Films and Feelings

   T he best time to be a musical lover was the 1940s and 50s. The genre was uniquely equipped to exhibit the capabilities of the film medium, both visually and auditorily. And for a world that had just gotten out of two back-to-back world wars, singing about a world somewhere over the rainbow just made sense. This flow of films brought about masterpieces like Singin' in the Rain , White Christmas , and The Sound of Music , films that are not only still regularly brought in modern discourse, but often feature as shorthand within pop culture interactions.     Why would I start an essay about superhero movies by talking about musical movies? Well, partially because musicals are my jam, but mostly because the two genres have much more overlap than fans of either want to admit. Both musicals and superhero films are very spectacle-heavy, both require a lot of carefully planned choreography, both genres are the best possible way to experience Hugh Jackman, and both have historically been

    I'm writing this review already aware that this film has been pronounced dead on the box office scene. Alas, such is the fate for many a midbudget film, even before a global shutdown. Can I understand why this particular player in that game didn't break the barrier? Perhaps a little. Lisa Joy's new film, Reminiscence , sometimes trips over its own plotline. But despite that, the film swims in cynicism and grace in a way that shows and reveals a depth most elusive in the modern cinema scene. Perhaps we've written it off too soon.     The film is best described as Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo set in a near but bleak future. Climate change has flooded the streets of Miami, and now that Orlando is underwater, people dive into their own memories for entertainment. This process is enabled through advanced technology and mental technicians like Nick (Hugh Jackman). One day an alluring bar singer named Mae (Rebecca Fergusson) enlists the help of Nick and draws him into a

     When I told some within my inner editing circle that I was going to write a defense of Disney’s The Jungle Book , the general reaction was, “Wait, there are actually people who don’t like The Jungle Book?”      Kind of.     The Jungle Book doesn’t inspire the same pushback that we see from other installments within the Disney gallery. People outside the Disney umbrella don’t hate it the way they hate Frozen for making all the money or the way they hate The Little Mermaid for, I don’t know, letting its heroine be a fully formed character. Even the film's awkward racial coding is typically discussed in package with similar transgressions from films like Peter Pan and Lady and the Tramp . The common viewer doesn't "hate" The Jungle Book so much as underestimate it.      There is, however, one crowd for which the Disney version of The Jungle Book often elicits genuine disdain: lovers of Rudyard Kipling, the author who wrote the original Jungle Book stories. You