Album Review: The Verve Pipe - Parachute (2017)

The Verve Pipe - Parachute (2017)

After a decade-plus of side projects, solo albums, as well as Christmas and family offerings, The Verve Pipe finally returned to their alt-rock roots in 2014 with the surprisingly strong Overboard.  This was an impressive feat: not only did they return to release one of their best albums, but they also kick-started a new more prolific chapter for the band. Following the tour supporting Overboard, the band wasted little time in producing new music, releasing internet-only singles nearly monthly from late 2015 and throughout 2016.  This momentum culminated in early 2017 with the arrival of two albums: one was a live reinterpretation of the band's 1996 major label debut, Villains (to celebrate its 20th anniversary); and the other was a physical compilation of those previously mentioned internet singles - the disarmingly superb Parachute.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of this album is that it feels like an album.  Despite the years-long gestation of these various singles, Parachute comes across whole, completely cohesive.  This is something the band hasn't been in a long time - even their near-perfect Underneath (2001) had some awkward moments.  Maybe it's because the album sequencing doesn't actually follow the singles' original release chronology; it was instead sequenced to flow like its own album, which was clearly a lesson learned from the somewhat mismanaged Overboard.  Or maybe it's because Brian Vander Ark is only founding member left, and the clear sonic architect (the other remaining original member, Donny Brown, left after Overboard's completion).  Regardless, what is certain is that Parachute is one of the best collection of songs The Verve Pipe has ever released.

"I Can't Get You Off Of My Mind" is the strongest, most direct opening of any Verve Pipe album, and the momentum continues throughout the album even as the dynamics expertly shift from song to song.  The acoustic slow burn of "Nothing Like Your Love" emerges seamlessly from the Beatlesque pop of "The Fine Line"; the multi-part album climax "Grieve For The Girl (That You Once Were)" gives way to the band's most devastating ballad in the album-closing "Love Isn't Love".  But it's the surging "If I Could Make You Feel" and the intriguing "Wallflower" that exemplify the storytelling core of this album, something ported more from Vander Ark's solo work than anything else (yet given the muscle of a true band).  This type of mature craftsmanship is a relatively new shade for the band, but it certainly suits them now that they're in their third decade of existence.  However, the real secret weapon of Parachute is the inclusion of female vocals by way of the newest member, Channing Lee.  It's yet another first for the band, and it expands their sound so much that you'd wish they'd done it years ago, if not from the beginning (see the aforementioned live Villains reinterpretation for further proof).

Forever it seemed that Underneath was the benchmark that every Verve Pipe album either built up to or had to live up to, and it remained unsurpassed... until now.  If Parachute isn't better than Underneath, it's certainly on par, and that's saying something.  Taken with Overboard, the band has not only aged gracefully, but they've also found themselves in a bit of a latter-day creative renaissance.  For a band whose claim to fame was an anthem about stolen youth, it's quite ironic that they are truly in it for the long haul... but it's thrilling!

McS    

Album Review: Peter Garrett - A Version of Now (2016)

Peter Garrett - A Version of Now (2016)

A retrospective review, obviously.

In mid-2016, the world was well on its way to the sociopolitical shitstorm that we now find ourselves in.  Plenty of bullshit had already happened (and/or nearly happened) in Europe, and the US wasn't far behind.  Amidst all of this dangerous (yet at the time, still ambiguous) hullabaloo, a soft warning shot was fired by the frontman of one of the greatest Anglo-centric left-wing political bands in rock - Peter Garrett of Australia's Midnight Oil.  It came in the form of his first and currently only solo album, A Version of Now, a title which carries even more weight in light of what the next four years would deliver.

Midnight Oil had called it quits way back in 2002.  As this was the immediate aftermath of 9/11, the band found its messages of environmentalism and left-wing politics largely drowned out in a sea of re-modernist nationalism in the Western world.  Australia itself was still firmly in the grip of John Howard's conservative administration, and the world would have to wait before America's ride-or-die patriotism revealed itself to be the hollow facade that it truly was.  Following the band's dissolution, Garrett dove headfirst into politics, becoming an MP in Australia's center-left Labour party, which eventually took control in the mid aughts, slightly before Obama's triumphant ascension and the uneasy global rebuilding that followed.  Garrett remained in politics long enough to see Labour lose its federal majority, which was (again) slightly ahead of the world's gradual shift away from center-left politics towards right-wing populism.  The disappointment for Garrett in the wake of his departure form politics doesn't quite bring us to now, but to A Version of Now.  And even if the album arrived on the eve of America's nail-in-the-coffin 2016 federal election, it was still exactly what was needed at that time.

The album kicks off with the raw stomp of "Tall Trees", which effectively updates listeners as to what Garrett was up to after he left Midnight Oil, all the while constantly declaring that "[He's] back."  It's a thrilling opening, especially since it displays an unusually personal side to a voice that usually preached mass-politics - of course, this is all from someone who was personally involved in politics following his 25-year tenure of fronting a rock band.  But that is what is truly unique about A Version of Now, it's autobiographical throughout, yet strives to reaffirm political action from someone that now has experienced the political inner trenches in both victory and defeat.  This notion is all but confirmed with "I'd Do It Again" and "No Placebo", and largely remains intact until the album's completion.  And it's precisely this type of consistency that makes it a solo album, even when Garrett's hyper-distinctive voice was synonymous with Midnight Oil.  It also helps that the music is a few shades removed from primary sonic trademarks of said band.  It is neither the surf punk/post-punk of early Oils, nor is it the rich melodic alternative rock of their classic period.  Instead, it is lean, raw, and loose - at time even bluesy, but always direct and to the point, never meandering - not to mention the welcome addition of female backing vocals throughout.  The closest Oils antecedent would probably be Breathe, released twenty years prior.  But even that album - by far the most subdued Midnight Oil LP - still displayed a denser production compared to A Version of Now.  This raw approach is especially effective during the album's excellent middle third, where tracks like "Homecoming", "Kangaroo Tail", and "Great White Shark" crackle with a driving momentum while still being surprisingly poignant, which is a neat trick for sure.  The only exception to this sonic template is the album's closer, "It Still Matters".  The production here is so significantly bigger and more elaborate that it would otherwise be a complete outlier were in not for the fact that it sounds so Oils.  The sweeping refrain finds Garrett declaring that there's a "faint hope; there's a light at the end of the road" because it still does matter to him: continuing to fight the fight you've been fighting for virtually your entire life - and just maybe make some music along the way.  And in many ways this is a relief, because it hints at the future possibility of new music with old friends. 

In retrospect (from 2020 in particular) this sentiment seems diminished: there's less hope (if any); the road couldn't seem longer and the light couldn't be further; there's no end in sight.  However, in the months following the release of A Version of Now (and just as American was sealing the art-of-the-deal), Garrett made good on his album's subtext - Midnight Oil reunited.  The have since toured their music and message around the world, with plans to release two new albums in 2020.  It will be their first new music in roughly 17 years, and it couldn't come sooner because we need some hope... or at least some vengeance.

McS

Album Review: Cracker - Berkeley to Bakersfield (2014)

Cracker - Berkeley to Bakersfield (2014)

To add to the surprisingly long list of seemingly dormant 90s bands that miraculously resurfaced with new albums in 2014, the very last but certainly not least is Cracker.  Barely sneaking into December 2014 with their first album in five years, Cracker made up for lost time with Berkeley to Bakersfield, a double LP with an interesting twist that might just befuddling be their finest work to date.

The last time Cracker graced us with their presence was 2009's Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey, in which they proved that not only were they survivors, but also still relevant as it was their hardest rocking album yet.  Despite that energy (and a surprisingly damn good set of tunes), the band wasn't at their sardonic best lyrically, largely trading irony for bitterness.  Don't get me wrong, Sunrise was one of their better albums and even managed to crack the charts, but it's their lyrical sarcasm and sense of humor that has always given them a distinction among their 90s alt-rock peers.  Regardless, Sunrise showed there was still a fire, and they fortunately were able to bottle it for the next five years.  But it also seems that the time off was well spent in refection.  Interestingly enough, the original lineup regrouped for a few shows.  It worked so well that they all decided to record together again, which finally brings us to Berkeley to Bakersfield.

With the original Cracker lineup in place, it would be tempting to assume that the resulting album would be a rehash of their early 90s heyday (with their eponymous debut Cracker (1992) and the subsequent watermark Kerosene Hat (1993)), but amazingly that is not the case at all; in fact, the only thing consistent with that period is the overall quality - it's clear that these guys really gel creatively and are just meant to be together!  On the other side of things, neither is this a straight continuation of the punky Sunrise.  It's in a way a combination of both, and they do it in an interesting way - remember when I said this was a double album with a twist?  Well it is, and the key is in the album's title.  Berkeley to Bakersfield: one disk Berkeley, one disk Bakersfield; urban and rural; punk and country!  While this may sound like a cheap gimmick, in actual fact the album effectually kills two birds with one stone by presenting the sum of the band by separating the genres that have always been a part of their music.  And the music is truly fresh and better for it!

The first disc, "Berkeley," is no doubt the punky one. And for the most part it burns from start to finish.  Songs like "March of the Billionaires," "Beautiful," and "Reaction" are fast, quick, and absolutely irresistible.  But what's great is that they are hilarious.  While the politics is very much in tow (as it was on Sunrise), the tongue is very much in cheek.  "El Cerrito" is an amusing take on the Googleization of the Bay Area, while "El Comandante" wears its hilarity on its sleeve with the refrain "it's just a bag of weed."  Once again, it's the humor that really sets this apart from its predecessor, but it still rocks.  And even if the set closes with a song that sounds suspiciously close to "One Headlight" by their peers The Wallflowers, the band has still delivered - "Waited My Whole Life" is still great though and different enough.

Side two: "Bakersfield," to switch it up, is all country.  While Cracker has as always played a bit of alt-country (especially early on), they have never played anything this true to form.  Keep in mind, this isn't Nashville style; Cracker could never be that squeaky clean if they tried - this is the rough and tumble country of well... Bakersfield.  Obviously, the volume and tempo have largely been turned down, but there are a few quick ones like "The San Bernardino Boy" and "Get On Down The Road" that are just as fun and energetic as their punk counterparts.  The real surprise, however, is that when Cracker do eventually lay off the humor for a song or two, then end up with some of their most melodic and touching songs.  Both "Almond Grove" and "I'm Sorry Baby" are both incredibly heartbreaking as they are excellent.  This is just another reason why this country side is far more than just a gimmick: the band completely sells it by producing some of their best work out of left field.

Of course, the whole point of this outing was to showcase that Cracker is a product of both punk and country, and that they are well versed in both.  But what's more is that in separating their music into two different offerings, the band shows a focus that serves them better than on many of their other albums that tended to be somewhat scattershot.  It's no surprise then that their earliest successes tended to be more straightforward.  Indeed, Cracker is weakest when they put too much into the mix, as they did on albums like the extremely garbled and uneven The Golden Age (1996), or the better but still frustratingly busy Forever (2002).  It's this lean effortless approach that makes the band shine, and they have managed to rediscover it almost twenty years down the road from where they left it.  I hope they can keep it up, because this is the most enjoyable and just plain fun Cracker release yet!

McS

Album Review: Manic Street Preachers - Rewind the Film (2013) & Futurology (2014)

Manic Street Preachers - Rewind the Film (2013) & Futurology (2014)

Out of the vast lexicon of terms used to label the Manic Street Preachers over their 25 plus year career, the word hip never really came up.  Even during their well deserved time in the sun during the 90s britpop movement, the band always seemed to be more serious and more sober than most of their peers - lacking both the alcoholic swagger of Oasis and the ironic chic of Blur.  However, unlike many of their peers, they are still standing and have made it to this point without any major detours and really only one arguable stinker of an album (2001's Know Your Enemy).  But what's truly amazing is that the band, in spite of itself, has finally managed to grow up without losing its fire.  Call it middle age, call it making peace with their bizarre past (the mysterious disappearance of their primary lyricist Richey Edwards), or just call it figuring it out, the Manic Street Preachers have at last embraced who they are and let go of all their inhibitions.  The result of this is the one-two punch of Rewind the Film (2013) and Futurology (2014),  their most original, ambitious, and satisfying works to date - and dare I say it, they actually sound hip.

It's important to note that while both albums are certainly their own separate works (with an even year between them), they are definitely cut from the the same philosophical cloth, or more appropriately, they spring forth from exactly the same point in time and space for the band; they are two sides of the same coin, heads and tails, one looking forward and one looking backward - you get the picture.  It's probably not difficult to guess which one's which!  Sonically, however, the albums couldn't be more different.  Yet, what's truly interesting is that the previous statement not only applies to the two albums themselves, but also largely to the rest of the band's discography.

Starting with Rewind the Film (or "tails" if you've been taking notes), it might be tempting to assume that the band would be revisiting their wild youth... you'd be wrong.  As said before, the band is indeed looking back into their past, but they remain rooted in the present, older and wiser.  The key word here is reflection, and as such the album is gentle, somber, and sonically unplugged.  The band has never been this calm, with a restrained musical approach that verges on acoustic folk - maybe that's why it sounds hip!  Without a doubt, this is the most melodic Manics album, by a long shot.  The title track is as beautiful as it is personally heartbreaking, a rare intimate window into a band that has consistently put abstract political rhetoric in front of everything.  This song alone conveys the band's hard fought and hard won battle out of adolescent rage into middle-age contentment. However, despite the album's overall tone, it's not particularly depressing, no more so than most of their work.  Tracks like "Show Me the Wonder" and "As Holy as the Soil (That Buries Your Skin)" have a sense of celebration to them.  That being said, this is still the Manic that we're talking about, and there is still the constant sense of caution and critical social observation even if the despair is downplayed by the album glittering finale.  It's hazy morning music for sure but intelligent as always, and that's why it's so listenable.  But that's nothing compared to what follows.

Futurology, the other side of the coin so to speak, is about as much of a musical about-face as you can get.  And while some might expect this to mean that the Manics come roaring back to life by turning up their punk roots, you'd still be wrong.  The beats are back and the guitars are very much plugged, but the true surprise comes in the form of electronic flourishes and danceable blasts of krautrock injected into a wider Euro-encompassing vibe.  While the band had slightly flirted with this motif on past records, they have never jumped in so wholeheartedly.  Even the electro-heavy Lifeblood, released a decade prior, came off more Coldplay than anything, and in no way matched the raw edge of Futurology.  The Manics immediately blast off on the opening title track, and they never let up.  They march like never before on "Let's Go to War," "Europa Geht Durch Mich," or "Sex, Power, Love and Money."  Nor have they equally traded simmer to boil like on "Walk Me to the Bridge."  "Dreaming a City (Hughesovka)" is right out of an anime film!  Even when they lighten up just a bit for "Between the Clock and the Bed," they still retain a freshness that is so unlike them.  It's all incredibly perplexing, but it's excellent and still possesses their political ranting (though that part is buried in the mix more than usual, which is arguably a good thing for the band at this point in their career).  Even compared to their excessive trash-rock beginnings, with Futurology they seem to not care and just go for it more than ever.  Of course, they have the skill, experience, and confidence to truly pull it off.

In the end, it's anyone's guess where the band will head next.  It's been roughly two decades since their biggest albums, so I'm sure some celebration will be in order.  Regardless, the twin triumphs of Rewind the Film and Futurology at this point in their career serves as a reminder of the fire that put them on the scene in the first place.  But what's more, they can now finally add "hip" to their laurels, whether they like it or not!

McS

Album Review: The Verve Pipe - Overboard (2014)

The Verve Pipe - Overboard (2014)

Where to begin?  First and foremost, Prof P and I can both attest to the fact that The Verve Pipe are an amazing live band and that the music comes first, which is far more important than the ambiguous nature of the band's image throughout their 20+ year career.  And while this ambiguity persists to this day, the music is truly all that matters with Overboard (2014), and it shows as this is one of the band's finest albums.  That's it in a nutshell, but the larger story is far more complex!

Marketed as the band's first "rock" or "mainstream" or "dark" album in thirteen years, Overboard's "hype" seems to suggest that the band has been lost in the wilderness since their last "standard" album (which was 2001's excellent Underneath), but that is of course not true.  The Verve Pipe never actually went away, and I don't just say that because Wikipedia tells me so.  Between Underneath and Overboard, the band has actually had three releases, one Christmas EP and two "children's" albums.  As campy as that all might sound, these offerings (particularly the children's albums) rank as some of the band's greatest and most ambitious work.  That may be a bit hard to swallow, especially for The Verve Pipe, but both A Family Album (2009) and Are We There Yet? (2013) were so successful in that respective market that the band could actually make Overboard, and there are certainly some musical flourishes that carry over into their more "mature" offering.  Now I love these guys, but it all seems a bit rediculous; regardless, all of their music contructs their body of work, and the band's more recent offerings are inarguably their best.  And that very much includes Overboard.

Upon first listen, it's clear that The Verve Pipe have shed every last vestige of the post-grunge sound that made them famous in the first place; indeed, much of the album gets its sonic inspiration from the more acoustic leanings of frontman Brian Vander Ark's solo albums, in addition to the melodicism of Underneath.  That being said, there are some edgier moments that evoke even their 1999 eponymous dark horse, as well as some clear departures obviously inspired by the adventurisms of their children's albums.  All said and done, Overboard makes for one sonic kaleidoscope of an album, which is both its greatest strength and one weakness.  What I mean by this is that the sheer variety of the songs on Overboard probably makes for the most interesting album in the band's catalog,  and in many ways is probably their best collection of songs.  The title track is arguably the finest song they have ever produced, but "Crash Landing," "Latchkey Kid," "What You Did to Me," "Here in the Dark," and especially "Don't Say It's Over" equally rank among the band's best, and the rest of the album is of high quality.  However, as an entire album, Overboard feels somewhat disjointed and uneven, the songs never really flowing together in a cohesive production.  And while that isn't a major issue, it's enough to make Overboard probably their second best album.  Underneath, therefore, remains the definitive statement for the Verve Pipe because of both excellent songs and complete production, which might also be due to the equal songwriting contributions of the now departed drummer and co-founder Donny Brown.  While there are some subtle flourishes from Brown, his overall presence is honestly missed a bit on Overboard.

In the end, despite the press, the personnel changes, and slightly awkward pacing, Overboard is an excellent addition to The Verve Pipe's discography.   And if the album proves anything, it's that the band has survived their 90s rise and fall, prevailing with their best songwriting to date.  But don't call it a comeback; they've been there the whole time.  And maybe now with Overboard people might finally realize that they're here to stay.

McS

The After - "Pilot" Review

The After - "Pilot" (2014)

It's been a long time since Chris Carter did anything, let alone a series... well, sort of.  His latest release was the 2nd X-Files movie (The X Files: I Want to Believe (2008)), which was basically more of an extended episode of its parent series rather than feature film and probably the reason why it bombed.  To be fair, after repeated viewings, especially in its director's cut format, Believe proves to be a very solid film.  But I still stand behind it being better suited to a smaller screen.  Regardless, Carter left the TV format in 2002 with the series' end of The X Files, and he hasn't returned since... until now... well, sort of.  In the decade plus following the end of his signature series, the game has certainly changed with the advent of on-demand programming and particularly the Netfilx/Hulu revolution.  Amidst this paradigm shift, Carter has decided to make his return, and one to be distributed via Amazon's online platform.  The soon-to-be series is called The After, and all we have so far is the Pilot (which is the prime focus of this entry).  While an initial viewing of the Pilot suggests both new excitements and old frustrations, it is certainly nice to see something fresh from the man whole helped redefine prime-time drama roughly two decades ago.

First of all, the Pilot episode is up on Amazon and free to view anytime, so I suggest you take an hour to watch it; you won't be disappointed given that this is just the beginning.  The plot essentially revolves around a group of seven strangers forced together by unknown motives and thrust into a modern-day apocalypse scenario, but that's about all we get.  True to Carter's form, there are always more questions than answers, and you're always left wanting more, which is still a good thing even if we have to wait for the beginning of 2015 for the next installment.  Yes the Pilot did get picked up, and it's easy to see why.  Despite the premise reeking of Lost-isms, such a charge obviously remains to be seen - besides, The X Files was a huge influence on Lost, so Carter can do what he wants and would probably do a better job with that series anyway.  Carter very recently let it slip that The After is actually based on The Divine Comedy, and there is a clear trajectory for the series to follow the 99 Cantos of Dante's work (that's of course if Amazon allows Carter to make 99 episodes)!  So I guess in the meantime we could all be brushing up on Dante, it's as good a reason as any!  While it's been established that the Pilot was good enough to warrant a series, and the reviews for the Pilot have all been generally positive, there are (of course) some skeptics looking at the mythology pitfalls that did at times muddle The X Files, but all in all this is new ground for Carter... well, sort of.  But I mean that in the best possible way, honestly.

The After is clearly the work of Carter, no ifs, ands, or buts.  The story is drenched in his familiar concoction of characters supplying drama through a world of supernatural forces and extremes, with social commentary thrown in for good measure.  That being said, The After is also the work of a Carter who has had a decent amount of time to step out of the TV machine and reexamine and reflect upon his career, which is why it feels so fresh.  The Pilot is at once calculated, confident, and assured, yet entirely new in a way that no previous Carter pilot has been, and that's saying something (and I'm not necessarily referring to The X Files "Pilot," but more on that later).  As stubborn as he has been in the past, both The After's writing and direction prove that Carter has been paying attention to the trends in modern series and its giving them a go in his own way.  That means that there is no time for prosaic soliloquies or domestic ruminations, it's all about the end of the world and all the honest confusion that it would bring to the characters.  Free of network censoring, the script indulges in profanity and nudity, which is a far cry from The X-Files and certainly fun.  But Carter uses these freedoms to service the story, which is even more impressive.  The cast is also mostly fantastic, especially with a Francophone lead in Louise Monot, and true grit in Aldis Hodge providing some interesting racial tension.  However, unlike The X Files, The After is an ensemble cast and the story acts accordingly, so again there remains a lot to be seen with the character development in terms of background and motive.  If there is one thing that rings true from the past, it's the darkness, which is certainly more apparent in the Pilot's very intriguing final minutes.  And whatever you take from that, you will want to know more.

I'd be lying if I said The After Pilot isn't vague, but that is obviously the point.  Carter is an expert at being vague, and of crossing paths with his other series, especially when it comes to Good vs. Evil (and I definitely mean this in a biblical sense).  But this is what is so exciting.  While The After might by design be cut from the same cloth as The X Files, I believe it will come much closer to the themes and textures of Carter's Millennium, and I couldn't be happier.  Millennium, arguably Carter's greatest conceptual work, took the concept of Good vs. Evil to the harshest realms (pun intended), creating one of the darkest and most cerebral works ever to "grace" network television.  If The After can continue Carter's foray into that world, and I have an inkling that it will, then I think this new series will have a creative sustainability that would have otherwise been lost on a mere X Files retread.  In many ways, The After could prove to be a roundabout way of continuing and justifying the substance of Millennium, which truly would be fantastic.  For those familiar with the what Millennium achieved, The After will surely entice, and I could certainly see Frank Black making an appearance somewhere down the line, and I hope Carter is considering that very notion.

In the end, all we have so far is a promising pilot and a whole lot of speculation, but that is enough considering we've had nothing from Carter for quite a while.  The flipside to this is that I can't imagine there will be another X Files movie anytime soon if at all, but Fox owns that anyway and they are doing the usual not-giving-a-shit thing, so that venture always seemed grim.  For now, we will have to settle for The After, and hopefully Carter will take this opportunity and all he has learned in the interim and run with it.  Taken as a whole, Carter's work could veer into the obtuse and even pretentious (always intelligent though), but at his best, Carter created both characters and stories that were nothing short of genius.  Let's hope that The After can be even better!

- McS  

      

Maleficent (2014) Review

Maleficent (2014)

As I recently stated, Disney Animation Studios truly had a watershed moment with Frozen (2013), capping off a a half-decade run of excellent animated films that rejuvenated the name of Disney at large.  And while that is a significant achievement for a company that often has the final say in motion picture animation, we can't forget the other side of Disney, that being the live-action film component.  This is a far more ambiguous realm as Disney has always produced live-action features - usually several a year as opposed to a single animation offering - that vary in quality without following defined trends.  Most recently, however, Disney has assumed a particular MO in their live-action offerings, which has been to embrace the aging generations raised on the company's classic animated tales and offer a more mature (darker even) revisionism.  While it being a network TV show, Once Upon a Time (2011-) has been the cornerstone of this venture, and has proved to be highly successful.  The films have followed suite, and nowhere is that more apparent than with the re-imagined-Sleeping Beauty noir of Maleficent (2014), with which, like with animation in Frozen, Disney has finally hit its live-action mark.

Maleficent, of course, is not the first feature to employ the method explained above.  Two films have actually come before it, and while those films naturally proved to be box office successes, the clumsily mismanaged Alice in Wonderland (2010) and the just plain awful Oz the Great and Powerful (2013) critically missed the mark.  These two films were simply disappointing despite their returns, but that was mostly due to poor writing; their visual style was somewhat redeeming and no doubt the reason everyone went to see them (that being said, Oz really did suck).  The problem with Alice and Oz was that despite the intention to rework the classic material in a new and more mature way, the producers never really seemed to find that way.  The stories were muddled and half-baked, playing second fiddle to the visuals that would climax in battle sequences that seemed more like gimmicks than actual plot devices.  It came off as being just stupid.  Maleficent, on the other hand, succeeds where the other two failed by having a confident and solid script to anchor the truly stunning visuals.  Even a concept as basic as giving a back story to the villain from Sleeping Beauty (1959) pays off so well here because it is so clear and direct; simple, but not stupid.

Tight story aside, what really seals the deal for Maleficent is its casting.  Angelina Jolie, not surprisingly, absolutely devours the title role, and does so which such grit and grace that you would swear the character was written for her.  What is surprising, however, is the quality of the supporting cast.  The always outstanding Sharlto Copley equally devours his role as Maleficent's lover-turned-enemy and injects an intensity that is certainly the darkest element of the film.  Sam Riley also turns in a stoic performance as Diaval, the raven accomplice, and Elle Fanning delivers a light but justifiably innocent portrayal of Princess Aurora (don't forget, the film really isn't about her).  Even the comic relief of the three fairies is well done and used only sparingly so as not to undermine the serious themes and subtexts throughout the film; indeed, Disney can't Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah anymore, especially with an allusion to rape in the first act.

Finally, the component we would all expect the film's enormous budget to go to does not disappoint.  Maleficent is visually stunning, simple as that.  The artwork in both foreground and background is breathtaking, the 3D is excellent, and the action is thrilling and always motivated.  To shake things up, the film more or less opens with the obligatory epic battle scene, but it serves to effectively establish the story instead of conclude it, making room for far more intimate and impressive action sequences to arrive later in the narrative when it truly counts.  However, it still is a great epic battle scene; short but sweet, and one of the best Disney has produced since The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005).  First-time director Robert Stromberg makes an impressive debut, no doubt to the credit of his background as a decorated production designer.  No expense was spared in the visual creation of Maleficent's world, but no expense was wasted either.

The film is not without its flaws, but they are few and far between, and completely forgivable considering that Disney has improved upon its previous outings of the same nature.  In the end, all of this makes for one of the tightest and most efficient movies Disney has given us recently, and that is very impressive given the fact that they can more than afford cinematic indulgence (and again, Oz really did suck).  It will certainly be interesting to see whether Disney can continue this quality and efficiency with their subsequent live-action version of Cinderella in 2015.  Who's know what its twist might be - the viewpoint of the glass slipper?  Regardless, the bar has been set very high, and there's little room to phone anything in anymore.  Maleficent gives me faith in the future of live-action Disney, and highly I doubt they will pull another Oz, because it really did suck.

- McS