The Problems of Pan.

A review of the movie Pan. 

3 out of 10 stars.

Pan could be viewed not just as a bad film, but as a commentary on the current state of Hollywood's severe lack of creativity and originality.  For every inventive touch the filmmaker's give this Peter Pan origin story, there are included alongside it at least three uninspired cliches.  No matter how much I wanted to like this film, I could not see past all the poor filmmaking decisions and the desire the studio had to follow the current trend of superhero-type stories and 'fulfilling my destiny' stories rather than tell a true Peter Pan tale.  In fact, they could have changed the title to 'Potter' and no one would have been able to tell the difference.  Not one bit of this movie, other than a few names and locations, bears the slightest resemblance to J.M. Barrie's timeless tale.  Instead, it just feels like another garish Hollywood moneymaking machine gone horribly wrong. 

The movie starts with a woman (Amanda Seyfried) who, in stealthy ninja mode, jumps over the gate of a bleak London orphanage to drop off her baby.  This baby's name is Harry, er, I mean Peter, and is destined to become "the chosen one."  Flash forward twelve years and we are in World War II era London.  No date, just "World War II" era London.  Why the filmmakers felt the need to shift the time period from the early 1900's (when Peter Pan was originally published) to 1940-something is beyond me, except deep down I think I know; it was an excuse for flying pirate ships to have an air-duel with WWII fighter planes.  But I digress.  Young Peter lives a dull, dreary life under the rule of some decidedly heinous nuns, but soon begins to suspect something foul whenever boys begin to go missing from the orphanage.  Pretty soon, the secret is revealed that Mother Barnabas and the sisters are selling boys to pirates, and due to his snooping around, Peter is next on the list.  That's right.  The nuns are greedy, stupid, and sell little boys to pirates.  I suppose it would have been offensive to the public if any other religious group was portrayed in such a negative light.  But Catholic shamming is just the start of this movie's problems. 

Once the pirates sweep Peter away to Neverland, he is forced to mine for pixum (pixie dust, for goodness sake) so that the notorious and flamboyant Captain Blackbeard can smoke it hookah-style and stay young forever.  Hugh Jackman does give a rather unusual and inspired performance as the over-the-top villain (He and Levi Miller, who plays Peter, are the best actors here).  His entrance has been the subject of much talk, since he comes onto the screen leading his kidnapped charges in a round of "Smells Like Teen Spirit", of all things.  This was actually a genuinely creative touch, if only for the fact that it was so random and anachronistic.  The problem is that Blackbeard has no depth of character, and as such, Jackman has nothing to do except lead a chase against Peter and all those who try to help the lad fulfill the prophecy.  The prophecy, I might add, speaks of a boy who could fly and will one day save Neverland from the rule of Blackbeard.  This "chosen one" narrative device has been used countless times and by now just feels downright lazy.

Along the way, he meets fellow miner James Hook (a horrifically over-acted Garrett Hedlund), and Tiger Lilly (Rooney Mara) who help him find the fairy kingdom and the secret of his mother.  James Hook is not yet Captain Hook, but a poor-man's Indiana Jones with a really bad voice.  Most of the anticipation leading up to this movie's release was seeing how Hook and Pan become enemies.  This is disappointingly never shown, but only hinted at for those sequels that are likely never going to happen.  Also, Tiger Lilly is no longer a Native American, but a white warrior leading a multi-cultural tribe of rainbow-colored, all-accepting "Native Neverlanders" who directly contrast the cruel, judgmental nuns he escaped from.  I could write a whole essay on the previous sentence, but we won't go there, because it's so stereotypical it's not even worth getting into.  Religion is bad, not having religion is freedom.  We've heard this song before.

Essentially, nothing in this movie feels like something that J.M. Barrie created.  Gone is the childlike sense of wonder Neverland should provide, and in its place are grim CGI battle scenes.  Also gone is Barrie's darker commentary on the nature of childhood, and in its place are...grim CGI battle scenes.  Any plot development is rushed through so they can get on to the next action set piece.  Yet despite the rushed plot, it still manages to feel slow because nothing happens that we want to happen.  In fact, we never even get to the part where Peter decides to not grow up.  This is once again just hinted at with less-than-subtle winks to the audience.

I can safely say that this is the most disappointing film I've seen all year.  As a lifelong fan of Pan, I had high hopes that it might be a fun prequel.  Sadly, fun does not enter into the scheme, and no amount of pixie dust can make this movie fly.  The animated Disney film is iconic and endearing, though perhaps not tonally faithful to Barrie.  The 2003 version with Jason Isaacs playing Hook beautifully captures the more complex themes of Neverland.  Even Spielberg's bloated Hook has its charms.  These three films will long outlast Pan, which like a lost boy, will undoubtedly be forgotten with the passage of time. 

Movie Reflection: The Village

Looking back at M. Night Shyamalan's misunderstood masterpiece.

Warning: This review contains major spoilers. If you have not seen “The Village”, go watch it now and come back later.

Out of all the films that M. Night Shyamalan has directed, “The Village” remains the most controversial among devoted M. Night fans and casual filmgoers alike. Some consider it the start of his descent from respected filmmaker to laughing stock of Hollywood, while others see it as his last good film before the descent began. When viewing the film in regard to its horror-themed advertising campaign, this controversy is understandable, since the film is not actually a horror, but a psychological drama and metaphorical love story. I’m sure Shyamalan regrets advertising the film this way because the audiences that first received it were largely unappreciative of the slower pacing and thoughtful storytelling. As you might have guessed, I stand firmly with the film’s fans and find the things that audiences originally disliked to be the greatest strengths of “The Village.” Whether or not it’s his best film, it’s undeniably his most provocative and thematically complex. The story of an isolated community at the mercy of demonic creatures in the surrounding woods shows M. Night at the top of his game, both as a visual artist and an insightful storyteller. Nearly every frame is shot with a deeper purpose in mind, creating a tour-de-force of visual poetry that evokes sorrow, madness, and hope. One might argue that the story is too far fetched, which is why it is best viewed as an allegory. Since most reviews (understandably) try to speak on the themes without giving away the trademark twists, I’m giving a disclaimer now that this review is rife with spoilers. It will allow me to further explore the symbolism and recurring motifs if I can speak about the entire plot.

To establish the story right away, the titular 19th century village is actually a haven designed to protect innocence. The village elders who first established the community experienced extreme sorrow and loss in the world and sought to escape heartache by running from it. They keep their children in the dark about the nature of their existence and nobody seems to question it. At least, not until Lucius Hunt, the young villager who serves as the first protagonist, wonders why they cannot go to "the towns” beyond the woods. What if there are medicines to prevent illness and death? What if there are ways for Noah, the mentally challenged young man, to learn and be skilled? His curiosity begins a chain of events that set the plot in motion, but also serves as the first sign that the villagers live incomplete lives. Innocence should be protected, but at what expense? The elders have given up many things to keep their children “safe”, but at the cost of living full lives. Lucius becomes M. Night’s symbol of what will make the village complete: a desire to go out and change the world out of completely selfless reasons. This selfless love Lucius has is not found in the elders, and therefore, not the driving force of the village. No, the driving force is fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain, and fear of death. Obviously, a community cannot thrive for long with this kind of rule, and the village soon learns this through a devastating turn of events.

This is not to say that the elders haven’t done some things right. In the Gospel of Matthew, Christ tells his disciples, “Amen I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 18:3) The villagers are definitely children in the way they show everyone kindness without judgment. The elders' desire to shield innocence from evil has actually created something beautiful. Beautiful, yet very flawed. Earlier in the same gospel, Christ says, “Behold, I am sending you like sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves.” (Matt. 10:16) But the elders were too cowardly to go out among the wolves, so they settled for children who were simple as doves but who also had no knowledge of how to live in the real world. With this theme of blindness, M. Night gives one of the best metaphors in the whole story when he introduces Ivy, the second protagonist, and daughter of the head elder. Throughout the course of the film, we come to realize that she is a symbol of the village itself: innocent, pure of heart, and completely blind to the reality of her existence. Her character is physically blind, which is where the metaphor is most obvious, and yet, she sees the world in a different way from everyone else. One might fear that a character on such a symbolic level would become just a symbol, but actress Bryce Dallas Howard infuses Ivy with enough personality and humor to make her the most real character in the film. No wonder she catches the eye of every young man in the place. Yet, interestingly enough, the man she chooses is Lucius, the person who wants to leave the village and the place she loves. Appropriately, he is deeply in love with her too. Many people forget what a touching love story this is, but it becomes even more beautiful when looking past the surface.

Why does Lucius care for Ivy so? Not just because she is beautiful and kind, but she, in a way, is his home. He wishes to provide something more complete for her, even if it means risking an encounter with “Those We Don’t Speak Of” in the woods. There are always risks involved with giving your heart to others, but Lucius knows that these risks are worth taking. His selflessness is once again a prevalent theme of the movie. In a subtly powerful scene, Ivy wakes up to find Lucius sitting outside her house. She bluntly asks him, “Why are you on this porch?”, and after speaking with each other for a while, Lucius finally confesses, “I fear for your safety above all others.” In one solitary scene, Shyamalan lays out a profound message: Man needs to cling to innocence in life, but innocence must be complemented with knowledge and understanding. Lucius clings to Ivy and desires to protect her, and she, in turn, realizes she yearns for a fuller understanding of life, which will be found with Lucius.

Of course, in the real world, such a relationship will naturally encounter not only beauty and love, but also sorrow and evil. This is the nature of man’s existence. In his fallen state of Original Sin, man must confront evil every day on this earth until the end of time. But the village elders are not content with this. Their frustration with evil’s existence in the world leads them to hide from it.  Here we have yet another metaphor, this time regarding the creatures in the woods. “Those We Don’t Speak Of” are attracted to the color red, the “bad color”, and as such, the villagers make sure there is no red to be found, burying everything with even a trace of it. The color red is an obvious parallel to evil, and evil attracts all manner of troublesome events, or, for this story, “Those We Don’t Speak Of”. Did the elders succeed in hiding from evil? Of course not, because doing so is not humanly possible. In a harrowing scene, Noah, a seemingly innocent man, commits the first crime the people have ever seen. Afterwards, he sits on his porch with blood-soaked hands muttering “bad color, bad color”. This time, the “bad color” literally comes from inside someone and...well, you can probably see where this metaphor is going. The elders failed to realize that evil arises not just from without, but from within. This theme can be seen in many other places throughout the movie. A particularly striking example comes when the villagers are seen walking outside while the camera films them through darkened windows and doorways. They walk quietly outside, oblivious to the dark lurking right inside their home. M Night never misses an opportunity to create visual cues for his story’s themes. Man cannot hide from evil because he has evil in his very soul.

The crime Noah commits could not have been more timely, either. It occurs right when Lucius and Ivy profess their intentions to wed. Noah, a man of literal and figurative ignorance, also clings to Ivy, just as Lucius does. The difference is that he cannot give her something beyond the village. He becomes a symbol of the village as well, but as the darker side of it. He cannot help his ignorance because of his handicap, but on another level, he can be viewed as what happens when the lies of the village completely destroy one’s ability for understanding. Since he cannot understand why Ivy would chose something beyond their blissful existence, he tries to murder the person pulling her away from him. He would rather destroy truth than have it take away his comfort. The elders are more responsible for this than anyone, but they could not see the monster they had created until it was too late.

Ivy must now undertake a journey to “the towns” to get medicine for Lucius before he dies. Before she does this, she learns about the nature of her existence and the lies the elders created to keep them in. Since Ivy pledges herself to Lucius, she gets everything that comes with him, including knowledge and fear. Her journey through the woods represents her first real confrontation with evil, a confrontation that has to be made. For the first time since the creation of this blind little community, someone has the tenacity to go out into the world for the sake of others. And as Ivy is afraid, so are we watching her. The scenes in the woods are tense and nerve-wracking, but this is what M. Night does so well; crafting frightening scenarios that make us sympathize with his characters as well as think a little more deeply. Watching Ivy make the courageous trek, we realize that this is the journey we are called to make every day. Our journey toward salvation comes when we live for Christ, and we do this in part by acting selflessly for our neighbor. The journey is frightening at times, but is rewarding when we let love lead us. Ivy is driven solely by love, and her unwavering courage in the face of evil shows this. Edward Walker, Ivy’s guilt-ridden father, comes to the following conclusion: “The world moves for love. It kneels before it in awe.”

The world indeed moves for Ivy, as she conquers the forest and reaches “the towns” where she finds the necessary items to heal Lucius. Just as M. Night saves his twists for the end, he also saves the most hopeful moments for the final act. Ivy meets a man from “the towns” who helps her complete her quest. Since she was led to believe the world outside the wood was full of wickedness and nothing more, she is surprised at this helpful young man. “There is kindness in your voice,” she says. “I did not expect that.” The elders are once again proven wrong. In hiding from the world, they not only hid from evil, but from much, much goodness. Even though man is prone to sin, he is inherently good. Lucius suspected as much, and Ivy witnesses it firsthand.

Whether or not the people discover the truth about their existence remains a mystery at the end, but the fact that Ivy now knows about the real world means that Lucius will likely know soon. The implication is that she makes it back in time to save him, while the elders wonder if they should continue hiding from the world. Perhaps Ivy and Lucius should keep up the lie with the elders because revealing such a thing would only create panic and confusion. Perhaps they should reveal the truth to all and slowly bring back this hidden community to the real world. What would be the better choice? M. Night leaves viewers to ponder this as the credits roll and James Newton Howard’s stirring music score floods our ears and hearts with emotion. Regardless of how the story actually ends, the film has left us with a powerful message of knowledge over ignorance, courage over fear, and love over evil. Christ tells us that “The Truth will set you free” (John 8:32), and at the end of this movie, the Truth about love and man's intrinsic goodness has been revealed. P.S. I hear Shyamalan's latest film, "The Visit" is a slight return to form for him after a string of failures. I hope this is true, though I doubt it will reach the same profound depth that "The Village" achieved.