“I guess there are no more rules about what a person can do to another person” – Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2

Mockingjay_Part_2_Poster

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

What passes for entertainment these days, it could be argued, shows a glib disregard for humanity, grace, and life itself. It’s a bit ironic, given that Hollywood tends to be first to get in line for humanitarian causes, yet the chief blockbuster product rolling from the City of Dreams on a quarterly basis is awash in cinematic bloodletting. I don’t know what to make of that.

I’ve long struggled with my distaste for The Hunger Games saga for this very reason. People tell me to lighten up, but often they are the same people who celebrate photos in their local paper of young girls and boys, bow in hand, grinning madly over their latest “trophy kill.” Violence begets violence, and when does it stop?

Surely, Hollywood doesn’t influence behavior – it’s just a movie, right? But, then, why did Chrysler partner with Lionsgate on this latest installment to cross-promote cars (which just seemed to be odd synergy, regardless)? Sorry, folks, you don’t get to pick and choose what people will emulate (rampant consumerism) or won’t (rampant disregard for life).

Not only did I already have this predisposition going into Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, but the world has spent the better part of a week trying to reconcile the senseless violence in Paris, France and wagging hundreds of politicized fingers at governments or refugees or religions in a misplaced, manic desire to place blame on anyone but the actual perpetrators … and, for that matter, to shift focus away from our own collective collusion in this endless stream of mind-numbing violence, real and fictional, that dances across myriad screens.

It’s funny, and a bit sad then, that this final Hunger Games installment actually clarifies what it’s all about, Alfie, and what it’s been about, all along: a cautionary tale (albeit a simplistic, pubescent soap opera one) about the very world we have become – a world where violence is used for theatrical purposes to divide and conquer, to prop up the 1% and their self-selected preening dictators, and to oppress any and all of those dumb enough to allow mindless fear to curdle into unbridled hate.

Perhaps, the fact that this fourth film has opened with the smallest box office total of any in the series (albeit still exceeding $100M) suggests that the world sees less entertainment in its own follies than it once did? This film is a tough pill to swallow right now in the midst of the real-life tragedies facing us all.

Mockingjay – Part 2 suffers from the excesses of its immediate predecessor – or said more plainly, the greed of Lionsgate to attenuate the final book’s narrative into two films. Part 2 is just much too long, mopey, and meandering, after a Part 1 that was all of those things and a bore.

That said, this movie finally delivers what stands as the series’ punchline and thesis: absolute power – in a media-saturated age – not only corrupts absolutely, but does so with a rationalizing, self-obsessed, materialistic, nihilistic glee. Like the ubiquitous reality shows that Suzanne Collins’ literary creation ostensibly lampoons, the prize – in this case control of all humanity – must be won at any cost, and, if one freely jettisons their own humanity along their path to the crown, well, so be it.

In a line that practically made me stand up and applaud, Jennifer Lawrence’s Katniss hisses – as she begins to see the shameless willingness of “on/off again” boyfriend Gale (played with less and less gusto by otherwise charming Liam Hemsworth) to sacrifice morality for victory – “I guess there are no more rules about what a person can do to another person.” Darn tootin’.

This is not groundbreaking insight, of course. Shakespeare covered this idea in just about every play, comedy or tragedy … but it is potentially heady stuff for today’s masses if delivered in a smart, playful, and authentic way. Unfortunately, for me, this film series seemed perpetually torn between the Ray Bradbury/Kurt Vonnegut/Clockwork Orange-esque battery acid allegory it could have been (should have been) and the escapist PG-13 Subway-sandwich selling, middle America revenge fantasy it actually was.

For those following the films – and (gulp) loving them – Mockingjay Part 2 won’t disappoint. Jennifer Lawrence continues her emotionless, robotic hero quest as Katniss. This actor shows so much spark anywhere else that I’m just baffled by what a dud she is here. Regardless, Lawrence is still the glue holding this enterprise together. When she discovers the [spoiler alert] big reveal that the dictator she hopes to unseat (Donald Sutherland’s President Snow) will be replaced by one conceivably even more ruthlessly cavalier (Julianne Moore’s President Coin), Lawrence does yeoman’s work quietly selling the point to all of us in the cheap seats: “Look, bloodlust gets you nowhere. People are evil, duplictious sh*ts. They don’t care about each other, and those desperately seeking power are exactly the people who should. not. ever. get. it.” (Maybe Lawrence could moderate the next GOP presidential debate? Bow and arrow in hand?)

The film has an ample amount of political intrigue, some fun twists, a couple of seat-jumping scares, and a sparkling supporting cast (largely wasted). It’s a bit of a Hunger Games greatest hits: Stanley Tucci’s TV huckster Caesar Flickerman for a hot second spewing some Fox News-style bile; Woody Harrelson’s Haymitch Abernathy looking even more bedraggled and annoyed with all of it, but still saddled with life-coaching that makes Yoda look like a Quentin Tarantino character; Elizabeth Banks’ Effie Trinket now completely de-fanged but again fabulously bewigged as her chief role seems to be serving as Katniss’ valet; Sam Claflin’s vainglorious Finnick Odair and Natalie Dormer’s caustically pragmatic Cressida now reduced to cannon fodder.

Jena Malone fares best as Katniss’ frenemy Johanna Mason, chewing the cardboard scenery and reaching through the screen and grabbing us by the collective lapels. She seems to say, “You know this is kinda nuts right? That this series made so much money? Now, stop whining and moping and pay attention to the nuggets buried way deep in this thing and start giving a crap about your own lives and about each other.” Or maybe I’m projecting a bit.

Best part of Hunger Games – Mockingjay Part 2 – for me?  That it’s over.

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12208463_10206963059693889_4367987464574781874_nReel Roy Reviews is now TWO books! You can purchase your copies by clicking here (print and digital)In addition to online ordering at Amazon or from the publisher Open Books, the first book is currently is being carried by Bookbound, Common Language Bookstore, and Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room in Ann Arbor, Michigan and by Green Brain Comics in Dearborn, Michigan. My mom Susie Duncan Sexton’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter series is also available on Amazon and at Bookbound and Common Language.

 

Last Tango … Sorry, Miley, maybe next time (if there is a next time)

IMG_3458-0I was going to see Miley Cyrus perform at the Fillmore in Detroit this Saturday. Not now. I’ve sold my tickets back to Ticketmaster, happily taking a loss, relieved that I don’t have to stand in a crowded venue to see a musician whose music and philosophy I really dig but who has the misfortune of launching a club tour one week after the 11/13 tragedy in Paris. I don’t want to potentially put my life on the line to see Hannah Montana get gritty.

Dramatic? Maybe. Irrational? Highly likely. Can I live with that? Indubitably.

Please, don’t lay the “don’t let the terrorists win!” proselytizing on me. I’m not in the mood for the same hollow narrative we all launch into with every increasingly frequent global tragedy…you know the steps, right?

Change your Facebook photo to some rallying iconography. Say you’re praying for something or someone. Stand with an anthropomorphized nation state. Light candles and clump together and cry. Wag a finger at religious extremists (whose – ours or theirs?). Blame Bush. Blame Obama. Blame Congress. Hold a B-list star studded telethon. Stand in a circle and sing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” or John Lennon’s “Imagine.” (Folks, please look at the lyrics to both songs … they’re not about what you think they are.)

These gestures may provide comfort to some. Any more they just feel like sandpaper on my skin. They get us off the hook for a minute. They’re a collective snooze button until the next horrific, bloody event lands in our laps.

I was momentarily frightened of planes after 9/11; I thought about not going to movies after the Dark Knight Rises movie theatre massacre; I still wonder about my safety every time I go in a shopping mall or school now. But I never canceled any plans outright, until now.

The idea of people ruthlessly murdered while attending a dubiously named rock band’s show in the City of Lights – people who were trying to dance away the perpetual toxins of life in the 21st century suddenly faced with the reality that there is no escape? I don’t want to live in a world like that. I don’t want any of us to live in a world like that.

If life is a precious, magical jolt that animates and motivates, why should it ever be prematurely snuffed out – across species (human and animal), gender, age, race, faith, ethnicity, sexuality, or any other demarcation we monkeys have dreamed up? I will be stopping by a viewing tonight of a dear friend’s father who passed away Friday. Her father was 80 and had cancer. That is heartbreaking enough. If everyone dies anyway, why jumpstart the process?

I have people (about a dozen of you, I think, and probably less now) who read my reviews and sometimes tell me, “Wow, you seemed really negative there.” I also have some folks who repurpose my reviews for their websites, people who get a little sniffy when I don’t write about movies or don’t write about movies based on books or don’t write about movies with a sci fi or fantasy element. I don’t care. You’re getting my work and my thoughts for free. Get over it.

And, yes, I am negative sometimes. I’m human. I’m a critic. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore. These events, these tragedies, these crises, these controversies, these geopolitical shadow plays are stifling and sad … and we all die a little bit more with each one.

And, no, if I were carrying a gun when one of these nutballs burst in a concert venue or movie theatre or college lecture hall or beauty salon with an AK-47? I would be so f*cking hysterical I would end up shooting myself or some innocent nearby or the g*dd*mned exit sign, so let’s just shelve that inane Gunsmoke “solution” that a certain subset of knuckledraggers have landed upon.

So, I’m sorry, Miley, but I’m going to take a pass on this Saturday’s concert. You, Miley, are at the peak of your freak flagginess – you, of any of us, are the epitome of liberté, égalité, fraternité – and I hope you have a wonderful show and a fabulous visit to the Motor City. But I won’t be there to see it. I can’t be there to see it.

I was going to attend with my brave friend who just walked away from Mormonism because she couldn’t take the hypocrisy that has led the church of her upbringing to some very un-Christ-like positions regarding those who deviate from their norm. I feel similarly brave in that I just availed myself of a newly won right to marry my partner of nearly 16 years. But neither of us are brave enough to go see this concert by a Disney-girl-gone-bad, worrying that every time someone hits a snare drum or lights a pyrotechnic or lets out a barbaric yawp that our lives are in danger.

I guess freedom does come at a price, or I’m finally growing up, but I’m going to stay home and watch DVDs of a British soap opera named Last Tango in Halifax. And hit the snooze button a little longer.

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Reel Roy Reviews 2

Reel Roy Reviews 2

Reel Roy Reviews is now TWO books! You can purchase your copies by clicking here (print and digital)In addition to online ordering at Amazon or from the publisher Open Books, the first book is currently is being carried by Bookbound, Common Language Bookstore, and Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room in Ann Arbor, Michigan and by Green Brain Comics in Dearborn, Michigan. My mom Susie Duncan Sexton’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter series is also available on Amazon and at Bookbound and Common Language.