The Huckleberries Vol. 17 - I Swear & ChaO

     Obviously we want to have an area for reviewing new films here at The Film Encomium, but we want to send a message with our methodology. That message is a simple one: Don’t forget about the fun. 

Yes, film can be transformative, prophetic, and groundbreaking. It can also be none of those things and still be a damn good time, and we want to validate both of those experiences. If you want a movie to invoke a deeply personal reaction, we recommend the work of Jim Sheridan; but if you want to become well-rounded, you should take the time to fall in love with the contributions of Osamu Tezuka. 

It is from the balance of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn that we draw inspiration for the title of this section. Tom is clever; Tom is great. If there were one of those boys we were going to try to get into Harvard, it would be young Mr. Sawyer…but he will always need his Huckleberry. 

We all need our Huckleberries. Art needs its Huckleberries. Sometimes beauty is in the little things and reasoned reflection. Other times beauty is loud, bright, and bold. In the interest of providing our readers with a comprehensive experience, we are not willing to skip The Huckleberries. 

So, with that in mind, here are two captivating flicks that dropped in theaters recently. The first will teach you how to be on the right side of the laughter. The second will illustrate the type of adoration found in brushstrokes too broad for the characters to fully comprehend. Enjoy!

I Swear - 

The comedian Daniel Sloss has an incredible bit in his special Dark about his little sister who was born with cerebral palsy. The gist of his argument is that he knows firsthand that disability can be “hysterical” so long as you “make sure you’re on the right side of the laughter” and he is absolutely correct. One of the major hurdles that any film faces when it decides to take on turbulent subject material like people living with disabilities is to make sure that they are able to put their audience on the correct side of that laughter. Rarely if ever has a film succeeded at this endeavor than the latest work from director Kirk Jones, I Swear. 

This is a story of the life of John Davidson—a Scottish man with Tourette syndrome—who was already the focus of John’s Not Mad, an incredible documentary that brought Tourette’s into the public eye in a big way back in 1989. An unfortunate vocal tic at the BAFTA’s earlier this year led to a good deal of less desirable attention, which really only serves to illustrate the amount of work we have to do as a society when it comes to empathizing with one another. Davidson himself is a courageous man whose story deserves to not only be seen and heard, but also thoughtfully reflected upon. 

Outstanding performances are the backbone of this production, and a lot of credit should go to casting director Lauren Evans for truly finding someone who would excel at each and every role available. Robert Aramayo will get a lion’s share of the accolades, and rightfully so, his portrayal of Davidson is the most complete and ambitious performance of his career up to this point. Still, his character’s younger iteration in Scott Ellis Watson bursts onto the scene in an unforgettable debut, and they are both supported by award-worthy turns from Maxine Peake, Peter Mullan, and Shirley Henderson.

  What these actors work together to accomplish is making you as an audience member feel like part of a very dysfunctional family. You get to see the reality of living with an imposing disability, warts and all. It is painful to watch at times, and it is within that pain that you feel granted the grace to laugh along. Somewhere in the midst of a whole mess of complex emotions and questions without great answers, you’ll find yourself losing track of which tears are from laughing and which are from crying. 

I Swear is deeply personal. It is heartfelt and considerate. It is also one of the most profoundly hilarious movies to be released in recent years, due in no small part to the fact that it makes sure to put us all on the right side of the laughter. 

ChaO -

This film doesn’t waste a whole lot of time on worldbuilding, largely so that it can jump into the character building a little bit more quickly, and this whole experience is better off for that choice. As an audience, we are dropped straight into a fast-paced future where human and merman have come to coexist in an uneasy and tenuous alliance. Much like our protagonist Stephan, we are meant to be swept up in something that feels completely out of our control, and it is best to just let it carry you away. 

It isn’t fair to put down the storyline, because it is an inventive and heartwarming plot that does more than enough to draw you in. However, they storytelling aspects fall short of the dimensions where ChaO really thrives: audio and visual immersion. Yasuhiro Aoki is no stranger to the industry—having contributed in various manners to successful shows, movies, and video games—but this attempt is his first feature film in the director’s chair, and it fits him like a glove. 

The artistic ambition on display here is a glimpse inside the mind of an animation savant, but what makes it exceptional is including the musical composition of Takatsugu Muramatsu. The score matches beat with any and all lively artistic machination thrown in front of it, and it makes the whole movie feel like it is dancing with the audience. As the couple at the center of the plot gets put through a whirlwhind of attention, emotion, and adoration, it is hard to not find yourself invested in a universe you never fully understand. 

That is the beauty of grand design in the hands of a limitless imagination. Like driving over a speed bump so fast that you don’t even feel it, this film may not be entirely composed of advisable decisions. All the same, it gets you to the point quickly, and—in the case of ChaO—gives you a chance to get somewhere gorgeous and altogether unexpected.

~The Film Encomium~