Tag Archives: Benedict Cumberbatch

12 Years a Slave

Dear Michael S. Martin, Property Master,

They say possession is nine-tenths of the law. In other words, the person with an object is presumed to be rightful owner unless there is clear evidence to the contrary. This must make your job a bit of a nightmare, with so many props flying around set. Still, it would be a pretty rich for an actor to, for example, tear off the tag and walk away wearing a Civil War-era tricorne, pretending it was theirs, right? You would have them fired and give them a real tongue-lashing, no doubt.  But master, I pray that your anger and outbursts aren’t multiplied by the size of the claim. Otherwise, you’ve learned nothing from working on 12 Years a Slave.

This trivial comparison of a hat with a human being wouldn’t be ridiculous in the American South of the mid 1800s (not to suggest that stealing and selling people is only a thing of the past). But the slavery debate shaped modern America, and the ultimate refute to those barbaric principles has to be the story of Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor). In the extremely able hands of director Steve McQueen, this true story is done justice in ways that are both subtle and severe. Most notably, of course, with the one prop that I’m sure had everyone on set reeling: the whip.

Even before Jesus Christ suffered his 39 lashes (considered one short of killing a man), the whip was the ultimate symbol of dominance and punishment. In your film, its use on characters and exposure to the audience is amplified each time it appears. There are other instruments of torture, such as knives, nails and rope, but it’s hard to surpass the theatrics and visceral pain of a lashing. Hardly entertaining, but also hard to shake. And that seems to be the strategy of the film. There’s an uncomfortable air throughout, with shots held a bit longer than we’d like and no foreshowing of relief. The title alone presumes that Northup will eventually be unchained, but unlike the fictional Django, we can also know that his retribution (if any) will never right how badly he was wronged. 

And how could it?  Effectively cut together with non-linear editing, the film bounces between scenes of Northup struggling in captivity, and his previous life as a well-educated musician and freeman in Saratoga Springs, New York. The very first scenes show a failed attempt to compose a letter out of a shaved stick and tree sap, and, in what seems another life, tightening the string’s on his violin. The extreme close-ups of these props help build tension even before we completely understand the context. This mirrors the understanding of certain characters, such as the slave traders, slave drivers and slave owners played with increasing cruelty by Benedict Cumberbatch, Paul Giamatti, Paul Dano, Sarah Paulson and Michael Fassbender. Caught up in the minutia of the law and scripture, they completely fail to see the larger picture.

The rest of us, luckily, aren’t so lucky. We see everything.

Masterfully done,

Christopher

Status: Priority Post (4.5/5)

The Fifth Estate

Dear Shaun Yue, Screen Graphics Designer,

I’m not much of a computer guy, but I always hear complaints about non-realistic interfaces in movies. Apparently, real programmers don’t just click a big blinking skull and crossbones to unleash super viruses, or hit the ESC key to avert nuclear disasters (who knew!).  If ever there was a film that needed to get the look and feel of coding right, it would be a feature about the WikiLeaks frenzy that took the world by storm a few years ago. But there’s only so much HTML jargon that an average Joe can bear to watch. Which must be why The Fifth Estate essentially turns free-speech mischief-makers Julian Assange (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Daniel Berg (Daniel Brühl) into the cinematic hacker equivalent of 300’s Spartan soldiers.

Yes, this is a stylish Movie with a capital “M”. Serious in tone, slick in execution. Director Bill Condon brings us into the world of secure chat rooms and mirror sites by borrowing tricks from his Chicago screenplay and staging fantasy sequences. He interprets cyberspace as endless rows of cluttered cubicle desks on white sand, lit by floating florescent lights and a starry night sky. It’s as good as anything, I guess. And it sure is better than his other tricks, like reading chat text on the (presumably realistic) screens you designed.  Or, worse, seeing it all feverishly projected onto computer users’ faces.

In many ways, this type of hyper-dramatization is everything that’s wrong with “the Hollywood treatment.” The story is exaggerated and repacked to fit the demands of a genre—in this case, a thriller. So Condon can’t seem to help himself from frantically swinging his camera around the room and laying down a throbbing techno soundtrack in an attempt to inspire tension and excitement. It’s sometimes more affecting than effective. Alex Gibney’s documentary on the same subject was also very stylized, and makes a good companion piece to call into contrast the details which are omitted (or, in Wiki-scandal parlance, redacted) from this particular dramatization.

Based, in part, on a book by Daniel Berg, his avatar in the film becomes the Nick Carraway to Assange’s Gatsby. This is the story of rebels with a cause—even though the characters can’t quite agree on what that cause is. The film provides glimpses into Assange’s secrets and obsessions, but none of the revelations oversimplify his motivations. Certain backstory elements appear, but thankfully aren’t treated like the blinking computer button that solves everything. Instead, each new piece of information is layered and complex; not unlike the software that allowed whistlerblowers to submit documents to the WikiLeaks website anonymously and untraceably.

The story also makes clear that Assange is the true architect of WikiLeaks. According to the opening credit sequence, he is a modern-day Bi Sheng, Johannes Gutenberg, and Alexander Graham Bell. As his small group of hackers eventually form alliances with major news outlets to perform their unprecedented document dump, the film finds ways to make the consequences feel significant and real, if not a bit overblown. But, no matter how overblown it gets, it still beats staring at 1s and 0s.

You still use those, right?

Logging off,

Christopher 

Status: Standard Deliver (3/5)