Change Your Image
arch29
Reviews
Avatar: The Way of Water (2022)
When Style Becomes Substance:
"Just look at what we can do now!"
"And we can do it even longer: 3h12m versus the 2h42m of our first movie!"
A good film, held back from being great by rampant and heavy-handed emotional manipulation of the audience. Clichés and plot contrivances abound.
For example, these amazing undersea behemoths are not only surprisingly whale-like, they're also peace-loving, creative, and affectionate. Sadly their brains just happen to have something incredibly valuable to the Sky People: a thing that stops human aging.
What a tragic coincidence! Why is fate so cruel?!
Similarly and conveniently, in the first film, planet Pandora harbors an incredibly valuable ore known as Unobtainium. Yet tragically, the native Na'vi city just happens to be built right on top of the most abundant source of Unobtainium!
What an awful dilemma!
Save the whales! Save them because they're even smarter than we are; plus they have adorable children. The uncannily human-like Na'vi also have endearing children--lots of them.
Watch in horror as the terribly cruel Sky People exploit the Na'vi and slaughter the whales. Scowl in revulsion as the Na'vi are forced from their homes, and their beautiful forest is strip-mined.
On a brighter note, despite the blatant manipulation and contrivances, and notwithstanding having too many characters and running too long for most viewers' tastes, Way of Water is markedly better than the first film: artfully leveraging technology to sensational effect. Indeed, Way of Water blends CGI with reality far more seamlessly than its predecessor while setting the bar crazy-high for any action and effects extravaganza that might dare challenge it.
Even the story and characters struck me as better than in the first film. Admittedly that isn't saying much because we're talking about James here.
Overall I found it a good film, especially for viewers who enjoy basking in a full-immersion 3D experience: replete with jaw-dropping action and effects; drenched in panoramic skyscapes, seascapes and landscapes. Truly the movie delivers thrills aplenty: witness the breathtaking planet-razing power of starships! Cower back from the terrifying presence of gargantuan ocean predators!
In summary, despite its many limitations I enjoyed Way of Water--especially seeing it in 3D.
Solar Strike (2006)
Underrated - A low-budget cross between Armageddon and Hunt for Red October
Although I had to suspend disbelief a lot in this, it was worth it because the underlying story has heart and excitement. The production values are low and the scientific merit is questionable at best; but the screenplay is impressively ambitious in scope. And although the budget was extremely limited, some of submarine, fighter plane, and nuclear CGI effects came off quite well.
This definitely kept me entertained and I think it's quite underrated. Fans of sci-fi disaster films like Armageddon will enjoy this if they can see past the extreme lack of polish, into the endearing earnestness and ambition that lies beneath.
Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Stand in the presence of greatness
First segment: This is a pretty grand vision. Good acting, at least in
cases. I don't know yet whether the plot or premise is very good; it
seems
a bit gratuitous and manipulative (designed tactically to appeal to
audiences with certain stereotyped characters, language, and situations).
Still, the scope of it is grand, and the FX good to give the impression of
really being in another time and place.
Next segment: Oh, now this is very impressive. There is significant
expertise behind Galactica, in high nautical tradition. Many details of
chain of command, military courtesy, and most of all: excellence of
command
when under stress and the ability to make the hard decisions even with
overwhelmed with the enormity of everything. Once again, this is a grand
scope and I'm very impressed with it so far.
Next segment: Beautiful. I'm sure you could criticize it for poetic
license
and the presence of the obligatory political correctness, sexuality, and
gung ho elements. But really: the plot and the details, as well as the
execution (overall, though there are flaws here too) are very pleasing.
This series serves as an homage to the old one and reminds me somewhat of
the novel _Mote in God's Eye_ with all its ship maneuverings, combat
scenes,
nautical heritage, and the functioning of the bridge and its crew. But
more than an homage, it exceeds the original in almost every way except
the
1978 quaintness and rousing main music theme. Clearly, someone was
involved
in the production of this series who knows a great deal about military
operations, command and leadership (and the great burden of it), and of
the
necessity of making the hard choices even if they go against our humanity.
Both the President and the Commander of Galactica, Adama, make the hard
decisions and yet aren't afraid to admit that they're wrong. Overall,
there
is a beautifully wrought dynamic between Adama, the XO, the Pres., and
various other crew members that circle around them.
(Minor spoilers below)
At the end, there is the somewhat gratuitous mention of Earth as the
legendary 13th colony. But it's saved by the complexity of adding in the
probably-false hope that Adama gives the crew: that he knows where Earth
is
(when he doesn't) and that the journey will be long and hard. Also, the
plot element involving AI vs. mankind is well done. Although the Cylons'
motivation for wanting to destroy humanity is never well fleshed out, it's
overall done pretty well.
After watching a few of the scenes again: I have to upgrade this even
more.
The fleet's abandoning of the sublight ships, for example, is a
masterfully
crafted montage. Maybe I'm too easily manipulated, but I love it
anyway.
Finally, although this mini series may not be entirely original (but then
again, what is, nowadays), some of the pieces, dynamics, characters,
suspense, and revelation are very artful. It's far beyond the Sci Fi
channel production values of yesteryear; perhaps quite a bit better than
the
Children of Dune mini series as well. Once again I'm reminded of what
someone wise once said: "It's not the absence of flaws, but the presence
of
greatness!"
Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Stand in the presence of greatness
First segment: This is a pretty grand vision. Good acting, at least in
cases. I don't know yet whether the plot or premise is very good; it
seems
a bit gratuitous and manipulative (designed tactically to appeal to
audiences with certain stereotyped characters, language, and situations).
Still, the scope of it is grand, and the FX good to give the impression of
really being in another time and place.
Next segment: Oh, now this is very impressive. There is significant
expertise behind Galactica, in high nautical tradition. Many details of
chain of command, military courtesy, and most of all: excellence of
command
when under stress and the ability to make the hard decisions even with
overwhelmed with the enormity of everything. Once again, this is a grand
scope and I'm very impressed with it so far.
Next segment: Beautiful. I'm sure you could criticize it for poetic
license
and the presence of the obligatory political correctness, sexuality, and
gung ho elements. But really: the plot and the details, as well as the
execution (overall, though there are flaws here too) are very pleasing.
This series serves as an homage to the old one and reminds me somewhat of
the novel _Mote in God's Eye_ with all its ship maneuverings, combat
scenes,
nautical heritage, and the functioning of the bridge and its crew. But
more than an homage, it exceeds the original in almost every way except
the
1978 quaintness and rousing main music theme. Clearly, someone was
involved
in the production of this series who knows a great deal about military
operations, command and leadership (and the great burden of it), and of
the
necessity of making the hard choices even if they go against our humanity.
Both the President and the Commander of Galactica, Adama, make the hard
decisions and yet aren't afraid to admit that they're wrong. Overall,
there
is a beautifully wrought dynamic between Adama, the XO, the Pres., and
various other crew members that circle around them.
(Minor spoilers below)
At the end, there is the somewhat gratuitous mention of Earth as the
legendary 13th colony. But it's saved by the complexity of adding in the
probably-false hope that Adama gives the crew: that he knows where Earth
is
(when he doesn't) and that the journey will be long and hard. Also, the
plot element involving AI vs. mankind is well done. Although the Cylons'
motivation for wanting to destroy humanity is never well fleshed out, it's
overall done pretty well.
After watching a few of the scenes again: I have to upgrade this even
more.
The fleet's abandoning of the sublight ships, for example, is a
masterfully
crafted montage. Maybe I'm too easily manipulated, but I love it
anyway.
Finally, although this mini series may not be entirely original (but then
again, what is, nowadays), some of the pieces, dynamics, characters,
suspense, and revelation are very artful. It's far beyond the Sci Fi
channel production values of yesteryear; perhaps quite a bit better than
the
Children of Dune mini series as well. Once again I'm reminded of what
someone wise once said: "It's not the absence of flaws, but the presence
of
greatness!"
Himalaya - l'enfance d'un chef (1999)
Poignant, meaningful, purifying and transforming
~Some spoilers~
It stands as a sweet, poignant story of a simple life of hardship, strife, and the necessity of growing up and enduring. Against a backdrop of superstition vs. pragmatism, a village elder's [Tinle's] hatred and need for revenge stem from the death of his first son -- a death he blames on the son [Karma] of another family whose ancestors had bad blood with him and his own. In his stubbornness, he consults the star charts for guidance on when depart on a caravan through the mountains to trade their livelihood (salt), rather than following the urging of Karma, who departs with most of the young men of the village 4 days before him in an effort to avoid late season storms. Tinle asks his second son -- a lama who knows only how to paint and pray -- to help the rest of them voyage over the mountain pass to trade for their livelihood. Initially refusing, the priest later reconsiders, remembering something he was once taught: "when presented with two paths, always choose the harder one". This speaks to me of the value of life as a journey rather than a destination: the value of striving and failure (even it does seem ludicrously impractical as *general* advice).
Though some of the members of the second caravan are too old or too young to make the journey, stubbornness and need drive Tinle onward, even through a treacherous shortcut through a winding trail high above a mountain lake, as well as stormy snowdrifts in a high mountain pass. Tinle's grandson [Passang?], orphaned now and destined to be the chief in the future, learns much from his mother and Tinle before and during the journey. He takes comfort in the knowledge of the afterlife, that lives are ended and reborn in an eternal cycle.
This story, while to me not a tragedy, has a similar fiery cleansing effect because it presents life with such purity and urgency -- that of an ancient legacy. There is need and striving, pain and endurance, and compassion. Most of all, there is reconciliation and epiphany: Tinle breaks his circle of hatred and manages to forgive before he dies, finally coming to terms with his grief and putting the good of the tribe ahead of need to blame someone for his son's death. He is healed. Karma, having never really returned Tinle's spite, learns that there may be more to the superstitious old ways than meets the eye: sometimes there are hidden merits to tradition, even though they seem pointless on the surface.
The most memorable moments are at the end of the film. When Tinle collapses, his life spent, Karma says, "I've sometimes dreamt that you were my father." It's touching that his shield of love never let him be deeply wounded by Tinle's long-standing grudge and unrelenting hatred. And Tinle reconciles, showing that his eyes are open, at last, with true insight: "You're too much like me to be my son. A real chief always starts by disobeying." This speaks to me of the need for a strong will, but more: the need to learn through failure.
Karma says, "We're almost there. We can't part now that we've just met". Indeed, they truly have just met, in a heartfelt, significant way. Finally, Tinle says, "We've always been together. We wanted the same thing": such simple words, but so appropriate and regal.
When Tinle dies, his very young grandson Passang seems to accept it, saying, "Let him go. He's going to find my father in Padmasambhava's paradise." Is this not a powerful testimony to our urgent need to believe in an afterlife? -- if not just to comfort ourselves, but also our children when they confront the reality of death for the first time -- knowing that lives don't just end pointlessly, the valued soul lost forever to oblivion. But rather that the spirit lives on and is treasured by the world, or by someone who cares.
The film's epilogue is symbolic of the main story: The embracing wings of the birds and the sheltering boughs of the trees, which are finally seen for the first time at the end of the journey, symbolize paradise and redemption. And we, the pinnacle of evolution, are left to try to make sense of it all -- to serve the rest of the living world -- perhaps to only rationalize our existence, such as through prayer and painting -- and to mimic and harvest from the land of our birth.
It's a soul-wrenching, beautiful agony to experience this film, with its touching and appropriate music, and its painted fresco at the end that celebrates the tapestry of lives spent in strife, loyalty, and perseverance. It's the story of the most formative journey in a leader's childhood, immortalized and revered.
Lathe of Heaven (2002)
Breathtaking premise with a superficial execution
I was surprised that most of the other comments here are negative. I greatly enjoyed this film, perhaps because I haven't read the novel or seen the 1980 PBS version (which is heralded by IMDB'ers as being much superior). I think that Le Guin's premise and plot are so masterful and breathtaking that even a superficial rendition, in a too-short film such as this one, is compelling.
In this version of _Lathe_ I found a theme that later recurs in Le Guin's _Earth Sea_ trilogy: The characters say the phrase "always now", expressing their desire to treasure this moment and live in it forever. Compare this to Earth Sea's metaphor that each life is a word spoken, bounded on both sides by silence (birth and death). There's a yearning to defeat that death by living in the moments in between, forever. Yet, perhaps that too would be a kind of death, were it even possible.
*SOME MINOR SPOILERS*
One of the plot's most engaging elements occurs when the two nexuses simultaneously attempt to redirect the course of the world. Very nice, but a little disappointing in its execution here: There's no real climax or feeling that the two of them are battling each other, nor does the world respond in a sufficiently dramatic way. An alternate approach would have been having the world torn asunder, perhaps literally if not only in the sense that two separate versions were created, one for each of them. The erupting volcano was a nice symbolic touch and the film could have used more of this type of world-rending imagery.
The words spoken at the beginning and end of the film: "The mind, that ocean where each kind does straight its own resemblance find. Yet it creates, transcending these, far other worlds, in other seas" are from Andrew Marvell's beautiful 72-line poem "The Garden", published in 1681. There are so many literary, film, and TV works that borrow from _Lathe_ (I'm assuming that Le Guin was the first to explore these ideas, since she published it in 1971). One of the most striking of these is the film _Frequency_: A seismic timescape event ripples forward into the present, but those who are close enough to hear the ham radio remember both the new and the old histories. That powerful irony is my main attraction to stories like these: The protagonist must cope with the duality of knowing that the world had another fate - one that is now irretrievable.
I'm also reminded of Greg Egan's novel _Permutation City_, where simulated worlds, upon termination, "find themselves in the dust", thereby resuming their existence. Greg Egan's _Quarantine_ is also related: The protagonist can subconsciously influence the world to stave off countless undesirable fates.
Another example is the film _Dark City_, which is powerfully reminiscent of _Lathe_: One again, the protagonist can influence the world subconsciously. In addition, people have their memories replaced, but this isn't enough to change the essence of who they are - there's something more to us. Even the plot is similar: People keep appearing in different roles, but the town is so small that they meet the new versions of each other again and again. This irony is spooky. The beginnings of both films (waking up disoriented, in a new iteration of the world) are also very similar, and remarkably, so are their ends (protagonist rediscovers his true love, meets her again and they both know, somehow, that they're connected).
Finally, _Lathe_ is very similar to the "many worlds" theory. In fact, the premise could be explained as George Orr jumping from one parallel universe to another with each new dream. However, this is contradicted by the fact that the world feels deja vu, implying that the new universes didn't exist before he dreamed them into being.
Two great novels that explore "many worlds" very poignantly are James P. Hogan's _Proteus Operation_ and Greg Benford's _Timescape_. They evoke the terrible agony of knowing that an alternate world exists, in turmoil, but that it can't be contacted or saved.
Space Battleship Yamato (1979)
Even better than I remember it as a kid!
The animation is a bit crude by today's standards, but only on the surface. Its style and heart are still unique and compelling, and clearly each frame is lovingly crafted. The music is phenomenal and moving, especially given that it was probably taken from the original 1974 film. The SF ideas presented (e.g. holography room, space/time warps, etc.) are borrowed by many films and series that have followed. The plots, though overly dramatic sometimes, are poignant and epic nonetheless. Overall, the series is rough on the edges, with many minor flaws such as character inconsistencies and scientific factual blunders, not to mention the gross inefficiency of using a seagoing battleship design for a space cruiser. However, the core of it is pure genius and I'm held in rapt admiration of it.
The references to World War II are obvious: fighting an almost hopeless war against an evil, corrupt empire. The enemy leader, Desslok, even looks like a Nazi with the uniform he wears. The story is emotionally driven: fraught with patriotism, sacrifice, and the desperation to save Earth. The writers employ healthy doses of characterization and detail, something sadly lacking in most other series. Lots of morality and spiritualism are brandished effectively such as (paraphrased) "don't destroy other worlds in desperation, even though Earth will die in less than a year", "with great power comes great responsibility", "take pains not to harm indigenous life on other worlds", "take the blame for your actions and move on", "in spite of all the Capt has lost, he goes on, indomitable", and "your brother survives in you."
Part of the series' attraction is the epic space battles. The see the animators craft the ships and their weaponry, and put them into action, is a sight to behold. "Space planes" soar in formation around the enemy and bristle with missiles and torpedoes. Weapons of mass destruction are brought into play to save the day. And the battleship Argo itself is such a work of art. Its splendor is shown off in a vast array of combat attitudes. They couldn't resist having the ship land in on an ocean, so that its seagoing superstructure and profile could be admired (powerfully reminiscent of the sea battles in our history). Overall, the heroic spirit personified by ship and her crew is exploited to the hilt, and it's hard to resist cheering for them in spite of the melodrama.
The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961)
Great SF apocalypse film - short on FX but great on characterization, suspense, and dialog
Overall, this is a great SF movie, a black & white gem that relies on a suspenseful story and fast dialog more than special effects (which are used sparingly, no doubt in part due to budgetary reasons). There are a few things that detract from it: It could have been done better from a science angle, often surrendering to popularity by simplifying most of the explanations to crude, often-inaccurate layman's terms. Also, the scientific feasibility of the cause of such a disaster is extremely suspect. In addition, the title of the film seems inept: something more artfully apocalyptic and less campy would have been nice. Finally, the obligatory romance sub-plot, while a fairly good one, hinders the suspenseful pacing of the film and lessens its overall impact (as another reviewer here pointed out).
The sheer amount of dialog requires that you pay attention much more than you would in a film such as _Deep Impact_. Sometimes the actors seem to be rushing the words out just to squeeze them all into the time allotted. Journalists are often very glib, so maybe this is an accurate portrayal.
SPOILERS BELOW
On the bright side, it gives a gritty, depressingly realistic depiction of the faltering of civilization as it heads toward its final demise. Its cynical view of governments and even the press is refreshingly realistic. The film is quite reminiscent of _Forge of God_ and _Lucifer's Hammer_, though it is, as a whole, less compelling than those famous novels. For me, the most haunting words are spoken at the beginning and the end, pure poetry:
`Within the next few hours, the world will know if this is the end, or another beginning; the rebirth of man, or his final obituary. For the last time, man pursued his brother with a sword, and so the final fire was kindled. The Earth that was to live forever was blasted by a great wind, toward oblivion.'
`So man has sown the wind and reaped the world. Perhaps in the next few hours there will no remembrance of the past and no hope for the future that might have been. All the works of man will be consumed in the great fire after which he was created. But perhaps at the heart of the burning light into which he has thrust his world, there is a heart that cares more for him than he has ever cared for himself.'
`And if there is a future for man, insensitive as he is, proud and defiant in his pursuit of power, let him resolve to live it lovingly, for he knows well how to do so. Then he may say once more: truly the light is sweet, and what a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to see the sun.'
I like to think this last sentence, while literal, is also a metaphor for the light of the spirit.
Armageddon (1998)
Fails in traditional elements but succeeds in being a thrill ride
Although the film fails in traditional aspects such as plot, characterization, and feasibility, it succeeds in being what the producers probably wanted: a roller coaster ride, possibly unrivaled. Notwithstanding the cheesy plot and gratuitous patriotism, this film is a feast visually, sonically, and emotionally. Sure it is manipulative, but so artfully done that I enjoyed it most of the time. It's a long movie with some definite slow scenes, and some annoying scenes as well. The whole storyline involving father, daughter, and fiancé was tedious and just used to prop up the tear-jerking sacrifice and salvation at the end. On the bright side, it had a seemingly unlimited visual effects budget. The music by Trevor Rabin and Harry Gregson-Williams is a masterpiece by itself and all the more impressive when supporting the visuals. You are pulled through joy, sorrow, laughter, and sheer adrenalin-rush. There are many memorable visual sequences from the film, and even some memorable quotes and facts about asteroid collisions. One that was especially appropriate mirrors a theme from the novel _Lucifer's Hammer_: Never before has a species had the power to prevent its own extinction.
Babylon 5 (1993)
It's not the absence of flaws, but the presence of greatness
I can't add much to the praise that others have written here. The best word to describe B5: Magnificent.
Just as Gene Roddenberry was affectionately called the "Great Bird of the Galaxy" by fans, I'll always think of B5 as the "Great Space Opera", since I think it best defines the genre and is most deserving of the name.
B5 has its flaws. The largest of these may be the anticlimactic nature of the Season 5 and that it seemed to be of lower quality. In fairness, the producers were forced to conclude the series in Season 4 because they didn't think Season 5 would be funded. This explains why most of Season 5 seems isolated and adrift from the main saga.
The series finale, "Sleeping in Light", is one of the most appropriate and artistically crafted conclusions I've ever experienced (literary or film). Christopher Franke composed some beautiful music to accompany the climactic scenes and this added greatly to the experience. I'll conclude with a few memorable quotes from this episode:
Sheridan (referring to the station's [and his own] imminent decommissioning): "We're still tied together, even now."
Zack Allan: "Some of us didn't [get out alive] ... but we did everything we said we were going to do ... and nobody can take that away from us, or this place".
Sheridan taken to the rim in a blaze of light: "Who are you? What do you want? Why are you here? Where are you going?" "Did you think we had forgotten you? We have been waiting for you." "This journey is ended. Another begins. Time to rest now."
Babylon 5's decommissioning (and destruction, since it would be a "menace to navigation") is a great excuse for a special effects finale. A fleet of varying ships turns toward B5 and its fiery demise (a prophesied fate that was narrowly averted on previous occasions).
[For me, these words are the most meaningful in the episode. They also sum up the entire series well and have general meaning in the real world of today]: Susan Ivanova: "Babylon 5 was the last of the Babylon stations; there would never be another. It changed the future and it changed us. It taught us that we have to create the future, or others will do it for us. It showed us that we have to care for one another, because if we don't, who will? And that true strength comes from the most unlikely places. Mostly... it gave us hope that there can always be new beginnings, even for people like us."
End Credits: Showing side-by side clips of each character as they first appeared on the series, and how they looked near the end. This powerfully reminds us of their transformations over 5 years and beyond: their sufferings and joys; their failings and triumphs.
Thunderbird 6 (1968)
The plot is simplistic and cliché, but many scenes are lovingly crafted and entertaining in their own right
These films have a certain style and flair, helped greatly by Barry Gray's music. The plot is simplistic and cliché, but has a dash of originality. There is the ongoing Thunderbirds obsession with the form and function of ships and other vehicles. The biplane acrobatics were very well done, and the music playing when the biplane first appears is comical and appropriate. Every scene and transition seems lovingly crafted and there is no doubt that this film is a work of art.
Lost Horizon (1937)
Externalizes the Shangri-La that has always been with us. "A Dream Given Form" (B5).
Of special interest in the film: "I believe in [Shangri-La] because I want to believe". Also compelling is the feeling of momentum or collectivism ... some might say the downside of such a place is that it reeks of socialism. However, there is a feeling (perhaps fallacy) that if only the seed of civilization were changed, its entire nature could be transformed ... much like the seed crystal that determines which of the many possible sub-structures will form the entire matrix. This is the essence of Shangri-La: physical isolation combined with fundamentally different founding principles recreating something magical and primordial.
I think Lost Horizon perfectly embodies the legend or archetype of Utopia... of a quiet, timeless place, cut off from the influence and corruption of the outside world. The mountains which block the horizon from Shangri-La may symbolize the loss of our baser impulses, what some would call original sin.
It feels a bit like Robert Conway, the celebrated soldier and diplomat in the story, has earned his place in paradise. He is deserving of it due to his service to the outside world, and also because he has always believed in it and yearned for it. In this respect, Shangri-La has always been a part of him, and he of it (I think comments to this effect are made in the film).
Viewed this way, his memorable deeds of heroism and diplomacy in the outside world make more sense because even a small part Shangri-La is powerful. Yet it is not powerful enough to quickly and single-handedly change the momentum of the entire world (over decades, perhaps). The key here is the power of attitude, conviction, and values. If you believe in something like Shangri-La strongly enough, and embrace it as a part of you, it starts to become real for you. This is because its natural merit is reflected in your thoughts, and thoughts become actions. For you alone, the world's transformation begins immediately because you see it through new eyes.
In spite of these things, there can be no doubt that even the most powerful convictions and positive attitudes are often swept away by a drastic reduction in security (e.g. war or economic disaster). Evolution's legacy binds us.
Local Hero (1983)
An impact on many levels, disturbingly symbolic
Warning: SOME SPOILERS
This movie, though a comedy, wasn't exclusively this. There are ironic situations and many quirky characters in it, which enhance it. However, its greatest meaning for me comes from its non-comedy elements.
The contrast between the natural beauty of the land, sea, and sky (e.g. northern lights) vs. the alien-ness of technology and civilization: The marvel of the helicopter squatting on a stark, desolate beach. The super-sonic jets flying overhead, and the motor bikes (which nearly run over the characters whenever they step out of a building) disturb the scenic calm of the countryside and the seascapes. Also: The rabbit injured due to being hit with a "2-ton automobile". Old vs. new: The skyscrapers and yuppie lifestyle of Houston vs. the simplicity of the old Scottish town.
Seemingly symbolic is Mac's intentional or unintentional abandonment of his wristwatch, with its beeping reminders of meetings and schedules back in the new world. He exchanges it for a collection of seashells.
One of the main attractions in any film set in Scotland is the scenery. It's interesting to observe the sharp difference in color contrast in an older film set in the countryside (due to Technicolor, etc.) vs. a newer film like this one shot in unaltered colors.
The film often depicts or describes Scotland's ecology. There were many familiarities to me due to watching recently a PBS series called "Irish Voyage". Due to tourism and development, places like Scotland are probably not nearly as ruggedly scenic as they were in 1983.
One of the marks of a great film is that it gives the feeling that there is depth and diversity in the characters that extend far beyond what is shown on camera. The camera shows us the highlights, enough to stimulate our imaginations to fill in the gaps of what goes on in the many hours behind the scenes. In Local Hero, an example of this is that many of the minor characters contribute memorable moments. One man says that he has all this new money, but he's surprised to find that he doesn't feel any different. These kinds of insights add to the depth and enjoyment of this already wonderful and panoramic film.
Capricorn One (1977)
A very good story idea executed fairly well
Perhaps part of this film's unpopularity is that is shows America in a bad light (Watergate, conspiracies, etc.). One of the most interesting aspects for me, as a film score fan, was Jerry Goldsmith's score when associated with the pair of black helicopters (virtually the archetype of secret military or black operations in the US). The helicopters at times seem to aerially conspire with one another (almost comically) and the way they prowl around lends an ominous intensity to the film, which is heightened by Goldsmith's music.
This is an impressive film when taken as a whole. It could have been done better in some ways. However, what it does have is a good balance of sorrow, comedy, and action/drama. Although none of these aspects overpowers the others, neither do any of them particularly shine. If nothing else, a film like this can remind us that our freedom and human rights are fragile things: it's not enough to have faith that the government will protect them. 7 out of 10.