Crimson Peak

This morning I saw Crimson Peak, starring Mia Wasikowska and Jessica Chastain.

Edith (Wasikowska) is a girl of privilege, close to her wealthy father, hoping to be a published author someday. She's a feminist before her time (this being the year 1900), who ironically chooses to follow her heart instead of her head when a handsome suitor comes calling, despite the fact she resents having to include a love story in her manuscript because she's female.

That suitor is Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston), a baronet from England who's struggling to find investors for his steam drill. He hopes Edith's father will come on board, but instead gets met with more rejection. In fact, Edith's father dislikes him so much, he pays him off—on the condition that he leave Edith alone.

Thomas complies, breaks Edith's heart, and sets back to England with his wicked sister Lucille (Chastain). But tragedy soon strikes and Edith no longer answers to the good judgment of her father. She's free to follow Thomas to England, and that she does, soon marrying him and moving into the creepy castle he and his sister have all to themselves.

Things are not as they seem, though, as Edith soon finds out. Her sister-in-law won't part with the keys to the home, and weird visions occur when she's alone. She also doesn't feel so well in her new surroundings, her body growing weaker each day.

This is where the movie starts revealing its secrets and feels like classic Guillermo del Toro.

The horrific images come wrapped in sadness; their visual components so stunning you can't look away. The characters aren't merely one-note horror devices, they're complex, tragic figures who demand you at least care about how they came to be the way they are. And care we do.

We want to believe in the love Thomas has for Edith. We want to believe all of the bad in the home stems from Lucille. We want to believe the doctor back home hasn't forgotten her.

The thrilling ending has a twist this reviewer didn't see coming, and though parts of it were very gory (especially the sound effects), it has a satisfying close.

Perfect subject matter for the Halloween season, delivered with beautiful art direction and a clever screenplay.

Grab a cup of British tea and have fun with it.

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Alice in Wonderland

Tonight I saw Alice in Wonderland, starring Mia Wasikowska and Johnny Depp.

I must confess: as a child I never liked the famed Lewis Carroll book. It simply creeped me out. I had a wild imagination of my own and the last place I wanted to take it was to a world with black holes and talking cats.

But tonight, my love for the creative fusion of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp won out over the unfavorable memories I had of the story, and I sat through the whole film. I'm so glad I did.

Mia Wasikowska is the very picture of a perfect Alice (except her hair was too curly, but I digress), and she's all grown up. In fact, she's just been proposed to by a boy she's not in love with and needs to escape the situation to take some time and think. She finds the perfect excuse to depart as she spots a rabbit in a waistcoat in her peripheral vision, then bolts away after it, only to fall down a big black hole.

Upon landing she's in a place she once called Wonderland (though she has no memory of ever visiting before) where she encounters all types of interesting characters: the Mad Hatter (Depp), Tweedledee and Tweedledum (Matt Lucas), the Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) and a pair of sister queens—one good and one bad.

The good one is the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) who lives in a white palace with white things surrounding her. She seems sweet if not a little bit spacey.

The bad one is the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) who suffers from harboring a huge head and a horrible demeanor to go with it. "Off with his head" is a common phrase she screams, perhaps because she wishes she could rid herself of her own.

Anyway, somehow Alice gets caught up in the drama between sisters and has to slay the Jabberwocky to make everything right. She repeatedly insists that she doesn't slay and believes the whole ordeal is a dream from which she will soon wake, driving home the metaphorical theme of free will throughout the film.

And themes are big here.

In a deep conversation with the Mad Hatter, he asks her if he's bonkers and she replies that he is, but all great people are. It's a theatrical fist pump to all the crazy geniuses out there, and it was a nice—if not obvious—touch.

Also emphasized is female independence. From Alice confronting her sister with the fact she may not marry her suitor, to the queens leading their respective entourages into battle, this whole world is controlled by women.

I'm glad I got to spend time in Wonderland. This version is much less frightening than the one I created in my head as a child, and even the scariest of characters have comedic redemption.

Plus, watching Johnny Depp do a mean Futterwack is worth the price of admission.




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