AN ENCHANTMENT: a review of "Encanto"

 

"ENCANTO"
Story by Jared Bush, Byron Howard, Charise Castro Smith, Jason Hand, Nancy Kruse and Lin-Manuel Miranda
Screenplay Written by Charise Castro Smith and Jared Bush
Directed by Jared Bush & Byron Howard   Co-Directed by Charise Castro Smith
**** (four stars)
RATED PG

What would our lives be like if we were honestly able to deeply see ourselves and in turn, to be deeply seen? To not view ourselves or to be viewed through the lens of our own insecurities and misconceptions? To genuinely trust ourselves and to be trusted in the truth of our purest instincts? When seen and accepted as is, imagine what that would do to enhance our individualized and collective sense of self-worth as we all forge into our lives together in a greater sense of self-acceptance and communion.

Full confession: I am not what you might call a "Disney person." In fact, I never really have been. Do not get me wrong! As a child, there were Disney features, most notably "Peter Pan" (1953), that I enjoyed and adored. I also treasured this collection of storybook record albums which I listened to endlessly. But, the Wonderful World Of Disney was not necessarily one that I gravitated towards. Truth be told, my allegiance was to Charlie Brown, Snoopy and the more melancholic yet Wonderful World of "Peanuts" as created by Charles M. Schulz. 

That being said, Disney is an unavoidable entity in our world, so much so, that I believe that one not need to even see the classic movies in order to gather a sense of what these creations actually are. Case in point, when Disney majestically rebounded on the animated film scene with a stream of films between the years of 1989-1999, now collectively known as the studio's "Renaissance Period," I can honestly tell you that I have not seen even one scene from " The Little Mermaid" (1989), "Beauty and the Beast" (1991), "Aladdin" (1992) or even "The Lion King" (1994) and yet, I know them all intimately and that was long before I began my life as a preschool teacher, where all things Disney are even more ever present. Even with Pixar's proximity to Disney, I never really considered them to necessarily be Disney films. Pixar felt to be its own entity to me. And so, anything under the official Disney banner, I tended to not pay terribly much attention...and once the juggernaut known as "Frozen" (2013) exploded, I just dug in my heels. 

All of this preamble leads me to this point in time as "Encanto," officially the 60th Disney animated feature film, has arrived and not only to my own wonderment have I seen the film, I am absolutely thrilled to announce my full endorsement of said film as it is a miraculous achievement that superbly succeeds on multi-levels conceptually, aesthetically, culturally and emotionally. It is the type of film that proudly knows precisely what it is from its first image and never loses sight of itself all the way to the conclusion. It is overflowing with confidence, style, warmth, grace and empathy and is also the rare film that I would immediately watch again once the end credits ceased to scroll.   

Disney's "Encanto," set within an undetermined time and a space, possibly standing in for rural Colombia, centers on the life and times of the Madrigal family. Led by the grand matriarch Abuela Alma Madrigal (voiced by Maria Cecilia Botero), the family serves their community from their sentient Casita which is hidden from the outside world and magically powered by an always shining magical candle.

For Alma's children and grandchildren, the candle presents each member of the family with a superhuman gift utilized to assist the townspeople. Daughter Julieta (voiced by Angie Cepeda) can heal through her cooking. The "overly-emotional" daughter Pepa (voiced by Carolina Gaitan) alters the weather. The glamorous 21 year old granddaughter Isabela (voiced by Diane Guerrero) can make flowers bloom anywhere and everywhere, her 19 year old sister Luisa (voiced by Jessica Darrow) possesses superhuman strength...and 15 year old sister Mirabel (exquisitely voiced by Stephanie Beatriz)?

Something unusual occurred upon the night when Mirabel was due to receive her magical gift...she didn't. 

Ever since, Mirabel Madrigal has felt out of step, out of place and out of sync with her magical family despite her love and devotion to them and while loved in return, she is treated as such. What feels to be a lack of purpose in her life, inspires in Mirabel a continuous search for said purpose, one that feels to be truly set in motion by a vision of the Casita cracking, and the magical candle's flame being extinguished. Perhaps if Mirabel can unravel the mystery behind her vision, she can also discover what her gift actually is and if it has anything to do with her clairvoyant and long ostracized Uncle Bruno (voiced by John Leguizamo)...but we don't talk about him...no, no no!

As directed by Jared Bush, Byron Howard and Charise Castro Smith, Disney's "Encanto" is an absolute joy is it so effortlessly blends elements of fantasy, adventure, comedy, the movie musical, magical realism and luscious animation into an astoundingly real and deeply felt story of the life of a family and the search for oneself and one's place in the world when it feels to reject you. 

As a work of animation that not only resonates but as a work that should exist as a timeless work of art, "Encanto" is first rate and one that I would hope would give other animation studios a bit of a healthy competitive poke when it comes to what sorts of films can be created. I am remembering a period when, for me, Pixar firmly represented the gold standard in American animation studios, the period in which they released nothing less than Brad Bird's "Ratatouille" (2007), Andrew Stanton's "Wall-E" (2008) and Pete Docter's "Up" (2009), films that never treated the work as product nor their audiences as consumers. And then, DreamWorks Animations arrived with Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois' absolutely magnificent "How To Train Your Dragon" (2010), a film that is a classic that stands on equal cinematic footing with the best Pixar had to offer, so much so, I hoped it would have inspired them to lookover their shoulders and keep raising their own bar.

In many ways, Pixar had taken the crown from Disney's animated films for quite some time. Even so, and aside from the towering achievements of Pete Docter's "Inside Out" (2015) and "Soul" (2020), Pixar, in my mind, has floundered far too long with visually resplendent yet creatively uninspired sequels and perhaps needs a competitive kick, and who better from the ones who really made the magic of animated films as we know them. Disney's "Encanto" is indeed that film and it just sparkles with a treasure trove of lush textures, dazzling colors and a constantly surprising inventiveness that lovingly accents the frequent comedy (a dinner sequence in particular had me cackling), makes the action snap and playfully shock, inspiring me to think of moments from Steven Spielberg's "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" (1981), and most importantly, the entire experiences flows and floats like the finest movie musical. And believe me, "Encanto" IS a terrific musical!!

For so many films, animated and otherwise, that have claimed to be musicals but are really just movies with songs, "Encanto" is unquestionably a movie musical that works within the same cinematic sphere as Jon M. Chu's euphoric "In The Heights" (2020) and Steven Spielberg's downright tremendous "West Side Story" (2020). Yes, it is a bonus and then some to have Lin-Manuel Miranda compose all of the songs--and trust me, ALL of them are first rate! The filmmakers understand that a musical is not just a bunch of songs strung together. The songs advance the plot of course, but most importantly, they always enhance the inner lives of the characters and their expressiveness on a level that dialogue cannot express nearly as effectively. 

There was simply no better way to introduce the film large cast of characters, their magical gifts and Mirabel's quandary than through Mirabel's "The Family Madrigal." There was no better way to address the super strong yet inwardly crumbling Luisa's anxieties than the stunning "Surface Pressure." There was no better way to experience Mirabel's pain from feeling wholly separated from yet devoted to her family than through the aching "Waiting On A Miracle," so tenderly sung with quivering tenacity by Stephanie Beatriz. There was no better way for Isabella to express her newfound freedom and self-discovery than through the ebullient "What Else Can I Do?" There was no better way to express Abuela Alma's inner world and family history, the true catalyst of the entire story, than through the gorgeous "Dos Oruguitas." And yes, by now we are all talking and singing about why "We Don't Talk About Bruno" and it deserves every stitch of our attention as again, there was no better way to confront this part of the story than through this song. Lin-Manuel Miranda's eight songs all contributed gloriously to the luxurious tapestry of "Encanto" through a rich musical vision that was as culturally authentic as it was emotionally authentic.

Speaking of cultural authenticity, once more with feeling as I have often expressed upon this site, representation is everything, especially within stories and genres that exist in more fanciful arenas! Taking the time and opportunity to feel truly seen within the very types of films of which so many of us are still so woefully under-represented, gives us a greater mode of connection with the material. And when the cultural representation is performed correctly, with respect, reverence, honestly and joy, that connection can make under represented members in the audiences soar at the recognition as we have experienced with the likes of Ryan Coogler's "Black Panther" (2018), Destin Daniel Cretton's "Shang-Chi and the Legend Of The Ten Rings" (2020) as well as the aforementioned "Soul."

Disney's "Encanto" is a wealth of beautifully rendered depictions of Colombian culture and its people, with it stunningly well rendered textures and varieties of skin tones, facial characteristics, hair styles, wardrobes, and cultural aesthetics abound in interior and exterior locations. As with the very best Pixar features, there are so many details that clearly have been painstakingly realized that we could easily freeze frame any moment in the film and just study the details as how artfully they were displayed. 

Additionally, I have also been told by an extremely reliable source that this is actually the very first Disney animated feature to star a leading character who happens to wear glasses! And as a person who actually does wear glasses, I could not have asked for a better representative than the outstanding Mirabel Madrigal.  

Beyond its technical skills, dynamic songs and heartfelt cultural representation, for me, the greatest achievement of Disney's "Encanto" is its commitment to the fine art of storytelling. Certainly, Maribel's journey may feel to be familiar as the film is indeed a quest story where the quest itself is utilized as a metaphor for her inner journey as she, and her family, realize what the true essence of what a miraculous gift actually is. Yet, as the late great Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert expressed over and again, a story is not about what it is about. It is how it is about what it is about! 

With regards to "Encanto," the film uses magical realism and comic book superhero aesthetics to deliver the story of the life cycle of a family, filled with the emotional pathos and realism that arrives in themes of sibling rivalry, familial burdens and expectations and intergenerational trauma. The history of the family has created all of the beauty and pain that exists in the present and potentially the future unless, Maribel Madrigal can discover the threads that can alter the trajectory, hopefully instilling a newfound sense of self-acceptance, self-confidence, self-sufficiency and the self knowledge that the person you know that exists at your core IS ENOUGH. No more, no less, as is, for now and always without judgement, fear or shame. And further, once one knows oneself, perhaps that is the moment in which we are truly seen by ourselves through our own eyes, and maybe even accepted by others just as we are.  

Additionally, and very much like how sadness was seen to be an essential piece in the landscapes of our emotional puzzles, leading to a larger universe of emotional expression and vocabulary in "Inside Out," "Encanto" showcases how the pains and tragedies of life are also essential to...well...living life. Pain cannot be waved or willed away. Perfection is futile and so-called imperfection can reveal a myriad of gifts which only makes the individual and wider world more complete. 

Mirabel Madrigal is the type of character that I wanted to instantly reach through the screen and befriend if only I could. Quirky and funny, she certainly is. Pleasant, kind and considerate she is as well. But her pain at feeling that she is less than, not as valued, even possibly as a mistake, lent the film a universal pathos, an existential ache that absolutely anyone anywhere can relate to, thus making her a character to embrace because we know how she feels. And believe me, no one at any moment should ever feel to be a mistake or meaningless. But we do, and Mirabel, through the pressures of family expectations, feels undervalued no matter how hard she tries and no matter how wonderful of a person she already is. 

To her credit, Mirabel is tenacious. She is steadfast in her loyalties and commitments to her family and community. And once the time strikes, she becomes fearless, not through any dormant super powers but through the purity of her heart and love. Mirabel's lessons are lessons for the Madrigal family in totality, again showcasing the life cycle of a family through its beginnings, growth, transformations, tribulations, implosions, destruction and reconstruction. 

In doing so, "Encanto" succeeds where so many films about dysfunctional families fail because this film focuses not upon dysfunction, so to speak, but precisely how families live, breathe, fall apart, and live again. This is a film about how we exist within our families and how families exist overall. And all of this, arrives through the visage and actions of a bespectacled teenage girl so magically brought to life through an amalgamation of writing, technical artistry, music and voice acting. It is rare when an animated character just feels to be so real. Mission grandly accomplished with Mirabel Madrigal.   

Disney's "Encanto" is a complete triumph! A film that understands that the artistic technique, as outstanding as it is on its own is just not enough. The story, characters, performances, music, conceptual and emotional multi-layers and the sheer love poured copiously into this experience make this a film to treasure for the ages.  

LOST CHILDREN: a review of "Licorice Pizza"

"LICORICE PIZZA"
Written and Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
**1/2 (two and a half stars)
RATED R

When I think of storytelling, I kind of imagine every story possessing some sort of an internal engine, the very element that propels a story, makes it moves, gives it purpose, the reason that it is attempting to connect with the reader, or in this case the viewer.

This does not, however, mean that I think that a story should tell you how to feel or think about it. On the contrary, once the story is set in motion, it is then, essentially given to us to interact with and prescribe an interpretation that is meaningful to each of our individual selves. But for every story creator, it is up to them to provide that engine and whatever kind of engine it may happen to be, whether straightforward or something that takes more effort on the part of the receiver. 

As for the films of Writer/Director Paul Thomas Anderson, his entire oeuvre has always contained their storytelling engines within his collective of characters rather than standard plot structures. Yet, what has evolved with his films over the last 25 years has been a gradually move away from the visceral to the cerebral, as if extending from the multi-layered gut felt energy of Robert Altman to the multi-layered esoteric qualities of Stanley Kubrick. I believe his finest merging of the two sensibilities arrived with his mountainous "There Will Be Blood" (2007), an experience that was as visceral as it was ethereal, as the performances by Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano captured a furious intensity that only intensified yet filtered through an advanced audio/visual aesthetic that allowed sound and vision to carry the narrative as powerfully as the dialogue, story and characters. 

And for me, and regardless of the steady stream of critical accolades and awards PTA continues to receive, I personally do not feel that he has reached that creative peak ever since.

With his subsequent films, which include "The Master" (2012),"Inherent Vice" (2014) and "Phantom Thread" (2017), despite the always excellent performances, the astounding cinematography, lushly complex and innovative music scores from Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood and again, the continuous critical acclaim, for me, what was once housed inside of Paul Thomas Anderson's films which made his stories run blindingly white hot, have now become cooled to the point of being frigid, unreachable, and unknowable. And in the case of "Inherent Vice," that was an experience which felt to unravel before my eyes. 

Don't get me wrong, I have no qualms about how Paul Thomas Anderson chooses to tell his stories, therefore, which engine he wishes to place inside of them. I just question if he is trying to place engines into his films at all anymore because he has seemingly decided that his films take on a more plotless, and therefore, even shapeless quality, that for me, makes connecting with his films exceedingly more difficult to the point where I am not certain if I wish to continue making the effort. 

His latest film, "Licorice Pizza," continues upon this path, despite how much it has going for it (as well as the stream of rapturous reviews it has obtained). Anderson has delivered a narrative that possesses all of the ingredients that are in my wheelhouse as it is a coming of age/first love story set during the early 1970's and is anchored by two startling strong performances by the film's leads. Yet, once again, and especially for a story that is inherently fraught with burgeoning motivations, complexities and emotions, the film floats by upon its own breeze or better yet, m ore like a cloud, something with grand impressions but is ultimately and always untouchable.    

Set in the San Fernando Valley circa 1973, Paul Thomas Anderson's "Licorice Pizza" stars Cooper Hoffman (son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman) as 15 year old Gary Valentine and Alana Haim (of the band HAIM) as 25 year old Alana Kane. The twosome meet on Gary's high school picture day where Alana is working as a photographer's assistant. Gary, a child actor overflowing with confidence, instantly strikes up a conversation upon meeting and pursues Alana, who continuously, vehemently rejects him... yet, inexplicably turns up to meet him for dinner. 

What follows is a mosaic of events during which Gary and Alana are immersed in harebrained get-rich-quick schemes, involving a self-created waterbed company followed by a pinball arcade plus encountering a near rogue's gallery of characters, including a racist hotel entrepreneur (John Michael Higgins), a drunken actor/motorcycle enthusiast (Sean Penn) and his wildman film director (Tom Waits), an aspiring Mayoral candidate (Benny Safdie), a clearly insane Jon Peters (Bradley Cooper) and more.  

A friendship, and budding romance, such as it is, ensues.  

There is no question that Paul Thomas Anderson is a born filmmaker and every time he releases a new work it is an event! As always PTA has delivered a sparkling film, filled end to end and top to bottom with the A level performances for which his Directorial reputation has been built. Both Cooper Hoffmann and Alana Haim are effortless in their roles and they do leap off of the screen with verve and charisma from the moment we see them and regard their undeniable chemistry. 

As for the film as a whole...well...

Just as it has been for me during Anderson's last few films, "Licorice Pizza" is an experience that works in fits and starts and never does it ever add up to anything cohesive. Moments work extremely well. Images captivate. Certain scenes and sequences in and of themselves are entertaining, funny, seductive and the way that he films the characters of Gary and Alana often in a state of running, either together, or towards each other, or even to or away from some event or place, it often feels like the sensation of flight. There is so much about this film that is good to great that it is almost maddening to me to me to reach the film's conclusion, which arrives with a certain sense of majestic romantic triumph, that my response to it was nothing more than being perplexed by the entire enterprise.

This is where we get to this concept of the "engine" that I began this posting with. I do not need or want Paul Thomas Anderson to tell me what to think or how to feel about his story. I do, however, wish to have a feeling that even he knows what he thinks of his own material. Again, the engine is not about plot, per se, for none of the movies in Paul Thomas Anderson's filmography really possess or are even driven by plots. His characters are the engines. His settings are the engines. The motivations that rest within the characters and how they relate to each other and their settings are the engines.

 

In his earlier films like "Boogie Nights" (1997), "Magnolia" (1999) and even "Punch-Drunk Love" (2002), the approach and effect was bracing and visceral. In his recent films, again bringing about the aesthetic comparison to Kubrick, the effect is more cerebral as if Anderson is taking a bird's eye view of his subject matter rather than swimming in the guts of them. Frankly, I am missing the PTA of old for the current one and I are just not matching up like we used to.

And it is a shame as "Licorice Pizza" feels to be the next phase in tales of sun drenched California on the cusp of change in the at the dawn of and during the early 1970s. In fact, this film could be on a mythical triple bill with Cameron Crowe's "Almost Famous" (2000) and Quentin Tarantino's "Once Upon A Time...In Hollywood" (2019), especially as Anderson's film feels to align more strongly with the drifting tone and deliberate pacing of Tarantino's film, as "Licorice Pizza" often feels like a dream or a memory that is too difficult to recapture.  

In doing so, the engine of young, wayward adolescence and potential love carries a surprisingly lack of weight, turbulence, restlessness and urgency, despite how strong Hoffmann and especially Haim actually are. It so often feels like Gary and Alana have a romance solely because the script says they are supposed to and for no other reason. It was confounding to believe. 

Yes, there have been questions about the age differences between the characters, and therefore, the appropriateness of their romance, as Gary is again 15 while Alana is 10 years older. Understandably, it is easy to fathom why an excitable15 year old would desire a 25 year old woman. But why on Earth would Alana, for all of her rejections of his advances, keep returning to Gary? This is a compelling element of the character of Alana Kane but I honestly question if Paul Thomas Anderson entertained that question at all and it is a shame as well as a disservice. 

With Gary, he felt to be a variation fall of the adult male characters, he and Alana engage with throughout the film, as they are all hustlers, and lascivious ones to varying degrees. He is their past and they are his future. Why Alana, who feels to be (or wishes to be) bursting with independence, over and again, falls into stagnation around various men and Gary? She obviously desires to be out from under the influence of her family (as portrayed by seemingly the entire Haim family) but she is often paralyzed through domineering and sometimes, nasty male influences, which always seem to lead her back to Gary. Is Anderson musing on female arrested development, an impenetrable patriarchal structure just this far from Hollywood, or really anything else? I honestly do not know and I would be hard pressed to think that Paul Thomas Anderson knew or even much cared. And so, if he didn't, then why should I? 

Paul Thomas Anderson's "Licorice Pizza" is beautiful to regard,  luxurious in its hazy, meandering tone. But, really, what was the point? If it was just an opportunity to work with friends and put on a show, then fine, have at it. 

That doesn't necessarily mean that it is just as fun to witness.

SAVAGE CINEMA DEBUTS: "LIFE, ANIMATED" (2016)

 

"LIFE, ANIMATED" (2016)
Based upon Life, Animated: A Story Of Sidekicks, Heroes and Autism by Ron Suskind 
Produced and Directed by Roger Ross Williams
**** (four stars)
RATED PG

How do we become the people that we each are? How do we find ourselves or even realize that we are already traveling upon roads in which to make the discovery? How do we find and write our own stories that are within ourselves? And for that matter, do those stories exist within us the entire time just waiting for us to locate them and then express them as ourselves to  ourselves and others as we venture into the world?

As incomprehensible it is to fathom for those of us who happen to be living without any sense of cognitive disabilities, it is striking for me to try and place myself into a possible mind/emotional space as if I were a person living with a cognitive disability. If I were autistic, for instance, what does an inner journey like the one I described even mean? 

In my real world life as a preschool teacher, I have had countless experiences over 25 years working with children who have been diagnosed or would eventually be diagnosed on some level, of the autistic spectrum, from high functioning to those who are assisted with specialized aides, to those who are essentially non-verbal and unable to communicate in a so-called standard fashion. I am not an expert by any means and even when speaking with professionals trained in this specialized field of working with children with autism, there remains this element of the unknown. How can we, as teachers, every really know that we are reaching and connecting and vice versa? I have often wondered what it would be like if I could purchase a ticket to get a ride around the brains of any of my students with autism. What would I find? What might it be like to experience how they experience the world?

I remember seeing the trailer for Roger Ross Williams' documentary "Life, Animated" five years ago and for whatever reasons, I just never got around to seeing it even though it instantly garnered my interest. As these things go, I forgot about it, and somehow, it came to me the other day and I found it on YouTube in its entirety of all places...and FREE to stream. What resulted for me was an undeniably moving, magical, mysterious film that truly extended far beyond its subject matter of following one subject and his family, to allowing to think of myself, to even the transformative power of the movies and all art, for that matter, as a means to translate emotions into connection.    

Roger Ross Williams' "Life, Animated" invites us into the lives of the Suskind family, as we explore two distinct stages in their lives. In one, we meet the family patriarch Ron Suskind, then the Senior National Affairs writer for The Wall Street Journal, his wife Cornelia, older son Walter and younger son Owen--who was diagnosed with regressive autism at the age of 3, when he suddenly lost the capabilities of speech and his communicative skills and fully withdrew into silence. In the second time period, we experience the adult Owen, at the age of 23, speaking, communicating and readying himself for graduation, moving out of his home to enter his own apartment in an assisted living community. 

Yet, what had transpired between the two periods was nothing short of inexplicably miraculous. For after a year of silence from Owen, he and his family surprisingly discovered and learned how to communicate with each other through Owen's love of animated Disney films, which he watched habitually. By his adulthood, Owen's passion for Disney remained steadfast as the films assisted him with processing his emotions, self-awareness and place in the world, especially via the sidekick characters he adored, as well as offering him guidance, solace, comfort, motivation, confidence, creative inspiration and growing self esteem to aid his navigation into a world that is markedly not like a Disney film.

Roger Ross Williams' "Life, Animated" is a wonder of a film. No,  this experience is not a treatise upon  autism itself from a clinical standpoint but is presented through a more emotional lens, as Williams and the Suskind family attempt to give the viewer a sense of what Owen's life feels like. And in doing so, we can gather a sense of what it might be like to either walk in Owen's shoes or to be the people who care for him and at best, a little bit of both. This is why all of the interview footage, Suskind home movies and videos, and having Owen address us directly to the camera and explaining what life feels like for him is more beneficial in this case than viewing something more explicitly Scientific, so to speak. The emotion brought me closer instead of keeping me at arms length.

Even further are the film's animated sequences as devised by the visual effects company Mac Guff. What is notable about these sequences as a conduit into the inner experience of Owen Suskind, is how they are based within, and therefore augment, Owen's own illustrations and storytelling, all developed from his communicative re-emergence via Disney films. Which then, delves deeper into the similarities and differences between those living with autism and those who do not. I do not wish to over-simplify anything regarding this subject matter but Owen's story made me question just how far apart he and I (a person not on the autism spectrum) actually are or not, as well as the greater issues of how outside stimuli, especially when accessed through pop culture, inspire and therefore, unlock. 

This may seem silly but bear with me. As a child, I was obsessed with The Monkees. They were the very first band that I ever loved and the television series was pure joy to experience for me, from their antics and of course, the bounty of great songs performed in every episode. At that time, and even as an avid record store traveler, albums by The Monkees were almost impossible to find, so as a means of gathering a collection of the music, I would sit in front of the television with a tape recorder and record every episode (while praying for the telephone to not ring thus ruining a perfect recording).

For whatever reason, at some point, I wanted to extend this experience and so, using my tape recorder and a typewriter, I began transcribing everything I recorded, thus essentially reproducing television scripts for myself. Again, I didn't know why I was performing this feat but I wanted to, I enjoyed myself, I gained satisfaction from it. Now, as an adult, I firmly believe that I used my love of The Monkees, and furthermore, my love of the movies and the written word, as a means to deconstruct a television show all the way to existing as words upon a page. I wanted to see how movies worked conceptually, which over time, led me to writing original scripts and writing overall. I believe Savage Cinema exists today because of whatever was living inside of me, that I could not articulate because I was so young, but needed to find a way to be expressed. And now, I as of you to just think about yourselves, who you are now and who you were then and how much did you just know about yourself or how much time did it take to reveal yourself to yourself? 

My love and obsession of all things John Hughes perhaps, is much more akin to what we see with Owen and his love of Disney films. As I have expressed many times upon this site, Hughes' work during my teen years served as the best and most indispensable guide to adolescence that I could have wished for as they performed much of the same feats. They were entertaining, of course. But, they existed as solace, comfort, much needed humor, understanding, patience, empathy and as a means of me trying to understand myself to myself, especially when I just didn't have the words on my own but just these seemingly intangible emotions.   

That is part of the magic of the movies. The ability to allow us to be transported visually and emotionally into an experience we otherwise would never have on our own in our daily lives. Cinematic storytelling additionally allows us a window into ourselves, as we constantly on our individualized journeys of self discovery. And at their best, the movies will deliver that story, character or feeling that we can each recognize within ourselves. Those moments that make us announce to ourselves, "That's ME!" Within "Life, Animated," the connection between Owen and Disney films is palpable and often mesmerizing to regard as it is his story while also being our story as our respective engagements with the human condition are universal.     

But even so, these connections and guidance do have their limits.

As wondrous as it is to witness how Disney animated movies allowed Owen Suskind an avenue to communicate with his family and begin his understanding of his own life experience, the films also helped him with entering a life of schooling, growing up, forming a Disney Club with the purpose of making friends and exploring life via the films together. The films inspired him to draw and create his own art, to become a storyteller, to graduating, to obtaining his own apartment, to even writing and giving a speech in France about his life as a young man living with autism. All of that being said, Roger Ross Williams' film also gently expresses the precariousness of such a connection. To paraphrase Owen's Mom, life always changes while Disney films will always stay the same.

Which again makes me question just how far apart is someone like Owen to myself, especially as pop culture is so prevalent? I know that my notions of love and romance were as fueled by John Hughes' films as they were by the music I cherish and has formulated me. However, much like as so richly described in Nick Hornby's High Fidelity, life is not a pop song and that sweeping romantic ending has never come to pass in the way that Hughes' films gave me hope, and I would gather that for you, there are similar stories.    

The late sections of "Life, Animated," as Owen makes his way into his apartment and therefore, begins to have the adult experiences he has expressed nervousness and excitement about throughout the film. These are sequences fraught with a certain eggshell tension as we have grown our affection for Owen and only wish to see him succeed. Upon moving in, for instance, there is a moment when is unable to find his medication and he is now alone in his apartment without anyone to assist him. Interpersonal relationships suddenly change. What of finding employment? What of Owen's attitudes towards sex and sexuality? And then, there is the slow moving inevitability that his parents are aging and will one day pass on, leaving his older brother Walter as the protector, a responsibility he is willing to face but is unsure of how. The Disney films may hold the comfort but they do not hold all of life's answers and the questions of how that reality plays out with Owen are as fascinating as they are sometimes aching.

I am friends and co-teachers with a wonderful young woman who happens to have a twin brother living with autism. I have not met him but as she has described him to me, I am understanding that he is indeed further along the spectrum than Owen Suskind due to the extent of his personal needs, including his communication skills or lack thereof. My friend also possesses a deep connection to Disney animated films and stories, as they have also served as a means of communication and connection between herself and her brother. As I watched "Life, Animated," I often thought of her and him and what their relationship has been like, as children and now as adults and most likely, facing some of the very same questions and quandaries that Owen and his family experience. If anything, the film gave me a slightly larger glimpse into her world as I regarded Owen Suskind's world. Again, the magic of the movies in action.     

   

Roger Ross Williams' "Life, Animated" is an emotional journey designed to build understanding and empathy as we gather a larger glimpse into the inner world of a 23 year old man living with autism  attempting to have a human experience. It is a beautiful film, poignant, enlightening and graceful in its directness and artfulness. And it accomplishes what the best documentaries do when operating at their finest for how much we can gather about our own lives as we learn about Owen's.