Dawn of the Planet of the Apes Review

All hail Caesar!

Andy Serkis as Caesar

It is an extremely rare occurrence when a movie rightly deserves to be called epic. Scale alone can be impressive but it takes a level of nuance for a big film to make an equally big impact on an audience. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes understands that which most blockbusters don’t, that epicness isn’t defined by length or bombasticity but by engaging strong characters with a sweeping landscape. That landscape happens to be in the hills of the forest North of San Francisco where Caeser governs a new generation of hyper-intelligent apes who communicate via sign language. Following the events of the first film, a virus has caused the collapse of human civilization and the apes have found a familial peace with each other in the new world order.

All is well in the rocky treetops where they have built Swiss-Family-Robinson-like homes for themselves. But life in Eden is about to change because humans are not all yet extinct. Those genetically immune to the virus have survived and are looking to rebuild.  Soon enough a pack of rangers led by a man named Malcolm crosses paths with the apes and attempts reconciliation in exchange for granted access to a hydroelectric dam to power the fallen city. But Ceasar is hesitant to trust humans after suffering at their hands. He senses war is looming and will do anything to protect his family, anything to prevent apes from falling – ‘Apes together, strong,’ he signs. Indeed Caesar is an epic character and we are drawn to him like a magnetic. The fact that he is entirely rendered on a computer is beside the point that he elicits more emotion than any other character – Andy Serkis is completely transparent in role. I don’t know how the special effects team pulled it off and I don’t want to know. The magic is in the not knowing.

From the offset, Dawn exudes a feeling of timelessness unlike I’ve ever felt from a Hollywood sci-fi. It effortlessly lured me into believing the unbelievable, that computer technology, when used as an aid to story rather than a distraction, can advance cinema in ways I once thought impossible. The skeptic in me was floored by the realness of the motion capture that captures every frown, every crease, every eye movement from the real actors. Some of it may look silly on the posters or in the trailer but it doesn’t feel silly once you’re swept into the narrative. The screenplay is intelligent and engaging on many levels, the core moral drama is weighty and moving. The tension is high, the emotion even higher: for a big blockbuster that’s almost unheard of. I got so used to watching pulp I’d forgotten what it was like to be treated as a thinking, breathing audience member.

It’s not so much the plot I was surprised by, as it was the confidence and gusto with which it was carried out. The human characters are secondary to Caeser who is the hero of the piece. The very real dilemma of peacemaking between species is endlessly fascinating and poses some serious moral questions. From the personal to the spectacle, the film stands above its competition produced this year. Like in the case of Peter Jackson’s King Kong and Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity, this is not one to miss on the big screen. (Although I suspect it holds up remarkably better than the others on a small screen).

Since the series reboot in 2011, all storytelling and technological triumphs have grown from strength to strength to create a haunting setup for a third installment.  Now having been spoiled, I don’t think I’ll ever understand why filmmakers of talent waste their time producing meaningless dribble. Director Matt Reeves has made something I suspect will only grow in prolificness in years to come. If my praise sounds too high, it is only because it has previously been very low. Once in a while a movie comes along and takes you by surprise simply because it believes itself as is the case with Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. The lack of gimmickry and flashiness only strengthens the appeal of the visual. Say goodbye to the boorish kineticism of loud and clangy blockbuster counterparts. When mature and considered, tech and story together, strong!

The Pros And Cons Of Being The Youngest Child (And How They Carry Into Adulthood)

#5 Pro: You Have Less Responsibility

You’re the baby and that means there’s an assumption placed on you that you can’t do anything but, better yet,  you don’t need to do anything! Your disappoints have no reverberation on your older siblings – it’s almost like they fully expect you to be reckless.

And granted, this has its ups. It means that when you’re young you can do what to want because no one expects you to be the wiser. You don’t have to chase around snotty-nosed younger brothers or sisters and stop them from doing wrong. Instead, you ARE that snotty-nosed younger brother or sister and you can ride that carefree attitude right into 1st grade!

Con: You Are Underestimated

The bad thing is, this role placed upon you doesn’t go away. And so your decision-making and general abilities are underestimated all the way into adolescence. Basically, your opinion doesn’t count because you haven’t had to work for it. You may be the wiser and most well adjusted but no one sees it like that. Your older siblings could very well be nutjobs but their vote will always count twice as much as yours and that’s just natural law.

Your family creates that role for you so what can you do but fit it!

#4 Pro: You Generally Don’t Give A _____

When you’re the youngest, failure is familiar to you. You’re older brothers and sisters have already been there, done that and basically see you as some kind of pariah that poses a threat to their delicately structured social scene. From being ‘the baby’ to the underachiever at school, there’s an unwritten but generally accepted label on your head that reads ‘uncool’. Your older siblings forever see you as somewhat of an enigma and, as a result of being constantly disappointed, you’re expectations take a rather rapid plummet. This sounds all rather damning, but I think this is a good thing, because by the time you’re a teen, you really couldn’t care less. Peer pressure is all of a sudden a thing of the past and all your previous concerns of ‘fitting in’ seem rather juvenile.

You learn early on that disappointments are a natural part of life and so when you get to school and are let down by your friends it doesn’t sting as much. If you don’t crumble under the pressure of expectation, you’ve grown a pretty impenetrable thick skin.

Con: You’re Less Aggressive and More Passive

On the flipside of that, you take things as they come – the good, the bad and the ugly – even if they are underserved. You can be more accepting of circumstance and less willing to stand up for yourself. All those years of being talked down to and put in your place can lead to a high tolerance. Arguments that you would otherwise fight for feel altogether pointless in the grand scheme of things. You’ve got nerve but it rarely presents itself.

While not a victim of peer pressure, there is a certain amount of resignation you take to authority even if you know they’re stupid (and more often than not, you’ll think they’re stupid). Hey, that boss of yours might be a dick but standing up to him isn’t in your rulebook.

#3 Pro: You Have the Best Sense of Humour / Are the Life of the Party

If you're the youngest, your parents are probably already confident in their caretaking abilities, and therefore are more lenient in their discipline. They don’t pay attention to your every move or milestone as they did with your older siblings and so you learn to charm the crowd through humour.

From witnessing the tears, tantrums (throwing some too) and living with sibling drama, you find funny in the absurd – the thrills, the spills, it’s all hilarious to you. More often than not, your older siblings take themselves way to seriously and it’s your job to knock them off their pedestals.

There’s no use trying to surpass their achievements and so you have to carve your own path. Generally your faults are on display for elders to see and so your best weapon to combat their judgments is by being sarcastic and sardonic.

Con: No One Takes You Seriously

This means you’re a clown and everything that comes out of your mouth will be taken with a grain of salt. After all, your family is a fountain of wisdom and can tell you what to do (Beware the patronizing hand on the shoulder).

You’re probably the best people-person but they don’t know that and so it’s kind to humour them.

#2 Pro: You’re the Most Creative and Observant

From being on the sideline all your life, you’re going to identify with the underdog. You’ve had years of spectating and learning and, usually, this has rewarded you in being a good judge of character - you can detect bullshit from a mile away.

You fight for the little guy and probably champion egalitarian causes because you’re the most creative. You want to inspire and, as a result of being teased, tend to back those who are perceived as “powerless”. While your elders are ambitious and follow family traction, you’re in the vein of following artistic pursuits.

Con: You’re Less Confident

When you’ve outgrown childhood, self-doubt creeps in the back of your mind because you’ve been living in the shadow of your siblings. Your decisions up until now have largely been influenced by their successes and failures and now you’re all alone and your confidence can take a beating.

To prove to yourself you have what it takes you’re inclined to go against the grain of what came before you. Throw yourself in the deep end and see if you come up breathing.

#1 Pro: You Don't Have to Babysit your Younger Siblings.

Con: You Have to Babysit your Nieces and Nephews.

Enough said.

And now for a flashback:

I recently found this image in an old shoebox of school stuff. It dates back to when I was in Grade 2 and my class was learning about dinosaurs. As you can see, I was a Picasso-in-the-making and tried to depict some sort of human-dinosaur hybrid.

The note reads:

I am a Sameosaurus. I am a friend to other dinasaurs. I watch TV all day. Some times I go out to have a drink at nightime. Some times I am late for school in the morning.

It would seem not much has changed.

Tracks Review

They call her the ‘Camel Lady’ who, in 1977, was crazy enough to travel half way across Australia’s barren desert on foot just for the hell of it, with four camels and a faithful dog as her only companions. The trek, which spanned 1700 miles from Alice Springs to the west coast on the edge of the Indian Ocean, was practically a death wish for 27-year-old Robyn Davidson who had little previous experience in the wild despite two years of training feral camels. With but a radio and no other means of luxury, Davidson’s desire for solitude was a desperate measure for self-exploration. Having grown restless from the apathy of her generation and wanting to extend the limits of expectation, whenever she was faced with the question of why, she would simply answer “why not?” Her astonishing true story was first documented in an article for National Geographic and later in autobiographical long-form, bestselling book, Tracks.

Over the years, efforts have been made to adapt Tracks for the big screen with both Julia Roberts and Nicole Kidman being attached to the lead role. But until now, Davidson has been rather ambivalent towards having her personal story immortalised on film. With director John Curran at the helm, continually reminding us of the true spirit of adventure, it’s not too presumptuous to say her wait has been rewarded. The film is led by a stirring yet gentle performance by Mia Wasikowska whose likeness to Davidson is uncanny. It’s largely a one-woman show and she exquisitely infuses her character with a commendable balance of determination and anti-socialness. It’s no secret that the real Davidson was reluctant to seek sponsorship for her journey and was less than thrilled by the occasional presence of American photographer Rick Smolan, which she saw as an insensitive intrusion. Smolan, here amusingly incarnated by Girls star Adam Driver, is an eternally talkative and upbeat presence who rendezvous with Davidson at scattered points in her journey to take snapshots of her in her ‘element’. Initially she is resentful of his ‘perfectly nice’ company, but slowly warms to him and together they engage in an ‘on again, off again’ romance.

Wasikowska captures the sharp edges of Davidson’s brusque personality with ease. She is somewhat brittle in her dismissal of others and is hesitant to commit to anything but the unforgiving landscape that lies before her. Though she does her best to avoid excess companionship, she acknowledges the need for guidance from Aboriginal Elder Mr. Eddy (Roly Mintuma) who helps her bypass sacred sites. He elicits respect and punctures through her standoffishness to bring out a warm, otherwise unseen, spirit. Some viewers may become impatient with the unchanging environment and lack of melodrama but Wasikowska’s strength is unyielding. The dreaded possibility of failure, of going back on ones tracks, is what drives her forward. Not much else is given as to her underlying motivations, but the film does offer fragmented glimpses into her past with fleeting memories of grief surrounding her home life.

In many ways, Tracks is comparable to Chris McCandless' famed odyssey as imagined in Sean Penn's 2007 film Into the Wild. Discovering oneself by means of exile is a theme that runs through both stories. In a desperate search for adulthood and independence, both young adults remove themselves from materialism and conformity to engage with nature. Take Emile Hirsch’s Chris McCandless who was richly drawn, strong-willed and kindly. His upper middle class background and academic success were understandable instigators of his strong contempt for a conceited society. On the other hand, Robyn Davidson’s character isn’t quite as realized; her impulses remain vague, she isn’t as sympathetic and her walk scarcely sustains a feature length. She is undoubtedly an enigmatic heroine but her motivations are difficult to invest in. Once the camels are herded and the trek gets going, the narrative sinks distantly into the desert plains.

Its third act feels stretched and, at a total running time of 110 minutes, the film could have benefited from a tighter edit. That’s not to say the journey is a bore, for there is a lot to admire about the Australian Outback. Its painterly red dunes and sandy remote lands are expertly photographed with a fine eye for composition. Cinematographer Mandy Walker has beautifully brought to life a visual dreamscape that takes on an almost spiritual aura. Filmed in the South Australian deserts and in the Northern Territory, he revels in the details of dust, cracked skin and harsh terrain. As glorious as it is to look at, the camera indulges over these beautiful landscapes sometimes at the expense of the story particularly in the sluggish final quarter. Despite being longwinded, Davidson’s story is an extraordinary, unprecedented feat worthy of being told.

These days, with the advances of modern technology, exploration of even the most isolated areas is no longer such a lonely prospect. An element of risk has been lost since it is very hard to disappear under the radar with your IPhone or GPS in hand. Today at the age of 63, the traveller and author feels incredibly blessed to have ‘got in’ before the world became so ‘pathologically safe’. In a recent conversation with Fenella Kernebone for Art After Hours at The Art Gallery of NSW, Davidson was once again faced with the inevitable question of why she went on the journey in the first place. She said: “I’ve been trying to answer that question for thirty years and really I don’t think it has an answer”. Her inability to define her experience in terms of a solely specific purpose is perhaps why her story lives on today. Intrigued viewers and readers look to her passage to inspire and reflect upon their own independence and thirst for adventure.

Curran’s account provides as much insight into the ‘Camel Lady’ as possible without succumbing to fantasy or the usual tricks of manipulation. Pacing and scripting issues aside, he has presented a neatly packaged triumph; a character study wrapped up in a road movie. Technically, Tracks is excellent. And Davidson’s quest is certainly inspired.  Whether the emotion and humanity the film so keenly hopes to elicit shines through, is not so certain.