The Danish Girl (2015)

Directed by: Tom Hooper

Starring: Eddie Redmayne, Alicia Vikander, Amber Heard, Matthias Schoenaerts, Ben Whishaw, Sebastian Koch, Emerald Fennell, Adrian Schiller

Adapted from a 2000 David Ebershoff novel of the same name, The Danish Girl is a film with a temerity as great as its momentousness. On a more profound degree than what can be observed in most cinematic productions today, it tackles transgender issues and how they have always been present in history yet never truly grasped by the billions.

Einar Wegener is a Danish painter who intends to aid his wife in her aspirations to rise in the field of art. When Gerda’s model falls through, Einar serves as a substitute, and dolled up in silk stockings and lovely dresses, the alluring Lili emerges, an alter-ego that Einar, after attending a gathering in her clothes, later develops doubts on whether the beautiful woman remains just a façade. When Hans Axgil, Einar’s childhood friend comes into the picture, the unrest within his mind only intensifies, and he faces a formidable decision – to become the woman that he knows he is, or to stay the man that his wife married.

Initially, the film gives way to the establishment of the characters’ primarily normal lives. It shows their attributes as individuals, their careers, their own struggles, and their life as a happily married couple. This provides the audience with an extensive knowledge on the personalities of the main two, forming a certain kind of familiarity that allows the people to connect with them on a personal level. This bond is what will arouse the most poignant throes of empathy in the viewers later in the film; it is to this bond that a view can owe the fullness of the experience.

By turns saddening, enlightening, and gut-wrenching, this movie is a must-watch for all those who seek a motion picture that offers something more… different.

 

If I Stay (2009) (Novel)

Written by: Gayle Forman

Mia Hall, an ordinary girl with quite an extraordinary knack of playing the cello, has always thought that the hardest decision she would ever make was to choose between her boyfriend, Adam, and the school of her dreams, Juilliard. This changes when one snowy morning, her family decides to visit a close friend’s house, and ends up in a violent car-to-car collision, her parents dead and her brother half-so. She finds herself wandering the hospital outside her body. Mia finds out that Teddy, her little brother is also dead, and then begins to wonder if there was anything left worth living for.

Alright, I’m going to cut to the chase. This is a really bad book. There’s just no existing euphemism for it. From the all-too-conventional plot to the completely bland chain of paragraphs, I have never read anything so deplorable. I was required to read this for a certain competition involving discussing the elements of a set of appointed novels, and I regret to say that it took me half a week to finish this one book. Whenever I attempt to trudge on through the paltry pages, I always end up sleeping or scowling so hard my face gains ten years of age per minute.

The protagonist, Mia the Cellist, as opposed to true artists, is quite a pitiably predictable character, which does not help in developing an in-depth connection between the main persona and the reader. The author may have focused too much on Mia’s musical abilities that she forgot to refine her protagonist’s identity. This caused Mia to turn out one-dimensional and therefore not feel-able.

The supporting characters are equally unimpressive. Adam, so pretentiously cloaked in all his rock glory, does not make the striking effect that characters of his type usually make at all. What is the word for it? Ah, yes. Lame.

I admire the thoroughly-researched history of music, though. I think that was the only thing that kept me going through the little story.

But amidst all the boiling loathing I felt whilst reading, there were some very valuable lessons that came to materialize in the calmer side of my mind:

First. never ever assume that anybody leads an ordinary life. We are taught that everyone is special, and that everyone encounters their very own extraordinary experience at least once in a lifetime. Yet this is not what we are shown. Every time we feel something new, they say, that’s normal. This response is probably on the Top Ten List of Things I Hate to Hear from People. Nothing is normal. Nothing is what it seems. Everything is unique and beautiful and ever-changing, and that’s why we should learn to value every moment of our lives. Second, there is always something worth living for. If not for others, then for ourselves. Yes, no man is an island, but no man is born entwined with another. And third, love is powerful. Love is always there. If you can find it in yourself, then you’ll know that you have power.

Love Me If You Dare (2003)

Directed by: Yann Samuell

Starring: Guillaume Canet, Marion Cotillard, Thibault Verhaeghe, Joséphine Lebas-Joly, Emmanuelle Gronvold, Gerard Watkins, Gilles Lellouche, Julia Faure, Laetizia Venizia, Elodie Navarre, Nathalie Nattier, Robert Willar, Frederic Geerts, Manuela Sanchez, Philippe Drecq

The film pivots on two childhood friends, Sophie and Julien, who meet under hapless circumstances. Sophie, a poor Polish immigrant, bullied and toughened by detriment, is assisted by a callow Julien, and through a toy tin box, their dare-built comradeship develops. The plot chases them on a mischievous trail to adulthood; only, the time arrives when their mischief turns into mad mayhem, and they have long since crossed the borders of rationality.

Commencing with a hazy picture and a vibrant palette, the cinematography had me spellbound from the start. The deviant visuals keep the flow of the scenes riveting as they evolve with the shifts of the time setting — as Sophie and Julien grow, so changes the palette, getting more distinct and realistic as they pass adolescence. Besides this, it would also do to commend the film artists, for the very appealing add-in material. The incorporation of a bit of art, and the lovely sound overture make the movie all the more striking.

However startling (and I wholly mean this as a compliment) the movie is, though, like all things, it has its own shortcomings. Even with the protagonists’ natural chemistry, they come to a drawback in forming and exuding that sense of sympathy that is to be expected in the genre of romantic drama. This may be intentional on their part, but for my idyllic writer’s eye, it appears as a deficiency. Understand that instead of feeling the high of that victorious exhilaration during the moment of their reunion, there was only the feeling of roguish fulfillment after witnessing something that should have occurred way earlier. In spite of these minor pitfalls, the movie remains a historical magnum opus. Reckless, potent, and constantly astonishing, this film is perfect for any day — or any time of the day.

Note: Watch this with subtitles, unless you can comprehend fluent French, which I’m pretty certain you can’t.

When Harry Met Sally (1989)

Directed by: Rob Reiner

Starring: Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, Carrie Fisher, Bruno Kirby, Steven Ford, Lisa Jane Persky, Michelle Nicastro, Kevin Rooney, Harley Kozak, Franc Luz, Tracy Reiner, Estelle Reiner

Can men and women ever just be friends?

Admittedly not being a fan of the romance genre, my expectations were quite squat when this film was recommended to me. Boy, were my expectations ever backhand-slapped this hard. The story follows freshly-graduated Sally Albright and Harry Burns, who are first immersed in each other’s (mandatory) company on a drive to New York City. Harry is then dating Sally’s friend, a fact which led to an assortment of complications when Sally identifies that the boy is trying to make a move on her. Throughout the ride they exchange opposing views on male-female relationships, and after an edgy exchange, they ultimately separate on bad terms. Five years later, their paths re-intersect in an airport, where they reveal to each other that both of them are involved in happy affiliations, and Harry attempts to strike up a friendship with the lady, using the aid of a few lies and some allegations that there are some exceptions to his previously mentioned male-female-friendships-are-urban-myths theory. Again, they separate on bad terms. It’s another five years later, after Harry’s divorce and Sally’s breakup, that they meet for a third time at fate’s bidding – and this time they do decide to be friends.

Frankly, this is one of the films whose timelessness overcomes all its technological backwardness. If anything, the time setting only multiplies its charm by tenfold. This movie introduced to me a lot of household concepts which I wasn’t ever really forced to grasp before, such as the hypothetical “transitional person” and men’s attraction-based take on inter-gender relations.

Character-wise, the movie’s people, although lacking in diversity, are all so striking. Each one has their own lives. The screenplay director does a spectacular job at infusing all the little quirks into everyone’s individuality. Even if they make sure that the duo stands out and the supporting cast are rooted on existing stereotypes, each has their own idiosyncratic background, distinctive traits and all.

The film is slow-paced, but I understood that the minutes are faithfully squandered on detail – elements all crucial to the movie’s themes. Every word is significant, but subtly so; the dialogue is witty such that most times I am obliged to summon all my willpower to resist the urge to applaud. If you seek a simple, golden, compelling romance, then this is the film for you.

Cloud Atlas (2004) (Novel)

Written by: David Mitchell

Six obscurely inter-connected stories weaved with a network of vivid personalities, a hodgepodge of genres, and a roller coaster ride of many themes, take the reader from the remote South Pacific in the 19th century to a distant, post-apocalyptic future in this emotional and intellectual whirlwind of a read.

The first story, set in 1850 on a far-flung island in New Zealand, is told through a collection of journal entries penned by a certain Adam Ewing, an American notary who awaits the rectification of his ship. In his journal, Ewing explores the natives’ culture and traditions, describing in detail his rather terrified yet deferential viewpoints on their primeval ways. The next story focuses on Robert Frobisher, a bisexual, impoverished young musical prodigy, who fills the chapter with letters addressed to his lover, Rufus Sixsmith, over his stay for an extended period of time at a manor in Belgium to apprentice for a reclusive musician. After Robert Frobisher’s tale comes Luisa Rey’s, in an intense quest-style libretto that follows the female journalist as she examines the mystery behind a scientist’s murder. (Luisa Rey proves to be a smart, empowered woman, which I very much appreciated.) Next, the reader is tossed into a comedy starring 65-year old opportunistic publisher, Timothy Cavendish, who finds himself locked in a home for the aged by his own brother. Cavendish meets a cruel nurse and a bunch of new acquaintances, with whom he expresses much dislike. The fifth story is established in a dystopian society somewhere in the regions of Korea, related through a transcription of a conversation between a genetically engineered human and an interviewer. Sonmi~451, the girl, recounts how she was smuggled out by supposed students and helped to become aware of her abused disposition through presenting her with a particular film, and a proper education. The final subplot is narrated by Zachry, a man from post-apocalyptic Hawaii, who meets a civilized stranger named Meronym, to whom he initially feels contempt (fueled by a sinister entity which displays itself to the man as some sort of demonic conscience). When Meronym provides his sister’s salvation from death, Zachry begins to take a liking to Meronym, and he agrees to take her to Mauna Kea. (The frustration and excitement aroused in me by this last story is palpable. Zachry’s character, fervent, unrelenting, and graphic, is startling. In an awesome way.)

Now, what most novels lack is diversity of character, and as for the novels which do succeed in incorporating a number, they fail in making them memorable, consequently rendering the book somewhat painful to read. David Mitchell does not make this an issue in Cloud Atlas. The constant shift in storytelling style is thrilling, but although smart and refreshingly rare, not all may be able to grasp its challenging nature. In spite of this minor fact, it is a literary breakthrough. Unforgettable.

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) (Novel)

Written by: Robert Louis Stevenson

Published in the century of the greatest horror-genre literary masterpieces of all time, Strange Case of Dr, Jekyll and Mr. Hyde comes with the edgy thrill in the pit of your stomach that awakens when you know you’re up for something you’d stay up for until a couple of hours after midnight without batting an eyelash. As gripping as it is erudite, this book contains tons of new, posh-sounding words that (if I’m going to be purely candid about it) excited the prose enthusiast in me. Side by side with these vocabulary-enriching discoveries, the narrative also excels in the art of plot twists, as it still managed to get a rise out of me even when I already knew what was going to happen.

Gabriel John Utterson, a fairly well-to-do lawyer in the suburbs of London, investigates on strange occurrences between his old friend Dr. Jekyll, who is diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder (similarly referred to as “split personality”), wherein within the same body there exists more than one distinct personality. Then, Edward Hyde, a disreputable fellow with a peculiarly shady background, enters the picture, complicating the already knotty case.

The plot, simple and unpretentious, I am pleased to say, does not have the frilly, page-long imagery that classic novels tend to possess. Furthermore, Stevenson makes a decided point on elaborating on each character’s identities, such that one would feel like a spectator to the events transpiring within the pages.

The novel’s elucidation of the existing dichotomies of its time is also renowned. Recognizing this, it was named one of the best guidebooks to the miscellany of social matters and hypocrisies of the Victorian era immediately upon its publication.