Search
Gareth von Kallenbach (965 KP) rated The Greatest Showman (2017) in Movies
Jul 11, 2019
I can’t claim to know much about musicals. I don’t actively avoid them, but I don’t go out of my way to see them either. The few that I have seen and liked don’t seem to sit well with the musical theater crowd either. For instance, recently in conversation my defense of Russell Crowe as Javert in the latest adaptation of Les Misérables was shot down in a matter of seconds. My wife, with some frequency, reminds me that my (until now) secret admiration of Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd is something that should never be declared in a public forum. For me, one of the best achievements in musical film will always be South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut; and though there is a general positivity about it, I’ve never seen it taken all that seriously as a contemporary musical (it was certainly a hell of a lot more memorable than 2003’s Best Picture winner, Chicago). So, if you haven’t already decided my opinion will be moot and stopped reading, I will, with the limited appreciation I have for this genre, give The Greatest Showman the fairest shake I can.
At a surprisingly short hour and forty-five minutes, this high-concept imagining of the meteoric rise of P.T. Barnum (Hugh Jackman), from the impoverished son of a tailor to one of the biggest names in the history of entertainment, should absolutely fly by. Tragically, it doesn’t. Beginning with an irresponsibly rushed first act that condenses decades of backstory into a few minutes, it dramatically stops dead between its second and third acts as we’re subjected to three songs in a row that not all that subtly beat us over the head with the inevitably that our leads are going to have to face some predictable, life-changing conflict before the big finale. Showman also suffers from the delusion that period pieces will be more engaging and relatable with a modern-inspired soundtrack, à la Baz Luhrmann’s misguided attempt at The Great Gatsby. The idea being that the music of the time, though antiquated to us now, would have sounded modern to people then, so why not put modern music, whether original or sourced, over period images in an attempt to bridge the gap between their world and ours? It’s a concept that might sound great on paper, but as Luhrmann already proved, the final results don’t so much complement each other as they expose each other’s weaknesses.
Its major flaw though, and why The Greatest Showman fails to be a great anything, is the insistence on force-feeding moments of attempted catharsis every 15-20 minutes, having earned almost none of them. A great many of the numbers are presented as such grand, climactic set pieces that they don’t feel as though they are working to serve a cohesive, larger whole. We are inundated with a blur of crescendo after crescendo and left little time to reflect on what we have just seen and heard before the film clumsily bounds off to the next song-and-dance laden plot point; and if you asked me to name any of the individual tunes now three days later, I’d be hard-pressed to do so. It’s an odd juxtaposition, and one I’ve very rarely experienced, wanting so badly for a film to end and at the same time wishing it had been given more time to fully realize its scope. Keep your ears open as well for an ill-advised line in which Barnum proudly compares himself to Napoleon. Isn’t Barnum supposed to be the “hero” of this piece, someone we are supposed to identify with and for whom we want to find success? Somebody please provide Showman’s writers a history lesson that didn’t just come off a Wikipedia page (for Barnum and Napoleon’s sakes).
With any negative criticism, I do like to try and go out on something positive, and if I have to concede anything to this movie, it’s that it finds its footing, albeit temporarily, while addressing issues of equality. Showman shines in the few moments where the supporting players portraying Barnum’s “oddities”, Keala Settle as Lettie Lutz in particular, are given the opportunity to stand toe-to-toe with the leads and, in many of these scenes, they rise above even the likes of Hugh Jackman. Another member of the cast who merits a little bit of praise (and I reserve the right to retract this at any time of my choosing, more than likely with whatever juvenile comedy he’ll be seen in next) is Zac Efron. Exposure to the likes of Nicole Kidman and John Cusack in 2012’s sadly overlooked The Paperboy, may finally be yielding results as he is the only lead who leaves an impression. Though his journey as a high society playwright begrudgingly brought into Barnum’s world definitely leans heavily on the saccharine side, it does provide a break of plausibility in amongst the unbridled chaos of the rest of the picture. I wouldn’t doubt that there is a much better movie that could have been made from expanding into its own feature the subplot of his character bucking the expectations of his status to fall in love with a circus performer.
At a surprisingly short hour and forty-five minutes, this high-concept imagining of the meteoric rise of P.T. Barnum (Hugh Jackman), from the impoverished son of a tailor to one of the biggest names in the history of entertainment, should absolutely fly by. Tragically, it doesn’t. Beginning with an irresponsibly rushed first act that condenses decades of backstory into a few minutes, it dramatically stops dead between its second and third acts as we’re subjected to three songs in a row that not all that subtly beat us over the head with the inevitably that our leads are going to have to face some predictable, life-changing conflict before the big finale. Showman also suffers from the delusion that period pieces will be more engaging and relatable with a modern-inspired soundtrack, à la Baz Luhrmann’s misguided attempt at The Great Gatsby. The idea being that the music of the time, though antiquated to us now, would have sounded modern to people then, so why not put modern music, whether original or sourced, over period images in an attempt to bridge the gap between their world and ours? It’s a concept that might sound great on paper, but as Luhrmann already proved, the final results don’t so much complement each other as they expose each other’s weaknesses.
Its major flaw though, and why The Greatest Showman fails to be a great anything, is the insistence on force-feeding moments of attempted catharsis every 15-20 minutes, having earned almost none of them. A great many of the numbers are presented as such grand, climactic set pieces that they don’t feel as though they are working to serve a cohesive, larger whole. We are inundated with a blur of crescendo after crescendo and left little time to reflect on what we have just seen and heard before the film clumsily bounds off to the next song-and-dance laden plot point; and if you asked me to name any of the individual tunes now three days later, I’d be hard-pressed to do so. It’s an odd juxtaposition, and one I’ve very rarely experienced, wanting so badly for a film to end and at the same time wishing it had been given more time to fully realize its scope. Keep your ears open as well for an ill-advised line in which Barnum proudly compares himself to Napoleon. Isn’t Barnum supposed to be the “hero” of this piece, someone we are supposed to identify with and for whom we want to find success? Somebody please provide Showman’s writers a history lesson that didn’t just come off a Wikipedia page (for Barnum and Napoleon’s sakes).
With any negative criticism, I do like to try and go out on something positive, and if I have to concede anything to this movie, it’s that it finds its footing, albeit temporarily, while addressing issues of equality. Showman shines in the few moments where the supporting players portraying Barnum’s “oddities”, Keala Settle as Lettie Lutz in particular, are given the opportunity to stand toe-to-toe with the leads and, in many of these scenes, they rise above even the likes of Hugh Jackman. Another member of the cast who merits a little bit of praise (and I reserve the right to retract this at any time of my choosing, more than likely with whatever juvenile comedy he’ll be seen in next) is Zac Efron. Exposure to the likes of Nicole Kidman and John Cusack in 2012’s sadly overlooked The Paperboy, may finally be yielding results as he is the only lead who leaves an impression. Though his journey as a high society playwright begrudgingly brought into Barnum’s world definitely leans heavily on the saccharine side, it does provide a break of plausibility in amongst the unbridled chaos of the rest of the picture. I wouldn’t doubt that there is a much better movie that could have been made from expanding into its own feature the subplot of his character bucking the expectations of his status to fall in love with a circus performer.
Kristy H (1252 KP) rated Truly Madly Guilty in Books
Feb 13, 2018
Erika has the whole event planned: an afternoon tea with her friend, Clementine, Clementine's husband, Sam, and the couple's two young daughters, Holly and Ruby. She even has a glittery art table set up for the youngsters. But the day is derailed when Erika runs into her next-door neighbor, Vid, who invites both couples over for a last minute barbecue. Erika and her husband, Oliver, aren't the last minute types; besides, they had something they needed to talk about with Clementine and Sam. But, Erika feels like obligated to say yes. Clementine and Sam are secretly relieved, as Vid and his beautiful wife Tiffany are far more personable than Erika and Oliver. The afternoon starts off well enough; Tiffany and Vid's daughter, Dakota, is even happy enough to hang out with Holly and Ruby. But by the time the night is over, lives will be changed, and all the adults--Sam and Clementine in particular--will find themselves wishing they never attended this impromptu event.
So we all know the drill by now. Liane Moriarty is a well-known master of dramatic suspense, especially at capturing the tension that hides behind ordinary lives. I went through a period where I read all of Moriarty's books; [b:What Alice Forgot|6469165|What Alice Forgot|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1377159022s/6469165.jpg|6659752] and her last novel, [b:Big Little Lies|19486412|Big Little Lies|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1399582436s/19486412.jpg|27570886], rank as two of my particular favorites. Anyway, Moriarty has become rather famous in the book world, with [b:Big Little Lies|19486412|Big Little Lies|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1399582436s/19486412.jpg|27570886] being made into a 7-episode HBO TV series, starring Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman.
Of course, with such fame comes great responsibility. And pressure. Can a new work live up to the hype and excitement of the previous? This one will divide readers. It certainly has all the hallmarks of a typical Moriarty novel: a cast of women (and men) living ordinary lives on the surface, with a hidden veneer beneath. There's a secret layer to all of Moriarty's characters, though the drama associated with those in [b:Truly Madly Guilty|26247008|Truly Madly Guilty|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1467061262s/26247008.jpg|49997474] may not live up to some of her other novels.
First of all, this book will frustrate you. The beginning is incredibly maddening, as Moriarty starts leading up to the events that happened at the barbecue... in slow, excruciating detail. As she does so, we alternate chapters with the present, with the point-of-view told from our various characters. We have Erika, a slightly repressed accountant whose life has been formed around her stressful childhood as the only daughter of her hoarder mother, and Erika's husband, Oliver, her equally steady mate, who grew up with alcoholic parents and longs for the same order in life as Erika. Clementine and Erika have been friends since childhood, when Clementine basically felt Erika's friendship was forced upon her by Clementine's social worker mother, who felt bad for Erika and her flea-infested home. Clementine is a cellist and a bit of a free spirit, but she's balanced by her more grounded husband Sam, who works in business at an energy drink company. They are parents to five-year-old Holly and two-year-old, Ruby. And then, finally, we have Erika and Oliver's neighbors, Vid and Tiffany. Swarthy, wealthy Vid is a joyous, open man who loves sharing his home (and his food) with friends and family. His gorgeous wife Tiffany is his pride and joy. Their quiet 10-year-old daughter, Dakota, just loves to read.
See how I just distracted you from the events of the barbecue by a description of the characters? Imagine that, for pages and pages! It's a great technique, don't get me wrong, but there was one point where I truly wanted to fling the book across the room. "JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS!" I actually shouted in my (thankfully empty) bedroom. I've read some reviews that state that the big reveal, when it happens, isn't shocking enough, but I disagree: I think that event would certainly change my life and haunt my dreams (no more than that; a spoiler will truly ruin this book).
So while this novel can be a bit frustrating, it really is a Liane Moriarty book. It's compulsively readable. At first, I thought it was a very detailed look at three self-involved couples, but over time, I realized I had really fallen for Erika and Oliver and eventually, Tiffany and Vid, too (and Dakota, I loved Dakota!). Moriarty has a way of humanizing her characters and differentiating each from another: they all stand as individuals. Even Sam and Clementine, who were my least favorites, were their own people. It's the tiny details and pieces about each that she sticks in that really build your picture of each character in your mind. Much of the book takes place in the rain, and I could truly visualize each character and every event, unspooling, in this torrential Sydney downpour.
Overall, this book connected with me less on a dramatic, "oh my gosh" level (though that exists) but more on an emotional one. It speaks to the guilt we can all feel about life events--adults and kids alike--and potentially carry with us all of our days. Not a lot may happen in the book, per se, yet it's really a strong story of friendship, marriage, life, and loss. When I framed it in that perspective, versus looking purely for moments of dramatic tension, I realized I'd really enjoyed it. A strong 3.5 stars and definitely worth picking up. Just keep an open mind.
<a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">My Blog</a> ~ <a href="https://www.facebook.com/justacatandabook/">Facebook</a>; ~ <a href="https://twitter.com/mwcmoto">Twitter</a>;
So we all know the drill by now. Liane Moriarty is a well-known master of dramatic suspense, especially at capturing the tension that hides behind ordinary lives. I went through a period where I read all of Moriarty's books; [b:What Alice Forgot|6469165|What Alice Forgot|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1377159022s/6469165.jpg|6659752] and her last novel, [b:Big Little Lies|19486412|Big Little Lies|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1399582436s/19486412.jpg|27570886], rank as two of my particular favorites. Anyway, Moriarty has become rather famous in the book world, with [b:Big Little Lies|19486412|Big Little Lies|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1399582436s/19486412.jpg|27570886] being made into a 7-episode HBO TV series, starring Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman.
Of course, with such fame comes great responsibility. And pressure. Can a new work live up to the hype and excitement of the previous? This one will divide readers. It certainly has all the hallmarks of a typical Moriarty novel: a cast of women (and men) living ordinary lives on the surface, with a hidden veneer beneath. There's a secret layer to all of Moriarty's characters, though the drama associated with those in [b:Truly Madly Guilty|26247008|Truly Madly Guilty|Liane Moriarty|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1467061262s/26247008.jpg|49997474] may not live up to some of her other novels.
First of all, this book will frustrate you. The beginning is incredibly maddening, as Moriarty starts leading up to the events that happened at the barbecue... in slow, excruciating detail. As she does so, we alternate chapters with the present, with the point-of-view told from our various characters. We have Erika, a slightly repressed accountant whose life has been formed around her stressful childhood as the only daughter of her hoarder mother, and Erika's husband, Oliver, her equally steady mate, who grew up with alcoholic parents and longs for the same order in life as Erika. Clementine and Erika have been friends since childhood, when Clementine basically felt Erika's friendship was forced upon her by Clementine's social worker mother, who felt bad for Erika and her flea-infested home. Clementine is a cellist and a bit of a free spirit, but she's balanced by her more grounded husband Sam, who works in business at an energy drink company. They are parents to five-year-old Holly and two-year-old, Ruby. And then, finally, we have Erika and Oliver's neighbors, Vid and Tiffany. Swarthy, wealthy Vid is a joyous, open man who loves sharing his home (and his food) with friends and family. His gorgeous wife Tiffany is his pride and joy. Their quiet 10-year-old daughter, Dakota, just loves to read.
See how I just distracted you from the events of the barbecue by a description of the characters? Imagine that, for pages and pages! It's a great technique, don't get me wrong, but there was one point where I truly wanted to fling the book across the room. "JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS!" I actually shouted in my (thankfully empty) bedroom. I've read some reviews that state that the big reveal, when it happens, isn't shocking enough, but I disagree: I think that event would certainly change my life and haunt my dreams (no more than that; a spoiler will truly ruin this book).
So while this novel can be a bit frustrating, it really is a Liane Moriarty book. It's compulsively readable. At first, I thought it was a very detailed look at three self-involved couples, but over time, I realized I had really fallen for Erika and Oliver and eventually, Tiffany and Vid, too (and Dakota, I loved Dakota!). Moriarty has a way of humanizing her characters and differentiating each from another: they all stand as individuals. Even Sam and Clementine, who were my least favorites, were their own people. It's the tiny details and pieces about each that she sticks in that really build your picture of each character in your mind. Much of the book takes place in the rain, and I could truly visualize each character and every event, unspooling, in this torrential Sydney downpour.
Overall, this book connected with me less on a dramatic, "oh my gosh" level (though that exists) but more on an emotional one. It speaks to the guilt we can all feel about life events--adults and kids alike--and potentially carry with us all of our days. Not a lot may happen in the book, per se, yet it's really a strong story of friendship, marriage, life, and loss. When I framed it in that perspective, versus looking purely for moments of dramatic tension, I realized I'd really enjoyed it. A strong 3.5 stars and definitely worth picking up. Just keep an open mind.
<a href="http://justacatandabookatherside.blogspot.com/">My Blog</a> ~ <a href="https://www.facebook.com/justacatandabook/">Facebook</a>; ~ <a href="https://twitter.com/mwcmoto">Twitter</a>;