The Jungle Book (2016)

That gigantic primate---I think it was called a 'gigantopithecus'---played by Christopher Walken has got to be my favorite chracter in the latest film adaptation of the Rudyard Kipling classic The Jungle Book. Having seen the original oddball Disney animated movie, it was still laced with the same likable craziness of the then-orangutan incarnation of the same King Louie. This time, it's a giant ape short of King Kong and Mighty Joe Young bestowed with the deadpan and quirky characterization and singing only the likes of Christopher Walken can pull off. 

The whole movie is buoyed by a hugely-talented cast with the likes of Idris Elba (Shere Khan), Ben Kingsley (Bagheera), and Bill Murray (Baloo). Especially Murray, who seemed to relish going back to the carefree roles that made the likes of Peter Venkman (Ghostbusters) tick. His deadpan humor and irreverent streak alive once more after taking on more serious and introverted roles in recent years (Lost In Translation, Broken Flowers). Elba's masterful characterization of the notorious tiger made for a very effective and memorable villain who is a charming and calculating monster. Adept at making intimidating speeches and making short work of his victims, and making his desire to kill the man-cub adopted by the wolf-pack known to all. Ben Kingsley's Bagheera is the stern and protective guardian of Mowgli (Neel Sethi), always a cool and detached voice of reason in an otherwise chaotic environment.

It was a pleasant and surprisingly engaging movie considering most people have already seen the tale's incarnation in countless forms since it was published. The treatment of the production team made it a riveting adventure yarn updgraded to today's sensibilities. When you hear the bear do a one liner kiss-off ('Kid, that's not a song. That's propaganda.")  everyone in the audience gets it. Despite the liberties in taking on a more contemporary approach to a classic story, its essence was undiluted. And that's what makes a lot of movies great.

Midnight Special

I'm sure it will end in a cliffhanger that does not explain anything about some curiosities audience members will definitely ask about, like the supernatural circumstances surrounding the main character and who he really is. In short, it will be an ending that me and a movie-fanatic uncle jokingly refer to as A European Ending. The type where everything ends abruptly without further exposition of things and ditching that spoon-fed scenario where that ever-annoying "What happened in the end" query from less-engaged audience members always ask. Which is totally fine by me. Because judging from the brilliant second trailer I watched repeatedly ever since, those concerns are, to be blunt, trivial and unimportant. At least in the overall scheme of things, or in the context of the whole movie.  While those factors are interesting tools to give spice and propel a good story, they are simply incidental and mere tools that highlight the core of a seemingly sci-fi adventure fare: A family drama. 

Take away the supernatural powers, government conspiracies, and religious cults and it comes down to a simple, but engaging story about a small family's struggle to protect their only child at all costs. And the inevitability of letting go of our loved ones. And it's not like Jeff Nichols broke any new ground in terms of making this type of movie. The director said he made an homage to the kinds of movies he saw growing up in the 80s. Similar themes had already been explored by the likes of ET, Starman, and J.J. Abram's own homage to the genre: Super 8. All had elements of fantasy and sci-fi wizardy and share of its "freaks" who reinforces the bonds of the humans they interact with in one way or another. Midnight Special certainly belongs to this pantheon. Where a young boy with mysterious powers attracts the attention of everyone.

You see a divorced father with his son in tow, escaping from both the government (who think his son is a weapon) and a religious cult (who thinks his son is the messiah) across the US with some hair-raising cat and mouse chase that put everyone's life at risk, with a few glimpses of the boy's power every now and then. As played by Michael Shannon, the father takes a desperate race against odds that are increasingly going against him to take his gifted/cursed son to a predetermined site chosen by the boy. Will it save him? Kill him? All of the above? Those questions are---while significant---hardly important.
 
What we have instead is a gripping synopsis on the type of futile struggle every parent must do to shelter their children from whatever impossible threat that comes along. Be it the external forces like the ones given in the film or the very nature of the child himself that hinges on self-destruction any given second. It's all these and more until the end where the only question that matters is the one only a parent will ask.

Back to basics

Of all the music albums I own, I always come back to the likes of Nevermind, Siamese Dream, The Downward Spiral, Superunknown, and the rest of the early 90s alterna-groups that were ushered into the era by the massive commercial success of Nirvana's second album. Suddenly music that was supposed to be an alternative to the pop music that dominated the airwaves hijacked MTV and got 24/7 attention and substantial following from youth across the world; and that, ironically, 'alternative music' became the new pop.

Not since the Beatles had bands enjoyed mass popularity and support. It was not uncommon during the early 90s to tune in to MTV and see videos of guitar-based groups populating different programs of the iconic media giant. For every one featured pop artist like Seal, Mariah Carey, or Toni Braxton, ten bands were next. From the testosterone-heavy (Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots) to riot grrls (Hole, Babes In Toyland, L7) to college favorites (R.E.M, Pavement, 10,000 Maniacs) to buzz bands (Live, Dig, Cracker, Collective Soul), it was, for an impressionable little boy like me on the onset of puberty, perfect.

Perfect timing in a sense that rock music got into high gear when I was in that impressionable age. With the perpetual scowl of the 'go away leave me alone' phase of adolescence. The introspective lyrics and critical self-examination of the musicians that dominated that era profoundly affected a lot of my generation's outlook well beyond the school years. It was pop music that aimed to commune and communicate to its audience telling everyone they know how they feel despite the gloom-laden messages, instead of the prancing and preening about of pop musicians these days telling everyone how rich, how great and how deserving they are of people's undivided attention.

It was an era when concert-going was like a religious experience. Where people came not to be seen, but to feel and commune with like-minded misfits who exorcised their frustrations, alienation, and anger through the band who also felt, identified, and even looked like the audience. It's gone now. And in its place are pale, superficial imitations bludgeoned even deeper to obscurity by big-named "artists" who have very little in common with the people who idolize them.

But that's the thing about recordings. You can play them again over and over and relive what it was like to be in a certain era you were proud of. And maybe, if you're lucky, take new audience members for the ride and let them in that past-but-hardly-forgotten era when listening to music was exhilarating and gave the listener a sense of belonging.