable of something so much more.