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Review: In 'The Breaking Ice,' a trio comes together for a stretch of wild abandon

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Review: In 'The Breaking Ice,' a trio comes together for a stretch of wild abandon

To leave something behind doesn’t necessarily imply a sense of direction. That active limbo permeates writer-director Anthony Chen’s appealingly liquid “The Breaking Ice,” about a trio of disaffected Chinese twentysomethings defying their chilly northern environs by forming a quick, meaningful connection over an alcohol-fueled weekend.

From the delicate impermanence of snow to the appealing solidity of a frozen river, water becomes a well-mined metaphor in Chen’s modestly restive drama, which is set in a border region of China alongside North Korea that itself hews to no set identity. (And yes, as you might have speculated, boundaries are another active metaphor in the film.)

In the wintry foothills of Yanji, tour guide Nana (Zhou Dongyu) leads busloads of cheery Chinese travelers on day trips to the area’s traditional Korean villages, where costumed inhabitants perform ritualized dances. In between perky spiels and herding tourists, Nana has a brooding countenance: She likes her silent smoke breaks when she isn’t sardonically dismissing the cautious advances of kind, handsome pal Xiao (Qu Chuxiao), an employee at the restaurant where her groups eat lunch.

A brief glimpse of Nana’s performative charm and private hardness draws the attention of lonely Haofeng (Liu Haoran), a bank associate from Shanghai in town for a wedding, which may be an excuse for a more drastic decision. (He routinely ignores phone calls from a persistent mental-health counselor.) Seeing a chance to get out of his head, he joins Nana’s tour. Subsequently, she becomes intrigued by this sweatered, bespectacled figure lingering like a needy stray, and invites him to party with her and Xiao on their days off. Nana’s cramped, messy apartment becomes the place where everyone crashes, and two characters manage a nervy, fumbling hook-up.

A scene from the movie “The Breaking Ice.”

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(Strand Releasing)

This temporary “Jules and Jim”-style bond, which includes motorcycle excursions out of town, impromptu dares (cue the Godard reference), and plenty of clubbing, certainly looks invigorating in the way freshly minted abandon can be. And when you expect a frisson of jealousy to disrupt this unit — conditioned as we are by a lifetime of these tales — Chen avoids it, suggesting his characters are more interested in cohesion’s heady rush than collision’s emotional pitfalls.

And yet Chen, a Singaporean who’s made something of a theme out of unexpected connections between those outside their comfort zone (“Wet Season,” last year’s “Drift”), keeps his lost characters’ vulnerabilities as an undercurrent. Their stabs at freedom are invariably colored (beyond Yu Jing-pin’s nimble cinematography) by a gently swirling, intangible sadness, like a frost each of them can see but know will dissipate as long as they keep moving on to the next thing. Kin Leonn’s percolating score, reminiscent of the earliest days of ambient indie soundtracks, is similarly double-sided as an aural companion: swooning and melancholy in equal measure.

The payoff is a movie that, more than not, lyrically roams between states of being while skirting the need to explain itself. The experiment mostly works. You’d be surprised how nice it is to glean only a little bit about someone’s past — through an artful visual effect, or a couple of enigmatic sentences — without it feeling like something that we’ll need to see resolved for the sake of a tidy narrative.

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It’s bracing to watch a movie whose very flow communicates how to experience it, which can also be said of Zhou’s captivating turn as a young woman committed to being elusive as a ward against what being still and reflective might bring up. Her co-stars do fine work too, but something about Zhou’s pulsating portrayal seems to get nearest to what Chen’s after in “The Breaking Ice” about a young generation’s anxieties, toggling between the exhilarating restlessness of running water and those times when one feels cold and hard.

‘The Breaking Ice’

Not rated

In Mandarin and Korean, with English subtitles

Running time: 1 hour, 37 minutes

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Playing: Now at Laemmle Royal, West Los Angeles

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Movie Reviews

‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?

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‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?

Just when you think Pixar’s petting-zoo cute new movie “Hoppers” is flagrantly ripping off James Cameron, the characters come clean.


movie review

HOPPERS

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Running time: 105 minutes. Rated PG (action/peril, some scary images and mild language). In theaters March 6.

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“You guys, this is like ‘Avatar’!,” squeals 19-year-old Mabel (Piper Curda), the studio’s rare college-age heroine. 

Shoots back her nutty professor, Dr. Fairfax (Kathy Kajimy): “This is nothing like ‘Avatar!’”

Sorry, Doc, it definitely is. And that’s fine. Placing the smart sci-fi story atop an animated family film feels right for Pixar, which has long fused the technological, the fantastical and the natural into a warm signature blend. Also, come on, “Avatar” is “Dances With Wolves” via “E.T.”

What separates “Hoppers” from the pack of recent Pix flix, which have been wholesome as a church bake sale, is its comic irreverence. 

Director Daniel Chong’s original movie is terribly funny, and often in an unfamiliar, warped way for the cerebral and mushy studio. For example, I’ve never witnessed so many speaking characters be killed off in a Pixar movie — and laughed heartily at their offings to boot.

What’s the parallel to Pandora? Mabel, a budding environmental activist, has stumbled on a secret laboratory where her kooky teachers can beam their minds into realistic robot animals in order to study them. They call the devices “hoppers.”  

In Pixar’s “Hoppers,” a teen girl discovers a secret device that can turn her into a talking beaver. AP

Bold and fiery Mabel — PETA, but palatable — sees an opportunity. 

The mayor of Beaverton, Jerry (Jon Hamm), plans to destroy her beloved local pond that’s teeming with wildlife to build an expressway. And the only thing stopping the egomaniacal pol — a more upbeat version of President Business from “The Lego Movie” — is the water’s critters, who have all mysteriously disappeared. 

So, Mabel avatars into beaver-bot, and sets off in search of the lost creatures to discover why they’ve left.

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From there, the movie written by Jesse Andrews (“Luca”) toys with “Toy Story.” Here’s what mischief fuzzy mammals, birds, reptiles and insects get up to when humans aren’t snooping around. Dance aerobics, it turns out. 

Mabel (Piper Curda) meets King George (Bobby Moynihan). AP

Per the usual, “Hoppers” goes deep inside their intricate society. The beasts have a formal political system of antagonistic “Game of Thrones”-like royal houses. The most menacing are the Insect Queen (Meryl Streep — I’d call her a chameleon, but she’s playing a bug), a staunch monarch butterfly and her conniving caterpillar kid (Dave Franco). They’re scheming for power. 

Perfectly content with his station is Mabel’s new best furry friend King George (Bobby Moynihan), a gullible beaver who ascended to the throne unexpectedly. He happily enforces “pond rules,” such as, “When you gotta eat, eat.”   

That means predators have free rein to nosh on prey, and everybody’s cool with it. Because of bone-dry deliveries, like exhausted office drones, the four-legged cast members are hilarious as they go about their Animal Planet activities. 

Mayor Jerry (Jon Hamm) plans to destroy a local pond to build an expressway. AP

No surprise — talking lizards, sharks, bears, geese and frogs are the real stars here. They far outshine Mabel, even when she dons beaver attire. Much like a 19-year-old in a job interview, she doesn’t leave much of an impression. 

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Yes, the teen has a heartfelt motivation: The embattled pond was her late grandma’s favorite place. Mabel promised her that she’d protect it. 

But in personality she doesn’t rank as one of Pixar’s most engaging leads, perhaps because she’s past voting age. Mabel is nestled in a nebulous phase between teenage rebellion and adulthood that’s pretty blasé, even if a touch of tension comes from her hiding her Homo sapien identity from her new diminutive pals. When animated, kids make better adventurers, plain and simple.

AP

“Hoppers” continues Pixar’s run of humble, charming originals (“Luca,” “Elio”) in between billion-dollar-grossing, idea-starved sequels (“Inside Out 2,” probably “Toy Story 5”). The Disney-owned studio’s days of irrepressible innovation and unmatched imagination are well behind it. No one’s awed by anything anymore. “Coco,” almost 10 years ago, was their last new property to wow on the scale of peak Pixar.

Look, the new movie is likable and has a brain, heart and ample laughs. That’s more than I can say for most family fare. “A Minecraft Movie” made me wanna hop right out of the theater.

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Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79

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Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79

Ulysses Jenkins, the pioneering Los Angeles-born video artist whose avant-garde compositions embodied Black experimentalism, has died. He was 79.

Jenkins’ death was confirmed by his alma mater Otis College, where he studied under renowned painter and printmaker Charles White in the late 1970s and returned as an instructor years later. The Los Angeles art and design school shared a statement from the Charles White Archive, which said, “Jenkins had a profound impact on contemporary art and media practices.”

“A trailblazing figure in Black experimental video, he was widely recognized for works that used image, sound, and cultural iconography to examine representation, race, gender, ritual, history, and power,” the statement said.

A self-proclaimed “griot,” Jenkins throughout his decades-spanning career maintained an art practice grounded in the tradition of those West African oral historians who came before him. Through archival documentaries like “The Nomadics” and surrealist murals like “1848: Bandaide,” he leveraged alternative media to challenge Eurocentric representations of Black Americans in popular culture.

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He was both an artist and a storyteller who sought to “reassert the history and the culture,” he told The Times in 2022. That year, the Hammer Museum presented Jenkins’ first major retrospective, “Ulysses Jenkins: Without Your Interpretation.”

“Early video art was about the problems with the media that we are still having today: the notions of truth,” Jenkins said. “To that extent, early video art was a construct that was anti-media … a critical analysis of the media that we were viewing every night.”

Born in 1946 to Los Angeles transplants from the South, Jenkins was ambivalent about the city, which offered his parents some refuge from the blatant systemic racism they encountered in their hometowns, but housed an entertainment industry that had long perpetuated anti-Black sentiment.

“What Hollywood represents, especially in my work, is the classic plantation mentality,” Jenkins told The Times in 1986. “Although people aren’t necessarily enslaved by it, people enslave themselves to it because they’re told how fantastic it is to help manifest these illusions for a corporate sponsor.”

Jenkins, who participated in a group of artists committed to spontaneous action called Studio Z, was naturally drawn to video art over Hollywood filmmaking. “I can address any issue and I don’t have to wait for [the studios’] big OK. I thought this was a land of freedom, and video allows me that freedom and opportunity that I can create for myself and at least feel that part of being an American,” he said.

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Jenkins went on to deconstruct Hollywood’s vision of the Black diaspora in experimental video compositions including “Mass of Images,” which incorporates clips from D.W. Griffith’s notoriously racist “The Birth of a Nation,” and “Two-Tone Transfer,” which depicts, in Jenkins’ words, a “dreamscape in which the dreamer awakens to a visitation of three minstrels who tell the story of the development of African American stereotypes in the American entertainment industry.”

Jenkins’ legacy is not only artistic but institutional, with the luminary having held teaching appointments at UCSD and UCI, where he co-founded the digital filmmaking minor with fellow Southern California-based artists Bruce Yonemoto and Bryan Jackson.

As artist and educator Suzanne Lacy penned in her social media tribute to Jenkins, which showed him speaking to students at REDCAT in L.A., “he has been an important part of our histories here in Southern California as video and performance artists evolved their practices.”

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Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar

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Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar

4/5 stars

Bounding into cinemas just in time for spring, the latest Pixar animation is a pleasingly charming tale of man vs nature, with a bit of crazy robot tech thrown in.

The star of Hoppers is Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Piper Curda), a young animal-lover leading a one-girl protest over a freeway being built through the tranquil countryside near her hometown of Beaverton.

Because the freeway is the pet project of the town’s popular mayor, Jerry (Jon Hamm), who is vying for re-election, Mabel’s protests fall on deaf ears.

Everything changes when she stumbles upon top-secret research by her biology professor, Dr Sam Fairfax (Kathy Najimy), that allows for the human consciousness to be linked to robotic animals. This lets users get up close and personal with other species.

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“This is like Avatar,” Mabel coos, and, in truth, it is. Plugged into a headset, Mabel is reborn inside a robotic beaver. She plans to recruit a real beaver to help populate the glade, which is set to be destroyed by Jerry’s proposed road.
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