Finding Forrester (2001)

Directed by Gus Van Sant

Produced by Columbia Pictures, starring Sean Connery, Rob Brown and F. Murray Abraham, Finding Forrester is an inspiring film. By systematically creating major conflict based on where characters come from and what they are expected to do, the producers of Finding Forrester ingeniously use minor characters to highlight the struggles of the lead character Jamal. This film explores issues which derive from a character’s  talents  and  background, offering a message of success and hope; Finding Forrester offers a unique outlook on reaching our goals, regardless of obstacles.

        The plot of the story follows the experiences of 16 year old black youth, Jamal Wallace. Living in the Bronx, Jamal is blessed with a gift for athletics, intelligence, and a natural skill for writing, but must hide the latter two in order to be accepted by his peers. Scoring highly on state tests, Mr. Wallace is offered a full paid trip to Maylard Academy, a prestigious private school. At the same time, Jamal meets Mr. William Forrester, a notorious author with reclusive and isolated ways. As Jamal begins studying at Maylard, William begins to mentor the young prodigy in the writing process. Jamal’s abilities and background combine to produce numerous conflicts with others, especially his English teacher, Professor Crawford. Jamal’s written work is considered “too good” in regards to his status. This story exhibits the problems both Jamal and William face and how they are overcome, while the two unlikely comrades develop a strong friendship.

        Finding Forrester is an excellent example of performance and setting. Distinct social barriers are explored through the use of both physical settings, such as the differences shown between the Bronx and Maylard, and the use of characters to portray the cultural differences. This distinction allows for Jamal’s transition  to create major conflicts within the film, excellently portrayed through the actor’s performance.  Sean Connery, Rob Brown and F. Murray Abraham all produce excellent presentations of their stereotypical characters as their facial expressions and diction allow for their character traits to be strengthened. The problem with Finding Forrester is the budget. The quality of  work  produced does not allow for the story to be accurately presented as the inspirational message  it is. The low budget produces low quality scenes, easily witnessed in the cinematography. Images are not high grade.

         

Although produced over a decade ago, Finding Forrester is similar to multiple famous novels and  book series which are currently popular. Its core themes and conflicts are like those of the Matched novels by Allie Condie. Both works explore controversial subjects as the main characters feel the urge to overcome society’s fixated beliefs. While Matched contains much more violence and danger than Finding Forrester, the idea of being more than what others expect is simultaneous in both presentations. Finding Forrester is difficult to compare to other novels as it places the bar so high. It is an exceptional film, worthy of a trip to the theatres.

Lights, Camera, Don't Tell Me the Entire Story: Review of a Movie Review

I chose the film review of "Catching Fire" by "The Guardian: The Observer", because of its strategic film explanation and reference to other films. Written by Mark Kermode, this review allows the reader to understand the basic plot of the story, while not revealing all memorable aspects of the story. Unlike other reviews, it does not contain bias opinion(s), rather, allows the reader to format their own thoughts about the movie.

This review explains the themes and main events of "Catching Fire", while not revealing every tear jerking scene. As it elucidates Katniss's current situation, Mr.Kermode does not provide psychological evaluation for all of her behaviours/actions. Rather, he allows the audience to create their own ideas about the main lady, providing only facts. The result of this humorous review allows suspense to occur in the film, even when a viewer knows the story's plot.

As the author of the review makes allusions to other fictional works, comparing the similarities and differences between novels such as “Twilight by Stephenie Meyers” and “Catching Fire”, a mood for the film is established. The notorious “love triangle” theme and the conflicts of the two works can be assumed to be similar, as Kermode reflects on the like reactions from the fans of both sagas. These comparisons allow readers to understand the general tone of “Catching Fire”,based on the suggestion of similarities from other well known books.

I enjoy science fiction films. These movies are often action packed and have thick plots, changing by each decision a character makes. Suspense is a guaranteed element of this genre, as often the conflicts experienced in the movie do not exist in the actual world (problems with advanced technology, certain diseases, ect.). The unknown allows the movie to be surprising and exciting. Personally, I would enjoy doing a film review on “Divergent”. Based upon the novels by Veronica Roth, this film is set in an apocalyptic future, in which society is divided into factions. As the majority of the novel is based upon love, choices, and decisions in a strange world, it would be very manageable and exciting to write a review on this film.

Yellow and White Plaster

Yellow and White Plaster by Ashlyn Moody

Photo credited to Globe and Mail.

My future was chosen by the heavens. I was never held accountable for any of life’s twisted actions or decisions, rather they were thrust upon me with the delicacy of a lightning storm.  My dreams, my hopes, my ambitions, and even my few feeble plans, destroyed by the Divine Creator, the universal energy, or whatever other higher power our stoic society chooses to bow to. Oxford, the world renowned intelligence, quotes my name as “victim of fate.”

I watch the cream corn lead paint shrivel to reveal the confining metal of the nutrition baby carriages. Accompanied by a shriek, and preceded by a monogamous tone of unoiled wheels, this is my life...my career, my one “greatest” pride. A bell hop for “no frills” grocery carts.  

Everyday I stagger the tarnished asphalt, a ghost to those who pass by. Mothers cradling infants, smothered with fleece blankets like butchered crabs served at high society dinners, march by as they hiss on their cell phones. They complain of the “indecency” of neighbors who had not acknowledged them within the store. Teenagers accompanying their grandparents, scuff their feet behind elders who have hips much more ancient than they. They do not concern themselves with other human beings, therefore, they certainly do not wave, grin, nod, glance, or even allow a thought to waver toward me. After all, I am only an employee of “no frills”. The unlucky soul sent to collect shopping carts in any tragic gift Mother Nature sees fit to offer.

Day in and day out, my schedule remains unchanging. Herd the carts, march them to the China-produced, yellow and white, banana covered signs, and repeat. I have certain special tasks, such as ignoring the snot covered toddlers who poke at chewing gum stuck to the fake plaster posts; they’re somebody else's problem. Greet the aged,the withered, the ones who struggle while holding their aluminium canes, especially on old age pension day...we survive from their business. Finally, don’t injure the four wheeled metal fortresses, “protected” by the three faded white lines...scrape the paint, and it comes off my paycheck. Day in, day out, only the squeak of dated plastic wheels acknowledge my existence.

I dreamed of a life which brimmed with much more than this bland grandeur. As a child growing up on the Canadian coast, all things natural and pure inspired the “little man” who spoke within my head, while hindering my development. Every Sunday, I prayed to a reverend God, asking him/she/it to provide me with a life stuffed with adventure. While the congregation demanded world peace and the end of child hunger, I begged for airplanes, heros and time travel. My destiny did not exist here on Earth.

The blue and white which hung above the world’s head, terrifying so many, would become my slave. I would navigate the many cotton candy canals, leaving my own fume clouds as a marker of where I had been. The tyrants, oppressors and villains of the world, would fear me. Swings of my sword or a pull of my gun trigger would provide the death blow which no other mortal seemed capable of offering...I would be a liberator, a hero. Even time itself, a dimension which perplexed the Einsteins of any era, would kneel to me. It would offer all the secrets it had withheld for five billion years, exposing them to me. Dinosaurs would be my playmates...cavemen would be test subjects for my early scientific experiments. At ten years old, the world was mine. But real life had a tendency of getting in the way.

I did not become a pilot, a noble man, or even a world traveller, much less a time traveller. Rather, life handed me a mouth to feed when I had not yet managed to obtain a slip of paper from my local high school. It gave me a habit of subjecting those around me to drunken rages, which involved obliterating cheap wood furniture and decimating multiple bottles, angered quickly from the situations fate offered me. Life provided an unfaithful partner, stacks of paper covered in numbers which proclaimed I owed money to men I had never met, and finally, the departure of the little mouths I cursed over, but only because I loved them so dearly.

“no frills” was my saviour. It gave a drunk, wife beating, child abusing man, a ten dollar per hour job. I was worth that. For pulling carts I could now provide myself with a 200 foot by 200 foot cage, heat for certain intervals of the day, cheap, polyester t-shirts and jeans, and an endless supply of frozen cuisine...the essentials.

“Danny, don’t you dare touch that!”

“God, I can’t believe she did that! The nerve of some people!”

“Anne come here, your father wants to speak with you on the phone! HE can handle this! You tramping around the streets wearing this abomination, is NOT my issue to handle! Who is it you want to impress, huh?! Creeps like him!!?”

Day in, day out, I hear the conversations, but they do not include me. Our company sign is the only constant in my planned life. Clean and brightly colored, the florescent yellow stands out against the pale plaster which it bethrones. The arrangement of letters looks comforting, as if it guarantees shoppers a pleasant shopping trip. One without stress, one accompanied by smiling faces and friendly words... a trip to enjoy. In reality, I knew they were hollow.