malalafrom Indy Week

Malala Yousafzai, the teenage Pakistani activist who was shot by the Taliban in 2012, is now an international media figure (you might know her as Jon Stewart’s favorite The Daily Show guest), Nobel laureate and bona fide world leader. Her story is so compelling and extreme that it’s easy to forget she’s just a kid.

More than anything, He Named Me Malala, the new documentary from Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth), is a reminder of this. The film largely eschews broader issues of human rights and focuses on the story of Malala and her family. We learn that her father, Ziauddin Yousafzai, was an educator in Pakistan’s Swat Valley region. He was one of the few community leaders willing to speak out against the Taliban’s violent suppression of education for girls and women. “It was not a person who shot Malala,” her dad says. “It was an ideology.” The father-daughter relationship anchors the story, and the significance of the film’s title gradually becomes clear.

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Good ghost stories require two elements: the ghost and the story. While ghosts themselves may or may not be real — that’s a whole other question — the story part is a phenomenon we can study and track.

In the study of history and folklore, ghost stories have a haunted mansion all to themselves. Ghosts appear, as it were, in the written and oral traditions of virtually every culture on the planet. As they’re handed down through generations, ghost stories get retold in different forms and media, depending on the era.

America has its share of famous ghosts and hauntings, many of which go back hundreds of years. Our most famous stories tend to wind up on the TV or movie screen eventually. Such is the way of Hollywood. Everyone likes a good ghost story, right? We track five famous American ghosts and their journey from story to screen.

read more at Discovery News


from Indy Week

With its earnest discussions of orbital velocities and hexadecimal alphabets, director Ridley Scott’s The Martianis one nerdy-ass science fiction movie—in a good way. Matt Damon headlines as astronaut Mark Watney, a biologist on the Ares III manned mission to Mars.

In a recognizable near future, NASA is properly funded and technology is sufficiently advanced to enable giant interplanetary space ships to make regular trips to Mars. Things quickly go sideways, however, when a rogue dust storm hits the Ares III landing party on the surface of the planet. Watney is separated, presumed dead and left behind by the crew, which is forced to retreat to Earth.

Spoiler alert: Watney survives. Returning to the crew’s surface habitat, he runs the numbers and concludes that he will need to last for at least three years before his rescue will arrive. Most of the movie documents his ingenuity in gathering and creating the resources he needs. He figures out how to grow potatoes using Martian soil and nitrogen from the freeze-dried human waste in the habitat’s toilet system. There’s some bathroom-in-space humor that doesn’t really work. He also tries to burn hydrogen and oxygen to make water, resulting in a funny, live-action Wile E. Coyote sight gag.
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from Indy Week

There are movies you want to see on the big screen if you’re going to see them at all. Big spectacle movies just don’t scale down that well to the screens and speakers of your living-room TV, computer screen or—god help us—mobile device.

Everest is just that kind of movie. Based on a true story, it’s an old-fashioned disaster drama with cutting-edge visual design. There are sights and sounds that will make your heart race and your stomach drop. Filmed in IMAX 3D, it’s built from the ground up to be experienced on a really big screen with really big sound.

The story is based on the 1996 tragedy in which eight climbers died attempting to summit the planet’s highest mountain. It’s the same story that was told in writer Jon Krakauer’s gripping book, Into Thin Air, although it’s not technically based on that book. Krakauer is a character here, not a screenwriter.

Jason Clarke takes the lead as Rob Hall, the New Zealand mountaineer who pioneered the idea of commercial Everest expeditions with his company, Adventure Consultants. Hall led one of several teams up the mountain on the fateful day, while his pregnant wife—played by Keira Knightley—stayed home.

Josh Brolin plays one of Hall’s clients, a Texas doctor with Texas-sized chip on his shoulder. Jake Gyllenhaal is Scott Fischer, the leader of a rival expedition. Other featured roles, on and off the mountain, are played by Emily Watson, Robin Wright, John Hawkes, Sam Worthington, Michael Kelly and Elizabeth Debicki.

It’s a big cast, and Everest is structured like those 1970s disaster movies—The Towering Inferno, The Poseidon Adventure—in which multiple characters are introduced and the emotional stakes are established just before the trouble begins. It feels a bit hokey and transparent, but the biographical details are largely accurate.

Any concerns about mawkishness quickly fade as director Baltasar Kormákur commences to explode our eyeballs with grand compositions. Some of the best scenes are on the way to the mountain as cinematographer Salvatore Totino settles his gaze on the sprawling chaos of Katmandu or the grand serenity of a remote Buddhist monastery.

On the ascent, we learn a lot of interesting things about Everest expeditions circa 1996: The base camps are worryingly crowded. Litter and discarded oxygen canisters are everywhere. Crevasses are traversed by way of aluminum ladders, lashed together like some improbable Home Depot project at 30,000 feet.

Most disturbing is the revelation that, in this dangerous environment, no one is in charge. Competing outfitters jostle for space and wait at choke points on the ascent path. One slow team can logjam all the other climbers, endangering everyone. When there’s a six-hour window of opportunity to make the summit, you can’t afford to wait around on those surly amateurs from Sweden.

The last of the film’s two-and-a-half hours is relentless, as bad weather and bad decisions combine to create a lethal situation. The dizzying camera work peaks with a slow pan of a massive storm approaching the summit. It’s the money-shot equivalent of that giant rogue wave in The Perfect Storm.

Unfortunately, Everest lacks that movie’s solid characterizations and assured storytelling. Part of the problem is practical. With everyone wrapped in parkas, hoods and oxygen masks, it’s often difficult to even recognize the characters. Also, like the situation it depicts, the film is just too crowded. There are too many people to keep track of, too many threads to try to follow.

As a Hollywood endeavor, Everest is a throwback to classic Big Movie filmmaking. Big cast. Big stars. Big moments. Big music. Big mountain. It never quite makes the leap from the head to the heart, though. It’s dazzling but ultimately disposable, and not the kind of thing that’s likely to play well on a 27-inch TV.