As a seasoned film critic with a soft spot for nostalgic dramas, I found myself both intrigued and disappointed by “Here.” On one hand, it was a delight to see Tom Hanks and Steve Martin reprise their roles from “Forrest Gump,” weaving a tale that spans generations. However, the narrative felt remarkably predictable, like a well-worn path through the annals of American family life.
The survey in question focuses on diverse generations within an American context, often depicting scenes reminiscent of Norman Rockwell’s work – living rooms, Christmas trees, dining tables, all symbolizing home and family. However, being relatable doesn’t guarantee intrigue, despite the portrayed moments of happiness concealing a current of sadness and disillusionment that pervades Here.
This approach applies equally to the concept of capturing everything with a single shot – tracing back from ancient eras to the present day – all originating from the same vantage point, employing a broad perspective. From a technical standpoint, it’s a risky endeavor, more akin to an artistic installation than a story that unfolds dynamically over time. By limiting the scope of the frame, the narrative possibilities become more constrained, no matter how many crucial life moments are brought closer to the lens for emphasis.
Director Robert Zemeckis reconnects with screenwriter Eric Roth, as well as actors Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, for another project. Drawing inspiration from the original source, Richard McGuire’s 2014 graphic novel titled the same, which was developed from a six-page comic strip initially published in the late ’80s, Zemeckis aims to visually capture the essence of this work.
This innovative artist, working across various disciplines, challenged conventional comic structure by consistently depicting a single setting within each panel. The narrative takes place within a 1902-built house’s living room and traverses vast periods of time, with significant emphasis on the 20th and 21st centuries. A majority of these panels present multiple smaller frames that portray the same location at various, non-sequential instances in history.
By adopting the style of a graphic novel in 3D format, Zemeckis’ film turns into an animated diorama that offers glimpses into the past and future. From a technical aspect, it’s captivating, even aesthetically pleasing initially. However, this effect can eventually lose its charm.
For quite some time now, Zemeckis has been deeply engrossed in technology’s visual aspects, often overlooking the fundamentals of storytelling and character growth. These brief glimpses (vignettes) frequently revisit the same families across different phases of their lives, but seldom linger long enough to maintain a strong narrative flow or provide characters with substantial depth.
Apart from the strictness of the visual design itself, this aspect is likely to attract notice – perhaps in a contentious manner. The director employs an AI tool developed by VFX studio Metaphysic to make Tom Hanks and Emma Watson appear younger as Richard and Margaret, the characters whose storyline spans from high school to old age and forms the core of the film. By using old photos of the actors, this software generates digital makeup that can be applied onto the cast during their performances.
Compared to the de-aging technique used in Martin Scorsese’s “The Irishman” five years ago, this new method offers more realistic and persuasive results, enabling a wider range of facial expressions and adaptability. However, it’s important to note that sometimes, the physical appearance of the actors doesn’t perfectly align with their younger selves, especially in the case of Tom Hanks during his teenage years.
The film opens by showing a house being built, which sets up the theme of windows showcasing diverse elements gradually joining together. These elements include furniture from different eras and initial appearances of characters symbolizing various storylines that will develop further, some extensively while others less so. The early scenes also seed the main idea in the screenplay by Roth and Zemeckis about houses serving as containers for memories, encompassing personal experiences and history.
The scene shifts dramatically to an ancient past when the location was a lush swamp teeming with dinosaurs. This landscape, however, is reduced to ashes in a cataclysmic mass-extinction, transforming into solid rock over time and eventually blooming into a vibrant forest filled with diverse plant and animal life (CG stands for Computer Generated). A tender moment unfolds between two young Native Americans (Joel Oulette and Dannie McCallum), only to be followed by another temporal jump that reveals enslaved people constructing a colonial mansion.
Throughout various time spans, different fragments of life unfold within the house: Pauline (Michelle Dockery) is a worried spouse and parent from the early 20th century, fretting that her husband John’s (Gwilym Lee) fascination with aviation may lead to disaster. Leo (David Fynn) and Stella (Ophelia Lovibond) inhabit the house for two decades, starting in the mid-1920s. Without children, they are a lively, somewhat bohemian couple who bring a spark of fun into the home with Leo’s invention of the recliner. The film could have benefited from more of their lightheartedness to balance its somber tone.
The least developed strand covers a Black family, parents Devon (Nicholas Pinnock) and Helen Harris (Nikki Amuka-Bird) and their teenage son Justin (Cache Vanderpuye), who purchase the house in 2015, when the asking price of $1 million is considered “a steal.”
The Harris family’s presence illustrates how neighborhoods change and grow to become more welcoming. However, it seems that their role is predominantly symbolic, particularly as their most developed scene involves Devon and Helen having a serious discussion with Justin about the guidelines he should follow if stopped by police while driving. Their scenes also delve into the initial, terrifying spread of COVID-19, as portrayed through the storyline of their longtime Latina housekeeper (Anya Marco-Harris).
Essentially, the narrative primarily revolves around Richard’s family, commencing with his parents, Al (played by Paul Bettany) and Rose (Kelly Reilly), who purchase the house in 1945. Al is a war veteran grappling with symptoms similar to PTSD, manifesting through excessive drinking. Being a product of the Great Depression, he is plagued by financial concerns, fearful that his sales job won’t be enough to meet their expenses.
In the family of four, it’s Richard (initially portrayed by younger actors before Hanks takes over) who introduces his long-time girlfriend, Margaret, to his relatives. When she shares her aspirations to attend college and later law school, Al questions her choice, saying, “Why not become a housewife instead?” He becomes even more direct when Richard expresses his desire for a career in graphic art: “Be sensible. Find a job that requires a suit.
At 18, Richard and Margaret got married after Margaret found herself pregnant. In a symbolic gesture reminiscent of sons following their father’s footsteps, Richard decided to abandon his artistic pursuits with paints and canvases. Instead, he took up a job selling insurance to support his growing family, choosing to stay under the roof of his parents’ home. Margaret, however, struggled to feel at home in a place that wasn’t hers, leading to ongoing issues in their marriage. Richard, too, inherited his father’s financial anxieties, which made them hesitant to venture out and take risks on a house they could call their own.
Instead of saying I was emotionally invested in the changes this family experiences, it seems more accurate to express that their journey feels familiar, as if drawn from a common script of aging, deteriorating health, loss, divorce, and unfulfilled dreams, with hints of these themes occasionally resurfacing for subsequent generations. At Margaret’s unexpected 50th birthday celebration, Wright delivers a melancholic speech about her aspirations that had yet to be realized at this age. This moment evokes a sense of echoes from Patricia Arquette’s poignant and succinctly expressed scene in Boyhood.
As a gamer, one scene that often leaves me cringing is when characters lean in close to the screen to deliver a significant line, and it’s hard to forget Richard’s attempt at foreshadowing with a cheesy “a moment we’ll always remember” while Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s “Our House” plays in the background. It feels like a scene straight out of a Saturday Night Live skit.
As a gamer, I can relate: If you’re one of those who cherish Forrest Gump deeply, seeing Tom Hanks and Robin Wright reunited might tug at your heartstrings pretty hard, making their story’s conclusion all the more poignant. However, for some, even with Alan Silvestri’s emotionally charged music pouring on the sentiment, keeping a dry eye might be as challenging as beating the final boss in a tough game!
In a film spanning such a broad swathe of American existence, “Here” seems oddly devoid of substance. This isn’t due to the acting, as all performers give commendable performances, albeit their characters are barely sketched. The movie seems more focused on its visual technology than its emotional depth.
The narrative occasionally takes a diversion into the past, specifically colonial times, where William Franklin (Daniel Betts), seated in a horse-drawn carriage, complains to his wife about the revolutionary ideas of his father Benjamin (Keith Bartlett). [It’s best not to dwell on the subsequent scene depicting Richard and his younger brother as Benjamin Franklins at a costume party.] The story also includes brief moments from the Revolutionary War. Additionally, there is an incomplete portrayal of an Indigenous family’s life before settlement, where they raised their own family and experienced their own hardships and losses.
As a devoted admirer, I appreciate that this screenplay cleverly avoids overused themes and dialogues, keeping them fresh and original. Even the Native American narrative is wrapped up neatly, which unfolds when archaeological society members pay a visit to investigate suspicions about the historical significance of the property. And wouldn’t you know it, they discover something remarkable!
At last, DP Don Burgess’ camera shifts from its stationary position in the living room, stepping outside the house to capture the neatly arranged neighborhood beyond. However, an artificially constructed hummingbird serves as a striking contrast, hinting that nearly everything about the movie ‘Here‘ is artificial.
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2024-10-26 07:55