Five Reasons for the Lack of Reviews As of Late
1) Disillusioned/disappointed by how many painfully mediocre movies I paid to sit through these past two months. I am starting to lose faith, and January/February is a rough time for a moviegoer to hit that wall.
2) Another year has gone by, marking another year that I didn’t finish my screenplay. Currently devoting a whole lot of time to that front as a result, and the progress has been kickass. Will keep you posted.
3) Tying into that, I just can’t kick this nagging feeling that I should be making movies instead of reviewing movies. Don’t take that as a swan song or anything, but the monkey’s on my back and he’s only getting heavier.
4) Recently discovered Final Fantasy VI, 17 years after everyone else did. It is great, it is distracting.
5) I’m actually getting married in four days to the best gal in the Milky Way, so that’s been keeping me pretty preoccupied. With that being said, it might be a little while ’til I get back into the swing of things, but it’s for an awfully good cause.
Anyway, there ya’ have it. Sorry for being so incognito as of late, but life calls. Keep it real, folks.
- Aiden R.
And the best Michael Keaton movie is…
BEETLEJUICE!
When it comes to the reasons why the world needs more Keaton, Beetlejuice is case in point. When it come so the best movie Keaton’s ever been in, I might have to take issue. All the same, hell of a movie and swell voting to boot, folks.
RESULTS:
- Beetlejuice: 8 votes
- Batman: 4 votes
- Batman Returns: 4 votes
- Toy Story 3: 3 votes
- Jackie Brown: 3 votes
- Cars: 1 vote
- Multiplicity: 1 vote
- Porco Rosso: 1 vote
- Out of Sight: 0 votes (tragic…)
- Clean and Sober: 0 votes
- Pacific Heights: 0 votes
- Mr. Mom: 0 votes
- Night Shift: 0 votes
- Other: 1 vote for Jack Frost (interesting choice,) 1 vote for The Dream Team (never seen it,) and 1 vote for “ALL OF THEM!” (Amen to that.)
Bonus points for an awesome cartoon tie-in.
And the most effed-up booby trap from Home Alone is…
MARV STEPPING BAREFOOT ONTO A RUSTY NAIL!
If they weren’t out to murder a child, I’d feel pretty bad for what Harry and Marv had to go through. Then again, they should be thanking their lucky stars they made it into that house with their spines intact. What a bunch of Scrooges.
Swell voting, folks!
RESULTS:
- Rusty nail to the foot: 9 votes
- Blowtorch to the skull: 4 votes
- Tarantula on the face: 3 votes
- Door knob from Hell: 3 votes
- Paint cans to the face: 3 votes
- Iron to the forehead: 3 votes (easy pick for me, should have resulted in instant death)
- Ice stairs: 2 votes
And apologies for dropping off the face of the Earth these past 10 days. Had every intention of giving a heads up, but alas, vacation got the better of me. That and starting a file on Final Fantasy VI for the first time in my life. Curse all these hobbies…
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Ladykillers
Quite the improvement on the original, but can’t quite top the book.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is about a famed Swedish journalist who finds his reputation tarred and feathered when he loses a high-profile legal battle against a billionaire industrialist. After resigning from his up-and-coming publication, he receives an unexpected call from a Swedish business tycoon requesting his presence at once. He visits the old man and is promptly given a proposition despite having no prior experience as a criminal investigator or ever having watched a single episode of CSI: Stockholm: to find out which of his potential employer’s family members murdered his great-niece some 30 years prior. With time to kill and the promise of a big fat payday even if he comes up empty-handed, he takes the job. With the assistance of a right-hand woman who could hack her way into the Pentagon with the effort it takes me to remember my Facebook password, the unlikely crime-solving duo start unearthing a tomb of secrets that some close by are trying very hard to keep buried.
Before we begin, go read the book if you haven’t already. I know, I know, not the best way to kick things off and I can feel your eyes rolling from here. I promise this won’t be a “book vs. movie” review, but having read it myself and having seen the original Swedish adaptation, I’m glad I was in the know. For those who aren’t, get ready for a doozie. The first reason you should read the book is that it will result in a literary addiction similar to what crackheads feel when Santa brings them their very first rock and pipe for Christmas (because I’m totally an authority on the matter.) The second reason is that it’s roughly 600 pages long, it’s jam-packed with more characters, details, and information than you can shake a stick at, and since all of it is vital to the story and overall experience, there’s just no way to cram it all into a 158-minute span.
That was one of the problems with the Swedish movie: not having a firmer grasp on who to flesh out and what to spend time on. This is not one of the problems with the remake. Writer Steven Zaillian does a fine job of whittling the dialogue down to a bare minimum while adding a healthy dose of character in the process, but this movie belongs to David Fincher. As far as selective editing and intentional film making is concerned, Fincher’s a goddamn assembly line. Every last scene is here for a reason, and as soon as its purpose is fulfilled, it goes right along to the next one without skipping a beat or wasting a breath. Reading that back, this might sound like one big episode of The West Wing with the fast-forward button held down, but that’s far from the reality of it. As one of my friends put it (a Fincher fanboy of the highest order, not that I’m any different,) David Fincher is a director who knows exactly what he’s doing, and it won’t take long with this movie before you realize the truth of that statement.
The upsides of this approach are that it allows for a lot of information to be packed into a short frame of time, it moves things along at a breakneck pace which transforms it from a talking heads movie into a full-blown thriller, and it makes you pay attention. The downsides of this approach are that it gives you a lot of information in a short from of time, it conveys a lot of the clues and developments through inference and things unsaid, and it’s unforgiving if you bought a ticket just because you liked the booby poster. If I were going into this movie blind or with the same mindset that led me to Ghost Protocol, I think I’d be tearing my hair out. But that’s not the kind of book Stieg Larsson wrote, and that’s not the movie Fincher’s made. There’s an ass-kicker of a story to be told here, and if you can’t keep up, it’s kind of your own fault as cold as that may sound. Then again, that only seems fitting for the emotionally frigid movie that this is.
Although as incredibly effective as his direction is, I wish he had taken his time a bit more often. When he does, it makes for some scenes that’ll stall your lungs before knocking the wind out for good measure. There isn’t much room for baited tension in this movie, and that’s too bad considering this is David Fincher, a dude who knows some shit about baiting tension before we can realize there’s a hook through our cheek. But when it’s there, it’s fantastic, and it’s also worth mentioning that he’s given us the best opening credits sequence of the year that looks like something straight out of the gnarliest of Nine Inch Nails videos.
But Fincher aside, the biggest selling point of this movie is far and away the one role that every girl with daddy issues would have killed for and then some: Lisbeth Salander. When I saw Rooney Mara in The Social Network, I didn’t see a badass bitch with the scars and piercings to prove it. I don’t think anyone saw it, but here she is looking like the bastard love child of Mudvayne and Powder, and she freaking destroys. There’s a good reason this movie isn’t called The Man with the Libel Conviction, and it’s the same reason everyone but the Academy went so ape over Noomi Rapace these past couple years. Lisbeth is one tempest of a character, she’s beyond eccentric compared to the rest of the cast, and it’s always great to see tough female characters who run the show with gusto and take pleasure in putting the opposite sex in their place. Hard to say whether she trumps Rapace, but this is one seriously demanding role and she goes all out with it. Would be pretty darn shocked if she didn’t walk away with some wins come February, ’cause she earned ‘em.
Even so, this movie isn’t about Lisbeth Salander, it’s actually about our disgraced journalist Mikael Blomkvist, regardless of the title. My biggest complaint about the Swedish version is the way Blomkvist and all his complexities were so blatantly put on the back burner so as not to take the spotlight away from Lisbeth. From the outset, Blomkvist has the immediate appeal of wet clothes against the backdrop of Rooney Mara’s mohawk, but the truth of the matter is that Blomkvist is every bit as interesting as his punked-out partner. I mean, it takes a long time for Blomkvist and Salander to start working together, they’ve got a lot going on in their respective lives outside of the murder mystery, so it’s really nice to see that Zallian and Fincher gave each of them their due both before and after they team up. And while he never stood a chance at upstaging Mara, this is still Daniel Craig’s best role since Casino Royale.
Also bizarre seeing Yorick Van Wageningen go from a jolly Dutchman named Joost in The Way to Lisbeth’s scumbag mother-effer of a legal guardian. Talk about night and day, but the role suits him disturbingly well.
And lastly there’s the score from the almighty Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross which is as good as it already sounds. Currently undecided as to whether their involvement here works as well as it did in The Social Network, but it’s nevertheless a perfect complement to the tone of the movie. So many haunting, gorgeous tracks here, especially the few that sound like Trent slamming keys in the grand ballroom of an abandoned castle. You’ll get it when you hear it, or you could just be the man/woman and buy the three-disc soundtrack prontosaurus.
As much as I liked The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and as impressed as I am by how well Fincher handled it, I still can’t help but feel a bit lackluster about it all. This is the third time I’ve heard the story, and I don’t know if it was a story I needed to hear three times. Some of the story’s greatest strengths lie in its ruthless unpredictability and giving the reader an outrageously wide berth to put the pieces together, so when you know every road that the plot’s gonna take, you start hoping for the detours. Although I did appreciate some of the more subtle liberties that Zaillian took with the source material, like an unexpected turn of events towards the end, ignoring the prison sentence Blomkvist has to serve, and skipping over all the time he spends writing his book against the guy who put him there. Also nice to see more time spent on key players and less time spent on the two dozen family members who are all potential suspects, even if it might make the mystery a bit easier to unravel.
God, this is an easy movie to ramble about, time to wrap it up. If you’ve never taken the trip, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is as wild, rough, and memorable as they come. If you’ve been here before, it might be familiar, but by the same token, that might just be me. As a devoted worshiper at the church of Reznor and someone who’s been Fincher-crazy since I figured out what the fuck was in the fuckin’ box, it’s hard to deny this movie a recommendation with everything it does so well.
But do yourself a favor, read the book first.
The Artist (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Wordless Choruses
The best silent film I’ve seen all year.
Set in 1920s Hollywood, The Artist is about a silent film star at the top of his career who takes a charming girl under his wing as she tries to make a name for herself in Tinseltown. He’s riding high and loving life, that is until “talkies” make their debut and the actor finds his forte turning into yesterday’s news. As his protege jumps on the bandwagon and becomes the latest siren of the silver screen, the actor’s pride get the best of him as he risks everything to stick with the old and write off the new as a passing fad. Much to his chagrin, the plan doesn’t quite pan out. Before long, his marriage, livelihood, and dignity start to crumble while his protege watches on, doing whatever she can to help from the shadows.
So how is awesome is it that this movie is out right now and getting all these awards and whatnot? In this day and age, you go to a studio exec and you tell ‘em you want to make a silent movie about silent movies, there’s a strong chance he’ll shoot you dead and get away with it. The general assumption when there’s money on the line is that backing a project like this would be a money pit, something only movie snobs and old farts would go see. If it was my money in question, I’d probably wouldn’t risk it either, but that’s the problem. Too many studios today equate bigger budgets with better movies and are more than happy to sacrifice the story if it makes for a sweeter payday, and that’s why these movies don’t get made. It’s been a really long time since we’ve had an option like The Artist to choose from, and now that it’s here, you’ll be wondering what took so long.
Although for a lot of folks, this is a pretty tough sell. It’s not in 3D, it’s not in color, it’s starring two French people you’ve probably never heard of, it’s not even in widescreen, and when you’re not reading subtitles, you’re trying to read lips. Who am I kidding, that’s more of a death sentence than it is a tough sell. But I guess I’m not a lot of folks, ’cause before I bought the ticket, before I took the ride, I was loving this movie. I have no idea what spurned writer/director Michael Hazanavicius to take this inspired trip back in time, but that seems to be the big theme this year, doesn’t it? Woody did it with Midnight in Paris, Marty did it with Hugo, and now that Hazanavicius is doing it, seems to me like film makers aren’t too keen on the 21st Century these days. Whatever the reason, I’m behind it 100% if it’s getting us movies like these.
And nothing against Woody or Marty, but what Hazanavicius does here is just plain brilliant. It’s such a surprisingly literal approach to telling this silent story that it takes a bit of getting used to since we’re so attuned to hearing voices when mouths start moving. I have no excuse for the tragic shortlist of silent movies that I’ve seen, so walking into this was like walking into Bizarro World. Everything is shown, very little is told, and intertitles are used at an absolute bare minimum. But before you know it, it feels natural, you get sucked in, and as you follow this plot that’s driven by body language, you’ll wonder why sound was such a big deal in the first place. It’s funny, I just watched Pulp Fiction for the first time in ages recently, and as much as I love the way Tarantino writes, his characters do not stop talking. It’s not a problem with every movie because some people, like Tarantino, just know how to write dialogue, but it seems to me that the art of subtlety a dying practice.
I feel like a broken record saying this, but one of the most aggravating qualities in a person, invented or real, is the impulse to talk for the sake of talking. Apparently Hazanavicius is on the level, and I can’t praise him enough for it. All too often, film makers and studios underestimate the audience’s ability to follow along if things are spelled out, but this movie is living proof of what little dialogue you need to tell a story that speaks volumes. When his characters make key statements or when conversations are held, we’ll get the occasional intertitle to keep up, but most of the time Hazanavicius just lets his wonderful cast of mutes do the talking, and the system works like gangbusters.
So the story revolves around one George Valentin who’s played by one Jean Dujardin. The only other thing I know Dujardin from is OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies, another Hazanavicius joint where he stole the show as the French, attractive version of Austin Powers. If he was magnetic then, he’s a freaking hadron collider now. God, when this guy smiles, you’ll want to get up dance; when he’s at the bottom of a bottle, you’ll want to crawl in there with him. He’s just so incredibly expressive in his physicality and it’s amazing how well he pulls it off without going overboard. Dude has one hell of a face to work with and, boy, does he know how to mug with it. Still partial to Michael Shannon in Take Shelter, but Dujardin is an awfully, awfully close second for best male performance of the year.
Dujardin’s real-life wife, Berenice Bejo, is also fantastic for all the same reasons as his on-screen sweetheart, Peppy Miller. As you can image, these two have a whole lot of chemistry going for ‘em and they just light up the screen when they’re together. Again, what a face, and these two can cut some rug like you wouldn’t believe. Bonus points for Valentin’s totally awesome Jack Russell Terrier who makes that Hollywood hack Lassie look like a bow-legged mutt with canine scurvy.
And while I still have to hear what Reznor and Ross put together for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, they’re gonna have some stiff competition with this score in the running. Not only is it pitch-perfect throughout and easy on the ears, it’s so cool to watch the music guide the action and vice-versa as though it’s a supporting character. Only worry is that it might not be eligible come awards season since one of songs is “Pennies from Heaven,” and that’s the kind of hooey that’s gotten some of the best scores disqualified. Freakin’ Academy…
Anyway, it’s more than deserving of all the acclaim it’s continuing to garner even if it’s not my #1 for the year. I can see how some folks would take this is as a love letter to the silent era, but to me, that’s selling it short. Aside from its great little story about love, redemption, and the tides of change; aside from its phenomenal premise that had me sold from the start; aside from the achievement it is from both a technical and storytelling standpoint; and aside from having one of the best dream sequences I’ve ever seen, The Artist is just a magical, delightful, and truly unexpected experience that grabs hold of you right up until the last two words that’ll leave you smiling from ear-to-ear. This is how you take two steps forward by taking one step back, and it couldn’t have come at a better, or more pertinent, time.
Remember this when you see Titanic in 3D next year.
Young Adult (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Homewrecking Queens
Not my favorite Reitman effort, but damn is it wicked.
Young Adult is about a thirty-something divorcee who spends her nights getting blackout drunk with random one-night stands and her days ghostwriting the final entry in a once-popular series of young adult novels. One day, she receives a mass email from her high school sweetheart announcing the birth of his first child. Instead of sending it to the Trash Bin like a normal person, she takes it as a sign and heads back to her podunk hometown for the first time in forever. When she gets there, she winds up befriending the fat geek she ignored all throughout high school, and soon after begins her conquest to win back her old flame from his new wife and kid.
Remember how warm and fuzzy you felt the last time Jason Reitman and Diablo Cody teamed up for Juno? Even I wanted to get pregnant after that movie. Well imagine Juno grew up and spent the next 20 years drowning her sorrows in reality TV and Maker’s Mark, wishing every day that she’d kept the baby and stuck it out with Paulie Bleeker (who’s now shacked up with some chick in a band.) That’s our young adult, Mavis Gary, and she is a freakin’ mess. For a film making duo that stole our hearts four years ago, I wasn’t expecting them to give ‘em back four years later looking like ash trays, but whether you like or loathe this movie is ultimately dependent on what you make of Mavis.
I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with characters to compare her to, and as much I like to think that Kenny Powers, Regina George, and Travis Bickle are all fitting candidates, Mavis is one-of-a-kind. When we first meet her, there ain’t much to write home about. Depressing, pathetic, washed-up, irresponsible, unhealthy, unapologetic – all wonderful adjectives to sum her up in a nutshell. Not the kind of person you’d like to spend thirteen bucks and 94 minutes on, although there is something amusing about the rose-colored glasses she wears, her morning-after routine that starts with chugging Diet Coke from the liter, and the way she’s so convinced that everyone around her are the ones stuck in a dead-end. The only thing she isn’t cynical about is her own selfish ambitions, yet as much as you can’t root for her in the slightest, I still had a hard time hating her. I just felt bad for her.
Maybe it’s that I never had a high school sweetheart to pine over during my mid-life crisis that I still haven’t reached, and that I don’t have a void in my life that can only be filled with a time machine. The only thing about Mavis I can relate to is that I knew girls like her in college and those were girls I wanted nothing to do with. Her unlikely confidante who comes in the form of Patton Oswalt is an entirely different matter though. Aside from my wholehearted belief that Patton Oswalt is a goddamn genius as both a comedian and human being, he’s perfectly cast and absolutely great as Matt Freehauf, the anti-Mavis from top to bottom. Granted, his character’s circumstances and reasonable outlook on life make him a whole lot easier to feel for and care about, but this story needs Matt and his push-and-pull with Mavis is one of the best things it has going for it. Being a geek, I saw a lot more of myself in Matt than in Mavis, and without him around, this prima donna would have been too much to bear.
Man, I have no idea why Patton Oswalt isn’t in more movies. Someone needs to fix that.
And Charlize Theron is unsurprisingly awesome as Mavis. Look, if you had a recurring role on Arrested Development, you’re already set for life in the awesome department, but that’s beside the point. It’s one thing to look the role of a former prom queen who still probably mentions it on her resume’, it’s another thing to sell it and cut loose as the totally misguided man-eater that Mavis Gary is. Being no stranger to playing a self-destructive gal, Theron throws herself down the spiral and does a bang-up job of keeping Mavis from coming off as a grown-up “plastic.” Still a bit confused as to how a boozehound like Mavis can eat fast food for every meal, barely exercise, and still look like Charlize Theron, but again, beside the point.
Also nice to see Patrick Wilson in a role that doesn’t have him looking like a door-greeter at Abercrombie & Fitch.
But here’s the thing: for 95% of the movie, I dug Mavis Gary as the highly atypical character that she is and could refrain from passing judgment because there’s a lot more going on below the surface than she’d care to have anyone know. But then comes a morning-after heart-to-heart towards the end of the movie between her and Matt’s sister, played by Collette Wolfe. By this time, Mavis’ plans have gone about the way you already think they’ll go, and the chat starts out sweetly enough with Matt’s sister encouraging Mavis to be proud of who she is and what she’s accomplished. This could have been a turning point for both Mavis and the tone of the story as a whole, but instead Mavis responds to Matt’s sister with, “You know what? You’re right! Thanks a mil and go fuck yourself!” The more I keep thinking about the conversation and what I was supposed to take away from it (and from the movie as a whole,) the one thing that keeps coming to mind is, “No, Mavis. You go fuck yourself.” It’s what dropped this movie down from a 7 and still has me borderline pissed off.
I don’t like Mavis Gary as a person, but it works because she’s not looking for my approval. So if there’s one thing I can applaud screenwriter Diablo Cody for, it’s for giving us an antihero to get behind and refusing to sugarcoat her flaws. I feel like we’re all so used to seeing movies centered around people we can root for and connect to because those are the people we want to spend time with, but it’s nice to have some variety from the other end of the spectrum every once in a while, even if we do get stuck with the occasional Greenberg. At the end of the day, I’d rather dislike a protagonist than feel neutral about them, and as much as there is to dislike about Mavis, it was hard not to get invested in her train wreck of an existence.
And if there’s a second thing I can applaud Diablo Cody for, it’s that she’s still a damn good writer. From Matt’s homemade Star Wars whiskey to all the ’90s alt rock references that turn up on everything from T-shirts to mix tapes, I love the way she builds her characters through pop culture references. Makes for a nice complement to the ’90s alt rock soundtrack and it’s just sharp writing to boot, even if the humor’s a bit too bitchy for my taste.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Mavis Gary since I left the theater last weekend and I’ve still got some thinking ahead of me. I can’t kick this nagging feeling that the world doesn’t need people like Mavis to fight the bad fight for us, but hers is nevertheless one of the more complicated and divisive character studies I’ve come across in ages. I almost want to see it again just to help me decide which side of the fence I’m on. Emphasis on “almost.” But whether you walk out of the theater wondering why you went in at all or you just so happen to see yourself in mean old Mavis, you’ll walk out of Young Adult feeling something, and that’s certainly better than nothing. Hell of a conversation topic at the least.
Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Tower Heists
The best one yet, the best thrill ride of the year, total insanity.
Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol picks up with the Impossible Missions Force’s top agent Ethan Hunt getting busted out of a Moscow prison so that he break into the Kremlin and steal the launch codes to some nuclear warheads. When things don’t go according to plan and the Kremlin gets blown the hell up, the US is blamed for the attack and the IMF, along with all of its members, are immediately disbanded. With no one else to support him and his ragtag crew, Hunt busts out the gadgets and gets to globetrotting in order to stop a mad scientist before he kicks off a nuclear holocaust.
I think the last time I saw the first Mission: Impossible was when it was still out in theaters, and while I vaguely remember liking it, I was mostly just scarred for life by Emilio’s death-by-elevator scene. Then there was the second one which was both beyond ludicrous and had way too many dove cameos; and most recently was the third which was pretty darn wild despite a story that didn’t make a lick of sense. Given the shaky track record and the fact that I could only see it in IMAX, I feel like I should have been more hesitant going into this one. But what can I say, I was a total sucker for that ass-kicker of a trailer, and sometimes you gotta go for the IMAX. Definitely added an extra something to the 6-minute Dark Knight Rises prologue that played beforehand.
Now, I’ve gotten excited over some action-packed trailers before, and more often than not, that kind of behavior has led to some major letdowns. The sad truth is that it’s easy to cram all the best parts of a movie into a two-minute span and then buffer the finished product with two hours of disappointing fluff, the hard part is taking that two-minute highlight reel and then kicking the audience in the face for two hours like you promised. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, I should know better, but as you can see quite plainly from the poster, the only disappointment you’ll be experiencing is that you didn’t bring a second pair of fresh undies.
Folks, this thing is just nuts, and the man to be thanking is director Brad Bird. Yup, it’s the first live-action movie by the guy who did The Incredibles, and whoever handed him the reigns deserves a big, fat high-thirty. I mean, it really is like watching a live-action Pixar movie. Unless you’re one of those quacks who still thinks Pixar movies are for kids, I can’t think of a better endorsement than that. Everything flows seamlessly from one scene to the next, each new impossible scenario gets injected with an extra 20 cc’s of impossibility just to make things interesting, and it’s so effing awesome to see a movie that keeps one-upping itself without nuking the fridge. There were a lot of moments where this movie could have done just that, and in someone else’s hands it absolutely could have happened, but with Bird behind the wheel, it’s a high-octane blast from start to finish. Have no idea how he got some of the jaw-dropping, hurl-inducing shots he did amidst some seriously epic set pieces either.
Although that’s not to say that the only reason this movie succeeds is because of Bird’s involvement.
Thanks to the likes of Collateral and Tropic Thunder, Tom Cruise has done an impressive job of remaining in my good graces over the years despite my best efforts to write him off. I want him to be the kooky bastard who couch-surfed on Oprah, I want him to be the uber-defensive Scientologist who gave that glib bastard Matt Lauer the 411 on psychology, I want him to be the best beach volleyball player the United States Air Force has ever seen. But then he starts doing all his own death-defying stunts off the tallest building in the word with the same amount of effort it would take me to cannonball off the deep end, and all of that nonsense disappears into the void. Dammit, Tom… He may be pushing 50, but he makes it look good and he’s totally entertaining to watch. Simon Pegg, Paula Patton, and Jeremy Renner are also on-point as Hunt’s team members, but I was just psyched to see the ridiculously underused Josh Holloway get some love for once as a late IMF agent.
And the gadgets here are so, so, so, so boss. To name a few, we’ve got Spider-man gloves, magnet suits, travel-size mask-makers, and even a Beemer straight out of Minority Report to beat the traffic in style. Wasn’t excited about the gadgets going in and wasn’t expecting them to be a selling point, but they’re just endlessly wild to see in action. Certainly helps when they’re not stupid as hell and beyond convenient. Can’t help but wonder how these guys manage to be so outrageously prepared for each mission despite such limited resources and short notice, but apparently the IMF thought of everything before shit went down. Better to not ask questions about these kinds of things. It’s weird considering that one of the reasons Casino Royale was so good was ’cause they got rid of all the gadgets, but then again, Ethan Hunt never got his Gadget Card revoked for para-surfing off a glacial tidal wave.
The one and only thing that I was pretty bummed out about is Michael Nyqvist as our villain of the hour, Kurt Hendricks. The first thing that sucks is that Philip Seymour Hoffman was so freaking good as the bad guy in Mission: Impossible III that Nyqvist was kinda doomed from the start. The second thing that sucks is that Nyqvist doesn’t even get the chance to one-up his predecessor because Hendricks is a shell of a character. In his defense, the dude wants to go War Games all over us so he needs to be taken out, but since he has absolutely no vendetta against or history with Ethan Hunt or the IMF, you don’t really care about him outside of the threat he poses. He’s essentially the finish line and nothing more, and that’s a damn shame considering how fleshed-out all the good guys are. And not that it’s really pertinent, but the third thing that sucks is that Nyqvist’s character got the shaft in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, too! Bizarre how this guy can’t catch a break no matter how big his movies are.
Still, I’ll take the weak villain in light of everything else that flat-out destroys. Also nice to have a story that actually adds up for a change.
After digging Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy for being the antithesis of this movie, I was awfully taken aback by what a time I had with Ghost Protocol. It wasn’t a mindless experience in the least, it’s as fun as they come, and I was breaking out in flop sweats every ten minutes from all the crap Ethan keeps getting himself into and out of. Seriously, I was a mess, thought I was going through menopause or something. The long and short of it is that there aren’t too many franchises out there that manage to kick this much ass by the fourth installment let alone the first. Fourth installments are where franchises go to die and the world doesn’t need another fourquel to clog up an industry that’s already overflowing with unoriginality and unnecessary sequels. But now we’ve got Ghost Protocol, and it is one pants-crapper of an exception.
And the best Gary Oldman villain is…
LIEUTENANT STANSFIELD!
He loves Mozart, hates kids, and doesn’t take too kindly to people taking his cocaine or killing his henchmen. Sounds pretty misunderstood to me.
This one was a no-brainer, but Gary Oldman’s the man and there ain’t too many folks who can play crazy like he does. Swell voting, folks!
RESULTS:
- Lt. Stansfield: 18 votes
- Drexl Spivey: 8 votes
- Dracula: 4 votes
- Zorg: 3 votes
- Ivan Korshunov: 1 vote
- Lee Harvey Oswald: 1 vote
- Shelly Runyon: 0 votes (one of the more under-appreciated sonsabitches in recent movie history)
- Other: 1 vote for “Voldemort” (so close…)
And everyone knows he’s British, right?
The Skin I Live In (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Personal Prisons
Haven’t crossed my legs this hard since Teeth.
The Skin I Live In is about a brilliant surgeon who develops a genetically enhanced, fire-proof flesh after his wife gets in a car crash that leaves her burned from head to toe. Horrified by the way she looks, she goes ahead and offs herself, leaving the surgeon very, very sad. The test subject for his experiment is a beautiful woman he keeps locked in his house who bears a striking resemblance to his late wife. As his testing comes to an end, he promises her freedom at the risk of her revealing his secret operation to the world. But when the son of his housemaid shows up out of the blue and puts everyone’s lives in jeopardy, the surgeon is forced to take matters into his own hands.
So talk about a change of pace for writer/director Pedro Almodovar. Last time I checked, this is a guy who made a name for himself by celebrating and empowering women in film, not a guy who thought Buffalo Bill was really misunderstood and decided to make a movie to clear his good name. But more than anything – yes, even Antonio – that’s what’s so immediately intriguing about this movie: Pedro Almadovar’s first stab at a horror/thriller. I don’t know what caused this, maybe he was trading emails with Kevin Smith, but for a film maker who’s been all drama, all the time for Godknowshowlong, he pulls this off quite well…eventually.
The reason for that ellipses there is because this starts out pretty darn shaky. I’m all for movies that don’t give you much insight as to what the hell is going on as a way to make you listen up, but this was just odd. By the end of the first Act, you’ll get the basics: Antonio’s a nutjob widower, he’s keeping this mysterious gal prisoner, he shouldn’t be doing that (let alone be splicing together pig and human DNA,) and the housemaid’s in on it, too. It works well in establishing what kind of people we’re dealing with here and it creates a solid foundation for the surplus of reveals that come to light down the road. But then the housemaid’s son shows up and the whole thing turns into a Spanish soap opera. Even with the weak explanation as to why he’s there and why he’s important, nothing about him arriving at the front door in a spandex lion costume struck me as a logical direction to take the story in. Then he gets inside, starts being a lowlife, and kicks off a big to-do filled with sex, violence, and every Spanish soap opera fan’s favorite thing in the world…betrayal! Dios mio!
It’s pretty bizarre, I didn’t know what the hell to make of it.
And then, just as things seem like they’re coming together some ten minutes later, the story suddenly flashbacks to six years prior, seemingly abandoning everything that just happened in the last half-hour so that we can follow along with a brand new set of protagonists we’ve never met. I almost gave up at that point. Was not in the mood to pull a Chungking Express and watch two different movies in the same movie.
The good thing is that it does get better, a lot better actually. I can’t really say much because the reason this movie recovers as well as it does is due entirely due to a turning point that made everyone in the theater react in a chorus of, “Holy-effing-shit.” Don’t bother guessing, there’s no way you’ll get it. The only thing I will say is that it’s at this very moment that things start making sense and the plot begins moving in a direction that you can get behind. In hindsight, I completely understand why Almodovar structured this the way he did, but in real-time, it’s not without its problems. Alright, not saying anything more on the matter, you can thank me later.
But for a genre that’s very much out of his comfort zone, it’s interesting how this still manages to feel like a natural progression for Almodovar. Even though it’s be driven by a lunatic who treats his women like most would treat a pet hamster, a lot of the usual Almodovar themes are here. The woman in question, Vera, is one tough cookie who’s got Antonio wrapped around her finger and you’ll be rooting for her twice as much by the end was you will be at the start. From how many times she gets naked to how many different people get boinked, it’s also an extremely sexual movie that feels as natural as it does aggressive. If you’ve seen an Almodovar movie before, this should all sound pretty familiar, and since these are all aspects that make his movies soar, it’s cool to see them in such a different setting. Also nice to see a director who can put sex at the forefront without making it feel forced or awkward. An unusually difficult thing to find these days, but a lot of credit goes to the cast in that regard as well.
That sexy bastard Antonio Banderas does a fantastic job playing the mad doctor himself, Robert Ledgard. His killer looks and emotionally numb demeanor totally betray what he’s capable of, so when he really starts to get his evil on, it’s mighty sinister when he goes about it with the bedside manner of a process server. Although my one issue with Legdard is that his unusually trustworthy nature is a tad horseshit considering the circumstances. I don’t care how much she looks like your dead wife, dude. You give that girl an inch and you bet your sweet ass she’ll be taking a mile. And on that note, Elena Anaya pretty much steals the show as the girl down the hall, Vera. Helps that she’s got the best character of the lot, but she goes all out and gives a really bold performance that just keeps on commanding the screen. Freaking gorgeous, too.
Man, how does Melanie Griffith let Antonio get away with this stuff? Homey does not leave much to the imagination.
So the structure could use some work, it misses out on a lot of opportunities that could have made for a pretty thrilling ride, and its effectiveness as a whole is dependent on a central gimmick. Then again, boy, is it some gimmick. In a world where people make movies about human centipedes, it takes a lot to shock our sick fascinations these days, so the fact that this one is a lightning bolt to the solar plexus goes an awfully long way. But aside from the one thing in this movie that I keep referring to but can’t talk about, The Skin I Live In is a pretty crazy character study fueled by grief, revenge, sex, and identity with a lot of layers and some serious staying power. Still think I’ll stick to his dramas, but more power to Almodovar for coming up with this sick puppy and making me terrified of stuff that I couldn’t have cared less about beforehand.
Beginners (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Late Bloomers
One of those movies that makes you wanna live.
Beginners is about a single, thirty-something graphic designer whose mother passes away, at which point his seventy-something father tells him that he’s gay and is determined to spend his last years being gung-ho about it. Not one to rain on his old man’s parade, the graphic designer openly supports his dad’s new lifestyle. Soon after, his father starts going steady with a younger man, but then he gets diagnosed with cancer and he passes away having lived the life he’d always wanted. Soon after that, the graphic designer hits it off with a French actress at a Halloween party, they start going steady too, but after a long history of sabotaging his relationships thanks to his parents’ shell of a marriage, the graphic designer begins to worry whether he’ll sabotage this one as well or follow in his father’s open-hearted footsteps.
It’s based on writer/director Mike Mills’ relationship with his own late father, and I’m still pretty flabbergasted at how quickly I realized that this was one of the best things I’ve seen all year. From the outset, it might seem like the gay dad aspect is the one thing keeping this from being a pretty run-of-the-mill story about real people with real problems. And even though that’s the very outlook that kept me from bumping this to the top of my Netflix queue for so long, I love movies about real people with real problems, and I feel shame for having taken so long. But in going with the theme of this movie, better late than never.
The big thing that sold me on this in record time is that it’s just plain magical, almost in the way that Amelie is. There’s an undercurrent of sadness in these characters that comes in the form of death, grieving, or broken hearts, but more than anything, they stand as a call to life despite the sorrow. It’s little things, like roller skating through a hotel lobby after getting kicked out of a roller rink, or dressing up as Sigmund Freud at a costume party and getting to a know a beautiful girl by analyzing her on the couch. I don’t know, that might not sound like much in text, but when you see how much these characters get out of everyday pleasures and cutting loose in the most grade school of fashions, you’ll wish you were there with them. When I wasn’t choking up at the parts where you can imagine things would get emotional, I was grinning my face off and just having a grand old time watching these kids in adult’s clothing.
As a writer, Mills gives us personality and authenticity to spare. All of the little routines and habits of these characters don’t feel like creativity in motion, they feel like a journal in motion. It’s personal, it’s funny, and it’s special to see movies that wear its heart on its sleeve like this. And as a director, Mills does an outstanding job of making this his own and using the screen as his canvas. It helps to see it in action, but there’s something very Vonnegut about the way Mills tells this story. There’s a dog who speaks in subtitles, the plot jumps back and forth from past to present so much that you’ll be doubling back to remember there’s two story lines, and McGregor’s character, Oliver, tells us the history of his family by showing us still images of what life looks like now and what life looked like in the ’50s. If you’ve read Breakfast of Champions or Slaughterhouse-Five, you’ll know what I’m talking about, and being Kurt Vonnegut’s #1 fan, I was all about it. It’s unique, it’s out there, and not only does it work wonders from a stylistic standpoint, but it’s an effective, non-preachy approach that speaks volumes about the way people and society has changed over the course of a generation.
And like I said, the gay dad aspect is definitely one of the more attention-grabbing things about this, and the subject of gay rights ends up playing a pretty substantial role as a result. It’s not there’s a political agenda behind it, it’s just a testament to how warped our opinions of homosexuality once were, how far we’ve come, and how it’s not about who you love, but that you love that matters in the long run. I also feel like it’s a lot more common to see stories about kids coming out to their parents rather than vice-versa, and I love how honest Oliver is throughout about how it affects him. There are no screaming matches or flipped lids, instead there’s understanding and feelings that go unspoken until the time is finally right. They’re friends as much as they are family, but what’s most interesting about the dynamic between Oliver and his father is the way one is stifled by his own insecurities and other was stifled by a world that diagnosed homosexuality as a mental illness. Their stories are similar in that they both have the chance at a fresh start, but where they differ is how they tackle the opportunity in front of them. It’s impossible to miss how much these two care about each other and how important they are in each other’s lives, and it’s even more interesting seeing Hal’s influence on Oliver play out in Oliver’s relationship with his main squeeze, Anna.
Not being the son to a gay father, I didn’t really have much going in the way of empathizing through personal experience, but being pretty confident that offspring are in my future, I’d be mighty pleased if my kid and I had a relationship like Oliver and Hal’s. And on that note, I just loved Christopher Plummer in this movie as Hal. It doesn’t hurt that he’s got a contagious smile and never stops showing it off, but being someone who tries to live by the phrase “Get busy living, or get busy dying,” Hal is a man after my own heart. Plummer has always been one of the legends and this is one of his best roles in years that’s totally deserving of the hype. Nothing too flashy, he just brings a whole lot of a humanity to a man you’ll adore spending time with.
And better yet, Ewan McGregor is just as good. Even if his circumstances aren’t relatable, his down-to-Earth performance absolutely is. I’ve always been a huge McGregor fan, so it’s always nice to see him doing his thing and doing it well. And while her only time in the spotlight is through a handful of childhood memories, Mary Page Keller is great as Oliver’s hilarious, deadpan, kid-at-heart mom; the gorgeous Melanie Laurent – who is quickly becoming one of my new favorite actresses – is magnetic and delightful as Oliver’s love interest, Anna; and Arthur, Oliver’s semi-telepathic Jack Russel Terrier, will make you want to run out and buy one. Did anyone else know that they were originally bred as hunting dogs? Interesting, right? Thanks, Mike Mills!
But aside from the Jack Russell Factoids, there’s a lot of wisdom to take away from this movie and there’s something very brave about having the courage to live and having the courage share it with the world at large. As much as it’s about Mills coping with the death of his parents, it’s about what Mills gained from their lives and what we can all gain from them in turn. I hope I’m not belaboring the point, but Beginners is just a wonderful little slice of life that comes from, and goes right to, the heart. Sometimes the only things preventing us from taking life by the reigns is ourselves, and sometimes we need a reminder to of that. Consider this a heads up.
The Way (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Accidental Pilgrims
Not without its problems, but it’s hard to get upset over such an inherently “good” movie.
The Way is about an aging father who finds out that his estranged son has died while hiking the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trail from the South of France through Spain. He flies over to identify the body and pick up the remains, but instead of heading back on the return flight home, he straps on his son’s hiking equipment and sets out on the trail where his son left off. As he tries to come to terms with his grief, he meets up with a motley crew of hikers along the way who end up becoming his traveling companions. Despite his outspoken desire to walk the trail alone, the fellow pilgrims stick by his side as they all start coming to terms with their own hangups and vices.
Now, what makes this movie particularly interesting for yours truly is that I’ve actually been hiking the Compostela pilgrimage trail in one-week stretches for the past few years. As for my progress, I’m almost at the Spanish border and I totally would have reached it by now if it wasn’t for my bum leg two years ago that had me walking like a pirate for most of the trip. Anywho, I don’t know how many people out there have heard of the Compostela pilgrimage trail and I don’t know how the Emilio caught wind of it either, but it’s a trip of a lifetime and a potentially great setting for a character-driven movie.
As to what would compel someone to walk across two countries with 30 lbs. of dirty clothes on their backs, everyone’s got their reasons. My good buddy Fred and I are doing it because it’s there, my parents have a far more personal connection grounded in an undying love for a French town along the way, and every other pilgrim we’ve met on the trail has something else to bring to the table. The same goes for Martin Sheen’s character, Tom. He’s there in the hopes of gaining a understanding of or a connection to the son he hardly knew, and his unlikely friends are there to either lose weight, quit smoking, or overcome a mean case of writer’s block. The nice thing about writer/director Emilio Estevez’s approach is that it very much reflects what it’s like and what it means to walk The Camino. Ask anyone who’s done it and they’ll tell you that half the fun of walking the trail is doing just that, but the other half is who you meet along the way.
And as far as the first half is concerned, the scenery here is gorgeous. It’s the French and Spanish countrysides and it’s even better than the postcards. But what’s odd to me is how so much time is spent in Spain and so little is spent in France. No matter where you start out from on the trail, getting to Spain isn’t exactly a stone’s throw, yet somehow they make it there in record time and take their sweet-ass time reaching the coast. Not that it really matters in relation to the story, but having spent so much time in France and having those memories of the trail to go by, I’m just confused as to why it got so blatantly skipped over. France is awesome, man. What’s not love about gorging on wine and cheese for three meals a day? Regardless, the visual appeal to the Camino will not go unnoticed.
But as much as I appreciate Estevez’s intentions and ambitions in making this movie and how he presents the trail as a character in itself, his script unfortunately needs a lot of work. With the exception of Tom’s gradual progression from reluctant curmudgeon to surrogate father figure, the other three pilgrims don’t really go anywhere. They all open up at some point about what’s really going on beneath the surface, but there isn’t a whole lot of closure to be had by the end of their journeys. On top of that, a good deal of the road blocks along the way end up feeling predictable, forced, and easily avoidable attempts at striking an emotional chord, and that’s just no good. Nor is the soundtrack that makes me think Emilio was a big ol’ fan of Garden State.
Although I wonder whether I’m taking these complaints too seriously since I really don’t think I’m the target audience that Emilio had in mind. As every last attempt at humor fell on deaf ears to my good buddy Fred and I while every forty-something in the theater chuckled away, it was pretty clear that my parents’ generation was a lot more receptive to this than I was. It’s a very safe movie that’s easy on the ears, eyes, and soul, and that’s not a bad thing by any means, it just didn’t leave the kind of impression on me that I think it did for others.
And the cast is fine, though their characters are another story. Yorick van Wageningen is endearing as the guy trying to lose weight thanks to his Dutch outlook on life that boils down to “Feelin’ blue? Smoke a joint,” but he’s one of those people who’s good in small doses; Deborah Kara Unger is decent as the gal trying to kick the habit; and James Nesbitt’s character, the one with writer’s block, is flat-out insufferable when we first shows up on the scene and starts ranting in verse like the world is his stage. He does get better, but people who treat the world as their stage, the ones who just don’t have an OFF button, are some of the most aggravating people this world has to offer. But Martin Sheen’s the man as usual as Tom, even if there’s a serious lack of Emilio here. I don’t think I’ll ever have a complaint about Martin Sheen.
As you can tell, this movie has its shortcomings, but The Way is nevertheless home to a very big heart, one that makes it hard to discredit the things that could have been done better. It’s a story about good people learning to embrace the differences that make them unique and being a crutch to lean on when they need it most. In a lot of ways, that’s also what the trail is about, and at the end of the day, those are the kind of stories we could use more of. Interested to see what the general consensus is from folks who haven’t walked the walk, but it’s a pleasant trip all the same.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Mole Removals
Man, it must suck to be a spy.
Set at the height of the Cold War, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is about a high-ranking member of British intelligence who gets ousted by his peers after a covert operation goes terribly wrong. A year later, a rogue agent receives word that a Soviet spy has penetrated the top tier of MI6 and he’s been feeding British and American secrets to Mother Russia for years. Despite being a potential suspect, the former agency veteran gets pulled out of retirement to finish the investigation his old boss started and find out which of his old colleagues is working for the Kremlin.
Well, folks, word on the street is that this is one tough cookie to try and keep up with. Well, folks, they weren’t kiddin’. In a preventative measure to avoid the sensation of being flat-out dumbfounded by a movie I was very anxious to see, I went ahead and read John le Carré’s source material beforehand. As I finished reading the last page just minutes before the lights went down and turned off my reading light/cell phone so as not to distract anyone from the ridiculous new trailer for The Grey, I felt confident, I felt smart, I felt like I’d just shotgunned a bottle of Ritalin and had the focus of a Zen master. As I soon came to find out, I had made a very wise decision.
So why make it so hard on us? For starters, attempting to cram le Carré’s novel into a 120-page script is like trying to turn a labyrinth into a jigsaw puzzle. Every new sentence and every new detail is just more important as the last, it’s twice as hard to follow as the movie, and there are about 500 different characters with 500 different codenames who all speak in jargon you’ve never heard before because le Carré freaking invented it. This is where the term “mole” originated from, and it makes sense considering that le Carré was at one time a member of British intelligence. Yup, “dense” is the word with this one, so it’s only natural that every line of dialogue and every silent inference serves as vital information in moving things along. Miss something down the road, don’t expect someone to repeat it.
But what’s great about it is that you’ll want to listen closer and you’ll find yourself drawing one conclusion after the next without anyone in the film or the theater having to spell it out for you. From the outset it sounds daunting, but you can do it, just not every day that movies let use our brains. What’s also great about it is how Tomas Alfredson’s approach as a director complements le Carré’s strengths as a writer. I was expecting a lot of talking and a lot of stuff being thrown at me all at once, but what I got was something far more quiet, controlled, and perfectly fitting. When people do talk, they don’t beat around the bush and updates are always given on a need-to-know basis, which is a fine way to keep conversations at a bare minimum and a fine way to keep the audience from tuning anything out. When major revelations come to light, they’re stripped of the usual bells and whistles and are instead done very matter-of-factly, as though it was only a matter of time.
It’s very unusual to see a movie like this that continually cuts from one scene to the next without idle banter or banter at all and relies so heavily on implications over actions, but it’s a brilliant way to do things and only makes the finished product stand out that much more from what we’re used to seeing from the genre. On top of that, it’s just damn pretty to look. From the imagery, to the outfits; from the settings, to scenery – all of it does wonders to make the profession look as cool and grim as it absolutely is. The only downside is that when you have this many characters at your disposal, the spotlight isn’t always shared evenly. Like I said, undertaking this movie and doing the novel justice was a tall order to begin with, but when everyone is a suspect and some major characters start falling by the wayside, you notice it. There are also certain details and character intricacies that get left out, but the plot is more or less verbatim and the gripes end there. Also not sure if you’d notice any of this if you’re going in blind.
And as for the cast, what did you expect? This is England’s Greatest Hits right here and I don’t see why the names on that poster wouldn’t make someone want to drop what they’re doing and cancel all appointments for the next two hours. I’ve already written my love letter to Colin Firth thanks to A Single Man, so I’ll just say that my adoration of him has only grown since this past weekend as one of the head intelligence officers, Bill Haydon; Tom Hardy continues his global conquest of badassery in a great turn as scalp hunter, Ricki Tarr; this is the first time I’ve really liked Mark Strong in a movie, so he gets a shout-out as former agent Jim Prideaux; and the legendary Gary Oldman is fantastic as our guy George Smiley. Keeping with the tone of the film and the performances of those around him, Oldman is very understated, very unassuming, and it’s very impressive how well he pulls it off for a guy who’s usually playing the tweaked-out madman. I don’t know if there’s an Oscar in it for him, but being that he’s one of the best actors we’ve got and this is only more evidence of that simple fact, I’d be nothing but ecstatic to see him get it. There are also a ton of other actors here who all great in their respective roles, but for the sake of not rambling any further than I already have, I’m leaving it at that.
As I’ve hopefully conveyed, this is a movie that I thoroughly enjoyed. The sad thing about this movie is that I can already sense the outcries from people who didn’t like it because they thought it was boring, slow or that there wasn’t enough action to balance out all the talking. Not being one of those people, I think that sucks, but it’s also an understandable complaint considering the things we’ve been conditioned to expect from spy movies. For instance, when I go see Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol later this month, I won’t be dropping 13 bucks with the hopes of watching Ethan Hunt push paper for two hours. See, thanks to Jason Bourne, James Bond, and Mr. & Mrs. Smith, the life of the spy has been glamorized and then some by the powers that be in Hollywood who can turn a much easier profit with car chases and firefights than desk jockeys speaking in code. And that’s fine, it’s not like those movies suffer for putting pleasure before business, but if there’s anything we learned from The Good Shepherd, it’s that life as a spy is as unglamorous as they come. It’s dirty work that these characters have to perform on their friends and colleagues, and it’s not always as happy as some movies would like us to believe. There’s definitely entertainment to be had, although it’s far more an exercise in authenticity than escapism, and what you ultimately get out of it is dependent on what you put in.
Yes, you will have to pay very close attention to if you want to understand what’s unfolding before you, but why should that be a detractor? After all, there is no shortage whatsoever of movies and film makers that are more than happy to spoon-feed you a tale so you won’t have to worry about getting confused along the way. I don’t know about you, but it’s just nice to see a grown-up movie about grown-up things that doesn’t underestimate its audience for a change and challenges us to play along. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a patient movie in practice that requires patience in turn, and whether that sounds like sheer fun or sheer torture, it was utterly enthralling watching the pieces come together and I had no idea where the time had gone once they’d all fallen into place. If you’re looking for an adrenaline rush, look somewhere else, but by the same token, that’s exactly why I liked it. Sure helps to do your homework though.
And in the battle between ‘Fight Club’ and ‘Se7en,’ the victor is…
FIGHT CLUB!
Gotta say I’d have gone with the minority on this one, but can’t say I don’t get it either. It’s Tyler Durden, enough said.
Still, I didn’t lose sleep after the first time I saw Fight Club…
RESULTS:
- Fight Club: 14 votes
- Se7en: 11 votes
Crazy, Stupid, Love. (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Soul Mates
The best date movie of the year. Suck it, New Year’s Eve.
Crazy, Stupid, Love. is about a married couple that separates after the wife sleeps her co-worker and the husband doesn’t even attempt to salvage their relationship. So the husband moves out, tries to meet women at a local bar, but only gets that much more depressed when he realizes that he has absolutely no game. In an act of good faith, a local ladies’ man takes it upon himself to teach the sad, sad husband in the ways of womanizing so that he can get out of his funk, learn to respect himself for the first time in ages, and make his wife rue the day she ever went behind his back. The more they start hanging out and the more women the husband shuffles through his revolving door of smooth-talking and love-making, the more he comes to acknowledge the role he played in his crumbling marriage and that the only thing he truly wants is to win back his wife.
I know, sounds awfully lovey-dovey, but I’m tellin’ ya’, I couldn’t have been more pleasantly surprised by how far from a chick flick this ended up being. Then again, despite its all-star cast, despite that it’s directed by the two guys who did I Love You Phillip Morris, and despite that Ryan Gosling is in it, this was a movie I’d never planned on seeing. But when I showed up to Moneyball ten minutes late on opening night, it was either go for the back-up plan or be That Guy who stands right in front of everyone who’s just trying to get their Brad Pitt on. As far as back-up plans are concerned, I don’t even think this was Option C, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it pays to be the good boyfriend.
So what was it about this movie that made me go from “Girl, you owe me,” to “I’ll never doubt you again,” over the course of two hours? The short answer: the script and the cast. But since short answers are for the weak, let’s start with the script and save this cast of thousands for later.
For starters, there’s a lot going on in this script. Julianne Moore splits up with Steve Carell and starts breaking off a piece of her co-worker Kevin Bacon; Steve Carell drinks away his sorrows like the sad bastard he is, becomes the pet project of Ryan Gosling, and starts knocking boots with everything in sight until his heart gets the better of him; Ryan Gosling falls ass over elbows for Emma Stone, so much so that he starts going cold turkey on the whole “Let’s see if I can bang every girl in the tri-state area” feat; Emma Stone develops a Jones for Gosling but can’t act on her emotions ’cause she’s stuck in an awkward relationship with Josh Groban; and Steve Carell’s son is in love with the teenage babysitter, but the teenage babysitter is in love with Steve Carell. Man, it’s been three months since I saw this movie, I deserve a high thirty for remembering all that.
Oh yes, love is in the air, and in lesser hands, an audience could suffocate from it. In situations like these, it’s not uncommon for certain plot lines to feel unnecessary and certain characters to fall by the wayside, but everything’s so interconnected and only becomes so much more so as the story progresses that everyone ends up feel like a main character instead of pleasant diversions. That in itself is pretty darn impressive, but what makes this borderline great is the way it starts with this romcom formula you’ve seen a million times before and takes it in a different direction every time you’re about to guess what’s gonna happen. It’s nothing nuts like Ryan Gosling being born a woman or Kevin Bacon actually being made of bacon, it just keeps throwing curve balls down the pipe that each add a healthy dose of honesty and originality to the mix. The moral of the story is that you need to fight for the people you love and you’re never gonna get there if you wait for love to come knockin’, and while that’s not the most uncharted territory in the history of morals, it’s more about how you go about getting there than it is finally reaching it with this one.
Although there is something a bit backwards about how Carell convinces himself that sleeping around at a wholesale rate is a morally sound way to make his ex fall back in love with him. But on second thought, there’s a reason it’s not called Sane, Smart, Love. Many of the characters here don’t always think about the big picture before they head down a certain road, and as a result, there are many a time that road ends up being a cul-de-sac. The reason it works rather than pitfalls into a cliched mess that might as well be called Valentine’s Day 2: Now With More Ashton is because everyone’s heart is in the right place even if their heads are runnin’ on fumes. They go to some pretty bold lengths to put themselves out there, but there was never a moment where I was rolling my eyes or laughing at the wrong places because no one in their right mind would ever get themselves into the fixes that these love fools can’t seem to get out of. And come on, I think we’ve all done some pretty dumbass things in pursuit of the opposite sex.
Anyway, swell script, now onto the cast.
You know the last movie I liked that Steve Carell starred in? Little Miss Sunshine. 2006. Now that Michael Scott’s in Denver and Dinner for Schmucks is still in existence, Carell was due for this. No, there’s not much separating his turn as the initially hopeless yet totally endearing Carl Weaver from the likes of Andy the virgin or real-life Dan, but who cares? That’s Carell at the top of his game and I love it when he takes a break from his “awkward to the max” shtick to play the everyman – a shtick that happens to suit him like a suit. And because life is always better with bonuses, the rest of the cast is just as wonderful. The great Julianne Moore is fantastic as Carl’s ex-wife Emily; Emma Stone continues to be one of the most awesome women in Hollywood as the apple of Gosling’s eye, Hannah; Marisa Tomei is a rip as the first of Carl’s many flings; Kevin Bacon isn’t around all that much but he’s good as the home-wrecking sonofabitch David Lindhagen; and newcomers Analeigh Tipton and Jonah Bobo absolutely hold their own and then some as Carl’s teen babysitter and Carl’s son, respectively. Yup, they all rock, every last one of ‘em.
And then there’s Gosling.
Now, I know all you Drive fans out there are gonna hate me for this and are probably already starting a petition to have my Man Card burned with fire, but in a year where Ryan Gosling made the universe his bitch without even trying, this was the high point. Just as he became an overnight badass by staring down thugs with his scorpion-emblazoned Members Only jacket, the comedy game comes easy to Gosling and it’s something that’s been waiting to come out since he started cuttin’ some rug in Half Nelson. Considering that every other well-known actor he’s working alongside with here has at least some experience with making people laugh on-screen, it’s pretty crazy how he steals the show like a total boss and consistently delivers some of the funniest lines to boot. It’s not like the guy needed to do a comedy or needed to lighten up his image before he got pigeonholed as the quasi-sociopath who booted that hitman’s skull in, but more power to him for taking the initiative, stepping out of his comfort zone, and delivering the goods as usual. Good lord, what can’t Gosling do?
Kids, if you’ve ever been in a relationship, then you probably know full well the struggle that comes with deciding on what movie to watch. For all you love birds out there, you can go ahead and stop cycling through the Netflix Instant queue for the umpteenth time because this sucker’s a gift from snuggle heaven. For everyone else, Crazy, Stupid, Love. stands tall as a surprisingly funny and uber refreshing spin on a genre that’s gotten awfully comfortable with settling for the same old crap. Even if you’re not looking to put the moves on anyone, it’s most definitely worth a watch. One of those times where you can tell there’s not a soul involved in this movie isn’t clearly having a blast being involved in this movie, and it sure is nice to sit back and be part of the fun.
Coriolanus (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Lonely Dragons
Shakespeare’s never been so badass.
Coriolanus is about a legendary general of a city called Rome – a man who has continually placed himself on the front lines to defend his homeland and whose so-called “pride” has made him an enemy of the people who grovel for democracy. After achieving victory once more against the Volscian army that threatens his city’s safety, the general is urged to run for consul of the Senate. Despite his hesitations, he heeds the advice of those around him and extends the bare minimum of efforts to win the favor of the citizens he so despises. When they deny him their support, the general finds himself exiled from the city he once protected, and with no place left to call home, turns to the Volscians to seek vengeance on those who shunned him.
It’s adapted from the play of the same name by good old Bill Shakespeare, and it truly pains me to say that until I’d heard about this movie, I never knew such a play existed. Now, my relationship with Shakespeare is one of love and hate. I loved Macbeth, I hated most everything else. Okay, maybe “hate’s” a little strong, but let’s just say I’m not a fan. It’s not that I don’t think he was a good writer or have lost sleep wondering whether it was he or some ghostwriting aristocrat who quilled all those classics, it’s actually that I was an English major. Most people tend to go with “I wish I’d studied abroad,” but my one regret from the four years I spent in college is that I didn’t look into the wonderful world of American Studies and thus prevented myself from having to spend half of my requirement courses with Shakespeare, Milton, and that creepy bastard Marlowe. I know there are many who would disagree with me, but one man can only be forced to read Hamlet so many times before snapping. Not even gonna start with his “comedies…”
So when this started up and everyone on-screen started speaking in Old English, I had to fight the urge to yell “Fuck this!” and storm off into Arthur Christmas. But the more I stuck with it, the more I listened, and the less of a chore it became to break down what was being said, I eventually realized that I was watching something exceptional. Partly it’s the cast, partly it’s the modern-day setting, but wouldn’t you know, mostly it’s Shakespeare.
The titular general in the spotlight is one Gaius Marcius, who takes on the surname of Coriolanus after single-handedly defeating an army of Volscians at their home city of Corioles. That’s right, everyone else pussies out after their first helping of lead salad, so he dusts that dirt off his shoulder, goes in guns blazing, and offs an entire battalion by himself as a way to rally the troops. He’s a mama’s boy, he’s a family man in the loosest sense of the word, but when it comes to putting down the opposition, he’s the guy you want at the gates. In short, he’s a lot like Patton. He’s a stubborn asshole who doesn’t apologize for his principles, and when he’s forced to betray those very principles to beg for the approval of the ungrateful masses, that’s when things get interesting. But put him on a battlefield and he’ll shut those hungry commoners right up.
It’s a fascinating perspective to drive a story from because you want to root for him as much as you want to root against him. You want to see him crowned for the battle scars he’s earned so that others could live, but there’s no denying he’d make a shit politician. You want him to exact his revenge on those damn Romans, but it’s mighty hard to justify the means when his family’s on the hit list. A lot of people throw a lot of labels at Coriolanus in an effort to pin down his strengths and flaws as a soldier, a leader, and a person, but not one really gets it because he’s constantly evolving at a pace he can’t even follow…with the sole exception of his mother. There are no good guys and bad guys here, just people blinded by ambitions that aren’t always their own. In other words, people who could really afford to read Macbeth.
Now, I’m of the mindset that Ralph Fiennes was robbed blind when he didn’t get an Oscar for his stone cold turn as Amon Goeth almost 20 years ago. Not to say that Tommy Lee Jones didn’t kick ass in The Fugitive, but Goeth was evil in a way I’ve never seen on film. The man’s had a hell of a career since, but this is the first time in a long time where he’s in his element. From the second he marches on screen and silences a riot by using his inside voice, you will fear Coriolanus as everyone else fears Coriolanus, and you will listen as though you’re right there in the picket line with your heart in your mouth. Coriolanus was tailor-made for Ralph Fiennes, and the same goes two-fold for Vanessa Redgrave as his mother, Volumnia. I am not kidding in the effing least: at 74-years-old and with the half the amount of screen-time as Fiennes, Vanessa Redgrave wears the pants towers over this movie with a honed ferocity like you will not believe. I seriously need to do my homework when it comes to her career, because she’s the veteran here and she makes it known with ease.
If this qualifies for awards season (and I hope it does,) I think they’ve both got a damn strong chance at some wins.
The tragically under-appreciated and always phenomenal Brian Cox is just that as Coriolanus’ chief advisor, Menenius; and then there’s Gerard Butler, and I am so outrageously happy for Gerard Butler. For the past five years, I can only assume that Gerard Butler’s agent has been the homeless guy behind the local In-N-Out Burger who gave happened to give him a lucky tip about 300 and then convinced him that ass-awful romcoms were the way of the future. With the track record of a one-legged race horse, I don’t know how Gerry got landed this gig as Coriolanus’ mortal enemy Tullus Aufilius, but he’s fantastic and it’s absolutely no surprise. For someone who rose to overnight fame for making every man on Earth feel like Augustus Gloop, Sr., it’s about time this movie happened to him.
My only minuscule complaint about is that Shakespeare’s words don’t sound quite as smooth coming out of the mouth of Jessica Chastain as Coriolanus’ wife. She does a fine job and this is by no means a low point in the most epic year of her life as an actress, but whereas everyone else speaks like it’s common practice, she speaks like she’s on a stage. I know, it’s pretty damn tough to make Old English sound like New English, but I guess that’s as much a compliment to the rest of the cast as it is a hangup over Chastain.
Given the world that we now live in, one rife with civil unrest and mired in wars, the pertinence of Coriolanus also resonates just as profoundly as it did the real-life Gaius Marcius was still kicking. Whether it’s the uprisings in Egypt or those wildly confused Occupiers, Coriolanus is as universal and timeless a figure as they come, and as are those who want to him fall. While it never would have happened without Shakespeare, screenwriter John Logan still gets a whole bunch of credit for adapting this in such a masterful and timely manner. From the cast to the crew, you can tell there’s a real respect for the source material, and when you have that going for you on a set, it really comes through on all fronts in the end.
The last time a movie gave me such a fond appreciation for Shakespeare was when Kenneth Branagh took on Henry V, and while I’m not gonna be the guy to say this adaptation trumps one of the all-time greats, it’s surely up there with the best of ‘em. I wish one of my old teachers had introduced me to this play when they were trying to get me to like Shakespeare, because Coriolanus knocked me flat on my ass. Then again, I believe Ralph Fiennes could read Everyone Poops to me in Pig Latin and it would be my new favorite book by page two. It’s just such an unbelievably compelling, intense, and brilliant character study about the fickle natures of power and loyalty that’s only made better by some of the best characters and performances I’ve seen all year. I really can’t say enough about what an accomplishment this movie is, and if you’re not into Shakespeare, trust me, you’ll see the light.
Shame (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 One-Track Minds
Sex is one hell of a drug.
Shame is about a single, successful businessman living in New York City who keeps up appearances as a model human being to everyone who knows him. But behind closed doors, he’s a bonafide sex addict whose life has been all but consumed by his constant carnal cravings. Up until now, he’s done a bang-up job of keeping things under wraps, but then his sister shows up unannounced, moves onto his couch, and begins complicating things with his horny boss. Unable to kick her to the curb since she has nowhere else to go, our closet nympho finds his philandering ways increasingly challenged by the needs of the only family he has left.
And so marks my very first NC-17 theatergoing experience. Even got carded and everything. It’s not that I’ve been actively avoiding NC-17 movies since I turned the big one-eight, they’ve just they’ve never been all that easy to find. Call me crazy, but I’m guessing that’s because the rating’s considered a scarlet letter for any studio looking to make a buck, and I also happen to live in a country that’s more freaked out by the birds and the bees than good old-fashioned torture porn. With that being said, thank God for writer/director Steve McQueen’s insistence on breaking out the birthday suits, going for the gusto, and making the movie he wanted to make. In a world where it’s easier to just make the masses happy by sugarcoating the naughty parts, it takes balls to make a movie like this. Then again, we’re all adults here, it’s not like we’re meeting up with Larry Flynt to go watch Deep Throat 2000, and let’s not kid ourselves, we can handle it.
Nevertheless, when you see a movie like this, you expect things to get a little awkward, and while the one guy who walked out halfway through would probably disagree with me, the experience went smoother than planned. Don’t get me wrong, Fassbender’s fassbender is on full display here and when he starts getting down to business, McQueen doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. But by the same token, it’s tasteful, it’s purposeful, and it works because it’s bold. Although at the risk of sounding like the real-life inspiration for this movie, I couldn’t shake the feeling that McQueen was holding back punches. It begins aggressively and eventually spirals downward on the same wave, but as much as I can praise this movie for the things it does well, the lasting impression I was left with was how confused and unfocused it felt. Whether it’s the various plot elements and characters that seem initially vital to the story yet fizzle out half-an-hour later never to be addressed again, or the semblance of a plot that’s ultimately fueled by one melodramatic, predictable turn after another, I kept finding less things to like and more things to be bothered by.
It’s not that I was disappointed and it’s not that I’m against movies that don’t spell everything out for me each step of the way, I think it has more to do with my reaction to McQueen’s first film, Hunger. If you haven’t seen it, Hunger is one of those movies that’s as easy to appreciate as it is tough to handle. McQueen uses a lot of the same techniques here, like placing a heavy emphasis on words unspoken and lengthy stationary shots of two people talking or someone performing a seemingly mundane action that most directors would opt to cut away from. In Hunger, these signatures added an extraordinary amount of gravity to the finished product and made for some of the most memorable moments a movie that was filled to the brim with them, but I didn’t get that with Shame. I wish he had cut away from Carey Mulligan singing her entire sad bastard version of “New York, New York,” I wish he had cut away from Fassbender going for a jog across half of Manhattan after being sexiled from his apartment, and I really wish there hadn’t been so much damn laughter in the audience.
My problem wasn’t so much listening to everyone laugh when Fassbender’s character, Brandon, was being funny, it was when everyone else in the movie tried their hands at comic relief that struck a nerve. Brandon can pull off being the comedian because it betrays his true colors and makes you like him despite his faults, but as soon as random waiters start making awkward jokes about wine and everyone around me starts busting a gut, it throws the tone clear off the tracks. That one’s as much a fault of the audience as it was the film maker, but it took away from something that should have stayed serious.
And then there’s Michael Fassbender, and he’s just as great as he’s always been. Like I said, the guy doesn’t hold anything back from a physical standpoint (let’s just get it out of the way: the dude is packing,) but the same is true in respect to how emotionally vulnerable his performance is. Brandon is a complex guy, and in true Steve McQueen form, his actions – or lack thereof – speak far louder than anything that comes out of his mouth. He’s like Patrick Bateman in the sense of his being trapped by his own demons, unable to get out no matter how hard he tries in one direction or other, only his weapons of choice are an endless supply condoms and a black belt in the art of eye-fucking. I love that about his character and how this tortured soul living in a personal prison is the driving force of the story. We’ve seen our fair share of hopeless junkies and bloodthirsty madmen, but sex addicts are news. The nice thing is that this is probably the role that’ll put him on the map he should have been on three years ago for his turn in Hunger, the bummer is that it’s taken this long for the public to wise up. Just as it takes balls to make a movie like this, it takes arguably even bigger ones to be in a movie like this.
And Carey Mulligan’s also good in a lot of the same ways as his sister, Sissy. Fassbender is a hard act to follow is all.
Look, I liked Shame and I was awfully close to giving it a 7. It’s a very interesting perspective on addiction, I wish more film makers could muster up the courage to make sexually charged, important movies like this, and it also happens to have a fantastic little score to back up McQueen’s skills with the camera. I won’t argue with anyone who would rank it higher, it just didn’t do much for me from an emotional standpoint and felt all too familiar for something so brazen. But at least I came away with a decent story from the experience…
In a successful effort to lighten the mood once the movie ended, my friend leaned over and asked us, “So I take it that was just like The Muppets?” Naturally, laughter ensued. As we started to leave the aisle a few seconds later, a woman behind us (who either didn’t hear the joke or wasn’t a fan of ours to begin with) asked her male companion, “Why were they laughing?” Because buzzkills travel in pairs, he proceeded to raise his voice and responded, “They’re probably a bunch of 19-year-olds who are too uncomfortable with their own sexuality to be mature about the movie.” Being in a state of disbelief that someone would indirectly call me out from six inches away as though I were Casper, the Horribly Immature and Generally Loathsome Ghost, I decided to let it slide. But as fate would have it, he happened to walk right by us just minutes later as I relayed the story to my friends who didn’t hear it first-hand and we all laughed at his epically snooty comment as he hung his head in shame. An unintentional revenge is better than no revenge at all.
Freakin’ New Yorkers, man.
In the battle of Newman vs. Redford, the victor is..
PAUL NEWMAN!
Both have the looks, both have the movies, both have Oscars, and both are some of the biggest badasses that ever graced this fine Earth. Then again, only one has a drinking holiday named after him and a life that was devoted to charity work. Against any other man, I think Redford would have won this one, but it’s pretty much impossible to live up to Newman.
Swell voting, folks.
RESULTS:
- Paul Newman: 25 votes
- Robert Redford: 7 votes
Hugo (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Steampunk Fairy Tales
Not too shabby for Marty’s first stab at PG.
Hugo is about the orphaned son of a clockmaker in 1930s Paris who lives inside the walls of a train station. When he’s not winding the clocks and dodging the evil station inspector, the boys spends his days stealing mechanical parts from a local toymaker in order to repair a broken automaton – the one possession his late father left behind. Eventually the toymaker catches him red-handed and takes the boy on as his apprentice in exchange for the automaton’s blueprints. The more time the boy spends with the toymaker and his goddaughter, the closer he gets to unlocking the mystery of his father’s machine that leads him on an adventure of a lifetime.
Man, it’s been a really long time since I saw a Martin Scorsese movie that I liked. Still think the last half-hour of The Departed is bullshit, still think the last half-hour of Gangs of New York is bullshit, still not nuts about Shutter Island, and I still haven’t seen The Aviator since all I ever hear about is how many jars Leo gets to pee into. Not counting his documentaries, I think the last Scorsese movie I really dug was Bringing out the Dead. It’s not like the other movies were garbage, but that’s not much of a track record. So my first reaction to Marty taking on family fun in the third dimension was that the man had nuked the fridge. For a guy who’s best known for how many people he’s had whacked on camera, this didn’t seem like the most natural transition. But by the time it was all over, it seemed like a movie he’d been wanting to make for ever.
Not to give anything away, but what this movie starts out as is a far stretch from what it ends up being. When it begins, there are a number of things you’ll pick up on. You’ll realize that no one really talks for the first ten minutes of the movie and that everything you need to know is shown to you from a quiet distance. You’ll realize that there’s a lot to look at and all of it is pretty darn gorgeous. And you might just realize that this kind of movie with this kind of scale hasn’t been made in a long, long time. These things might fall to the wayside as you focus on what this movie’s about, but in time, you’ll come to realize that they’re exactly what this movie’s about.
What makes Hugo special and makes it more than just a fun adventure with eyegasms to spare is that, at its core, it’s a love letter from Martin Scorsese to the movies he grew up with. The difference between Marty and I (and I’m pretty sure this is the only difference) is that people still remember the movies I grew up with whereas people have forgotten his. Without jumping too far into an entirely separate review, I can’t help but be surprised at the way The Artist has been gaining so much attention as of late in a world where silent films are generally regarded as box office poison. That’s in no way a reflection on The Artist as it is on the moviegoing world we live in, a world where the next best thing is always bigger, louder, and dropkicking the “MUTE” button. For chrissakes, over the course of nearly 600 reviews, I still haven’t covered a silent film, and what’s worse, the only one I’ve ever seen is City Lights. Unfortunately, I’m part of the majority that has forgotten, and that’s a big reason why this movie resonates.
The whole thing is just magical, much in the way that A Trip to the Moon must have been for Marty the first time he saw it. Hugo’s world is one of living parts, one that lets out so much steam from every orifice you’d think the sewers of Paris were a lake of fire, one that would fall to pieces if just one of its countless cogs stopped turning. From one scene to the next, the set pieces are truly something to behold and are as integral to film as any of its characters. A lot of effort and creativity went into this movie, and there’s not a moment where it looks like Marty was cutting corners. I happened to see it in 3D, and while I don’t think it’s a requirement by any means to follow suit, it was a brilliant way to connect today’s technological advancements in film with the way people once reacted to the dawn of the medium.
So it’s pretty as sin, but then there’s the script. Now, as a writer’s rule of thumb, people tell you to “write what you know.” Writer John Logan could have very easily made this story about a boy who loves movies and use that as a way to remind audiences of these films that time forgot, but the fact that he doesn’t is something that really paid off for him. I really liked the way it kicks off as this Dickensian throwback about a boy just hanging onto the memory of his father and gradually evolves into this multi-layered puzzle that only gets more engaging with each new piece that falls into place. It’s as though Logan and Marty inserted themselves into the character of Hugo and took him on all of their favorite movie moments from when they were his age, and it’s as unexpected as it is fun. It’s not a flawless approach by any means and they could have afforded to trim the fat in some areas (am I the only one who hates dream-within-a-dream sequences?), but there’s something very inspired about honoring the movies you love by turning your movie into one.
And as a movie nerd who’s always wanted an excuse to get into the silent era, I owe Hugo one. From the automaton’s striking resemblance to Fritz Lang’s Maria, to the scene on the poster that screams of Harold Lloyd, there’s something awesome about movies that make you want to watch more movies. But that’s me, a twenty-something guy with a movie blog and an endless Netflix queue that’ll take two lifetimes to get through. If I were a kid seeing this or even a casual moviegoer at best, I don’t think I’d come away with the same impression and want to start YouTubing Buster Keaton’s greatest hits, but I’m sure most anyone would have a time just soaking in the adventure. Think I’m more intrigued than anything else as to what this is like for someone who’s not already ass over elbows for movies.
And the cast is also fantastic. Never seen Asa Butterfield before, but he’s really solid as Hugo; Chloe Moretz can do no wrong and she continues her amazing streak as the toymaker’s goddaughter, Chloe; it’s always great to see the untouchable Sir Ben Kingsley take roles that live up to his knighthood as the toymaker; and Sacha Baron Cohen is fine as the train station inspector, even though he never had a chance with the gags he was given. Nonetheless, a wonderful job done by all.
When I first saw the reviews, I was surprised by how much everyone else liked this, and even though I was skeptical from the get-go, I’m twice as surprised at how much I ended up liking it. There were a number of times where I considered dropping this down to a 7, but aside from the humor that falls flat, the occasional side plot that doesn’t add much of anything to the story, and the nagging feeling that I should have had a more emotional connection to what I was watching, Hugo really is one wonderful time capsule of a movie. At the very least, it’s just a warm, whimsical, kind-hearted story about helping oneself through helping others, and that’s alright by me. Way go to, Marty.
Been one hell of a big week for the world of PG movies.
The Interrupters (2011)
VERDICT:
10/10 Unsung Heroes
Would be pretty surprised if saw a better movie this year.
The Interrupters is a documentary that follows a year in the life of the CeaseFire violence interrupters. Made up entirely of ex-gang members who’ve done their time and seen the error of their ways, CeaseFire’s mission is to put an end to the violence epidemic among the youth of Chicago by mediating conflicts before they escalate into murders.
If you’ve heard of director Steve James, it’s probably because you’ve seen Hoop Dreams. It’s been a while since the last time I saw it, but it doesn’t take much to realize Hoop Dreams is one of the all-time greats. What started out as a documentary about two teenage basketball prodigies from inner-city Chicago eventually turned into one of the most emotional, profound, and unexpected insights into American life that still resonates to this day. 17 years later, James has returned to Chicago to do the same for a new generation of kids who’ve traded in their basketballs for handguns and turned their streets into mortuaries. Until I saw the trailer for this, I had no who “The Interrupters” were, I had no idea who Derrion Albert was, and I was generally oblivious to the warzone that has been inner-city Chicago. I guess I could blame myself for not keeping up with current events, but in a world where Kardashian divorces and Lohan parole hearings are headline news, I’m guessing I’m not alone on this one. And that’s just the first reason this movie deserves to be seen, because this stuff shouldn’t come as a surprise.
With that being said, it was nothing short of brave for James to make this movie. See, there aren’t a whole lot of white people who show up on camera here, and in a place where innocent bystanders are more common than you can imagine, it couldn’t have been easy for James to spend a year as a white guy walking through the some roughest neighborhoods in Chicago with a giant camera on his shoulder. But if the story had been told in any other medium or tackled from a distance, there’s no way it would have had the same impact. Regardless of whether he gets it or not, James deserves an Oscar for what he does here, and the impact is unforgettable. And as far as his subjects are concerned, “brave” doesn’t even come close.
The members of CeaseFire that James spends the majority of his time with are founder Tio Hardman and violence interrupters Ameena Matthews, Cobe Williams, and Eddie Bocanegra. Those names might no mean much to you now, but they will after you meet them. Now, I’m not gonna pretend to know what life must be like for the kids that they’re working with, but as someone who used to work with at-risk youth in the South Bronx every day for two years, I do know that it can be one hell of a struggle getting through to them. So when I think about putting myself in Ameena Matthews’ shoes – daughter to a legend in the gang circles of Chicago – as she approaches a group of young men wearing a whole lot of red and a mind to kill without thinking twice, I’d think about turning tail and hoping for the best. But that’s not Matthews. She stands right inside the huddle, talks with them instead of to them, tells them exactly what’s going through their heads because she knows exactly where they’re coming from, and ultimately gets them to walk away changed men. To me, that’s heroism, especially in a community that has the power to speak up but prefers to stay silent.
Not too long ago, I recommended the documentary Dark Days to my mom – an exposé into the mole people living off the grid in the tunnels of the New York City subway system during the ’90s. Since my mom creates housing for the homeless in NYC for a living, and I watch a crap load of movies, I thought this would be a surefire home run. I was mistaken. She didn’t dislike it, but her biggest issue with Dark Days was that, while it exposes a problem and gives the audience an insider’s perspective to a reality that few will ever experience, it doesn’t propose a solution, and that’s how you really help people. There are so many extraordinary aspects of The Interrupters that makes it required viewing for anyone with a pulse, but what sends it home for me is how it differs from the way Dark Days suffered. This movie is as much about the solution as it is the problem, and both are equally complex.
I mean, how do you stop people from killing each other when it’s the norm? When a local mortician tells James that the life expectancy of a young black male living in the worst neighborhood of Chicago is 30-years-old, I can’t even begin wrap my head around that let alone come up with a way to change it. And this isn’t even about gang wars or rival turfs, it’s a matter of pride and respect and the permanent lengths that people go to in order to ensure they have both. It’s about men and women, boys and girls, mothers and fathers getting gunned down on the street for something they didn’t do or for something that doesn’t even matter. Early on in the film there’s a scene where members of CeaseFire have to stop a group of teenagers from starting an all-out street war because someone owed someone else five bucks. Killing someone over five bucks, five bucks that probably isn’t even yours. That’s fucking crazy, but it happens all the time. Over the years I’ve heard about people getting shot for looking at someone the wrong way or saying the wrong thing, and I just thought it was all talk. Believe me, I wish it was.
There’s no quick fix for the issues this movie brings to light, and while it may take place in Chicago, it’s not just Chicago. The mindset of murder is as much an epidemic as any lethal disease, but you gotta believe there’s a cure. When you see how CeaseFire impacts the lives of these kids and you see them grow into someone so much better and wiser over the course of a year, that’s what makes you believe. Matthews, Hardiman, Williams, and Bocanegra have all done and experienced awful things in their time, and lesser people would use that as ammo to lash out further against the world that wronged them. They’re living examples that violence begets violence, they’re lucky than most in that they’re still alive to make a difference, and without them around, these kids wouldn’t stand a chance. When the cameras stop rolling, you’ll want to know how things worked out for these kids in the exact same way we all wanted to know how things played out for Arthur Agee and William Gates. After getting out of prison at 17 and gets a job working at a daycare center, a teen named “Lil’” Mike turns to the camera with rake in hand and says, “They used to tell me, ‘You a class-X felon, you can’t do nothin’.’ Well now I got something. I got a job.” Just one of many scenes that left me speechless and broke me down, and just one of the many kids that’ll renew your faith in mankind.
The importance of The Interrupters in the world today is something I really can’t emphasize enough. I’ve seen a lot of great movies this year and still have some left to go, but after finally getting the chance to see this, everything else just feels irrelevant. Some people go to see movies to escape from the real world, some people make movies for the very same reason. There’s nothing wrong with that, but this is not one of those movies. Folks, it’s easy to turn a blind eye to all horrors of life when the solution is to face it head on at the risk of your own. These are the Gandhis of our generation, the people who are putting their necks on the line to be the change they want to see in the world, and they deserve more recognition and support than they will ever receive. The Interrupters is a movie that I wish never had to be made, but the fact that it was is as inspiring and hopeful as it is tragic and devastating. These are the movies that change the world, and it’s really as simple as that.
Pearl Jam Twenty (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Rearviewmirrors
Good gravy, why did grunge ever fade out?
Pearl Jam Twenty is a documentary about one of the biggest grunge acts to come out of Seattle in the late ’80s/early ’90s. First, they were known as Mother Love Bone, but disbanded after their lead singer died of an overdose. Then, they became Mookie Blaylock after recruiting a security guard named Eddie Vedder to take the reigns as lead vocalist. Finally, they dubbed themselves Pearl Jam after the real-life Mookie Blaylock decided that this world isn’t big enough for two Mookie Blaylocks, and they’ve been kicking ass ever since.
So, yeah, it’s been 20-freakin’-years since Ten came out. Just what you needed to make you feel like an old fart, huh? Like many of you, I imagine, I vividly remember the day that album entered into my life. It was 2002, I was a junior in high school, and in a search for new music to listen flesh out my overflowing CD wallet, I turned to the one guy who got me into music in the first place. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked him if Ten was as good as everyone said since I was still undecided about whether Eddie Vedder sounded awesome or annoying. With a look of disappointment that the question was ever asked, my musical life coach urged me to buy it immediately and to get Superunknown by Soundgarden while I was at it. A week or so later, the two albums arrived from good old Half.com, and those were the only two albums I listened to for the next year or so.
Nearly a decade later, I’ve got Ten, Vs., and Vitalogy ingrained in my DNA and they’re still as amazing as they were in high school. Not sure why I didn’t keep up with their next seven albums, but the funny thing about it is that even after all these years and all the songs I know by heart, it seems I knew next to nothing about the band I once obsessed over. I didn’t know about Mother Love Bone or the late Andrew Wood, didn’t know that the title for Ten was actually a shout-out to Mookie Blaylock (#10 for the New Jersey Nets), and, Jesus, Vedder was the only member of the band whose name I actually knew. As a Pearl Jam fan, I feel shame, but by the same token, these guys aren’t exactly fame whores either.
I’ll save my thoughts on Cobain’s overreaction to fame for the off-chance that I ever get to review Last Days, but much like Nirvana, Eddie and the boys have never been too keen on how famous they are. They’ve rarely made music videos (even though they’ve made some great ones,) they pretty much told the Grammy voters to go fuck themselves during their ’96 acceptance speech for Best Hard Rock Performance, and if they had it their way, they never would have left the podunk clubs of Seattle. I can already hear the echoes of, “Cry me a river, you get to make millions playing music for a living,” and while I partly agree, I can’t help but side with the band. On the one hand, fame is a risk you run when you start a band, but on the other, it must blow to be seen as a cash cow for the industry when all you ever wanted to do was play music because you love music, not because of the dollar signs attached. Look, until the day “Aiden Redmond” and “Cut The Crap Movie Reviews” are household names, I’ll never understand what it’s like to be in the public eye at all times and I can’t start throwing stones at the people who know it all too well.
Anyway, Pearl Jam’s reaction to all the world’s questions has generally been to hide in the attic and go play concerts. This is where Cameron Crowe comes in. A long-time friend of the band and brainchild of Citizen Dick, I don’t think there’s another film maker out there who could have gotten these kinds of interviews with the band reflecting on their experiences with one another and the world at large over the course of two decades. There aren’t a lot of bands that stay together for 20 years, and after some of the stuff they’ve gone through, whether it be the death of a front man or an outdoor concert that led to nine people being crushed to death, it’s pretty amazing that they’ve managed to stick it out this long and that Crowe got them to open up about it as much as they do. He also gets a crazy amount of access to never-before-seen footage from their first basement practice sessions to Eddie’s first demo reel that got him in the band, and the finished product is as much a greatest hits compilation as it is a comprehensive trip down memory lane that’ll come as news for even the most die-hard of fans.
Although the one thing I wasn’t crazy about is how Crowe keeps inserting himself into the band’s history and how their whole story starts off with how Crowe used to hang with Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament before they became the founding members of Pearl Jam. I get it in the sense that Crowe has a personal connection to the band, but it just seems self-important, like something Werner Herzog would do, and that’s an approach I’ve never been big on. But considering how this movie probably wouldn’t have happened without Crowe’s involvement and that these few moments do little to detract from the movie as a whole, it’s an easy gripe to overlook.
Folks, it’s practically impossible to find a band that only gets better with age, that can write songs that just as good as the stuff that got them famous in the first place, but it’s awesome to find a band that refuses to conform to what other people want them to be. They fought Ticketmaster, they took on George W. when it was mighty unpopular to do so, and they’re still making the music they want to make even if it doesn’t get them on the radio. Don’t get me wrong, Pearl Jam’s not the diamond the rough since there will always be great new bands making great new music, but the problem with a lot of bands is that they eventually stop being who they want to be and start becoming what the public wants them to be: other bands. I don’t know about you, but that sucks. You think Miles Davis cared about alienating his fans when he put out Bitches Brew? Hell to the no, and something tells me that if Miles tried to put that album out today, he’d have a much easier time selling out.
If you’ve never listened to Pearl Jam before, I’d still start with Ten before giving this a go, but it’s still a really cool behind-the-scenes look at a really interesting group of guys with a really interesting history behind, and ahead of, them. Sorry if I’ve sounded like a bonafide music snob, but it’s movies like these and bands like Pearl Jam that make me wish I’d been born a decade earlier. Yeah, Midnight in Paris tells me that’s no way to live, and I’m sure there were a ton of shitty bands flooding the airwaves by the time Pearl Jam made the cover of Rolling Stone, but the grunge era really was one unbelievable time to dig music. The only time I saw these guys live was in May of last year at Madison Square Garden, and even though they were good, what I would give to have seen them after Ten came out. Been a long time since Eddie’s been swinging from the rafters. No-freaking-fair that I had to grow up with The Backstreet Boys on the cover of Rolling Stone.
TrollHunter (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Norwegian Woods
Way better than you think it is.
TrollHunter is about a group of college students who set out to make a documentary about some odd happenings among a group of bear hunters in Norway. As they dig deeper, they’re led to a mysterious man named Hans, the individual rumored responsible for all the crazy crap that the government’s trying to hide from the public eye. Despite his insistence that they should turn tail and go home, they start secretly following Hans throughout the night on his “bear hunts” to find out what’s really going on. As they soon find out, Hans isn’t hunting bears at all. Hans is in fact the one guy keeping Norway’s troll population in check by any means necessary. While most people would take this revelation as a perfect opportunity to leave Norway and never go near trees again, the students decide to see this project through to the end, even if it costs them their lives.
Man, as I read that last paragraph over, I’m instantly reminded that this movie sounds dumb as all hell. If someone tried to sell me on a movie by saying, “It’s like The Blair Witch Project, but with trolls,” I don’t think we’d have much else to talk about. Right off the bat, this is not a movie that anyone’s going to take seriously, and unless trolls are making a zombie-like comeback that I’m totally unaware of, it doesn’t seem like a movie most people would actively seek out either. Nevertheless, there is a strange fascination that goes along with that Jurassic Park-esque poster and I’m sure there were a good deal of people who were chomping at the freakin’ bit to see this in theaters. But as easy as it is to be skeptical, I highly recommend rolling with your curiosity on this one.
But back to The Blair Witch Project briefly. The gift of TBWP is that we got an outrageously successful, totally original, and arguably terrifying movie out of it that proved how very little you actually needed to scare the poop out of an entire planet and cause mass paranoia with the help of the internet. The curse of TBWP is that we can’t fucking escape it anymore. I’m not saying the horror mockumentary shtick hasn’t had its bright spots since 1999, but what was once a totally fresh concept has now become pretty run-of-the-mill. So now that we’ve gone from witches to Cloverfield monsters to demons to exorcisms, I guess it was only a matter of time before we made our way to trolls, right? I don’t know.
Now, I’m a bit out of loop when it comes to the various Goosebumps classics the children of Norway have been getting into over the years, but I think I speak for a strong majority of America when I say that trolls are pretty low on the list of Shit That Keeps Us Up At Night. If you’ve seen Troll 2, you know what I’m talking about, if you haven’t, you’re probably still wondering how they managed to make a horror movie out of those neon-haired, diamond-naveled, bug-eyed toys your daughter use to collect with her third-grade allowance money. So how did writer/director Andre Overdal overcome this ginormous hurdle? By making them three stories tall and ugly as sin, of course.
What’s cool about Overdal’s take on the subject is that he approaches troll folklore in the same way Blade or Fright Night approaches the strengths and weaknesses of vampires. Apparently there’s some legend about how you can get into riddle matches with a troll or something like that, and when the college students first realize what Hans does for a living, those childish questions are the ones that get asked. The good thing is that Hans scoffs at the suggestion of riddle-offs because he’s too busy prepping his troll-killin’ tank with ultraviolet floodlights that’ll turn those bastards to stone/explode ‘em into goo and making damn sure that none of his new friends are practicing Christians. Trolls love that Christian blood, yo. And once the rules are set, that’s when the trolls do start showing up in all their hideous glory to sniff out and eat the nearest thing that doesn’t smell like their own stank-asses.
On that note, Overdal was a smart man not to skimp on the special effects, because these suckers look surprisingly convincing and the same goes for their interactions with the world around them. There are a lot of things that are surprisingly successful about this movie, but it’s especially cool how Overdal blends fantasy with reality in some very obvious, yet inspired ways. The plot isn’t just “heroes find troll, heroes run for their lives, heroes kill troll, rinse, wash, and repeat with bigger trolls,” the heart of it is Hans taking advantage of his newfound posse and their fancy-schmancy camera to blow up Norway’s spot and reveal the dirty secrets that have been staring at the public in plain sight. Those downed trees in your back yard? Get real, homey. Tornadoes don’t run that small. Those towering power lines running strung throughout the countryside? Guess what, fool? There ain’t phones connected to those joints, that’s just one huge electric fence built to keep the troll kings from dropping trou in your sauerkraut.
Maybe it sounds silly out of context, but the way this movie takes the already breathtakingly beautiful landscapes of Norway and uses them to emphasize that trolls are as serious a threat as they come is exactly what makes it all work. When it starts out, you’ll be rolling your eyes just as often as the students do, but by the end, don’t be surprised by how invested you’ll be in their efforts. By the same token, there’s not much to be gained from this movie except for the adrenaline rush, although it’s not like I was hoping for 12 Angry Men from a movie called TrollHunter. But as far as thrill rides are concerned, this one does a kickass job of upping the ante and keeping things wild.
Folks, I don’t know how effective this review’s been in regards to convincing y’all that this isn’t as stupid as it sounds, but I’m tellin’ ya’, TrollHunter is a time. It’s fun, it’s intense, and while trolls still have a ways to go before we can start to forget about The Best Worst Movie Ever Made, this was a big win for ‘em. This experience could have gone a lot of ways, but for all the things it could have done wrong like take itself dead seriously or go for cheap scares like its supernatural cousin Paranormal Activity, it dodges them like a boss and does a whole lot of things right in the process. Man, for a genre that’s in serious need of some originality these days, it’s hard to believe this ended up being one of the keepers.
The Muppets (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Rainbow Connections
Saving childhood memories and bringing people together, one rubber chicken at a time.
The Muppets is about two brothers: one flesh, one felt, both lifelong fans of The Muppet Show. One day, the human brother takes his girlfriend to LA to celebrate their 10th anniversary of going steady and brings his fuzzy brother along for the ride to see the old Muppets studios. When they finally get there, they discover the studios left in shambles and the Muppets long-since disbanded. In a desperate effort to meet his heroes and rescue the studios from falling into the hands of an evil oil baron, the trio from Smalltown, USA recruit Kermit himself to try and get the band back together for one last show to save their legacy.
I don’t know where I was when The Muppet Show was at its prime, probably watching Ninja Turtles re-runs in my Ninja Turtles underwear, but I missed the boat. Despite what my peers have always told me, I’ve always been under the impression that it was a funnier version of Sesame Street. Even though Sesame Street rocks, that’s never been much of an endorsement to for me to give it a fair shot. Shows what I know.
Just like everyone’s been telling me for Godknowshowlong, The Muppets are actually hilarious, and just like I’ve known since Freaks and Geeks entered into my life, so is Jason Segel. From what I’ve heard, the guy’s as much a fan of The Muppets in real life as the character he’s playing, and not to sell the many talents of The Muppets short, but that does make all the difference. In a nutshell, the whole movie is one big excuse for him to give the world a brand new episode of The Muppet Show, and even though that might not sound like much of a draw for the unconverted, the trip that he and frequent co-writer Nicholas Stoller take to get us there is a friggin’ riot that’s tailor-made get you on board.
The thing is, this plot’s been done a million times before and a lot of the gags will sound pretty familiar at first. What makes this different is how brilliantly self-aware, tongue-in-cheek, and endlessly ridiculous it is. When Kermit says he won’t get The Muppets back together for a telethon, Amy Adams chimes in with, “This is going to be a really short movie.” When they realize they can’t drive across the Atlantic to reach Miss Piggy in Paris, Fozzie Bear remembers that they can “travel by map,” at which point he hits a “TRAVEL BY MAP” button on the dashboard that cuts to a segue right out of Raiders, getting them to France in record time. I’ll leave the minor spoilers at that ’cause if I started listing all the fun-fueled craziness that happens in this movie, you’d be reading a crap translation of the whole damn script right now. It plays to the strengths of everything that made The Muppet Show a hit in the first place, updates it for a new generation of people who don’t remember New Coke, and adds a whole lot of heart that makes it so much more than just a reunion tour for the fans. Doesn’t matter who you are or how old you are, everyone needs a reason to believe in themselves every once in a while.
On top of all that, Segel and Adams are just awesome as Gary and Mary, although the downside is that their story winds up taking a big backseat to the struggles of The Muppets. It’s a bummer since I found myself caring less and less about whether they’d work things out as things kept getting astronomically worse for Kermit and the gang, but by the same token, this isn’t their movie anyway and it’s nice to see Segel and Stoller recognize that rather than try to steal the spotlight. Adding to the human contingent is also a totally against-type and out-of-sight performance from a rapping Chris Cooper as Tex Richman, the maniacal jerk who’s trying to ruin The Muppets’ good name. And no, that’s not a typo, Chris Cooper does have a rap solo. That alone is a pretty solid barometer of where this movie’s coming from. And then in true Muppet Show form, there are about three dozen cameos or so from all your favorite A-listers, and while I’m not gonna ruin the surprise, I assure you they’re all great.
So the script, the cast, and the original songs from Flight of the Conchords‘ Bret McKenzie are all tip-top, but that’s not where the love for this movie began. During the endless string of previews I had to sit through before this started up, I had the complete displeasure of sitting through the first trailer for everything that’s wrong with this world, or as the studios are calling it, Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chip-Wrecked. When I was a kid, I loved watching Alvin and the Chipmunks in my Alvin and the Chipmunks underwear, so when I’m forced to watch on as Hollywood ralphs all over one of little Aiden’s favorite shows with a movie about sexy female chipmunks who sing a remix of “Whip My Hair,” (a song that already deserved a long, gruesome death,) grown-up Aiden dies a little on the inside. At this point, the same tragic fate has been sealed for nearly every show that I or anyone else once worshiped, so the fact that The Muppets is such a glaring exception to the rule in this regard just makes the final package that much more impressive.
I saw this over the weekend with my good buddy Fred and my three cousins – the youngest having just turned eight, the oldest on his way to college – in a packed theater filled with fogies and youngsters alike. Over the course of 98 minutes, I got choked up more times than I was prepared for, Fred was full-out waterworks, and all five of us laughed our butts off at all the same parts. It’s not easy to make a PG movie that has that kind of universal appeal regardless of age, and up until now, I thought it was nearly impossible to make a movie that doesn’t shamelessly bastardize everything that was loved about the TV show being adapted. I’m not saying that there’s no way you won’t go ape over The Muppets, but when you compare it to The Smurfs, there’s no way you won’t recognize this as nothing short of a revelation.
You know that scene in (500) Days of Summer where Joseph Gordon-Levitt has the best walk of shame ever filled with cartoon bluebirds, personal parades, and game-winning home runs? That’s what The Muppets is like the whole darn time. It’s always good to see a movie that succeeds in all the ways where the imitators fail, but it’s nothing short of great to see a movie that makes you feel this swell about being alive. Bring the kids, brings the parents, bring the homeys, bring the drifters huffing glue in the parking lot out back; you’ll all be better off for it.
Man, there shouldn’t have been a doubt in my mind about the movie that was responsible for this trailer:
And the best movie mullet belongs to…
JOE-FREAKIN’-DIRT!
At first, I was surprised, but on further reflection, I can’t help but wholeheartedly approve. Not too much business going on in the front for Joe, but holy hell, is there a party going on in the back.
Swell voting, folks. Who knew we had so many David Spade fans out there?
RESULTS:
- Joe Dirt: 6 votes
- Vincent Vega: 5 votes
- Obi-Wan from Episode II: 4 votes
- Mr. Nanny: 3 votes
- Dalton: 3 votes
- Snake Plissken: 2 votes
- David from The Lost Boys: 2 votes
- Jareth the Goblin King: 2 votes
- Van Damme: 1 vote
- Billy Mitchell: 1 vote
- Riggs: 1 vote
- Jack Burton: 0 votes
- John Rambo: 0 votes (very surprising)
- Other: 1 vote for Nada from They Live (hell yes, can’t believe I forgot that one.)
And the best fake movie band is…
THE ONEDERS!
Folks, it takes one seriously catchy number to best The Greatest Hits of Spinal Tap. I attribute this win to Shades…and the bass player named T.B.P.
Swell voting!
RESULTS:
- The Oneders: 5 votes
- Spinal Tap: 4 votes
- Stillwater: 4 votes
- Hedwig and the Angry Inch: 4 votes
- Wyld Stallyns: 3 votes
- Sonic Death Monkey: 2 votes
- The Commitments: 2 votes
- Sexual Chocolate: 2 votes
- Loveburger: 0 votes
- Citizen Dick: 0 votes
- Other: 1 vote for The Lone Rangers
So with Thanksgiving right around the corner to bring good tidings of food comas and hangover, I’ve decided to take the week off to get back to the old screenplay and prepare myself for the orgy of deliciousness ahead. Not a bad idea if I do say so myself, and until next time, Happy Turkey Day, y’all!
Fright Night (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Creatures of the Night
Better than the original in every way.
Fright Night is about a formerly nerdy teenage boy growing up in the suburbs of Las Vegas. Soon after we meet him, the kid notices that some of his classmates have dropped off the face of the Earth ever since a devilishly handsome chap with a thing for wife beaters moved in next door. Because someone had to make the connection, the kid’s nerdy best friend comes to the conclusion that the new guy next door is in fact a vampire and the reason there are so many kids and hookers missing is ’cause he’s been biting necks like gangbusters. The kid doesn’t believe his best friend, then his best friend disappears off the face of the Earth, then the kid witnesses first-hand that his best friend was right all along and quickly finds himself next on his neighbor’s menu. Having failed Vampire Hunting 101 his freshman year, the kid recruits the help of a Criss Angel look-alike to help take out the new bloodsucker on the block before he, his mom, and his brand new girlfriend get Dracula’d.
“Dracula’d.” Trust me, all the kids are saying it.
If there’s two things this world doesn’t need, it’s another freakin’ remake and another freakin’ vampire movie. Examples like this year’s The Thing and Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark are just further proof that originality and necessity are becoming obsolete in this industry, and it’s safe to say that those fucking Twihards are to blame for everything else. From the outset, that’s probably why this movie tanked at the box office like it did, but lo and behold, those fools missed out on one of the best horror remakes in years.
Now, there are a lot of people out there who think the original Fright Night from 1985 is one of the all-time greats. I’m not one of those people. The makeup is good, the premise is good, and it’s enjoyable for the cult classic it’s generally regarded to be, but the acting’s abysmal, it’s campy as all hell, and 26 years later, it shows its age. Pretty sure I’m in the minority on this one, but from where I’m sitting, the original Fright Night is a movie that was due for a remake. Lucky for us, director Craig Gillespie and writer Marti Noxon answer the call in all the right ways. So without further ado…
1) They honor the original. The premise is already great, that’s why it’s being remade in the first place, so they stick to what works and make it their own instead of crunching out a carbon copy and hope the masses don’t mind (note: they always mind.) Throw in all the best lines from the original along with some surprise cameos from the old cast, and there’s your fan service to boot. You don’t need to see the original to appreciate the remake, but it’s a nice little bonus that shows they care.
2) They up the ante without overdoing it. Every time our heroes got into a pickle that you think you’ve seen before and gets resolved the same way every time, the script almost always manages to pull a youie and make the whole thing feel new again. It’d be one thing if every twist was a variation on torture porn (because we all know how much folks like torture porn these days,) but instead they resort to smart, creative writing that makes the characters seem that much smarter and realistic in turn. Have you ever seen a horror movie where a parent believed their kid about the monster at the door instead of calling them nuts before opening the door? A horror movie where that actually happens is a horror movie worth applauding. Smart people, gotta love ‘em.
3) They play to the original’s strengths. One of the big appeals to the ’85 version is how self-aware it is in a “What would you do if your neighbor was a vampire?” kind of way. So from ragging on Twilight to acknowledging how totally unprepared they are for the insane circumstances they’ve now found themselves in, these characters are on the level. As much as we don’t need another vampire movie this year, it’s actually the perfect time for a vampire movie that takes names for a change and doesn’t give a shit about Team Edward.
4) They don’t make it PG-13. Blood galore, swears up the yin-yang, and lots of stakes in lots of hearts. That’s what I’m talkin’ bout, Willis.
5) They don’t rely on the cast to carry the script. Remember how excited you were when Jackie Earle Haley signed on to play Freddy Krueger? Remember how that turned out? There ya’ go. It certainly helps that this script is good to begin with, but the cast is just as entertaining as the context.
I know he doesn’t have the biggest resume out there, but Anton Yelchin has never really done it for me. Think it has something to do with how irritating he looked in that Charlie Bartlett trailer, and his Chekov impression in Star Trek wasn’t enough to get him into my non-Trekkie good graces either. But he’s surprisingly likable as Charley the vampire slayer, he reacts just the way I would if the roles were reversed, and he actually ends up being quite the little badass. A big surprise among many and more power to ‘im. And Colin Farrell – another guy who I was still undecided about – is fantastic as Jerry the vampire. He uses his studly looks to good use and creates one seriously sinister, seriously likable villain. Guess I need to watch In Bruges again, ’cause Colin Farrell’s pretty sweet. Toni Collete’s also good as Charley’s refreshingly understanding mom; Imogen Poots is as solid as she is pretty playing Charley’s main squeeze; a totally unrecognizable David Tennant is awfully inspired, if not a tad over-the-top, as Charley’s hired help, Peter Vincent; and then there’s Christopher Mintz-Plasse…
CMP plays Charley’s best friend, “Evil” Ed, and when we first meet him, he’s awesome. He tells off Charley’s douchebag friends like a boss, he’s the voice of reason who’s more prepared than any normal kid should be, and even if he’s still McLovin, he’s way better than the guy who played Ed in ’85. But then he disappears for a while, comes back pretty late in the game, and the kid starts hamming it up like you wouldn’t believe. It’s a true bummer how he goes from one of the best characters in the movie to the most irritating by a long shot in one fell swoop, and I genuinely wonder what possessed him. Someday he’ll get the chance to shed McLovin, and even if this is the most against-type role he’s taken, it’s not gonna do it.
I wish I didn’t have to lay out all of Fright Night‘s pros in bullet points, but when we live in a world where the powers that be can take a perfect horror movie like Halloween and let Rob Zombie turn it into a boob-filled blood orgy…then let him do it again, someone has to spell it out for these Hollywood asshats. There are rules, people, rules that are not being followed. Honestly, why the hell would you make a “prequel” to The Thing? Some movies just don’t need remakes, and while some may argue that Fright Night is one of those movies, this is how you get it right. It’s some fun, funny, fresh stuff that only gets better with each new scare and unexpected plot development. Would have given it an 8 if some of the dialogue hadn’t tried so hard to get a laugh or been so crude for the sake of it, but relatively minor complaints considering what an exception to the rule this is.
Such a good idea for a movie.
Submarine (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Fluorescent Adolescents
Richard Ayoade, please make more movies.
Submarine is about a teenage boy from Wales who’s never had a girlfriend before. Not long after we meet him, he starts to fall for a girl in his class. He’s extremely awkward and endearing about the whole thing, she’s not so much, but eventually they start going steady and he tries his best to make sure he doesn’t lose her. All the while, he comes to realize that his parents’ marriage is slowly falling apart and that the new neighbor next door is trying to steal his mom away from his dad. In order to prevent this from happening, he begins taking measures to breathe new life into their stale marriage because they’re certainly not making the effort.
So it’s a case of first loves and crappy marriages. Not exactly uncharted territory in the world of film, nor is it always a sure thing, and that’s not the best foot to get off on. See, the downside of having to watch so many damn movies it only gets that much easier to start comparing them to the strengths and weaknesses of others that ring as being similar. Aside from the misleading title that probably turned away as many people as it intrigued, Submarine had its work cut out from the start. But the fact that this has all been done before is ultimately one of the many things that makes it so special.
It’s the debut effort from British comedian-turned-director Richard Ayoade, and as you can probably guess from the first sentence of this review, the man is good. I know he’s done some music videos and TV work before, but what he does here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, especially for such a dialogue-driven movie. To give you loose idea of what it’s like, imagine Rushmore, Scott Pilgrim, and (500) Days of Summer, now imagine them as one with J.D. Salinger yelling “Action!” The deadpan wisdom of Wes Anderson, the youthful energy of Edgar Wright, and the storybook magic of Marc Webb – it’s all there, it’s all Ayoade, and growing up has never been this easy on the eyes.
From a visual standpoint, there’s a lot going on here. The story is told from the perspective of Oliver Tate, a wallflower of sorts who acts older than he is, and Oliver tends to daydream a lot. Most directors would just let Oliver ramble and go on filming what they’re filming, but Ayoade goes one mile further by visualizing everything Oliver’s talking about from make-believe funeral services for his hypothetical death, to the make-believe movie about his romance with Jordana Bevan called Two Weeks of Love-Making. It’s wild to watch and it’s made with an incredible amount of care and intention that does wonders when it comes to putting the audience in Oliver’s shoes. And unbeknownst to me, Wales is apparently knock-your-pants-off gorgeous. Lucky for us, Ayoade knows all about it, uses it to his advantage right on through to the final seconds, and those last seconds sure are something.
But you can’t make an old movie seem new with a nothing but a paint job, and that’s where Ayoade’s script comes in. The reason this coming-of-age adaptation stands out is because it doesn’t feel like an adult writing from a kid’s perspective. Oliver’s weird, no one really understands him, and he doesn’t really understand anyone else even though it’s his top priority at all times. But by the same token, teenage Aiden was pretty weird himself and a lot of what Oliver says hits really close to home as I think back to my high school days fueled by general confusion and a healthy fear of girls. On top of that, no one’s making apologies for Oliver, nor is Oliver making apologies for himself. Grown-ups might lose sight of it at some point or other, but kids have a lot on their plates and figuring it all out is very trial-and-error process. That’s what this movie’s about, that’s what Oscar’s about, and watching him go through it all for the first time is endlessly engaging.
And then there’s the cast, and I’ve got nothing but compliments. I’m crazy about Craig Roberts and that permanent look of concerned yearning he brings to Oliver; Yasmin Paige is a firecracker as his main squeeze, Jordana; Noah Taylor and Sally Hawkins are wonderfully understated and totally odd as Oliver’s parents; and Paddy Considine is a freakin’ trip as the strangest man in all of Wales. Everyone’s got their own thing going on and they all do a great job of sticking to it no matter what’s going on in their lives. Very funky approach, but it’s a very funky movie to begin with.
Alright, enough of the pros, onto the cons. The only reason I didn’t give this movie a 9 isn’t so much a fault of the Ayoade or his cast, but rather my lack of familiarity with Welsh accents. The characters tend to talk pretty fast here, and while it absolutely works in regards to capturing a tone, it’s a bummer when you can only catch 75% of what’s coming out of their mouths. Again, not their fault, and it’s not even all that frustrating since my gut reaction was to just start the movie over again and listen twice as hard rather than knock the cast for speaking in their native tongues. Yes, this hardly even counts as a con in the slightest, but it’s tough to credit a movie as a whole when you miss out on that much dialogue.
And this soundtrack…good gravy, is this a soundtrack. The whole thing is made up of six original tunes by Arctic Monkeys frontman Alex Turner, and if you’re not familiar with Arctic Monkeys, then you’re missing out. But aside from how the songs hold up on their own right out of context, the way they’re married with the events of the movie is flat. out. perfection. What Simon & Garfunkel did for The Graduate, that’s what Turner does for Submarine. It doesn’t hurt that Turner and Roberts are dead ringers, but this really does sound like the soundtrack to Oliver’s life, which also ties into the excerpts from Two Weeks of Love-Making. It’s hard to describe what makes this different from Trent Reznor’s work on The Social Network or Jonny Greenwood’s on There Will Be Blood, but if I was stuck with one word, I’d go with “organic.”
Thanks to positive suggestions from trustworthy nerds, I was expecting good things from Submarine, I just had no idea what those things would be. What I ended up getting was something truly outstanding, something that resonated with me while I was watching it and has only gotten better in the 24 hours I’ve been thinking about it. Despite the Verdict I gave it, there were more than a few times where I wanted to give this a 9 because it’s movies like these that deserve recognition. I could go on about how floored I was by the way Ayoade transformed such a simple premise into such a refreshing, funny, and real experience that some veteran film makers try their whole lives to achieve, but the long and short of it is that Submarine is a trip you can’t let someone else take for you. Trust me, you’ve been here before, but never like this.
Tower Heist (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Penthouse Paupers
Brett Ratner made a good movie. If that’s not a sign of the coming apocalypse, I don’t know what is.
Tower Heist is about the loyal staff of a high-rise hotel that looks an awful lot like the Trump Plaza in NYC. Everything’s going swell for the loyal staff, but then one day they find out that the owner of the building has been busted in a Ponzi scheme, which means that all their pensions are now worth jack crap. With nothing to lose and payback on his mind, the manager of the hotel gets the staff together and recruits a small-time crook from his childhood to break into the owner’s high-security suite in the hopes of stealing the owner’s multi-million dollar safety net. Being that none of them know a damn thing about pulling off a heist or where the safety net is, they go through with it anyway and hope for the best.
Before I even bought a ticket, there were a lot of reasons why I was fully prepared to shit all over this thing. It’s directed by Brett Ratner, and it’s common knowledge that Brett Ratner has long been one of the biggest hacks in Hollywood. It stars Eddie Murphy, and he’s why Norbit happened. It also stars Ben Stiller, and not only do I still hate Meet the Parents, but I think the last time he really got a laugh out of me was when Jon Voight almost plugged him with a pickaxe. And then there was the brutally unfunny trailer, and that was all I needed to write this off and further the hate.
So why did I see it? Well, kids, sometimes grown-ups drink beers, and every once in a while, that leads grown-ups to make decisions they normally wouldn’t have had they been drinking, say, SunnyD on the rocks. So in lieu of making it to last call, my friend and I made our way to the theater. Since the options start to dwindle by 10:30 PM, we could either pay $17 to watch Harold and Kumar whack Santa Claus in the third dimension, or listen to the unusually positive Tomatometer and give $13 to Brett-freaking-Ratner. Being the cheapskate I am and not wanting to test my 3D vision without testing my BAC first, we went with the latter. And shockingly enough, it totally paid off.
Since it’s a Brett Ratner movie, you can safely assume that you won’t need a brain to follow what’s happening. This isn’t Heat, this isn’t Inception, this is a big-budget excuse to eat popcorn, watch a sports car hang outside of a skyscraper, and watch A-listers say goofy shit. It takes itself seriously in the sense that there isn’t a soul on Earth who doesn’t have it out for Bernie Madoff these days or wouldn’t love to see the untouchable 1% get their comeuppance, and it totally works on that level. It doesn’t take itself very seriously in every other aspect, and that was a very good call. As far as writing and directing is concerned, I wouldn’t look for it in the Criterion Collection, but what you expect is pretty much what you get. The laughs are more successful than not and the plot is kooky enough to keep things interesting, and that’s enough.
But the big question of the hour is whether or not this is the comeback that Eddie Murphy’s career has been after since he started dabbling in fat suits and tranny hookers? The answer to that question: hopefully. The hope comes from the fact that he’s easily one of the highlights here and this is a welcome reminder that Murphy still has the potential to be funny. The hesitation comes from the fact that few careers have nosedived so epically in the public eye like Murphy’s has over the years and one step in the right direction isn’t enough to make us forget about all those steps back. If someone missed the toilet bowl every time they went to the bathroom, I don’t think anyone would throw a freakin’ parade over the one time they hit a bulls-eye. This isn’t Axel Foley we’re talking about, it’s not Donkey either, but it’s nice to see Murphy getting back to what he’s best at instead of making some more God-awful shit to impress his kids.
And while we’re on the subject of comebacks, where the hell did Matthew Broderick come from? Sure, he had The Producers going for him a few years back, not to mention one of the best cameos in the first season of Louie, but Election was 12 years ago and he hasn’t had too many movies to write home about since. But here he is in Tower Heist, a movie that no one is seeing because he’s in it, and he had me cracking up more than any of his co-stars, Murphy included. He plays a Wall Street investor who lost all his money and was in the process of getting evicted from the tower when the owner got cuffed, and there’s something about watching him play this “Fuck my life” guy whose always got the most deadpan, depressing answer for any random question that really worked like gangbusters. Surprised more people aren’t giving him his due after this, but then again, he’s not the one who did Pluto Nash.
Going off of the cast, the main problem with this movie isn’t so much who’s in it, but rather how many people are in it. There’s an excess amount of Ben Stiller, and since there’s, oh, two dozen other people backing him up in roles that vary from relatively integral to “That’s it?,” I really wish the screen-time had gotten divvied up better. There’s not enough Murphy, there’s not enough Broderick, and there’s not enough Gabourey Sidibe either. You know what? There’s never enough Gabourey Sidibe. That girl kicks ass. Wouldn’t be so bad if Ben Stiller is the one element of this movie that was as disappointing as I expected it to be, but it’s his own damn fault for whipping out his Mr. Furious shtick in every damn thing he signs up for.
Folks, finding an excuse to rag on a Brett Ratner movie is like looking for sand in the desert. If I ever get around to reviewing After the Sunset, I’ll go into further detail, but today I’m gonna bite my tongue. Tower Heist isn’t great by any means, but I can’t deny that I had fun, I was entertained, and I laughed more than I was prepared to. I couldn’t believe it, I still can’t believe it, and everyone I talk to about it can’t believe it either. In all honesty, I was very close to giving this a 7, but I’m still torn as to whether that credit goes to the movie itself or the booze that aided it. Maybe next time, Brett…as long as it’s not Rush Hour 4.
And the best movie beard belongs to…
GANDALF!
Grey, white, who cares? That right there is a beard for the ages. Who knows what kind of creatures and wizardy lie dormant in that mane.
‘Twas a tight race that led to a solid victor, so swell voting, my friends.
RESULTS:
- Gandalf: 12 votes
- The Dude: 10 votes
- Pai Mei: 7 votes (would have been my vote)
- R.J. MacReady: 5 votes
- Frank Serpico: 4 votes
- Chuck Noland: 2 votes
- Obi-Wan Kenobi: 2 votes
- Zack Galifianakis: 1 vote
- Joaquin Phoenix: 0 votes
- King Leonidas: 0 votes
- Bob Barnes: 0 votes
- Jeremiah Johnson: 0 votes
- Other: 2 votes for Albus Dumbledore, 1 vote for Rubeus Hagrid, 1 vote for Dragomir Despard, and 1 vote for Josey Wales (word.)
50/50 (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Comical Illnesses
Cancer. Always knew it was this emotional, never knew it could be this funny.
50/50 is about a healthy, twenty-something guy who goes in for a routine check-up one day only to find out that he has spinal cancer. He tells his girlfriend and she reticently decides to tough it out with him, then he tells his best friend who decides to make lemonade out of the situation by using his buddy’s terminal illness as a way for them to pick up chicks. After being given a 50% chance of beating the disease, the guy starts visiting a young psychiatrist to make sense of his mixed emotions while coming to terms with his own life-or-death circumstances.
Folks, it can’t be easy to write a drama about cancer, so it must be one outrageously tall order to make a comedy about it. The last time I saw someone go down that road, it got Jerry Seinfeld booed off the stage. Despite the best efforts of many a comedian, some topics just aren’t good for yuks. But if Life is Beautiful taught us anything about the power of laughter, it’s that it can find a home even in the most tragic of scenarios.
The biggest reason this movie succeeds in toeing the fine line between comic and tragic without falling into the realm of insensitive is screenwriter Will Reiser. A cancer survivor himself, this whole story is in fact a loose adaptation of his own battle with cancer as a healthy, twenty-something guy. He didn’t go through chemo and I’m not so sure about all the medical marijuana he smokes (although I could be dead wrong about that considering his best friend is Seth Rogen), but that’s ultimately beside the point. Like with many sensitive subjects, it tends to be easier to make light of a serious situation when you’ve gone through it firsthand, and that’s where his big-screen surrogate, Adam, comes in.
Adam is played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Adam is complicated guy living in complicated times. He’s got a girlfriend that his best friend hates (and vice-versa), a mother he barely knows, a father suffering from dementia, and a job that’s going nowhere. All his life he’s learned to just deal with it, but now that dealing with it just doesn’t cut it, the one thing that’s threatening to end his young life is causing everything to rise to the surface. The hard part of playing Adam doesn’t seem to be the physical strain, but rather the emotional and coming to terms with the possibility of dying in your twenties from something that’s completely out of his control. In short, it’s about time JGL got himself an Oscar-worthy role, and boy, does he freakin’ deliver with Adam.
But as good as JGL is, I was arguably just as impressed by Seth Rogen as Adam’s best friend, Kyle. I mean, it’s Seth Rogen playing Seth Rogen which is what Seth Rogen always does (not including Observe & Report), but the comedic relief he brings to the movie is exactly what the doctor ordered and exactly what makes his relationship with Adam so special. From joking about how Adam’s spinal scar looks like Kuato from Total Recall, to how crushed he is to find out that Patrick Swayze didn’t beat cancer, not only did he have me laughing my ass off, but he’s got a lot of heart to boot.
Though I’ve gotten better about it over the past few years, addressing death or even the possibility of it has always been a struggle. Since I never knew what to say, I just didn’t say anything, but as I’ve come to learn, even the smallest of gestures in these matters goes a long way. The jokey relationship between Adam and Kyle may not be the type you usually see in a movie like this, but it’s as genuine as they come and is exactly why I’ll always kick myself for the times I never said, “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” Even if his head’s somewhere else, Kyle’s heart is always in the right place, and as a result, he’s as much a part of this story as Adam is. If, God forbid, I ever find myself in Adam’s shoes, I’d want a Kyle at my back.
And as for the ladies, Anna Kendrick is still as neurotic and quirky as ever as Adam’s shrink, Katherine, but that’s also what I really like about her. The girl’s got spunk and there’s something very real and endearing about a cute girl who stumbles over her words when she gets nervous. And I don’t know what compelled Bryce Dallas Howard to start staking her claim as Hollywood’s breakout bitch this year, but she is gettin’ it done as Adam’s girlfriend, Rachael. Not quite on the same level of evil as her whole Jane Crow thing in The Help, but let’s just say that it’s nothing short of cheer-worthy when Seth Rogen pulls the rug out from under her fake ass like the host of a hidden camera show.
Okay, back to the serious stuff.
While I’m infinitely grateful to have been healthy as an ox these past 25 years, you don’t need a diagnosis to get how utterly devastating, unfair, and painful cancer is. I’ve known people who’ve beaten it, lost to it, and are currently fighting it, and no matter how many times you hear the news, the blow never lessens. The danger of making a comedy about cancer is creating the impression that cancer isn’t so bad and that laughter is in fact the best medicine. That’s not what Reiser does. For him, I’m sure it helped having Seth Rogen nearby to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t sugarcoat all the highs and lows of what Adam goes through. And regardless of whether or not it’s a verbatim retelling of real-life events, you can tell when it’s real. They go from poignant and subtle to flat-out inescapable, but there are a lot of powerful, personal moments of shock, frustration, anger, and joy that linger with you long after they’ve passed and will leave you entirely sympathetic, if not empathetic.
I don’t know how Reiser would respond to this, but there’s something brave in how open and honest he is about his experiences that almost cost him his life. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be given a death sentence of sorts and then try to function. Then again, there are a lot of people who know exactly what that’s like and I’m sure his story will resonate with them on a level that I hope to never understand.
It did take a bit to get going, but gut-wrenching comedies like 50/50 just don’t come around enough. Who cares if you already know how it ends? Yes, the element of surprise is gone, but what’s not to like about cancer getting its ass kicked? It’s pretty outstanding the way everything and everyone came together with this movie, because it wasn’t an easy sell and in the wrong hands it could have been a disaster. But in the end, it sure ran the emotional gamut and is a big step up for director Jonathan Levine since The Wackness (even though the soundtrack is expectedly awesome). After all, there’s truly nothing like a belly laugh to cap off a good cry session.
The Last Circus (2011)
VERDICT:
5/10 Big-Top Bloodbaths
Because clowns aren’t terrifying enough.
The Last Circus is about the son of a happy clown who stands by as his father gets recruited for the Spanish Civil War as a machete-wielding killing machine. But when his Pops gets captured and killed by the opposing Franco regime, the kid heeds his father’s final words to pursue a career as a sad clown due to all the horrors he’s endured. So the kid grows up, joins a traveling circus as the resident sad clown, and quickly falls head-over-heels for a gorgeous acrobat who’s married to the resident abusive happy clown. The more the sad clown tries to win her over and the more she leads him on, the more he puts his life and sanity at risk with each time she goes back to the sad clown. Eventually he straight-up snaps and starts using an iron as a makeup kit when he’s not shooting up diners, but that’s what happens when you mess with the sad clown.
Oh yes, it’s as crazy as it sounds. I’m sure many of you might be wondering what would compel a person to watch something like this on their own free will, but my hope is that there’s at least one other curious soul can understand the strange fascination that comes with a movie about homicidal circus clowns. From the day I first witnessed its unforgettably wacko trailer, I knew this was a movie worth seeking out because there’s no way in hell that I’d seen anything like it. And in that sense, it delivered.
Now, I’ve been to Madrid and I’ve been to Barcelona. With the exception of the crushing revelation that 99% of people who go to nude beaches do not belong on nude beaches, those were some pretty awesome towns. That’s about the extent of what I know about Spain, but if this is writer/director Alex de la Iglesia’s idea of reflecting on his homeland’s dark past, I think I should start doing my homework. But all the same, it’s hard to watch something like this and walk away thinking about the political metaphors. When you make a movie about killer clowns, it’s hard to make it about anything else.
Folks, this is an exercise in insanity. Just thinking about it has me shaking my head in stunned confusion over the way things played out and the extremes that were went to in such a short amount of time. I mean, I’ve never had my heart broken by a girl, but I don’t think I’d react to the news by maiming her abusive boyfriend in the nude, escaping into the woods to live off raw deer, and then offing everyone in sight because a vision of my dead dad told me to. I’ll only say it once more, but this movie is strange. Not that there’s anything wrong with strange, but too strange can pose some problems.
It’d be one thing if the sad clown in question was already on the edge and just waiting for that extra push to send him flying, but the situation here is more like going from stressed out to Charlie Manson because you got played by the hot girl at work. Yes, work can be awfully stressful some days and sometimes bitches be crazy, but that’s an awfully rash transition to undergo in a mere matter of hours. As entertaining as it is to watch this fool act on every batshit impulse that comes into his head, it was mostly aggravating to watch him do it so quickly without any kind of natural buildup.
But the weirdest thing about this movie is that it’s a Spanish soap opera at heart. I don’t know about you, but even in my native English, soap operas are just one thing I will never understand. The melodrama, the overacting, the broken hearts, the mind games – it’s a perfect storm of shit I can’t tolerate and The Last Circus wasn’t doing itself any favors in that regard. In a nutshell, the first half of the movie goes exactly like this:
Sad clown falls for happy clown’s wife. Happy clown beats the tar out of his wife. Makeup sex ensues, sad clown is sad. Happy clown’s wife flirts with sad clown. Sad clown gets his hopes up and falls for happy clown’s wife all over again. Sad clown goes on date with happy clown’s wife and tells her to run away with him. Happy clown finds out and beats the tar out of his wife. Makeup sex ensues, sad clown is sad.
Rinse, wash, repeat until the sad clown goes bananas. Jesus, this thing is all over the place and repetitive to boot. But I did love the way de la Iglesia incorporated music into the story and the early scenes between the sad clown and the happy clown are really, really good. It’s too bad things go down the way they do, because the potential was there for something really effing memorable.
The other upside is that the performances are surprisingly good, which is as unexpected as anything else this movie has to offer. Carlos Areces is particularly well cast as the sad clown, Javier, and the same goes for the gorgeous Carolina Bang (given name?) as the happy clown’s wife, Natalia. Not that I was taking it seriously in the first place, but I was still pretty impressed with how the cast threw themselves into their totally gonzo roles.
This is the only movie of de la Iglesia’s that I’ve seen, but word on the street is that they’re all this ridiculous. It’s like a remake of La Strada…by Robert Rodriguez. I really wanted to like The Last Circus more than I did, but even with the political undertones, it’s tough to say what I was supposed to gain from this. Don’t fuck with clowns? No shit and roger that. In its defense, this does have the makings of a cult classic going for it, and cult classics aren’t always appreciated to their fullest on the first go-around. If you’ve read this far and you’re still grinning over the premise, then by all means give it a whirl. Gotta respect movies that exist way outside the realm of “normalcy,” and that regard, this movie is a 10.
Melancholia (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Death Stars
Don’t forget the Prozac.
Melancholia is about a woman who goes and gets hitched, shows up hours late to her reception, and gradually begins to regret the marriage altogether as the evening’s events proceed to drown in a mess of family drama and disapproval. After things take their course, the woman shacks up with her estranged sister and succumbs to a mean bout of depression that only gets worse with each new day. But then, out of nowhere, a rogue planet appears in the sky that’s set on a collision course towards Earth. As the planet gets closer and everyone starts crapping their knickers over whether it’s going to smack right into us or pass on by, the woman starts exhibiting some awfully strange behavior as she comes to embrace the coming apocalypse.
If you’ve seen a Lars von Trier movie before, then you know exactly how this movie’s going to end. If you haven’t seen a Lars von Trier movie before, then don’t you worry, you’ll know how it ends within the first ten minutes. The funny thing about my history with von Trier is that I always remember the stuff I love about his movies and always forget the stuff that makes me want to go cry in a corner. You’d think one would remember something like that after watching Willem Dafoe get a millstone drilled into his leg, but for some reason I thought this would be different, that von Trier was upswing and feeling good about life again.
I was wrong.
In Melancholia, von Trier takes everything you love about life – all your hopes, dreams, and half-glass-full outlooks – and dashes them out with one big cosmic “Fuck you, dude.” Unless your favorite movie of all-time is Requiem for a Dream, I can understand how that’s not an easy sell for a lot of folks. I’m of the mindset that us common folk like our hopes and dreams, and we don’t really need some Debbie Downer with a fancy camera to tell us that everything’s not going to be alright, that everything we know and love is someday going to die. Although as much as you try to turn it on its head and reinterpret it otherwise, that is very much the message you will be taking away from this movie. It’s morosely refreshing in the sense that happy endings come wholesale these days, but rest assured, there is another saving grace.
The reason I keep forgetting about all the gut-wrenching misery I have to endure with each new von Trier effort is entirely due to the visuals. Right from the operatic opening montage that makes the end of the world look every bit as beautiful as it probably shouldn’t and every bit as surreal as it absolutely is, it’s pretty amazing how easily von Trier makes your forget about all the death and stuff that’s also unfolding from a distance. It’s hard to describe what a von Trier movie looks like without seeing it action, but it’s every bit as mesmerizing as it is haunting. Despite the happy-go-lucky morality tales he keeps putting on display, when von Trier has a vision, he captures it like no other.
In addition, few directors have ever managed to get such raw, vulnerable performances out of a cast the way von Trier does on such a consistent basis. But the thing that always blows my mind is why people agree to be in his movies in the first place? If you’re a woman and you’re starring in a Lars von Trier movie, expect to be very naked, expect your character to meet a terrible end, and expect your psychiatric bills to skyrocket. If you’re a man starring in a Lars von Trier movie, the same is true, only no one really cares about dudeity. Whatever the reason, his methods work like gangbusters and this here’s no exception.
In a move that would make Mary Jane Watson run for the hills, Kirsten Dunst is quite good as our buzzkill bride, Justine. When you compare Justine to everyone else Dunst has played, she’s arguably great, but the problem with Justine is the problem I have with this movie as a whole. Justine is an incredibly difficult character to put your finger on because you never really know what’s going through her head or what compels her to do the things that she does. From what I gathered, she’s a woman who’s gotten very good at keeping up appearances and fooling herself into believing she’s happy with the decisions she’s made in life. But now that the Kool-Aid doesn’t taste so sweet, she trades it all in to wallow in her despair.
Being that von Trier didn’t just write this script by accident, I’m sure there are people out there who will watch Justine and everything will just click. But the more I watched, the more perplexed I got, and while that’s not the worst thing to complain about in a film, she really does go overboard with the whole “woe is me, life sucks” thing. When the end credits rolled and the theater got very vocal about what they’d just seen, the one thing everyone seemed to come back to was why Justine didn’t do this or why Justine didn’t that? As you can tell, I wasn’t very helpful in terms of coming up with answers, but then again, maybe that’s the whole point. Answers or motives would have been nice, but none of that really matters when a planet’s about smash into Earth. I don’t know if there’s an Oscar in it for Dunst, but she is backed up by some solid turns from Charlotte Gainsbourg, Alexander Skarsgard, Stellan Skarsgard, and Charlotte Rampling. And bonus points for the best Keifer Sutherland performance in ages that doesn’t have him yelling “DAMMIT!” every five minutes.
Of all the movies that I’ve seen this year, Melancholia was far and away one of my most highly anticipated. I loved the supernatural aspect, the doomsday imagery left drool on my shirt, and there’s something bizarrely wonderful about a wedding movie with apocalyptic stakes. It’s not that I was ultimately disappointed either, but when you’re so used to watching movies that aren’t prepping you for your inevitable death, coming to terms with a movie that does is a tough pill to swallow. Whether it’s a metaphor for depression or evidence that some people just want to watch the world burn, Lars von Trier has given us one seriously Earth-shattering picture to mull over and remind us how insignificant we all are in the grand scheme of things.
I’m not sure if it was his intention, but it really is movies like Melancholia that put things into perspective when the world is crashing down around us. All depends on how you take it, I suppose.
The Ides of March (2011)
VERDICT:
7/10 Winning Tickets
News flash: politics sucks.
The Ides of March is about a young, accomplished, wide-eyed political aide for a fictional front-running Democratic Presidential candidate. After working on countless campaigns for politicians who talked the talk without walking the walk, the aide thinks he’s finally found the guy he’s been waiting for, someone who can actually make a change in the country without compromising his principles. In the days leading up to the Ohio primary which could single-handedly determine who takes The White House, the aide finds his own principles compromised when a Republican aide drags him into the darker side of politics. The deeper he gets and the more he tries to stick to his convictions, the more he realizes that he’s in over his head and that the candidate he idolizes might not be the poster boy he originally thought.
Now, I’ve never worked on a political campaign, nor have I ever run for office (despite what you may have heard). I vote, I like to keep abreast of what’s going on and who’s in the race, but when someone around the camp fire shifts the talking point to politics, I prefer not to. Part of it is that you never know what kind of company you’re in, part of it is that I tend to feel like an uninformed ass at the end of those conversations, but most of it is that politics are just ugly.
The general stigma I have against so many candidates and campaigns is that it’s one big popularity contest to see who’s gonna tell the public what they want to hear and who’s the best at reading a teleprompter. Yes, it’s extremely important to vote, but it’s still an endlessly depressing situation, one that makes me wonder how FDR would have fared in today’s political system and why upstanding individuals like himself have become such a rarity over the years? The good news is that every once in a while you’ll get people like New Jersey’s Corey Booker and Chris Christie to mix things up with some actual honesty and the balls to stand up for their policies instead of going with the norm by pussyfooting around the bullshit. Not to ramble and not that I agree with all their policies per se, but it’s increasingly rare to find someone in a public office who actually embodies the notion of “what you see is what you get.
The bad news is that there’s still only so much you can know about a candidate’s true colors from what you see on TV and read in the paper. Remember John Edwards, the guy who almost became Vice President? That’s what The Ides of March is about, and it’s as true as it is depressing. Writer/director/handsome devil George Clooney isn’t naming names or taking shots at any candidate or campaign in particular, but he doesn’t really have to since history tends to repeat itself in these matters for Democrats and Republicans alike. What Clooney’s doing is taking the best of both parties, putting them on a pedestal, and then rolling back the curtain on all the high-profile, career-ruining scandals that got swept under the rug because it’s just that easy. As you can imagine, he’s got a whole lot of source material at his disposal and it makes for some awfully cheery stuff.
Going off that premise, the most interesting thing about Clooney’s script is in fact the character he’s playing, Governor Mike Morris. He’s the ideal candidate, someone the audience can get behind just as much as Gosling’s character does, the guy we all wish was actually on the ballot when we pull the lever come November 2012. While he ultimately comes to represent something else altogether, the thing I liked most about this character and what he has to say doesn’t trace back to the criticisms of our cutthroat political system, but rather the common sense, “Why aren’t we already doing this?” proposals that he brings to the table. It’s not only smart in the positive implications it would have in the world we live in, but it also sheds an even greater light on the empty promises and sweet nothings that we’re so used to being fed. I could start rattling them off here, but I can’t sell ‘em like Morris.
From his pros to his cons, you can see a slew of different real-life Presidents in Morris, and that’s important for the story this movie’s trying to tell. Although, the double-edged sword of Morris is that he’s essentially the man behind the curtain who takes a backseat to Gosling’s character, Stephen Meyers. I get why Clooney went down that route as a way to make Morris this untouchable, larger-than-life figure that he is, but Stephen Meyers along with his friends and foes just aren’t as interesting. Not to say that they’re uninteresting, but Morris is more about the message whereas Meyers is more about the drama. All the same, it’s a pretty inventive script in regards to the directions it takes the plot in. You can probably figure out the direction things go in as far as Gosling and Clooney’s relationship is concerned, but as far as all the other backstabbing, head games, and dream-killing that goes down, that was full of surprises and went quite a long way.
You know, there isn’t much I didn’t like about this movie, there just wasn’t much that I loved either, and the main thing that kept this from snagging an 8 was unfortunately its cast. On any other day, there’d be nothing to complain about with a cast like this. Gosling? Clooney? Giamatti? Hoffman? These are some intense guys, guys who know how to command a scene and intimidate the the piss out of whoever’s in earshot. These are guys who don’t need to raise their voices to get the point across, a slow exhale with a mean stare will do just fine, but apparently that wasn’t in the memo this time around. It’s not that they’re all yelling at each other from square one, it’s just that they all have at least one moment where they do just that and it felt unnecessary each time. It’s a pretty subjective gripe and I’d be losing my shit too if I were in Gosling’s shoes, but the dialogue just felt somewhat contrived as a result and it seems like a rookie tactic for such an Oscar-friendly crew that knows a thing or two about playing it subtle.
After seeing it for myself, I asked one of my good friends who works on a political campaign what he thought of the movie. I was secretly hoping for a response that would give me some sliver of hope, some affirmation that Clooney’s got his head up his ass, but instead he said, “Yeah, it’s pretty dead-on.” The Ides of March didn’t necessarily teach me anything about the world of politics that I didn’t already know, but it is effective in turning the worst parts of politics and using them as fuel for a very true-to-life thriller. I think this movie would have been that much more effective as a documentary from the perspective of an aide who worked on the trail with the likes of John Edwards or David Duke, but as the drama it is, it’s pretty darn astute and pretty darn crazy.
Poor old FDR must be rolling in his grave.
And the owner of the best movie mustache is…
BILL THE BUTCHER!
Gotta admit, I did not see that one coming. Nevertheless, that is one bitchin’ ‘stache. If I could grow mine out like that and somehow not look like a hipster, I would do so in heartbeat. Someday…
Swell voting, folks.
RESULTS:
- Bill the Butcher: 11 votes
- Tom Selleck: 10 votes
- Sam Elliott: 8 votes (my vote, hands-down)
- Charlie Chaplin: 4 votes
- D-Day: 2 votes
- Burt Reynolds: 1 vote
- Groucho Marx: 1 vote (not too shabby for a guy who didn’t even have a mustache)
- “Doc” Holiday: 1 vote
- Ron Burgundy: 1 vote
- Lando Calrissian: 0 votes
- Daniel Plainview: 0 votes
- Lt. Aldo Raine: 0 votes
- Daniel Plainview: 0 votes
- Other: 1 vote for Ron Jeremy (easy win for creepiest mustache, but still a classic.)
Take Shelter (2011)
VERDICT:
10/10 Heavy Rains
Now that’s how you teach an old dog new tricks.
Take Shelter is about a blue-collar guy from Ohio with a good family, a good job, and a good life. Unbeknownst to his wife, his daughter, or his co-workers, this blue-collar guy starts having recurring nightmares and daymares of an apocalyptic storm that no one is prepared for or aware of. The more he tries to control the visions with medication and therapy, the more vivid and foreboding they continue to get. Despite his family’s history of mental illness and despite what everyone else is saying about him, he becomes convinced that this is not just him going crazy. So at the risk of his good family, his good job, and his good life, he begins overhauling the tornado shelter in his backyard to prep for something that might never even come.
The downside of making a “maybe he’s crazy, maybe he’s not” movie is that it’s not the most original premise out there. We’ve all seen it before and is has its high points and low points just like every other premise out there that gets recycled ad nauseum. The upside of the matter is that it’s a proven formula that keeps people coming back because even the most disinterested of parties can’t help but wonder what the payoff is gonna be. With that being said, I’ve seen movies like Take Shelter before, but by the same token, I’ve never seen them done like this.
It’s the sophomore effort by writer/director Jeff Nichols, and I feel mighty stupid right now for all those times I bumped down his debut, Shotgun Stories, on my Netflix queue. With each new scene, it became that much clearer that this is a guy who knows how to film, knows how to write, and knows what he’s doing. When the visions are occurring, you can’t take your eyes off them. When the visions aren’t occurring, he lets his cast take charge of his flawless script and you can’t take your eyes off them either. When his characters have conversations, it’s on a need-to-know basis. They don’t beat around the bush and scream ’til they’re lungs collapse, they just get to the point with their indoor voices and receive an equally terse reaction that’s as genuine as it is effective. I love that about Jeff Nichols as a director and I love that about this script. It never ceases to amaze me how much you can say with so little and it’s so refreshing to see characters who embody that principle.
But the thing you’re probably wondering about and thing I’ll get to right now is what makes this movie a 10? Unfortunately, what floored me about this movie isn’t something I can put into words. In a vain effort to try and do just that, it was like an invisible force was sitting on my chest by the first half-hour, and by the last ten minutes, I felt like I was being flat-out bear-hugged. I don’t know about you, but that’s a rare sensation to get hit with at any time or place. See, with each new vision and each new consequence it has for our protagonist, the more invested we become in his life and the more we so badly want to believe that the apocalypse is on its way. Unless you’re Harold Camping, it’s a crazy win-lose mindset for an audience member to be in, and, holy hell, is it effective in developing a sense of impending doom and quiet terror that goes from lingering to inescapable over the course of two very intense hours. Nichols seamlessly transitions the story from dream to reality to something in between, and the desired effect of making you feel just as disoriented and concerned as Michael Shannon is thoroughly engrossing and then some.
And as far as Michael Shannon is concerned, they should just give him the Oscar already and save the other four actors some disappointment come February. What I love about his character, Curtis, is that even with everything he’s experiencing and the effects it has on his day-to-day life, there’s never a time where you look at him and think, “This guys is nuts.” He knows how everyone will react if he starts getting vocal and he knows he could be turning into a paranoid schizophrenic like his mother, so to save everyone from worrying, he bottles it up and covers his bases by trying to cure what’s going on in his head while preparing for the worst. It’s a very un-Hollywood approach to the character and it’s a very true-to-life one at that. Tere is a lot going with Curtis and a lesser man would be living in padded cell, and as far as casting is concerned, Shannon was the perfect choice to be put in Curtis’ shoes.
It doesn’t hurt to have one of the toughest, most chiseled faces in Hollywood, but even if his head was a big pink ball of Silly Putty, Michael Shannon and his all-seeing eyes would still command Curtis with a subtle strength and controlled fury like no other. When you see him action, you won’t be able to imagine anyone else in the role, and when Curtis finally reaches his limit, Shannon quickly cements himself as the powerhouse he is. I know that word gets thrown around all willy-nilly in movie reviews, but “powerhouse” is beyond accurate for a movie and performance like this. It really is amazing what he does here, and since his scene-stealing turn in Revolutionary Road wasn’t quite enough to make him a household name, hopefully this will do the trick before his turn as General Zod in Man of Steel gets everyone on the bandwagon.
Continuing with the “powerhouse” theme, the power that this movie carries is overwhelming in the best way possible, and Shannon carries it easily with some added help from Jessica Chastain as his wife, Samantha. In a turn that further establishes 2011 as the best year of her life, Chastain more than holds her own opposite Shannon and the growth between their characters is really what ties the whole movie together. Just as Curtis’ inner struggles are more than enough to glue you to the screen, the same can be said for his relationship with Sam who’s firmly grounded in reality and just trying to understand what’s going on with her emotionally elusive husband. It’s also the one element about this picture that leaves you with a moral besides, “Sometimes it pays to listen to the village lunatic.” For a movie that’s so wildly surreal in its implications and visuals, it’s fantastic how human and authentically dramatic it manages to be throughout.
I feel like I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately that have left me disappointed because things didn’t “come together” in the long run. Maybe this was karma paying me back for all those hours I spent writing about movies that left me fishing for compliments, but Take Shelter is pretty much the antithesis of all those letdowns. I watch a movie like this and I wonder why more film makers don’t operate like Jeff Nichols in regards to straightforward writing, imagery that speaks volumes, and pairing characters with a perfect cast. From the score that’s riddled with wind chimes to the very last shot that’s guaranteed to get you chatting, it’s just stunning how effective this movie is in everything it does. I don’t know if this review did the Verdict justice, but for my second “10″ of the year, this sucker earned it.
Hesher (2011)
VERDICT:
4/10 Mötley Crües
It’s like a Dr. Phil episode, if Dr. Phil listened to Slayer.
Hesher is about a little kid whose home life gets turned upside-down when his mom dies in a car crash and his dad spirals into a mean fit of depression. While biking around town one day, the kid throws a rock through the window of an abandoned building, and before he can bike away, a greasy, shirtless, tattooed mystery man drags him inside and gives him the business for trashing the house he was squatting in. One thing leads to another, the house blows up, and because this headbanger now has nowhere to go, he moves into the kid’s house without an invitation and continues to stick around because the kid’s dad is too messed up to do anything about it. Before long, the guy becomes part of the family even though no one asked him to, and through the power of heavy metal mayhem, Hesher somehow helps get these buzzkills back on track.
On the one hand, I like this premise. I don’t know about you guys, but during some of the more angsty periods of my youth, Nine Inch Nails were about the one thing that kept me from driving my fist through the drywall. Just as there’s something very calming about queuing up to Mozart (or Billie Holiday for my listening pleasure) in times of madness, there’s something equally cathartic about turning the volume up to 11 and blowing out your ear drums with the loudest, angriest shit this side of Cannibal Corpse. No, it’s not a foolproof fix for your woes and worries, nor is it something I’d prescribe to anyone for fear of being written off as Satan, but it worked for me and I totally dig where Hesher‘s coming from in personifying that very therapy.
On the other hand, this premise is kind of stupid. If the events leading up to Hesher’s involvement in this story sound random, you, sir, are correct. Not that it’s needed, but there is no explanation for Hesher, and when explanations are asked of him, not a single fuck is given. And if you’re going back-and-forth about the kind of person Hesher is, he has a giant middle finger tattooed on his back to refresh your memory. Without his involvement, there wouldn’t be a movie, but even with his involvement, it takes a really long time to figure out what his purpose is. If it already sounds weird, trust me, it doesn’t get any more normal.
The kicker is that, despite the title, this movie isn’t even about Hesher. It’s about the kid and his dad trying to overcome their grief and get on with their lives with Hesher acting as the unlikely catalyst who gets them there. Not that it’s a bad thing to make a supporting character the most interesting individual in a movie, but the downside of the situation is that it makes the primary characters seem a lot less interesting in turn. On top of that, I’m still not really sure what to make of Hesher, and I wish that wasn’t the case.
The things I like about him are the things he stands for as a character. Thanks to his penchant for taking control by cutting loose, he’s got a Barry Egan quality about him, and being that Barry Egan is one of my Top Ten All-Time Movie Heroes, that’s something I’m all about. This is a guy you do not give shit to, and if you even so much as think of heading down that road, you will find yourself heading towards complete destruction. For a kid who takes shit on a daily basis and a father who’s too paralyzed with sadness to change out of his sweatpants, I can understand the wisdom that comes with Hesher slapping them in the face with their sad bastard lives. He has his moments, he has his insights, and he even gets a laugh here and there, but that’s just half the time. The other half he’s asking the kid if he’s had sex yet while fingering his mashed potatoes, making jokes to old ladies about why Kermit the Frog’s finger smells like bacon, and generally being a revolting human being who gets harder and harder to like.
I’m sure some people find that stuff hilarious, and that’s cool, but I found myself cringing a lot of the parts I should have been laughing it. It doesn’t help that the dialogue tends to be pretty weak, but even if it was poetry, I don’t tend to crack up at stuff in movies that I wouldn’t crack up at in real life. I don’t think I was supposed to like Hesher in the first place, but Hesher can be quite the annoying asshole, and I’m not too big on annoying assholes.
As for the cast, Joseph Gordon-Levitt is good as Hesher himself, Devin Brochu is fine as the kid, it’s kinda weird to see Rainn Wilson in a serious role as his dad, and Natalie Portman is fine as the kid’s love interest of sorts. I wish I had more to say on the matter, but it’s hard to really care about the performances when you don’t really care about the characters.
If there had been more of a plot and more endearing qualities to Hesher to balance out what a scumbag he is, I think I would have had better things to say. I get what writer/director Spencer Susser was going for with Hesher and I appreciate what he’s trying to say, the issue is the way he goes about saying it. It starts out interestingly enough and feels like something pretty unique, but as the story meandered along, as the characters hardly developed, and as the plot starting jumping from one cliche to the next during the last half-hour, it just wasn’t enough to keep me invested. Props to JGL for giving it is all has usual, but a cast can only do so much with roles like these.
Beats Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Native Tongues
Who knew Michael Rapaport had it in him?
Beats Rhymes & Life is a documentary about A Tribe Called Quest. For those unfamiliar, A Tribe Called Quest is a hip-hop group that blew up in the late ’80s/early ’90s, released five albums over the course of eight years – three of which are generally considered gamechangers – and then broke up in 1998. Nearly a decade later, they reunited, started going on tour, and continued to tease fans with a long-awaited sixth album that has yet to see the light of day.
If you’re not into hip-hop, I won’t be throwing the first stone, but if you’re even in the least bit interested, A Tribe Called Quest is a damn good place to get acquainted. See, once upon a time I was just like you, a high school freshman at a new school in the Bronx with a jones for rock and a bitter hate for rap songs that weren’t called “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It.” But as I quickly learned, it’s hard to escape hip-hop when you go to school in the Bronx, and if you don’t like it, then you’re in the minority. Luckily, it started to grow on me instead of leading to my total alienation from the school cafeteria, and by the time I was sophomore, I was battling kids like B. Rabbit, yo.
Alright, maybe not, but you get the idea. I don’t remember what the tipping point was or what hip-hop album first found its way into my trusty Discman, but People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, the debut album by A Tribe Called Quest, was an early revelation. When I listen to it today, I can’t help but roll my eyes at how many times Q-Tip, Phife, and Jarobi use their names to string lyrics together and how the deepest song is about Q-Tip losing his wallet in El Segundo, but it’s still fun, it’s still catchy, and the samples are still cool as hell. If you haven’t heard ‘em, the easiest, crudest way to describe A Tribe Called Quest is that they’re a jazz/hip-hop fusion. Don’t quote me on that, but I think it’s pretty accurate complement.
So being a fan and getting to see a movie like this that allows me to rediscover a band that I already love and from an angle that I’ve never seen before, that’s something special. What’s even better is that first-time director Michael Rapaport is telling their story from the same set of shoes and it comes across not only in his interactions with the group, but in the testimonials he gets out of them. I for one never really knew why ATCQ broke up, and while part of what makes their reunion interesting is hearing their sides of the story, it’s seeing how raw their wounds are that really drives it all home.
It’s no big surprise that even the greatest of bands come and go, but Q-Tip, Phife, Jarobi, and Ali are the closest thing you can get to family without blood coming into the picture. It’s a connection that brought them together as kids, it’s a connection that gave them their jump-off, it’s a connection that tore them apart, and it’s a connection that keeps bringing them back despite everything that’s gone down in the past. It goes without saying that music is a huge part of this movie and a huge part of the group, but it’s that family dynamic and the honesty that comes out of these four guys that really elevates this from being a 90-minute episode of Behind the Music.
As you’ve probably gathered, I found a lot to enjoy from this movie and I’ve been listening to ATQC like gangbusters ever since. Though even for someone who just found out they exist, I’d be pretty surprised if an appreciation wasn’t to be gained for what they do, what they did, and why music needs groups like A Tribe Called Quest. I could go on about it ’til my brain gives out, but hip-hop these days tends to be a sad state of affairs. There have always been exceptions to the rule and there always will be, but back in the late ’80s/early ’90s, the hip-hop game was different – from the beats, to the rhymes, to the life. Artists used to actually put effort and creativity into the beats they laid down, their words used to mean something even if it was as extreme as “fuck the police,” and the life was more about a movement, a message. Today, it feels like a status symbol that can be achieved with the absolute minimum amount of effort and talent, and on the rare occasion that I do listen to the radio, it sucks to keep hearing the clicks and whistles.
Honestly, you remember how big that “Superman that ho!” song by Soulja Boy was a couple years ago? That’s the shit I’m talking about, folks, and that shit was no fluke either. Not trying to make any rash generalizations, but serenity now…
The point is, A Tribe Called Quest is a group that stands for everything that was once great, and continues to be, about hip-hop. Unless I’m mistaken, I don’t think there are a whole lot of documentaries about hip-hop acts. Granted, hip-hop doesn’t exactly have the same kind of lengthy history as blues, jazz, or rock and roll, but it’s a damn shame nonetheless because it’s music that can get written off pretty unfairly and music that deserves just as much respect and attention as the rest of ‘em. I feel like a lot of people throw the word “innovators” out when talking about legends in the music industry, especially in the world of hip-hop, but the description truly fits for A Tribe Called Quest.
Word on the street is that Q-Tip hasn’t been the biggest fan of this movie, but Beats Rhymes & Life is nevertheless a fantastic introduction to a group that deserves to be heard. Coming from the viewpoint of someone who’s already on the bandwagon, it really was something to see the group from such a genuine, behind-the-scenes perspective, and hat’s off to Rapaport for all the flow, style, and love he made this with. There are a bunch of great moments here, moments that gave me goosebumps because the music is just that good and the passion behind it is just that palpable, and even if the subject matter isn’t perking your interest, give it a shot, it may just surprise you.
Better yet, do yourself a favor. Go listen to The Low End Theory and Midnight Marauders. That’s what’s up.
Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Jonestowns
No, seriously, don’t drink the Kool-Aid.
Martha Marcy May Marlene is about a girl who goes to live with her estranged sister after escaping from a backwoods cult of sorts in the Catskills. As she tries to readjust to a life of relative normalcy, the girl begins reliving the highs and lows that highlighted the last two years of her life and changed her in ways she can’t seem to shake. It doesn’t take long for her sister to realize how truly messed up her little sis is, and as the memories get worse, so does their already-strained relationship.
The only things I knew to expect from this movie were a stellar performance from an Olsen sister who no one knew existed, and a title that everyone in the world was going to mix up every time they said it. The good news is that Elizabeth Olsen doesn’t disappoint and I’m not mumbling the words after “Martha” any more, but the bad news is that I’m still not sure about everything else.
If I could do it all over again and see this movie for the first time, I’d watch it with the mindset of someone going into a horror movie rather than a drama or thriller. Aside from the technicals and the acting, the most lasting aspect of this movie was how totally upsetting it was. Not upsetting in the sense that I was disappointed, but upsetting in terms of tone, context, and the universal truth that cults are fucked up. Ultimately, this movie seems to be about two things: how easily people can be preyed upon and how weak-minded and -willed some people can be. I recently read a blurb stating how this movie’s about facing your fears, but I think that’s a bunch of bullshit. If the desired effect from writer/director Sean Durkin was to leave me unsettled and feeling like a good long shower was in order, then he succeeded with flying colors. But even so, there needs to be something more.
Maybe it’s a matter of preference, but I have trouble seeing the point in a movie about a vulnerable girl being manipulated to where she can’t mentally escape from her past even after physically escaping from it. Now, if you look at it from a horror standpoint, that premise could go a long way. But since that wasn’t the angle I was watching from, I ended up leaving the theater two hours later wondering, “What was I supposed to gain from that?” If there had been more development among Olsen’s character, Martha, her sister, and her sister’s husband instead of them trying to get crazy Martha to open up, then getting frustrated because Martha won’t tell them anything, then doing it over and over again until everyone’s just fed up with the whole situation, perhaps there’d be more to be gained.
But as is, it just feels repetitive, like Durkin didn’t know where to take the plot after Martha flew the coop and settled on a fistful of awkward silences peppered with some melodramatic screaming matches. And, folks, that’s no place to settle. Wasn’t sure how this was all going to wrap up either, and when it finally did, it was mighty ambiguous. Not that I need my movies to finish with a bow on top and the ambiguity wasn’t really an issue until a majority of the theater echoed “What?” when the screen went black, but this was one instance where I could have gone for some sense of finality.
Then again, Durkin sure has a way with the camera. I loved how dark, faded and naturally ominous everything looked, I loved all the match cuts he used to transition the plot from Martha’s past to her present, and I loved the mood he created with such a subtle hand. Pretty impressive how truly seedy you can make a person look simply by emphasizing the clothes that don’t fit them. For a script that felt like it was running in circles, it helps that Durkin direction and his cast can pick up the slack.
And getting back to Elizabeth Olsen who’s doing the family name some serious favors since Mary-Kate started sucking face with Ben Kingsley. For such a tortured role, let alone a debut role, she totally commands the screen and brings a good deal of complexity to a character who seems to have a lot going on upstairs. She’s no joke, I don’t know if she’s got Oscar written all over her anything, but she can totally carry a movie. And backing her up is John Hawkes doing the whole Teardrop thing while being creepy as all hell as the cult leader who totally effs up Martha’s being.
It’s fun to write about movies I hate, it’s fun to write about movies I love, but it’s the ones that leave me feeling borderline indifferent despite their accomplishments that I always have the most trouble with. Martha Marcy May Marlene is what happens when Big Love meets Dogtooth, and while it absolutely excels in terms of acting and film making, I wish I could say the same about the story and script. I won’t call it disappointing because my expectations weren’t that high to begin with and I really did like the things it did well, it just kinda sucks to watch a movie for two hours and then wonder why you just spent two hours watching it?
The one thing I will say out of all these conclusions I’ve drawn is that while this is an ambiguous movie, arguably to a fault, it’s also a movie that one can potentially draw a lot of meaning out of it or sit there with a big question mark on their face at the end credits. I appreciate that about it, I just happened to be in the latter category, and I don’t consider my Verdict up there the final say in the slightest. This thing is definitely different in the way it tells its story and the story it’s trying to tell, and while that’s very much something to applaud, it just didn’t come together for me as well as it could have.
Moneyball (2011)
VERDICT:
9/10 Pickin’ Machines
It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball.
Moneyball is based on the true story of one Billy Beane, a former ballplayer who couldn’t cut it in the big leagues, took a job as a scout, and ultimately landed himself a gig as the General Manager of the Oakland A’s, one of the poorest teams in baseball in terms of bank roll and wins. After coming to the realization that he didn’t have the financial resources to compete with big-budget teams like the Yankees and Red Sox, he decided to scrap the old way of building a team by drafting the best body or swing, and instead recruited players by their stats. Though written off by many at the start of the ’02 season as having lost his mind, Billy and his crack squad of Sabermetricians took a team of nobodies that nobody wanted and ended up changing the game entirely.
It should be pretty obvious at this point that I watch a whole lot of movies in my free time. It’s crazy, it’s probably why my eyes are so damn dry all the time, but when I’m not tethered to Netflix or overdrafting my bank account to fund the New York City theater conglomerate, I’m reading my ass off. It’s cheaper, it helps me zone out the ten people blaring dubstep through their headphones on the subway commute each day, and every once in a while I come across a book that reminds me why I love books. Moneyball by Michael Lewis is one of those books, one that may very well be in my Top Ten. That’s coming from someone who thinks watching a regular-season baseball game on TV is the most excruciatingly boring thing in the world next to solitary confinement. With that being said, good lord, was I skeptical about this movie.
As incredible as Moneyball is as a book, it’s not exactly tailor-made for the big screen. It’s like Freakonomics mixed with The Natural, only most of the action happens in the clubhouse than on the field. That’s not to say that the book isn’t riddled with one unforgettable underdog story after another that made me want to high-ten the nearest train conductor, but so much of it really is about the stats which – though endlessly fascinating in text – might not get the audience cheering for more. In addition, so much of what made the book great is Michael Lewis’ writing, and translating an author’s voice to film is always a near-impossible task.
But that’s what great about the way everyone involved approached this movie. There seems to be this clear love for the book, a love for the game, and a general understanding that in order for this to work, they have to make it their own while staying true to the source material. From the actors, to the writers, to the director, everyone is on board with this plan from start to finish and that’s really why it works as well as it does.
Aside from the performances, the thing I love about this cast is that they’re as unlikely as the characters they’re playing. Brad Pitt, “Sexiest Man Alive” 23 years straight, playing the eclectic, unglamorous general manager of a baseball team that no one but Oaklanders really care about. Jonah Hill, best friend to McLovin, playing it straight in a suit and tie as Peter Brand, the brains behind the new clubhouse. Chris Pratt, the resident endearing bonehead of Pawnee’s Parks & Recreation Department and an actor who a lot of people are unfamiliar with, playing Scott Hatteberg, the beefed-up, down-and-out hero of our story behind the plate. And then there’s Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and he’s actually perfect as Art Howe, the team’s curmudgeonly manager who refuses to go along with Billy’s schemes. Not to say that everyone else isn’t perfect in the respective roles, but it’s a motley crew alright and it’s just what the doctor ordered.
And as far as all the Oscar buzz around Brad Pitt is concerned, I can see it and I would nod in approval if he took home the gold come February. Ever since Inglorious Basterds, my opinion of Pitt has changed drastically from that of “pretty boy” to “where it’s at.” It’s always something to see an A-lister who doesn’t buy into the global opinion of him and opts to take edgy, off-beat roles rather than the fattest paycheck. Not sure why it took me ’til Aldo Raine to come to this realization, but he’s still killing it as usual. Then again, the supporting cast here is every bit as good as he is and it’s hard to give Pitt all the credit when the story is as much about Beane as it is about everyone around him.
Nor does it hurt that they were given one hell of a script to work with thanks to Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin. Since Sorkin’s behind it, it’s wordy as hell, but it works because Sorkin’s one of the few writers out there who can make the alphabet song read like a State of the Union address, and with all the information that’s jammed into the book, it needed a wordy screenwriter to do it justice. It’s really a trip the way he and Zaillian capture the language of the bullpen and pay tribute to Lewis without trying to mimic him, and right from the get-go, I was all-effing-ears. But like I said, this is a team effort among everyone involved and the cast does a phenomenal job of downplaying their lines, keeping a level head when tempers are rising, and acting naturally instead of seeing who can yell louder. For a sport where screaming matches and temper tantrums are a pretty common occurrence, it’s nice to see a more calm and collected approach that makes the occasional loose cannon sound like an atom bomb.
In short, it’s a glowing example of how you adapt a great novel into a great movie by making it your own and not following the source material verbatim. Still wish Sorkin had left in the draft where Beane picked up Hatteberg, Chad Bradford, and David Justice rather than just skip to spring training, but a minor complaint all the same and a nonexistent one for anyone walking in blind. Also love how much focus they lent to Hatteberg’s story, because Scott Hatteberg is the freakin’ man.
Director Bennett Miller also makes this thing look beyond gorgeous and in turn adds a real sense of beauty to the game that’s rare to come by in a genre that tends to focus on the dirt, the dip, and the dudes. For a movie that could easily be categorized as a talking heads drama, a Ken Burns documentary, and a good old fashioned sports movie, it’s incredibly impressive how he balances each and fuses them together seamlessly. Makes me wonder why he only has two movies to his credit, but whatever the reason, I am dying to see more.
I know this next statement may come across as blasphemy to some, but this is one of the best baseball movies I’ve ever seen. It’s no Field of Dreams, but in a business where people get to make sports movies each year that are carbon copies of the same sports movie that’s been coming out since Rocky, it’s incredibly refreshing on so many levels to see something different that also pays off as something truly inspirational and familiar. That was the beauty of Moneyball as a book, and though that could have been the reason this movie crashed and burned, the way everyone involved came together to prevent that from happening is just one of the many reasons it managed to set a bar that sports movies rarely ever get close to reaching.
So if you haven’t read the book, READ THE BOOK, but if that ain’t gonna happen, go see Moneyball anyway and enjoy what is far and away one of the best movies I’ve seen all year and may be the only movie that pulls a Social Network by excelling on every single front. Had me smiling the whole way through, had me feeling romantic about the game all over again, and that’s about all a former little league pitcher-turned-movie nut can ask for.
And the best horror remake is…
JOHN CARPENTER’S THE THING!!!
As much as I love The Fly, this one was a no-brainer. Anyone out there see the “prequel” yet? More importantly, how outrageously disappointing/unnecessary was it?
Swell voting, yo.
RESULTS:
- The Thing (’82): 9 votes
- The Ring: 6 votes (still scares the crap out of me, still haven’t seen Ringu)
- Dawn of the Dead (’04): 5 votes
- Let Me In: 2 votes
- The Fly: 2 votes
- Funny Games: 2 votes
- The Blob (’88): 0 votes (let me tell ya’, there are some awesome kills in that remake)
Red State (2011)
VERDICT:
5/10 Demon Days
You can take Silent Bob out of Jersey…
Red State is about three horny teenage boys who are lookin’ to have themselves a foursome. Given that you can find just about anything on the internet these days, they find a lonely lady online who just so happens to be looking for three young studs to give her the business, and so they drive up to her trailer in the back country to oblige her in ways only three horny teenagers can. Lo and behold, they get roofied before their flies are undone, they pass out on top of each other, and wake up soon after to find themselves hostages of a homicidal version of the Westboro Baptist Church. With their buzzes and libidos officially killed, the teens abandon their search for a devil’s foursome and try to find a way out before getting strapped to a crucifix and shot in the brain for Jesus.
As someone who watches a lot of horror movies and is continually saddened by all the unoriginal imitators and endless cheap scares I have to sift through each year because pickin’s are always slim, I was fa-reakin’ excited by the prospect of Red State. Folks, few things in this crazy world are more deeply horrifying and royally fucked up than the charming folks at the Westboro Baptist Church. The thing about exorcisms, vampires, zombies, and ghosts is that they’re all scary in their own right, but I don’t think anyone walked out of Paranormal Activity 3 last weekend and thought, “Shit, I hope that doesn’t happen to me.” Fred Phelps, on the other hand, has been happening, is continuing to happen, and there are people who treat him like a messiah.
That is scary stuff, and that’s why this is an absolutely brilliant idea and an absolutely brilliant title for a horror movie. Additionally, it was a smart move by Smith to label this killer cult the Five Points Church rather than focus the story on the Phelps crew by name, thereby depriving them of press they don’t deserve. Believe you me, those lunatics just love their press.
But let’s talk about Kevin Smith. If you went into this blind and happened to miss the opening credits, you’d be flat-out flabbergasted when his name showed up at the end. Not to sell him short or anything, but Smith is a pretty niche director. If his name’s attached, it’s probably set in Jersey, it’s probably a comedy, it’s probably crude as all hell, and it probably features a lot of the same people who were in the last Kevin Smith movie you saw. For the most part, I like Kevin Smith movies, and all those niche qualities of his as a film maker are the very reasons he’s a household name. But this is something else entirely for Smith…at least as a director.
It’s set in Middle America, it’s billed as a horror movie, and there’s not the slightest trace of Ben Affleck, Jason Mewes, or Jason Lee in sight. Awfully curious as to what spurred this complete 180 of a career move, but for a guy whose only real action credit to date is Cop Out, he deserves a whole lot of credit for what he does behind the camera. From a visual standpoint, this sucker is gritty, it’s constantly in-your-face, it’s intense and then some at points, and an inordinate amount of people get shot up by the time it’s all over. Unless IMDB is screwin’ with me, I don’t think that happens in a lot of Kevin Smith movies and it’s great to see him excel at something completely out of his comfort zone.
On top of that, he’s a got a solid cast to work with featuring some really big names and some smaller ones that I’d like to see more of. The star of the show is easily Michael Parks as the madman behind the Five Points Church, Abin Cooper, but John Goodman and Melissa Leo hold their own as usual.
So we’ve established that it doesn’t look like a Kevin Smith movie, but then there’s the script, and it totally sounds like a Kevin Smith movie. Now, of every script Smith has written, there are only two that stand head and shoulders above the rest: Chasing Amy and Dogma. The reason those two stood out for me is that they dug a lot deeper than most Smith scripts in terms of what they was trying to say, and as a result, it made the ridiculously raunchy humor seem that much more tolerable, even enjoyable. When I think of Clerks, all I think about is “snowballing” and how I’ll never get the appeal to that movie no matter how many times I see it. I know I’m in the minority on this one, but that shit is gross, it’s just not my thing, and that’s always been a point of contention with Smith’s movies.
Now, Red State does have some relatively poignant things to say about people like Fred Phelps and how they rank among the rest of us. But unfortunately, it rambles like a bastard whenever it tries to make those points and it’s hard to take it all seriously when everyone’s still making more guttermouthed jokes than ever. In one sense, I get it, dialogue is what Kevin Smith does and that’s to be expected. In another, I hate long-winded speeches and referring to someone’s junk as being the size of a “Coke can.” Whether it be in real life or make believe, listening to someone go on and on and on and on and on about the same goddamn thing just to get to a point they started on about ten minutes ago is on par with Chinese water torture. There’s a lot of that here, and while some of it’s good and I understand why it’s there, it overstays its welcome pretty early on and doesn’t get any easier on the ears.
And for something that’s been heavily touted as a horror movie, it’s pretty surprising how little horror there actually is. In its defense, this is not your typical horror movie and how you’ll feel about this aspect in the long run has a lot to do with what you think a horror movie is in the first place, but for me, it was more an action movie with horror roots than anything else. Like I said, there’s an inordinate amount of shooting to be had and just not enough horror or scares to back it all up. Oh, how I wish it had been the other way around.
So Red State‘s not much of a horror movie and it’s still way more of a Kevin Smith movie than you’d expect, but there really is something to be said for its phenomenal premise and surprisingly boss direction. Maybe if Smith had taken the plot in a different direction rather than stage an all-out warzone, maybe if he’d gone with a different ending, maybe if I was bigger fan of Smith’s sense of humor, this could have been a revelation instead of a minor disappointment. I’d love to see him do more stuff along these lines, but the more I think about this, the more I think Smith should have written himself out.
The Good, The Bad, The Weird (2010)
VERDICT:
9/10 Kimchi Westerns
If Sergio Leone and Indiana Jones went to Asia, overdosed on speed, and made a movie…
The Good, The Bad, The Weird is about a notorious killer who gets hired by a mob boss to hijack a train and steal a map from a government official on board. As fate would have it, a small-time crook shows up on the train first, mugs the said government official blind, and takes the map with him, clueless as to its value. And wouldn’t you know it, a bounty hunter shows up on the scene with guns blazing and a mind to collect the big fat reward on both of their heads. Before long, the lowly crook wises up to the importance of his “treasure map” when everyone in Manchuria starts chasing him down, and so begins a mad chase across the country to see who can reach the mother lode first.
As you’ve probably guessed, it’s very much an homage to The Good, The Bad and the Ugly, but by the same token, this is something else and then some.
So my history with writer/director Kim Jee-woon started ages ago when my friend Paul told me to watch A Bittersweet Life. Godknowshowlong later, I still haven’t given it a shot, but the moment I started realizing what an ass I’d been for dropping the ball was when I saw Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil a few months back. Since I’m still thinking about how good that movie was and how something so straight-up evil could be so brilliant, I put this movie on my Netflix Instant queue and let it collect dust for another few months. Then, in a moment of clarity, I finally decided to give it a shot, and once again, I realized what an ass I’d been.
Folks, I really freaking liked this movie.
I remember going to see Casino Royale with my uncle when it was still in theaters way back when, and while I still think that’s arguably the best Bond movie of all-time, my uncle upped the stakes and immediately gave it a spot on his All-Time Top Ten without thinking twice. His reasoning? It had action, humor, and wow factor to spare, it was over before you knew it, and all he wanted was to see it again. In essence, it had everything you could ask for when you go to see a movie. I didn’t argue the point, but I never quite got that same sensation until now. It’s not in my Top Ten or anything, but sitting through The Good, The Bad, The Weird‘s non-stop, hi-octane, good-old-fashioned-but-brand-spankin’-new whirlwind of a rodeo for two hours and change might have been the best time I’ve had with a movie since Scott Pilgrim vs. the World entered into my life.
The story is simple. A badass cowboy, a crazy bandit, and a ruthless assassin hunt each other down and occasionally work together to settle old scores and shoot their way to the finish line with an unlimited supply of ammo and a serious lucky streak when it comes to dodging bullets. No, the premise isn’t the only thing this movie has in common with Leone, but by the same token, this is something all its own.
The first thing that really sets it apart is Jee-woon as both writer and director. Right from the opening train heist that barrels along at maximum velocity and wraps up 15 minutes later with your face glued to the screen and your grin stretched to your ear drums, you’ll know that this baby’s cooking with gas and fumes ain’t runnin’ dry. It’s stunning from a technical standpoint as Jee-woon keeps throwing in the craziest of shots in the craziest of scenes, it’s stunning from a visual standpoint even when it’s just watching a guy ride his horse across the Manchurian desert at sunset, and it’s insane how it never, ever lets up and continually manages to put a fresh spin on each new scene that you think you’ve seen before. I’m usually not a big fan of movies that try to keep things interesting by one-upping itself from one scene to the next because those movies tend to crash and burn, but this is very much an exception to the rule. By the time the Japanese army starts hunting these guys down and the body count reaches the triple digits in the blink of an eye, you’ll know what I mean.
And then there’s the script, and the script is as totally hilarious as it is flat-out enthralling. Well, it’s probably more fair to say that the script is really funny and it’s Song Kang-ho who makes it hilarious. Ever since I realized the greatness that is The Host, Song Kang-ho has generally established himself as the man in everything I’ve see him in. Now, with his turn as “The Weird,” he’s bumped his way into the elite shortlist of The Best Working Actors Out There Today. When you watch Kang-ho, you can’t take your eyes off him, and if he’s ever in a movie, I’ll be there watching it (which is nice because it seems like there’s a law where he has to be in 30 South Korean movies a year). He’s got more natural charisma than most actors can dream of, you can tell he’s having twice as much fun being in a movie than you are watching him in one, and he can play it serious just as well as he can play it dopey, which is saying a lot. The tragedy is that a lot of us Yanks probably haven’t heard of him unless I’m wildly underestimating how many people have their Netflix queues jammed up with the contemporary classics of South Korea, but if there’s an actor out there who can make you forget about the subtitles, Kang-ho’s your man.
Jee-woon regular Lee Byung-hun is also awesome as “The Bad,” Jung Woo-sung is an effortless badass as “The Good,” and even though I’m partial to Kang-ho, they all more than hold their own and bring three outstanding characters to life who more than live up to the Western icons they’re paying tribute to. In short, it’s ridiculous how many fronts this thing destroys on.
The Good, The Bad, The Weird is one of those rare movies that’s just so effing good it makes me borderline angry. Angry that it took me so long to give it a chance ’cause I thought it would be way weirder than it actually was, angry that so few people have seen it, angry that I have to convince people to look past the subtitles in order to get them to see it, and angry that Americans just don’t make movies like this. Maybe Tarantino, but that’s it. The ending leaves something to be desired, but aside from that, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun with a movie. I know it might not look like much from the outset, but don’t make the same mistake I did, this one’s too damn good to pass up.
Wild soundtrack, too
And the best Kevin Smith movie is…
CLERKS!!!
Man, I am seriously in the minority on this one, huh? Think I’ve seen this movie three times now in the hopes that something will click, but alas, I’ve never gotten the draw. Nevertheless, there will always be Dogma and Chasing Amy, and those, dear readers, are out-of-freaking-sight. Itching to check out Red State on Netflix Instant to see how it measures up, but here’s to hoping that those Hit Somebody movies are a fitting swan song to the geekiest film maker out there.
RESULTS:
- Clerks: 14 votes
- Chasing Amy: 9 votes
- Dogma: 7 votes
- Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: 4 votes (still hilarious)
- Mallrats: 3 votes
- Clerks II: 2 votes (might regret saying this, but I actually thought it was better than the first one)
- Zack and Miri Make a Porno: 2 votes
- Red State: 1 vote
Sucker Punch (2011)
VERDICT:
3/10 Lollipop Chainsaws
Exactly why 13-year-old boys with anime girlfriends aren’t allowed to make movies.
Sucker Punch is about a girl who gets sent to an insane asylum when her evil stepfather frames her for her sister’s murder. Upon entering the loony bin, she taps into her vivid imagination that transforms the roach motel into a high-class nightclub of sorts where she’s the latest saucy attraction in a lineup of female dancers. In order for her to escape from this hellhole before getting lobotomized into a vegetable, she dives even further into her imagination where she has to battle some seriously crazy shit to obtain the five key items that will set her and her fellow heroines free.
I feel like I need to add an extra sentence to that last paragraph in order for this story to make sense, but alas, explanations are hard to come by with this one.
So if there’s a selling point to this movie, it’s that it’s the brainchild of writer/director Zack Snyder. Now, a lot of people really seem to like Zack Snyder. I thought he did a bang-up job with Dawn of the Dead, I was one of the many young men who went home and started doing push-ups after feeling like the fattest bastard alive thanks to 300, but ever since then, things just haven’t been the same between Zack and I. Maybe it was a bad idea to have anyone adapt Watchmen into a movie in the first place, but the night I saw that movie in a packed theater in Harlem filled with way more kids and their crappy parents than I can still fathom was the very night I realized everything I don’t like about Zack Snyder movies:
Slow-motion overkill and a glorification of men beating the everloving tar out of women. Pretty sure the latter wasn’t an issue in The Owls of Ga’Hoole, but those were the two reasons I still don’t like Watchmen and those are two reasons I didn’t like Sucker Punch.
The good thing is that the slow-mo isn’t as much of a hindrance here because it doesn’t get in the way of the story like it did in Watchmen. The action is noticeably better when it’s operating in real-time, but at this point, slow-mo just comes with the territory when you go into a Zack Snyder movie and it works for what it is. So I guess the real issue here is that there isn’t even a story for the slow-mo to dumb down.
The problem with the story is that it takes itself way too seriously and doesn’t make a lick of sense when it absolutely needs to. Not sure why Snyder went for that tone after writing the imaginary dragon-slaying scene, but the glove don’t fit. And while the list is long, the most criminal of the the said nonsensical aspects is without a doubt the way the characters go from dancing on a stage in one reality to fighting in a warzone the next. It’s never really explained how or why they get transported into a video game fantasy every time they start grooving to the music, and as much as we’re probably supposed to just go with the flow on this one, I was a hell of a lot more confused than I was wowed. This is a running theme.
And then there’s the whole misogyny thing that’s only gotten worse since Carla Gugino got her face beat into hamburger in Watchmen. Now, I’m all for tough women in movies and I can understand a gal getting roughed up in the heat of battle or something along the lines of Sarah Conner getting stabbed in the shoulder by the T-1000. That happens, I can let that slide, but then girls start getting shot in the brain execution style like something out of The Pianist, and we’ve got ourselves a problem. Again, I don’t see what that adds to the movie or why Snyder thought that’d be a fine addition to the script, but it’s awfully warped and I have no freaking clue how this got away with a PG-13 rating.
On top of all this, there’s the soundtrack, and I honestly don’t know how you fuck up a soundtrack this badly without having every song be an autotuned version of “Walking on Sunshine.” The kicker is that every one of these songs had the potential to be winners. “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This),” “White Rabbit,” “Search and Destroy,” “Where is My Mind?,” and “Asleep” are all damn good tunes on their own right (except for the Eurythmics, never really liked them). But rather than leave them be and use them in their already awesome states, the powers that be decided that all these classics were in dire need of covers because, let’s face it, even the most classic of ballads can never be “too emo.” It wouldn’t be that bad if the originals weren’t so good to begin with, but now with this fresh coat of synth and moaning thrown into the mix, the songs blow and the soundtrack is an embarrassment to the artists it tries to “honor.” Unless you’re all about listening to bastardized versions of “We Will Rock You” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” while a girl named “Babydoll” butchers members of the steampunk Nazi party, I think you’ll agree. Freddie Mercury and John Lennon would not approve.
The only saving grace to the playlist is a relatively untouched version of Bjork’s “Army of Me” which actually works damn well, but that’s very much the exception to the rule.
Ultimately, I just found myself asking “What’s the point?” far more often than is healthy for a two-hour investment. What’s the point of shooting those girls in the head? What’s the point of turning the “dances” into bullet ballets? What’s the point in general and why should I be giving a shit? That last one’s a biggie and it unfortunately never got answered. I’ve found myself asking a lot of questions like that in Zack Snyder movies lately, and unless I’m missing the point, I don’t think that’s a good thing.
Sucker Punch isn’t as bad as I was expecting it to be, it has style to spare, and some of the action scenes are surprisingly boss when Snyder cools it on the slow-mo. But like I said, it’s an exercise in the excessive, the unnecessary, and its “fight for your destiny” moral ends up falling on deaf ears when it’s set against the backdrop of scantily-clad leather mamas fighting minigun-toting mega samurai. The thing is, I know there’s an audience for this movie and I can totally understand how a young geek who just discovered The Matrix and porn could watch this ad nauseum and feel like Zack Snyder made a movie just for them. It’s not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just not my thing and I can’t help but wonder about a writer/director who goes out of their way to make it their thing. The ridiculous dialogue that tries way too hard to be badass, the story that didn’t stand a chance, and the cast that was doomed from the start – it just doesn’t work.
Stupid title, too.
Bill Cunningham New York (2011)
VERDICT:
10/10 Rose-Colored Lenses
A wonderful movie about a wonderful man.
Bill Cunningham New York is a documentary about a guy named Bill Cunningham. For some 50-odd years now, Bill has made a career for himself by hitting the streets of New York City each day and taking pictures of everyone who catches his eye. At the end of each week, he takes his favorite photographs of his favorite clothes in action and puts them all together in a weekly photo column for The New York Times. Over the years, he has become the face of street photography in the fashion world and captured every trending style on camera before everyone else even realized a trend was there. He also happens to be a model human being who’s loved by anybody he’s ever met, and that sure doesn’t hurt matters.
Now, this is the kind of movie that makes me glad I have a blog, that makes me pat myself on the back for keeping an open mind and being gung-ho about watching whatever comes my way. Before I watched this, I’d never even heard of Bill Cunningham and never so much as glanced at the Fashion section of The New York Times. If my wardrobe comprised of graphic tees and my favorite pair of ripped jeans that I refuse to throw out despite the fact that grunge is never coming back is any indication, fashion just isn’t my thing and so I assumed that a doc about Bill Cunningham wasn’t exactly my fit. But the funny thing is that this movie isn’t really about fashion and Bill Cunningham is my new personal hero. Like I said, pays to open-minded.
See, Bill Cunningham isn’t so much a fashionista as he is a lover of clothes and a lover of life. He’s just a man with a bike, a camera, and a trademark poncho who gets to take pictures of his favorite things for a living. If that isn’t a dream job, I don’t know what is. Take for instance a scene where he shows up to Paris Fashion Week and can’t get inside because one of the young female staffers doesn’t know who he is. Five seconds later, a veteran staffer comes along and informs the girl, “Please, this is the most important man in the world,” before escorting Bill inside who doesn’t seem upset in the slightest. If you didn’t know who he was, you’d never guess he was a fashion icon, but that’s what’s great about Bill and what’s even better is that he doesn’t even feel that he deserves it.
No, his life isn’t “glamorous,” he doesn’t place any real value in money, he works all day and sleeps on wooden cot at night, he’s never been in a romantic relationship of any sort, and he’s gotten his bike stolen 28 times. For chrissakes, the guy’s worn one outfit in public for decades upon decades, and it’s a blue poncho worn by Parisian sanitation workers that he rarely replaces because duct tape is cheaper. Having never met the guy, one could understandably write him off as a mole person who got evicted from his shack under the F train, but then you do meet him and instantly realize that he’s a front-runner for the happiest person alive.
And that’s the thing about Bill, in many ways he’s the personification of all those lessons you learned growing up about how money doesn’t buy happiness and that you can’t take it with you, the lessons that slowly started to fade when college and you entered the dreaded “real world.” He loves clothes – the more extravagant the better – but he’d rather look on than buy into the ridiculous frivolity and social status that those who have it hold so dear. In a society that’s so obsessed with celebrity, paparazzi, and judging others for how they’re “different” rather than celebrating them for their individuality that makes our world a far less boring place to live in, Bill Cunningham is the voice of reason. I doubt that was ever his goal and I doubt he’d ever admit to a statement like that, but it’s true from top to bottom. In the immortal words of Lester Burnham, “This isn’t life, this is just stuff, and it’s become more important to you than living. And, honey, that’s just nuts.” Bill would never be so brash as that, but you get the idea.
My love for this movie is far more about the subject than it is about the film making, but since my chance introduction to Bill Cunningham ended up changing my life, it’s a moot point to say that its technical merits don’t quite measure up to its star. Although for what it’s worth, director Richard Press does a swell job of putting everything together and he does an outstanding job of giving us a truly genuine look at the man behind the poncho without having to invade his privacy. I’m sure Press’ intent in making this movie was just to share Bill Cunningham with the world at large, but the end result ended up being so much more than that even if Bill was never even trying for it.
The difference between a documentary like this and that of Food, Inc., The Cove, or Inside Job is that, while those all enlighten us to the somber realities of the world we live in, Bill Cunningham New York acts a call to embrace the realities and joys of an ever-changing world. Not that there’s anything wrong with those other documentaries, but after nearly being brought to tears of joy by the time it was over, the 84 minutes I spent with Bill Cunningham are going to stick with me for far longer than anything else I’ve seen in ages.
It’s just so special and elevating to discover a film that affects you so deeply that it literally changes the way you look at the world. Before seeing this movie, it wasn’t unusual for me to walk by some of the more uniquely garbed individuals in New York City and wonder why anyone in their right mind would choose to dress like a hipster. Now, I feel like an ass for ever thinking that. Bill had it right all along while I just sat there drinking the Kool-Aid. For shame.
One of my all-time favorite quotes to live by is from Conan O’Brien during his farewell address on The Tonight Show when he said, “If you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.” Well that’s Bill Cunningham, that’s why the world deserves to meet him, and that’s why I gave this my first 10 of the year. He’s a vision of kindness, happiness, and eternal youth that many lose long before they reach 80, and we could all learn from his example.
And the best Nic Cage movie is…
RAISING ARIZONA!!!
Well okay then! Barely beat out Face/Off (which I still haven’t seen), but if there were ever a role that didn’t make me hate Nic Cage, it’s that of good ol’ H.I. McDunnough.
Never been much of a fan, but everyone’s got their moments. Swell voting, folks!
RESULTS:
- Raising Arizona: 12 votes
- Face/Off: 11 votes
- Adaptation: 9 votes
- The Rock: 7 votes
- Kick-Ass: 7 votes
- Leaving Las Vegas: 3 votes
- Con Air: 1 vote
- Fast Times at Ridgemont High: 1 vote
- Other: 1 vote for Wild at Heart (never seen it, heard good things), 1 vote for 8MM (creepy, yo), 2 votes for National Treasure (fun stuff), 1 vote for Birdy (really need to see that again), 1 vote for Moonstruck (word), 1 vote for Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (need to check that out, need to see the first one though), 1 vote for Matchstick Men (heard good things), 1 vote for Gone in 60 Seconds (all I remember is Angelina’s dreadlocks), 1 vote for Lord of War (never seen it, awesome poster though).
And sorry for the lack of reviews around these parts. Days have been mighty strange as of late and been using most of that time to work on the old screenplay. Will get things going again soon though, seen some mighty good movies as of late, and they’ll get the treatment in due time. So many movies, so little time.
The Lion King (1994)
VERDICT:
9/10 Circles of Life
If Beauty and the Beast never happened, this might be the best Disney movie out there.
The Lion King is about a lion cub growing up in the wilderness of Africa under the watchful eye of his father who reigns in harmony over the animal kingdom. Everything’s going swell for the curious young cub and his parents, but then there’s his power-hungry uncle who decides to take matters into his own paws now that his right to the throne has been passed down to his nephew. Before long, the evil uncle decides to put his plans into action, tragedy strikes, and because sometimes uncles just suck, he convinces his innocent little nephew that it was all his fault. Guilt-ridden and devastated, the cub runs away in shame while his uncle has his way with the kingdom. Years go by, the cub grows up with his new jungle friends, and when his old life tracks him down, the young lion is forced to face his demons and return to the life he left behind.
The first time I saw this movie was in a theater with my mom in 1994. I liked it, she loved it, we bought the soundtrack, and it didn’t leave our car’s CD player for the next three months. The second time I saw this movie was last Friday with 3D glasses on and a 17-year age difference amidst a gaggle of kids who were quoting and singing the thing verbatim. I have absolutely no idea why it took me so long to revisit this movie, but it probably had to do with a teenage misconception that Disney movies are for kids. Although the upside of the bias is that I’d pretty much forgotten everything about this movie aside from a bunch of the songs that I couldn’t forget if I tried. It wasn’t quite the same experience as watching Beauty and the Beast for the first time in two decades, but it sure made me feel stupid for taking so long.
On that note, the great thing about movies like these is that they don’t cater to a demographic. If you don’t like musicals, just wait ’til ”Hakuna Matata” starts up. If you equate animation with child’s play, then just wait ’til those tears start a-flowin’ when Scar gets down to business. Sure, I doubt there were many adults who nudged their kids and said, “Can we go see that?!” when they first saw the trailer, but this is right up there with Back to the Future in terms of movies that will please regardless of who’s watching. And it’s hard to point to one aspect of this movie and say, “That’s why adults like it,” because when every aspect is as phenomenal as the next, you might as well keep that finger up the whole damn time.
For the sake of not rambling, the artwork and visuals are stunning, each new song is as memorable as the next, and the voice acting is top notch (even if I’m still not sure about Matthew Broderick). And for an experience that was always envisioned in two dimensions, it does happen look great in 3D, even though it doesn’t really add much to what made it great to begin with. But the one thing that really blew my mind is the way it drops some serious knowledge in deceptively simple ways. The one scene in particular is when Rafiki smacks grown-up Simba with his stick because Simba’s too afraid to return home. When Simba rubs his head and asks, “What was that for?,” Rafiki responds, “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past.” Simba says, “Yeah, but it still hurts,” to which Rafiki replies, “Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or learn from it.” Rafiki then swings at him again with the stick, but Simba dodges it this time.
Lesson learned, Simba sprints back to the Pride Lands to start taking care of business.
I’m not usually one to quote scenes ad nauseum, but that was a freaking epiphany for me. 99 times out of 100 I could walk out of a movie involving humans and never learn anything as profound and true-to-life as that ten second exchange between a lion and a monkey. Yes, there are a lot of lessons to be learned from this movie, but it’s rare that one actually teaches you something and makes a light switch go on. That’s like Yoda from Empire stuff.
And come on, it’s a loose adaptation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. How legit is that for a “kid’s movie?”
So the story, the music, the knowledge, the characters – they’re all top-notch. But alas, the only reason this isn’t a perfect 10 is that it doesn’t tap into its full potential until Timon and Pumbaa show up 30 minutes in. It’s still great up until that point, but once the comic relief gets thrown into the mix, that’s when I realized how well this had aged. That’s when I started laughing out loud, tapping my foot to the songs, and savoring every minute thereafter with an ear-to-ear grin. Maybe it’s my affinity for Beauty and the Beast and the way I still laugh my ass of at the “Gaston” song that came in right early and left me with a cracked rib, but with a movie like this that has to win over the adults from the get-go to stand any chance of breaking the mold, you need to get the adults laughing just as much as the kids. The good thing is that it totally gets there, it all comes together, and it keeps hitting all the right notes once it does, but I wish it had gotten there earlier is all.
I’ve already said a lot, but The Lion King is one of those rare movies that really speaks for itself. Right from the unbelievable opening sequence at Pride Rock to its final moments of redemption as it comes full circle, I can’t imagine anyone walking out of this without being affected by everything it brings to the table. Folks, it’s just great to watch a movie and have your biggest complaint be that it should have kept going for another 90 minutes. If you never got the chance to enjoy it in theaters with hundreds of other kids in age and kids at heart, you don’t know what you’re missing.
And I can’t be the only one who loved the Sega Genesis game of this, right?
Drive (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Evil Knievels
About time Gosling got to play the badass that he is.
Drive is about an LA stunt driver who rolls cars and fixes junkers during the day, and makes some dough on the side by moonlighting as a getaway driver. Through a course of chance run-ins, he starts to get cozy with the new girl down the hall, things seem to be going swell, but then her husband gets out of jail and screws everything up. Lo and behold, the husband starts getting his skull thumped in because of some unpaid debts from his time in Sing Sing, so being the softy that he is, the driver decides to help the guy out by doing a job with him. As luck would have it, things don’t exactly go according to plan and the driver has to muscle his way out of an unfortunate situation before the West Coast mob kills him and the girl next door.
So I’m just gonna cut to the chase and get to the one thing in this movie that everyone wants to talk about: Ryan Gosling, the best thing to come out of Canada since poutine. Yes, he’s one of the few men on this planet that I admit to having a man-crush on; yes, I’m sure I’m not alone on this matter; yes, that is probably part of the appeal. But the thing about Gosling is that he’s more than just the looks and he’s more than just cool. He just is. The more I watch movies, the more I realize that it’s not all that unusual to find guys who are badasses that make it look easy. Gosling’s got that when he walks down the street and I really don’t think anyone can argue otherwise, but what sets him apart here is his character…and a totally bitchin’ jacket.
I’ve gone over this before, but one of the qualities that drives me crazy about human beings in general are those who don’t know the benefits of shutting the hell up, who just talk for the sake of talking. Here, as “the kid,” Gosling is the antithesis of that. When he speaks, it’s ’cause he has to, and even then you’ll probably have to ask him twice just to get a one-word answer that roughly translates to: “Settle down, child. I’m Ryan Gosling.” There isn’t a lot of conversation to be had in this movie, but when there is, it either cuts to the chase or is so funny that all you want to do is keep listening. It’s a beautiful thing, really, and it’s a really accomplished script from the bottom up.
I don’t know if this is gonna get him a second Oscar nod like some think it will, but this role has been a long time coming for Gosling and he flat-out destroys with every chance he gets (which is all the freaking time). But the weird thing about it is that this isn’t even Gosling’s show. That honor actually goes to director Nicolas Winding Refn. If you haven’t seen his Pusher trilogy, Bronson, or Valhalla Rising, here’s what you need to know. Nicolas Winding Refn makes movies about mean motherfuckers that are as stunningly gorgeous as they are brutally violent. This is one of those movies.
The way Tarantino took a modern-day setting and made it feel like a trip back to the ’70s, that’s exactly what Refn does here, only fast-forward a decade and take out all the stuff we’d rather forget about, like Members Only jackets. From the hot pink font in the opening credits to the synth-fueled soundtrack that works so much better than it had any right to, this sucker makes Miami Vice look like a Wham! video. More so than the performances or the writing, the way Refn frames every scene, moves it along, and sets the tone by keeping things simple is what makes us completely forget that the stolen tag line isn’t the only similarity this movie has to No Country for Old Men. Really, what an unbelievably good-looking and expertly controlled movie this is.
As far as the action scenes go, there’s only a few, but while they lack in quantity, they more than make for it in quality. Some seriously intense stuff that had my heart in my throat and took no prisoners. I mean, all you really have to do is look at Albert Brooks as the villain in one of the best against-type roles I’ve seen in ages. When I think of Albert Brooks, I think of Marlon from Finding Nemo or his flop sweats in Broadcast News. I don’t think of a ruthless mobster who smiles as he guts you and considers it business as usual, but it comes to him quite naturally and he ends up making for one awfully memorable sonofabitch. And even though you can blink and miss Christina Hendricks’ role, there’s actually not a weak spot to be found in this cast, and that’s just fine.
So the story’s nothing new, the violence is a bit much, and you’re setting yourself up for disappointment if you’re looking for non-stop car chases (probably could have done with a different title for that matter), but Drive is some kind of ride alright. It’s an exercise in minimalism that’s got attitude, style, and character to spare with a cast who knows how to work it. There’s really something to be said for a film maker who can take something we’ve seen before and turn it into something that just makes you go “Damn.” I could have said it a lot more than I did, but this movie is just cool as sin. Who cares if the action scenes are over and done with in all of 60 seconds? When they’re done this well and are buffered by this much substance, it quickly becomes a non-issue.
And the best superhero movie of the summer is…
X-MEN: FIRST CLASS!
Still not sure if I’d vote for this or Cap, but what a freaking upgrade from the last couple X-Men movies, huh?
Poor Green Lantern. Even with Peter Sarsgaard, you never stand a chance.
RESULTS:
- X-Men: First Class: 15 votes
- Captain America: The First Avenger: 12 votes
- Thor: 5 votes
- Green Lantern: 3 votes
Four superhero movies in one summer. Good gravy…
Point Blank (2011)
VERDICT:
8/10 Desperate Measures
The cinematic equivalent of bungee jumping on speed.
Point Blank is about a French safecracker who gets framed for a murder he didn’t commit and barely escapes with his life before ending up in a hospital. That same night, one of the guys who set the safecracker up tries to take him off life support, but a male nurse shows up just in time to save his life. The following morning, a guy breaks into the male nurse’s apartment, knocks the male nurse out, and then kidnaps the male nurse’s pregnant wife. In order to get his wife back, the male nurse now has to break the safecracker out of the hospital, become a wanted man in the process, and work together with the safecracker to clear their good names, not die, and turn the tables on whoever it is that wants them dead.
Going in, the only thing I knew about this movie is that it was French and had the same title as a 1967 Lee Marvin movie that’s apparently as badass as they come. Didn’t know what it was about, didn’t know who was in it, expectations were at an all-time low. So when the lights dimmed, the movie started, and I had to remind myself that if I didn’t exhale I was going to die by the five-minute mark, I knew I’d found myself a winner.
With that being said, you don’t really need to know much about this movie going in. When the title disappears and the movie punches you in the solar plexus the very next millisecond, that’s all the explanation you need. From that point forward it does not stop, it does not calm down, and that’s the beauty of it. This is Run, Lola, Run, this is The Bourne Ultimatum, this is how you strike that rare balance between action thriller and drama by pacing it like a runaway freight train and developing characters with each new crossing it crashes through.
On top of that, it manages to be nuts while remaining realistic. No one knows kung-fu, no one’s a trained super assassin, and whenever there’s a chase (which is all the freakin’ time), it’s always done on foot. And that’s just awesome. Nothing against car chases and ninja assassins, but good old fashioned foot chases that place average Joes in a life-or-death situation carry an energy that you can’t get with four wheels and a katana. Even though I went in blind, the last thing I expected was the sensation of getting a syringe filled with cheetah adrenaline jammed into my forehead for 84 minutes. I’m fairly certain the element of surprise weighs into why I liked this movie so much, but even knowing full well that this is exactly the kind of ride you’re in for, you still won’t be properly prepped and that’s not even counting the constant twists and turns that follow.
But by the same token, the story doesn’t quite measure up to the film making. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good story and the writers move the plot along brilliantly by throwing the male nurse into one dead end situation after another until everything he holds dear is at risk of getting a bullet to the brain. Unfortunately, it’s not really one of those stories that leaves you feeling anything of significance when it’s all over, there’s not that emotional touchstone. But even with that minor complaint that might only exist because the film making is so effing slick, this is operating on a whole ‘nother level as far as thrill rides are concerned. It won’t change your outlook on life and it doesn’t quite have that emotional impact you tend to take away from a good drama, but you’ll be invested, you’ll still feel different when it’s over, and you’ll probably want a sedative on hand to balance yourself out.
It also helps that the characters are good, that they’ve got a surprising amount of growth and development going for them, and that the cast happens to kick ass, too. Since I still haven’t seen Tell No One for some reason, this is the first time introduction to Gilles Lellouche who plays the male nurse on a mission, and here’s a guy who seems to know a thing or two about intensity. He’s always terrified, he never turns into some kind of superhero, but he’s quick on his feet and he will stop at absolutely nothing to get his wife and his life back. I like that about him, Lellouche makes it believable, and so is the unlikely alliance he forms with the safecracker played by Roschdy Zem, who happens to quite the stone cold badass. Alone and together, these two are a real asset to the movie from the top to bottom and do at the very least do a bang-up job of keeping the tone at a constant state of “MOVE!“
And as much as I hate having to mention this every time a good foreign film comes my way, yes, it is in subtitles. Then again, the upside is that this is one of those movies that barely needs dialogue to begin with. Just glance at the bottom of the screen every once in a while, get a general gist of what’s going on, then go back to enjoying the insanity. Easy peasy Japanesy.
Folks, Point Blank is just plain wild. There’s not much to be gained from it in terms of substance and message, but it ain’t too often that a non-horror movie leaves me cowering in my seat and clenching my jaw ’til my gums hurt. Not that it’s shocking or overly violent by any means, it’s just as intense and exciting and finely tuned as they come. If Red Bull was a movie, it would be this, and if there was one movie this past Summer that I wish I’d paid to see twice, damn right it would be this.
Warrior (2011)
VERDICT:
6/10 Family Feuds
A poor man’s The Fighter that’s saved by its cast.
Warrior is about two estranged brothers who parted ways as kids when the eldest stayed behind to live their alcoholic father while the youngest skipped town with their mom to escape their abusive household. Years later, the eldest has a family of his own and works as a high school math teacher, and the youngest, with nowhere else to go, comes home to live with his now-sober dad after a stint overseas with the Marines. Because the eldest is in danger of having his home foreclosed upon, he starts competing in mixed martial arts tournaments to make ends meet; and because the youngest has nothing better to do, he makes a name for himself in the same circuit after joining his old gym where he and his brother used to train. Lo and behold, they enter the same best-of-the-best mixed martial arts tournament and have to fight their way to the top while repairing old wounds.
Word on the street is that this was originally supposed to be released in the Fall of last year, but since The Fighter was already on its way, you can probably guess why the studio took a raincheck. And for the sake of not turning this into a “Here’s why The Fighter‘s better than Warrior” review, I’ll just start by saying that the comparison is unavoidable and it suffers extra for it.
It’s not that I’m crazy about The Fighter or was expecting this movie to fail because of the natural comparison, but the weird thing about this movie is that it made me appreciate the The Fighter more than I ever thought I would. When the characters here were talking, I kept thinking “Man, the dialogue in The Fighter was freaking awesome.” When the younger brother’s wife gets put on the back burner while the men steal the spotlight, I kept thinking, “Man, Amy Adams was a freaking badass in The Fighter.” When I started rolling my eyes at all the schmaltzy crap that goes down during the last half-hour, I kept thinking, “Man, this would have been so much better if it had been a true story like The Fighter.”
So in those regards, Warrior was kind of screwed before the gloves were even on. But that’s not to say it doesn’t put up a fight.
As far as its strengths are concerned, writer/director Gavin O’Connor should be thanking his lucky stars that he got Tom Hardy and Nick Nolte to sign on. If you’ve already seen Bronson, then I don’t need to tell you what a goddamn beast of an actor Tom Hardy is. If you haven’t seen Bronson and only have his scene-stealing turn in Inception to go off of, than this should do the trick and then some. Hardy plays the younger brother and former Marine, and talk about a guy who knows a thing or two about looking tough and acting tough and making it look easy. It doesn’t hurt that his neck muscles are bigger than my thighs, but Hardy runs away with it early on with all his collected rage and I wouldn’t be all too surprised if this even landed him an Oscar nod come February.
And if you ever doubted Nick Nolte’s status as one of Hollywood’s most outrageously under-appreciated powerhouses, get ready to feel shame. Much like Hardy, Nolte very much looks, sounds, and acts the part of a washed-up recovering alcoholic who’s continually pushed two steps back every time he tries to inch forward into his kids’ lives. He’s arguably the most interesting character of the bunch and the guy is just a vet when it comes to commanding the screen, getting vulnerable, and giving it his all. Like the rest of the cast, he eventually overdoes it a bit, but that’s far more the writers’ fault than it is his.
Joel Edgerton is also good as the older brother and family man, but he ultimately gets overshadowed for two reasons. The first is that it seems like he has two facial expressions to work with, and they both look exactly like the other. The second is that he’s definitely not as built as Hardy, doesn’t have nearly the same kind of fighting experience, yet he still manages to destroy in the ring because he has so much heart. It wouldn’t be an issue if he could dodge punches like Peter Parker, but for all the hits to the brain he takes from beginning to end, Edgerton should have been breathing out of a tube long while the doctors pieced his skull back together long before Kurt Angle entered the picture.
But for the most part, the script is good. Up until the end, the dialogue is believable, the character development is as strong as it is complex, and for a long time it does a really good job of not making this seem like Rocky mixed with The Fighter. The plot isn’t exactly anything new, but thanks to the fleshed out characters and the performances backing them up, it feels different. But alas, there’s that last half-hour I keep tiptoeing around…
If you made a list of all the things you loved about Rocky that have turned into one sports movie cliche after another over the years, let’s just say you’d have yourself quite the completed checklist by the end of Warrior. It gets really melodramatic, it gets really formulaic, and it gets way too lovey dovey for its own good. On top of that, the movie is 140 minutes long, and that’s just bad business. By the time I started seeing Tom Hardy finish three different fights in the exact same way and listened to him chew out his dad with the exact same speech he gave in the first ten minutes of the movie, it seemed like blowups and makeups were getting thrown in there just because. It’s a damn shame that this script goes down the road it does to wrap up all the loose ends and emotions, ’cause it was really headed towards something fresh.
But all things considered, Warrior is still a good movie, it does nothing but favors for the MMA world, and up until everyone started saying “I love you,” it was cruising at a solid 7 and had the potential to snag an 8. If you haven’t seen The Fighter and if you haven’t seen Rocky, then there’s a very strong chance that you’ll flat-out flip your knickers over this movie. But even if you’re the majority that’s seen ‘em both, there’s still Hardy and Nolte, and those two just kill it.
